#because my meals are also fucked with this medication I’ve barely eaten the past few days

[agentmarymargaretskitz]

I Know, You Know

Happy birthday to @areyouscarletcold!!!!! For your gift, I brought our IT AU to life in the form of the first of the Yang trilogy! Hope you enjoy it!

AO3

              A rare sunny day in Derry was something to be enjoyed. After three days of fog and rain, it seemed that everyone wanted to do the same thing. People were walking around on the streets and on the beach. Getting a table in the restaurant was just as hard, but Richie had managed to secure him and Ben one in the end.

“Any idea of what you’re going to get?” Ben asked him a few minutes after they’d picked up their menus.

Richie grinned, having known since he arrived at the table. “Breakfast.”

“It’s 12:30, Richie.”

“Yes, but I didn’t have breakfast, the most important meal of the day. Aren’t you one of the people always telling me to eat breakfast?”

“Yes, except you eat it in the morning!”

“So why do people eat breakfast for dinner? You’ve done that, Benny Boy. Are you telling me that you’re wrong eating breakfast for dinner?”

Anyone else might have been pissed off at Richie for that, but Ben was one of the people who’d known him long enough to understand it was all in jest.

“You two decided what to eat yet?” a waiter asked them as he came over to the table.

              Richie smiled at the handsome man and looked him over. His hair was gelled up enough so his blond hair would look stylish. There was the barest hint of black eyeliner gracing his lids. No ring on his finger, slight limp as he shuffled a little closer in his work boots with a smear of grease on the outer right sole. Calloused hands and green eyes that definitely lingered on Ben ever so briefly, not that Richie could blame him.

Ben sighed and handed over his menu. “The eggs benedict with fruit. I’ll be right back.”

The waiter scribbled down the order as Ben headed off in the direction of the bathroom. “Great. How about you?”

“Let me see…” Richie leaned back in his seat and grinned. “Oh, and don’t mind my friend. He’s been cranky the last few days. Please, tell me what you would recommend?”

“All the sandwiches are really great-”

“I have to stop you, I’m so sorry,” Richie held up a finger for emphasis. “But I have not eaten breakfast yet, my best friend claimed it was the most important meal of the day, and I think it’s vital I should have that. Also, because he’s my best friend, I want to needle him just a little bit with some part of it.”

“How about…chocolate banana pancakes with a side of smoked salmon?”

“He’d hate that,” Richie grinned. “That’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Not sure about that.”

“You’re a man who clearly has a passion for cars, probably classic? What are you working on, a Chevy and listening to Queen?”

“A Volkswagen actually,” the waiter corrected. “Not wrong about Queen.”

“You can never go wrong with Queen.”

“Has he ordered yet?” Ben asked as he returned to his seat. “And please tell me you weren’t gross.”

“I ordered things normal people get for breakfast,” Richie promised, which wasn’t a complete lie. “He can vouch for me.”

“I’ll get these orders going, but he did.”

As their waiter left, Ben turned back to Richie. “You flirted with him, didn’t you?”

“Noooo.”

“You turn on the Tozier charm every time you meet a gay man, Trashmouth.”

“He’s gay? I had no idea! How did you know?”

“Richie, I saw how he looked at you and me, he’s gay,” Ben screwed up his face and put a hand to his temple. “Did you do this?”

Richie knew Ben was baiting him, but he was Trashmouth supreme and would make this game his. “Take a shit in the chair? That’s unsanitary, Ben!”

As predicted, Ben dropped the act immediately. “I meant being psychic.”

“No, you know that is for the police department and cases,” Richie lectured. “And for getting free drinks in the bar.”

“That was once.”

“Still worked out well for us. And it’s because of this that we get paid by Stan.”

“I have a job, Richie,” Ben reminded him. “But I know he’s going to leave you his phone number on the bill, right? And you’ll leave him hanging because you struggle with commitment.”

“I struggle with commitment?” Richie laughed, even though Ben had struck dead on. But it did give him pause…and made him think about a certain someone from his high school reunion. “Then watch this.”

Richie pulled his phone out of his pocket, selected a number, and showed the screen to Ben.

“If he says yes, you have to go on the date,” Ben told him.

“And I will!” Richie hissed. “Commitment issues? Nope. I just took a leap of faith while you still pine for the lovely Detective Marsh.”

Ben raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything else as the call connected.  

~~~

“Bill, you want me to order the-” Mike stopped as his husband strode past him, white as a sheet. “Bill, what’s wrong?”

              Bill didn’t stop walking, heading right for Stan’s office. Mike followed his husband to the chief’s office, noticing an evidence bag with a manila envelope inside in his hand. When they entered, Stan was on the phone with Patty. Once he saw Bill’s face, he told his wife he had to go and hung up.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Bill set the bag on Stan’s desk. “This just got dropped off at the desk.”

Mike leaned over his shoulder to get a better look at it. On the back was the decal of a clown with a sinister smile. His heart sank as he remembered how he’d seen it on the news when he was younger. Stan swallowed, looking a lot more concerned than he had a moment ago. The chief of police had recognized the decal too.

“Who did he choose this time?”

~~~

“Could this not be a more perfect day?” Richie announced as they walked up the stairs to the precinct. “The sun is shining, I’ve eaten a breakfast, I have a date, and Stan the Man has just called us about a case.”

“You still have to actually go on the date,” Ben reminded him. “So what do you think this is going to be about?”

“No clue, but I will definitely be using this?” Richie made his psychic face at Ben. “My moneymaker is going to be in action.”

“Whatever you say,” Ben shrugged as they saw almost everyone in the precinct assembled in the bullpen. “This looks serious though.”

“You made it.”

              Both men turned around to see Detective Beverly Marsh walking towards them. Richie didn’t miss the way that Ben’s face lit up when he saw her. Ever since they’d started Psych and started working with the police department, his best friend had been pining hard for the detective. Richie approved of Bev not just because she believed he was psychic, but because she was tough, smart, and had laughed at his jokes a few times. Also, she tended to be with-

“Edster!” Richie waved at Bev’s partner as she led them over to the rest of the crowd. “How are you?”

“Not the time, Tozier,” Detective Edward Kaspbrak snapped. “This is serious shit happening.”

“Ooookay, duly noted. I’ve missed you too.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but didn’t get a chance to say anything else before Stanley Uris, chief of the Derry Police, called everyone’s attention to a message made of magazine clippings on the projector.

“This letter was delivered to us about an hour ago,” Stan announced. “It’s confirmed to be from the Clown Killer. Detective Kaspbrak, if you will?”

Eddie stepped up. “Hey everybody, I’m back and back for one night only. I’m going to kill somebody tonight? Guess who? Guess where? Guess how? We’re going to have so much fun. Signed, the Clown.”

“The Clown Killer always demands a challenger when he commits his crimes,” Stan continued. “It’s what he does- makes someone follow clues to figure out what his plan is and see if they can stop it in time. The Clown Killer has made it clear who he wants his opponent to be already. Denbrough?”

Officer Bill Denbrough clicked to the next slide. Richie felt like someone had put an ice cube down his back as he read the next magazine letter message.

“P.S…Bring your psychic along,” Bev read aloud as everyone turned towards Richie.

Richie grinned at the crowd. “Okay, but I’m not the first psychic who’s worked with the police. Remember that FBI guy who had a psychic with him?”

“She was in on a counterfeiting scheme,” Ben mumbled next to him.

Stan looked sympathetic. “Mr. Tozier, I’m sorry but he’s made it clear that he wants it to be you.”

“How could he-”

Stan clicked to the next slide. The ice cube now felt like a bucked of ice water going down his shirt when he saw his picture on the screen. It had been the one from when he and Ben had discovered the dinosaur (even though Ben said they had technically re-discovered it after finding the dead paleontologist). There was a stamp of a clown at the bottom of the picture.

“Oh fuck,” he said softly. Someone actually wanted to play a game with him.

Ben stepped forward to stand at his side. “Do you have description on him? Something we can use to track him down?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Stan shook his head. “There’s never been anything to indicate age or ethnicity. Not even a physical description.”

“There isn’t even consistency with the manner in which he kills,” Mike Hanlon, the coroner and medical examiner, added. “I’ve reviewed the files. Neither Bill nor I have been able to find a pattern.”

“He’s right,” Stan nodded. “We’re pawns in his game and we just have to play along with it.”

“Because it’s worked out so well in the past?” Richie countered, his eye catching someone in the corner of the room. “Wait, wait, wait, I’m getting something. I am having a vision of the killer!”

Bev went rigid. “What? Already?”

“Yes, Detective, I am.”

Richie marched across the room, Ben shadowing him, and pointed to a man with a ballcap sitting at a desk. He seemed tuned out to the whole ordeal. “Him. Right here. This is the Clown Killer.”

The man didn’t even pay attention to him, but Bev let out a small groan and Eddie ran a hand down his face. Stan was looking pissed off, then even more so when Bill whispered something in his ear and they retreated to his office.

“Tozier, this is…” Eddie pressed his lips together briefly, barely holding back frustration. “Belch Huggins. He’s a profiler who’s come in because he has identified patterns in the Clown Killer’s murders and is an expert on him. Even more so than Bill and Mike, which is saying something.”

“Are you sure he’s not the killer?”

Ben elbowed him from behind. “Play nice.”

Bev had caught up them now. “Uh, Belch, this is-”

“Richard Tozier, in the flesh,” Belch finished, rising from the chair and adjusting his ballcap.

Richie turned to Ben and raised his eyebrow. Ben gave him a subtle headshake. He was right. Pissing off a potential serial killer was a bad idea, even for him.

“Hold on, you know Tozier?”

“I’ve done my research, Detective Kaspbrak. Not to mention he’s in the papers frequently for the work he’s done for you. No doubt the Clown Killer saw him and decided to select him to be the next player.”

“I’m more of a Street Fighter guy, but beggars can’t be choosers,” Richie told him, stepping aside for Ben. “This is my partner, Leonard Snuffleupagus.”

Belch held out a limp hand that Ben shook politely. “Hello.”

“So you are Benjamin Hanscom,” Belch smiled. “It was harder to find stuff on you with all the names your partner’s given-”

“So why Belch?” Richie interrupted. “You have a gas problem or something.”

“Tozier, please,” Eddie practically begged. “We’re all introduced now. Mr. Huggins, can you tell us more about what’s going on?”

“But answer the Belch question too.”

Belch took a deep breath. “The Clown Killer is the most notorious and mysterious killer in all of Derry. He first started in 1988 with five kills and has resurfaced three times with a single victim in each of those instances. This is his fourth appearance since the 1988 spree. The only times he comes out of hiding are when he feels there is a worthy opponent, Richie in this case. He challenges his opponents to save the victim in a set amount of time by solving riddles he creates.”

Richie raised his hand. “I have a question.”

“My given name is Reginald, my father was named Reginald, his father before him was named Reginald, and his father before him was named Mary. I find the name stuffy; I refuse to go by Reggie because of Archie Comics, and Belch was a childhood nickname.”

Richie lowered his hand. Mystery solved, at least the easy one.

“Okay, you said there are riddles we have to solve?” Ben asked. “Has anything come in yet?”

Bev nodded. “One got delivered with the note announcing his return. Belch?”

Belch walked over to the projector and moved to the next slide. A picture of a telegram message was on the screen, a nice change of pace from the creepy magazine letters.

“He serves the general well today, whose soldiers wait to die. In a white river they shall pay, for them he will not cry. Who is he?”

Richie studied the riddle as Belch pulled a stopwatch out of his jacket. “This stopwatch was also inside the envelope, already running. This is typical of the Clown Killer and we only have an hour and ten minutes left on it."

"Generals and soldiers...could it be military?” Eddie asked, scratching his head.

“Perhaps,” Belch shrugged. “But he wants to play with the psychic. The riddle will be something personally connected to him.”

Richie closed his eyes for a moment. Eddie’s question on the military was still hanging onto him. Generals, soldiers, ranking. Private. Corporal. Lieutenant. Captain. Colonel. But white rivers…a battle? Mike knew some military history, could he know of any battles? But this was for him, this was his clue…

“Any thoughts so far?” Eddie asked.

“He’s been planning this a while or he’s just a lazy poet,” Richie suggested, trying to remember high school history class.

“Richard!”

Fuck, his dad had arrived. Ben was giving him a deer in the headlights look. Richie could tell by the look on the old man’s face that he was not pleased.

“A moment, please,” he said to his friends and Belch before running over to where his father was standing. “What are you doing here?”

“You can’t work with this case, Richard,” Wentworth Tozier scolded his son. “I forbid you to be a part of this.”

“Forbid me…what? No, I am a grown ass adult, Dad. I’m taking the case.”

“Don’t. I was around the last time this sick bastard challenged a cop. Your mother can tell you all about his psychological evaluation. Not only does he know about you, but also about everyone you care about. If you don’t catch him…Richie, you’ll never sleep again.”

His father rarely called him by his nickname. That meant he really wanted Richie to listen to him.

“Dad, I can handle this. I promise you. Just go home, and I’ll give you a call tomorrow, relive the greatest hits. Besides, that clock is counting down so I kinda gotta go and save someone’s life.”

Wentworth didn’t look pleased. “Don’t fuck this up.”

“And I shall try my hardest not to,” Richie snarked back before turning around and heading back to the others.

Eddie was arguing about past cases with Mike and Belch when Richie made it back to the group. Bev and Ben were watching and whispering to each other. Richie looked at the riddle again. He still couldn’t think of anything. What was the Clown Killer trying to tell him?

“The first one is always a gimme,” Belch was telling them. “Richie, you need to think about the last twenty-four hours.”

Staying inside with the rain. Watching Netflix. Arranging a meal with Ben. Breakfast for lunch at the restaurant. He’d run out of cereal so that’s why he’d…

“Oh!” he shouted. “Ben, I know! I got it! It’s Mills!”

His best friend looked at him with confusion. Bev and Eddie exchanged a similar expression. Belch looked intrigued.

“General Mills,” Richie said. “Cereal. The white river is milk, soldiers are the little bits of cereal, and he’s talking about breakfast.”

“Great, we have the general, but who is he?”

Eddie’s question made Richie think back again. The riddle had referred to someone serving the General. Someone serving breakfast…

“Shit.”

~~~

              Eddie made remarkable time getting them all back to where Richie had been eating breakfast with Ben. Once they were there, Richie didn’t even wait for the car to park before tumbling out while Eddie shrieked at him to wait. There was no time to wait though with the timer counting down. The hostess told them when they all barreled in that the waiter had gone on break in the back. Richie barely even let her show them the way, running off in the direction she pointed with Eddie and Ben on his heels.

Outside of the restaurant, there was no waiter in sight. Unfortunately, there was a clown decal plastered on a locker below a stopwatch. The cold feeling he’d gotten earlier was back.

“How well did you all know this guy?” Bev asked, but her voice sounded fuzzy.

“He just served us lunch.”

“Breakfast…for lunch,” Richie corrected. “It was barely anything.”

“Doesn’t matter with the Clown Killer,” Belch said simply, like he was telling a child the sun went down at night. “He’ll find anyone you interact with.”

Bev was yanking on a pair of gloves and opening the locker. No dead body fell out thankfully. There was another message inside, except it was made with glued on cereal.

“Oh rats, Richie,” Bev read. “Oh, so close! Shame he has to die, but how? And when and where? Don’t ask me why.”

“That’s not a riddle,” commented Belch. “He owes us one still.”

“Richie, think you can sense anything from it?” Bev asked him.

Richie tried to look for something, but the waiter was still on his mind. “Clearly he went to a lot of work to pick out the letters from the cereal. For a guy who rhymes like a sixth grader, he had to be planning this. Like he was waiting for me for breakfast. He should have used those little alphabet letters that people put in soup. Why do they call it alphabet soup anyways? There’s fucking numbers in that stuff! Why don’t you calling it fucking letters and numbers soup? It makes more sense!”

Ben nudged him. “I have to go show you something over there.”

“You can just tell me.”

“I want to show you something,” Ben jerked his head towards a flower box. “This will be a quick second.”

Eddie nodded in understanding before going back to checking over the locker with Bev. Richie groaned and ran his hands down his face. “What?”

“Richie, what are you doing?”

“Trying to solve a case, like we always do.

“There’s a man’s life at stake and you’re making jokes?” Ben whispered. “Richie, you are my best friend, I love you, and I support you. But you have to take this one seriously. It’s a serial killer who is going after you!”

“You think I don’t know that? Ben, I’m scared out of my mind. We heard about those cases growing up, my dad knew people who faced this guy, my mother did their psych evals. I have to work like this because if this clown gets into my head, then it’s all over. I’ll lose it. I have to do my thing and make jokes to diffuse the tension of this situation or I’m going to actually start freaking out more. I can’t show weakness by stopping and showing that this weirdo has gotten into my head!”

Ben stared at him for a long minute. “What if I made the jokes?”

“Come again?”

“You have to focus on these riddles, not creating jokes,” Ben told him. “Let me try and be the funny guy. I’m no you, but…I can try.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“I said I’d try. That clock’s running out though. Let’s do this, Trashmouth.”

Richie grinned. “You’re the Trashmouth now.”

“Guess, I am.”

“If you’re both done with your powwow now, I found the other poem,” Eddie shouted, holding up a receipt.

Richie walked over, peering over Eddie’s shoulder. “Little League is over, you just became a pro. Score a run, we’ll have some fun. Make sure you beat the throw.”

Ben peeked over Eddie’s other shoulder. “Wow, and he didn’t leave a tip. What a jackass.”

“He wants you to go to the next location,” Belch said before letting out a burp.

“And we have seventeen minutes,” Eddie held up the watch. “Tozier, would you please get off my shoulder? Where do we need to go?”

Richie cringed and started to think. Oh god, where did this guy want him now?

Ben glanced over at him and nodded. He picked up a soda can and started playing hacky sack with it. After a while, he started to whistle Happy Birthday. Belch looked fascinated. Bev raised an eyebrow at his antics. Then she clapped her hands together.

“Make sure you beat the throw is a close play! I had a coach once who told us that constantly. You have to get to one of the bases or home plate.”

“Yes!” Richie saw where she was going. “He said score a run. I sucked at Little League, but I know you have to touch home plate to score. Home plate is the police station, it’s where this started.”

“Good, good, good,” Eddie said quickly, fumbling a little as he pulled out his keys. “Now let’s go!”

~~~

              When they got back to the police station, Maggie Tozier was waiting there. Eddie watched as Richie went off to go and talk to her. He thought about shouting at him briefly to just come along, but he knew about Richie’s relationship with his parents. It had been the total opposite of him and his mother. They’d buried themselves in their work and weren’t there for Richie when he needed them. When Maggie had evaluated him a few months ago, she’d mentioned it was a regret of hers that she was actively trying to fix.

“Kaspbrak, Marsh!” Stan came out of the conference room. “In here!”

“Is it a surprise party?” Ben asked.

Bev frowned at him. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Cool as a cucumber.”

Eddie rolled his eyes as they walked inside. Mike and Bill were with Stan, staring at a massive box on the table.

“Again, is it a surprise party?”

Mike shook his head. “I found this outside the file room. Checked in with Bill to see who’d brought it in. He told me no one signed for it.”

“It was inside the precinct?!” Stan stared at the two of them. “Are you kidding me? That is the last place someone should be dropping clues. Both of you, go tell everyone to keep their eyes open, not until they catch this guy. I’ve let you people watch my child, come on!”

“Sorry about that,” Richie made his way into the conference room, looking more determined than he had a few moments ago. “And Chief, I was told to tell you there was a reporter on the phone in your office. Something about a statement.”

“Oh, he’s getting a statement,” Stan sighed. “Please solve this, Mr. Tozier. Please.”

Eddie watched him leave, not envious of the position his boss was in. Belch began to unwrap the package on the table now that Richie was there. The guy gave Eddie the creeps, but he seemed to know what he was doing. Richie hand his arms crossed, but his fingers were dancing out a melody on his elbows. More than even, Eddie hoped he’d crack this case. He’d heard others broke before after failing and he didn’t want that to happen to Richie.

“What the fuck is that?” he screeched when the wrapping paper came off to reveal a cage with vermin and a time hanging from the wire.

“It’s a mouse, Edster,” Richie deadpanned. “I had one as a kid for a while.”

“He’s taped the clue on top,” Belch interrupted, pulling off a laminated sheet. “Another riddle for you, Richie.”

“Is he using alphabet noodles?” Ben asked.

Belch showed them the paper. “Mouse food. It’s a photograph. Meet my little buddy Gus. Pitter patter is your hint. If you can’t remember when, just read the fine print.”

“How much time do I have for this one?”

Eddie looked at the dangling watch, scrunching up his nose at the mouth. “Fifty-nine minutes.”

“Richie, is there a way you can speak to it?” Bev asked.

Eddie scoffed. Three years and she was still buying he was psychic. Yes, it was freaky but there had to be some explanation for how Tozier did his thing. “He can’t.”

“Yes, he can,” Ben countered. “He’s the psychic.”

“He is standing right here and all of you are bringing in a lot of negative energy,” Richie yawned. “Just give me a minute.”

“Whatever, Doctor Doolittle,” Eddie muttered.

Richie smirked. “Eddie, I know you can do better than that.”

~~~

              Richie stared at the mouse, trying to figure out what the clue meant. It was hard with everyone staring at him again and the beeping of the timer. Thankfully, Ben came to his aide and started doing his best audition for the Ministry of Silly Walks. While they were watching him make a fool of himself, it gave Richie the time to think. Still, nothing was coming to him.

“Pitter patter is the clue,” Belch said, leaning down on the other side of the table to meet Richie’s face. “Maybe you’re not supposed to speak to the mouse. What if it’s supposed to speak to you?”

Weird advice, but then again, he was working with a man called Belch. Richie sighed and watched Gus the mouse scurry around. His feet dislodged the little flakes, exposing part of a newspaper and its text.

Fine print.

“Oh, this little fucker,” Richie chuckled, pulling the top of the cage off. “Eddie, take the mouse.”

“Do you know how many diseases that thing could be carrying?”

“I got him,” Belch scooped up Gus. “Hello there, my little furry friend.”

Richie let Belch keep cooing to the mouse as he pulled up the newspaper liner. “He was walking on the fine print.”

“Then the next clue is there,” Bev stopped when she saw the page Richie had pulled out. “In the Classifieds. This could be a while.”

“But you have a psychic to read the energy of the printed names and find the important ones,” Richie countered, holding the paper up and putting a hand to his head. “Oh hey, Ben! Betty Ripsom seeks Lenjamin Handsome to love her tender. Your ex made it!”

“Not going down that road again.”

“Don Hagarty selling black snake, will go fast…”

“Those are people from your past cases,” Belch said, the mouse running along his shoulder now. “I did tell you I did my research.”

“I will not doubt you again, my good man,” Richie nodded and then looked back through the paper, scanning all the ads. “Snarky psychic seeks ferroequinologist for help with killer smile. Really? Of all the words to call me, he’s picking snarky? Lame.”

“Ferroequinologist,” Eddie murmured. “A ferroquinologist is a train enthusiast.”

Ben whipped his head towards him. “How do you know that?”

“I happen to be one actually.”

“No kidding,” Ben pointed to himself. “Same.”

“And I as well,” Belch added.

Richie had no idea what was going on, but these three clearly knew what was going on. At least he and Bev were both confused as hell with these two.

“The ‘love her tender’…tender is a small fuel car.”

Belch nodded. “Black snake is slang for coal train.”

“And there is a coal train that runs through Derry,” Ben finished.

They had their next location.

~~~

“You should have told me that we were running!” Richie shouted as he and Ben chased the coal train.

“We ran out of the station before I remembered!” Ben shouted back. “I forgot it was a pull through.”

“Dammit, Ben! But hey, look at us. We get to live out a hobo fantasy!”

Ben laughed a little. “Hey, your phone is ringing!”

              Richie pulled it out, slowing his run a little so he didn’t drop the phone. It was Carter calling about their date tonight. He was thrilled about it even though it was bad timing. Unfortunately, Carter still hadn’t forgotten how Richie had chickened out of taking him to homecoming and was suspecting he was being stood up. He was right about them chasing a serial killer, even if it did come out sarcastic.

“Ben can vouch for me! Ben, tell Carter what’s happening!”

Ben grabbed the phone Richie held out. “Hey, Carter. It’s Ben. We’re chasing a train like hobos.”

They gained a little more ground on the train before he pushed the phone back to Richie. “He wants to talk to you.”

              Carter thought it was another excuse that Richie was doing. He confessed that he was worried about high school happening again. Richie promised to call him back, and that it wasn’t a repeat of the past just as they reached an open car. Ben managed to hoist himself up first, then outstretched a hand to help Richie on.

“Your hobo fantasy sucks,” Ben coughed as they crawled inside and found the envelope and timer. “What does this dick want us to do now?”

Richie cracked open the yellow envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. The letters were white and blue this time. There were some red smears on the paper as well that made his stomach turn.

“A moving picture is worth a thousand words, so read the story and follow the birds? Once you’re there, you’ll hear a phone. You have eight rings to pick up or the girl is dead. Shame on me, that didn’t even rhyme.”

“I hope that’s just jam,” Ben groaned as he pulled out a packet of pictures from inside the envelope. “He’s given you these this time too. We have twenty-seven minutes to get this one right.”

“Great, no pressure,” he muttered, placing out all the photos to try and find a pattern. But nothing stood out.

“Anything?”

“No…wait,” Richie crawled over and peeked out the open door. “Actually, yes. Come see this.”

Ben peered his head out and saw Belch jogging beside the train, sweaty and panting. “I can’t believe this.”

~~~

              Richie figured out that the clue was leading them to the pier. The Clown Killer had taken a picture of Ben throwing away a wrapper just after lunch right by it. They had been walking to Ben’s car and this fuckwad had been watching them. So they all loaded in Eddie’s car again once they all hopped off the train to get there. The man must have broken half a dozen laws to get them there. Richie had never loved him more.

              Again, he bolted out of the car before Eddie had even parked and was running with Ben towards the pier. People were all about, enjoying the sunshine. The timer had seven minutes left on it by the time they reached the midpoint. A phone had started to ring then, which Richie finally located to be under a bench. He nearly answered it on the fifth ring but stopped.

Why had it started ringing as soon as he got there?

So he threw the damn thing into the water, drawing horrified looks out of everyone.

“You better hope that man is still alive or you’re an accessory to murder,” Eddie said blankly.

Richie could barely hear him over the pounding of his heart. He really hoped he hadn’t fucked this up. But he was getting tired of this game, especially if someone was watching him.

“Richie?” Bev’s voice was filled with quiet anger. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because he’s watching us, Bev!” he snapped. “This thing wasn’t even ringing until I was five fucking feet away from…”

He could see the Psych office all the way from where he stood. It was far, but not too far away that he could miss the movement behind the glass.

“It,” he finished. “Ben, he’s in the office.”

“Richie- what?”

              He didn’t even wait for his best friend or try to explain before he started running again. Richie only looked back once to make sure that they were on his tail. His mother had told him earlier that the Clown Killer knew how to push someone’s buttons and hit people and things close to him. Up until now, it had been aggravating. Breaking and entering into Psych was making it more personal.

              Bev and Eddie caught up to him and kicked in the door. Guns out, they swept the place in search of the Clown Killer. However, he had slipped away from them. The binoculars by the window Richie had been looking at earlier were enough confirmation that he had been there. He had been watching and waiting so he could make that damn call.

“Richie, don’t touch a thing! He could have left prints!” Eddie called out after he slammed the binoculars in the trash.

“You won’t find any,” Belch murmured dreamily. “He’s too good for prints. But he probably touched everything in here to get to you.”

“You have way too much admiration for this psycho,” Bev snapped at him.

“You haven’t seen anything yet. He’s just getting warmed up.”

Richie covered his face, pushing his glasses up. He hated this, he hated this, he hated-

Ben patted his shoulder. Then Richie heard “Hey, everyone. Look how huge I am compared to this little Stormtrooper. He’s so tiny!”

“Will you get your shit together!” Eddie yelled. “What the hell, Hanscom?

Richie winked at him. “You gotta pull yourself together, man.”

Ben winked back.

“Oh, god,” Bev pulled down a photo above the one of him and Ben as children. “He was here. Is this the guy who served you this morning?”

Richie nodded as he saw the man who had served this morning tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth.

“Thank you,” Belch grabbed the frame and smashed it on Ben’s desk.

              Ben was about to shout at him, but a timer started beeping. Bev, who was closest to his desk, started owning up drawers and digging through them. Ben started helping her and Richie felt like he should help too. But it was like his feet were rooted to the ground. He just stood there, watching as Bev finally pulled it out and shut it off.

“He’s left another clue,” Belch turned the picture over, showing Richie the gagged waiter as he read. “You are a naught naughty boy. Since when did you decide to play coy? But back to the station, you get another shot. But mess with me again and-”

“STOP!” Richie shouted. “Just…stop it. I’m done.”

“Richie-” Bev tried.

“Don’t. I’m sick and tired of him running us all around. I’m out. I did all this shit for him, and I’m done. Finished. Finito.”

“Because no one has ever gotten this far with him. He’s keeping the game going a sign of respect.”

“Then you can tell him to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine, Belch! After all, it’s not like we can win. You were the one who said he’s too good!”

Richie dropped into one of the chairs by the window. “We never had a shot, did we? He’s just going to kill that guy, isn’t he?”

“Tozier…” Eddie started, then paused. “Richie, you don’t just give up.”

“He’s not calling you out personally,” Richie hissed. “He is not coming into your life and picking up all these little pieces of things you thought were in the past and taunting you with them. He’s coming for me. So just…don’t right now. I’m done. Get out.”

“What?”

“I said get out!” Richie screamed. “You three! Ben stays, but all of you get out! Now!”

Bev glared at him. “Screw you, Tozier. You want to quit now, fine! We’ll still find him.”

“And good luck with that!” he shouted as she marched out with Belch, leaving Eddie staring at him with sad eyes.

“Maybe I don’t believe you’re psychic, but I believed you could solve this,” Eddie told him. “Guess I was wrong about believing in you.”

With that, he headed out the door. Richie sank back into his seat. He was exhausted.

“So now what?” Ben asked. “Are we really out?”

Richie shrugged. “I don’t know. I just…he’s the one in control right now. Everyone who plays by his rules loses. The only chance we have now is to change the rules on him, and I tried to do that. He could have killed the waiter, but he didn’t. He still wants to play and he gave us another try. If we’re out, then he’s not watching us anymore.”

Ben grinned. “Smart. I thought you were really pissed off at them.”

“I kinda was. This psycho is awful, but he’s not watching us. So let’s do what we do- go off the book to investigate.”

“Sounds like a plan. Hey, was I too much with the Stormtrooper?”

Richie cackled for what felt like the first time in hours. “Your best work ever. Now let’s go. We’ve gotten through the hard part. It can’t get any worse.”

~~~

It could, in fact, get worse.

              An hour after he’d ‘quit’ the game, Richie got a phone call from Bev telling them to come to the Derry Inn. Apparently, they’d found the waiter’s car parked outside just as Richie talked with the staff and found out the car was missing. Eddie, Bev, and Belch were already waiting by the time Ben drove him there. Richie was barely able to ask what had happened before they started leading him upstairs. Bev explained on the way that the next clue had been directed towards Eddie and he’d managed to figure it out the location and room number of the next clue.

Inside the room was the waiter, tied to a chair with his head slack.

Bev rushed over and placed her fingers on his neck. “Still breathing. Get that gag out of his mouth.”

“It’s paper,” Eddie grimaced as he extracted it. “It’s the next clue. Richie no longer wants to play. Are my stakes too low to make you stay?”

Richie was confused and he started looking around the room. There was a creepy clown portrait on a closet door made with items that probably came from a woman’s purse. Said purse was lying on the table next to the television. The cold ice feeling was back as Richie remembered seeing that bag with his mother when she came to try and talk him out of the case.

The Clown Killer had upped the stakes and taken his mom.

“No,” he uttered. “He took my mom, Ben.”

Ben covered his mouth for a moment before dropping his hand down to his side. “That son of a bitch.”

“He took my mom,” Richie repeated, sinking into a chair. He’d spend most of his life resenting her for being so absorbed in her work. She’d been making the steps to be better, actually have a relationship with him. And now this son of a bitch had taken her.

Stan was now entering the room. “I just checked down at the front desk, where’s Mr. Tozier?”

“He knows already,” Eddie spoke up. “The killer took his mother.”

The other man’s face sank. “Richie, we’re going to find her.”

“We have to,” Richie ran his hands down his face. “He upped the game to bring me back in.”

“Richie,” Bev stuck her head out of the bathroom. “You need to get in here.”

“Coming.”

Stan patted Richie on the shoulder. “I’m sending some officers to keep an eye on your father. Anyone else we should know about who could be in danger?”

“Everyone I care about is here,” Richie mumbled as Eddie walked past him. “But…Carter Han. I have a date with him tonight. If the Clown Killer goes for him-”

“We won’t let him.”

“Yeah,” Richie nodded, entering the bathroom to find Eddie, Ben, Bev, and Belch already inside. “Thought it was only girls who traveled to the bathroom in packs, guys?”

“Richie,” Ben began, pointing to the mirror with a message written on it in red.

Oh no…

“It’s lipstick,” Eddie said quickly beside him. “Your mother’s fine. He just decided to get creative.”

“You should be moving, as most people do,” Belch read. “But instead you sit and enjoy the Vu. P.S. Mommy says hi and bye. Just in case.”

Eddie was shaking, holding a clenched fist. Richie half suspected he’d smash the mirror. Bad luck could suck it.

“Any of you happen to know what V-U would be?” Stan asked them.

“We solved a case for a spelling bee once after a kid with that surname passed out,” Ben told him. “But he’s from Michigan.”

              Richie inhaled and closed his eyes, thinking back over the day. The clown stickers on all the envelopes. Gus the mouse. The classifieds. There had been an ad for a drive-in movie place. Cinema Vue, but the e had been crossed out.

“Well, thank god he’s not going to ruin the arcade for me,” Richie sighed. “But I know where he is. Was there a timer anywhere?”

Bev and Eddie shook their heads.

“Then we need to hurry,” Belch said. “He set no timer. The sun’s going down. I think he’s ready for the endgame.”

~~~

              It was dark by the time the group arrived at the drive-in lot. Mike and Bill had joined the party, along with Richie’s father. Richie had managed to remember the keys from his mother’s purse when he spoke to earlier to identify the car, so they at least had that. But that was their only clue.

              He must have spent five minutes running through the rows and jumping on cars before he finally found the car. Slowly, Richie approached it, spotting his mother in the side mirror. There was tape over Maggie Tozier’s mouth and she looked remarkably calm. As he approached the open window, he saw a sign around her neck.

“Mama says pretty please, don’t squeeze!”

Richie stepped back and got a better look. The back headrest was gone and there was a red dot on the back of her neck.

“Richard?”

“Dad,” Richie didn’t take his eyes off his mom. “Be quiet and get down.”

For once in his life, his father actually seemed to listen and not argue with the instruction. “What’s going on?”

Bev and Eddie were hurrying towards them along the row, but Richie pointed to the red dot. It traced all the way back to the house where the movie was rolling. The two detectives set off in search of that, but this felt too easy for the Clown Killer. But he needed to talk to his mother to see if there was more.

“Mom, I’m going to take the tape off now,” he told her. “Hold still.”

Once it was off, she didn’t look at him. “That one’s a decoy.”

“I figured, but-” Richie processed her words. “What do you mean that one?”

Her eyes trailed down to the box of popcorn on her lap. Richie followed her gaze. Buried in the kernels was something blinking and red.

“Richard!” his father hissed. “What’s happening?”

Richie exhaled slowly. “She’s strapped to a bomb.”

Wentworth’s shoulders sank. “Oh god, no, Richie.”

“I’m going to fix this,” he promised, then looked back to his mother. “Mom, is he here?”

She nodded, her eyes moving to the left. Richie stood up and looked in that direction. There was a space for cars to drive up, but just past that was a car with open windows and a man with a mullet seated in the driver’s seat. As if he could feel Richie watching him, he turned and smiled. He waved a small remote back and forth tauntingly, then beckoned Richie towards the car.

~~~

The car was cleaner than Richie has expected from a serial killer once he got inside.

“Hello, Richie,” the Clown Killer greeted. “I see you finally solved all of my clues.”

Richie didn’t show any expression, even though he wanted to throttle the shit out of him for putting him through that all day. “I won. I beat you. Now let my mother go.”

The man chuckled. “Most people introduce themselves first. I’m Henry Bowers. Nice to meet you.”

Richie glared at him.

“You’ve really been something,” Bowers told him. “I think you might be my most admirable foe. Then again, I knew you would be. I’ve been reading the papers, Mr. Psychic.”

“Great, glad to know I set a record in the most fucked up game ever,” Richie fired back. “But this is your last game, dipshit. This whole place is surrounded with SWAT. There is no way you’re making an escape.”

Bowers snorted. “I’ll admit the game is at an end. But I’m not done yet.”

“Why not? You about to give me some Hannibal Lecter bullshit?”

“I can try and drop something,” Bowers pointed at the movie. “You know what’s great about this movie? It has a solid resolution. These days, everyone always wants a sequel, always wants to know more. But the best movies are the ones that tie up all the loose ends. I’m like that.”

“You’re a serial killer. What does that have to do with movies?”

“Maybe I am a killer. But I also complete things. That’s what everyone wants- completion. Now the story we’ve made, you versus me, is going to end. The question is how.”

Richie spotted Eddie in the mirror. He wanted so bad for this all to end, but Bowers still had the remote that could kill his mother. He gave the barest shake of his head and hoped Eddie could see it. Thankfully, he did and motioned for SWAT to stand down.

“I know how it ends,” Richie told Bowers. “You in a cell with white walls. Or out in a blaze of glory. A serial killer cliché either way.”

Bowers laughed. “You do realize I could have killed Mommy Dearest hours ago, Richie. This switch has such a light touch. It’s like a house of cards. One touch and BOOM!”

Richie jerked back, making the killer laugh.

“Now how much fun would that be to see? It’s been so hard not to flick it, I just want to see it so badly. But then you would have been furious with me. And I can’t have that because we’ll see each other again.”

“No fucking way,” Richie shook his head. “Enjoy your last breaths of fresh air because you and your ugly-ass mullet are going right into a padded cell after all this. That’s the end.”

“Of the beginning,” Bowers grinned. “I think I’ll write a book about this. It’ll be a bestseller. You want to write a foreword.”

“Fuck no.”

Bowers shrugged. “Too bad. But keep it in mind on your date later. If you can still do it after me.”

He passed the switch to Richie. Game over.

              Richie wasted no time in bolting out of the car and shouting for them to take the Clown Killer. Henry Bowers smiled calmly as the police and SWAT came rushing in. Richie watched his father pull his mother out of the car and handed the switch over. He handed the switch over to Stan before Ben came running over.

“Richie, I-oof!”

Ben stumbled back at the force of the hug Richie tackled with before hugging him back. “Hey, man. You did it.”

“I did it,” Richie repeated. “He had a fucking mullet.”

“A mullet? Really? I saw a guy with one of those earlier today. It’s the twenty-first century.”

              As the police lead Henry to a car, Richie thought back on the day. He had seen him before. Behind a newspaper at the restaurant. Sitting behind a desk in the precinct. Walking past them in the Derry Inn’s lobby. Taking pictures as they’d been walking past the pier. All day long, he’d been following them.

“He was watching us all day…”

Richie staggered a little, but Ben grabbed hold of his shoulders.

“Richie, breathe. You got him. He’s going away. We’re okay now.”

“Congratulations, Richie,” Belch said, strolling up beside them. “You outsmarted the Clown Killer.”

“Go me,” he muttered.

“I’ve spent the last thirteen years of my life with this person. He was my whole purpose. Now I need to find a new one.”

Ben looked over at him. “Have you considered squash?”

Belch shook his head.

“Give it a shot. I’ll pay a game with you sometime.”

“Thank you, Ben. I’ll see you around.”

“Until next time then,” he said, offering them a limp handshake and adjusted his baseball cap before walking off.

“I hope he’s wrong,” Richie shuddered. “I don’t want to touch this case again.”

“Me neither. But you got through it. You’re stronger than you think, man.”

~~~

“So do I get an explanation for why you were acting like a jackass today?”

Ben snorted as he approached Bev sitting on the hood of Eddie’s car. “I was kind of a jackass, huh?”

“Big time.”

Ben chuckled as he walked over to her. “I don’t know if this will do any good, but I was doing it to help Richie. Be the humor so he could focus on the case.”

“Ahhhh,” Bev nodded, smiling in understanding. “You were being a good friend.”

“A good best friend, and I try to be.”

“Well, you were there for him today. He really needed someone. I can’t imagine going through that…having a serial killer taunt me. Dangling the life of someone I love right in front of me.”

A horrific scenario that would never happen flashed before Ben’s eyes. “Me neither.”

“But the Clown Killer’s gone now,” Bev sighed, sliding off the hood and grinding a cigarette butt under her heel.

“He is. Hey, can I get a ride back with you and Eddie?”

“What about your car?”

“Richie has a date and he intends to see it through.”

Bev gaped. “He has a date?”

“Yup.”

“Well, you can absolutely ride back with us,” Bev told him. “Eddie’s just inside. Said something about having to go to the bathroom, but I bet he’s talking to Richie. He hates bathrooms in movie theaters.”

“It’s a drive-in.”

“Which counts as a movie theater.”

“Ooo and there’s where we have to disagree, Detective Marsh.”

“Oh really?” Bev grinned. “Now I have to hear your reasons for why a drive-in is different than a move theater.”

~~~

“Richie?”

Richie looked up from the tray of goodies he’d gotten for his and Carter’s date. He had been worried that Carter was going to not come, but apparently the Clown Killer story had broken the news and Carter had called to see that he was okay. He also apologized for thinking Richie was trying to cancel on him, so that helped. It would be another few minutes before he was set to arrive, but Richie wanted things to be perfect.

And now Eddie was here, dressed in civilian clothes and looked nervous.

“Eddie?” Richie nearly speared his hand with a straw. “Hey, what are you doing here? Thought you and Bev were going to go Hannibal Lecter his ass. Straightjacket? Grilled face mask? Rent of one of those dollies for transport and all.”

Eddie snorted. “There’s an entire precinct fighting for that job. I’ll take the next one.”

“Cool, cool, cool. So…you’re here because…?”

Eddie walked a little closer. “I wanted to tell you that you were…really great today. Incredible, actually. I couldn’t even imagine functioning like that, especially with your mom’s life on the line like that. I know things are rocky with you too and I’m proud of you for that.”

“Probably a good thing he didn’t go after your mom,” Richie shrugged. “Or your ex.”

“Ha ha,” Eddie laughed sarcastically. “Look, I know this is probably the worst timing that I can have for this. But I was thinking after Bowers got taken away about how I could have lost you if we didn’t win. That scared me a lot. I know we butt heads and banter, but I really like spending time with you. Both on the clock and off it. Like when you tried to help Bev throw me a birthday party.”

“That was still your fault for keeping that book.”

“A lot of cops keep books like that,” Eddie shot back. “But you’re getting me off track. You still showed you cared about me in a way that I’m not used to. A really healthy way. Thinking about losing that and you tonight made me think a lot. Because I am scared about losing you. I know you and Ben are probably about to see a movie, but…can I take you to dinner instead?”

Richie felt his heart sink. “Detective Kaspbrak, are you asking me out on a date?”

“That was the intention.”

“Oh, Eddie,” Richie sighed. “I cannot believe this. You really do have the worst timing.”

Eddie looked freaked out. “What?”

“I can’t go on a date with you…because I’m about to go on one.”

“You’re-what?”

As if on cue, Carter walked into the lobby. Richie and Eddie turned to look at him, then back at each other.

“Then- then you can forget everything I just said,” Eddie backed up. “I had no idea, I’m sorry. I’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow, Tozier.”

“See you…” Richie tried to say, but Eddie was already speed walking out of the lobby, nearly running into Carter on the way.

“Whoa, he is in a hurry!” Carter remarked as he reached Richie. “Hey, how are you?”

Richie watched Eddie run out of the doors and towards his car. Ben and Bev were standing by it, and Richie could imagine Eddie yelling at Bev to get off the hood.

“Richie?” Carter asked. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I thought I was going to be the one stood up this time.”

[snellyboi]

Hey it’s a vent post.

I have ADHD and I’m afraid of medicating for it, and this post is about why. But just so y’all know, this post is not discouraging you from taking your meds. If your meds are working for you please take them and keep up with them as regularly as you need to. I beg of you. PLEASE DO NOT TAKE THIS AS SOME WEIRD NEW AGE HEALTH STUFF THAT’S NOT WHAT THIS IS ABOUT I’M NOT GONNA TELL YOU ANY ALTERNATIVES OR TELL YOU TO STOP MEDICATING IT’S JUST ME VENTING ABOUT MY OWN PERSONAL EXPERIENCE ALSO REMEMBER TO TAKE YOUR MEDS!

I’ve known about my ADHD vaguely since I was 6, but I definitely knew by the time I was 10. We went so some doctor, for some reason, and I ended up with ADHD. Well, at the time I think they were still calling it ADD in my case because I wasn’t super active I guess? Either way I had it. 

They put me on something called Strattera, and I remember feeling...a few changes? I took it pretty regularly and I think it made me a little better at getting homework done, but at this point in my life, my mother was still very active in my school life. It was normal for me to do homework at this point. It took less time though, at least, is what my mother said. 

It had some problems though. For starters, there weren’t many results? I mean my grades didn’t get any better, I still lost track of stuff, and overall it was just not doing much. 

The big kicker was that I wasn’t eating enough. 

I already had (and still have) a fairly fast metabolism, not exactly hyper-thyroid but a little above average, which isn’t helped by my hobbies of cycling, marching band, and at the age of 10, running around in the woods with spray painted nerf guns and making ‘pew pew’ sounds. So when my parents noticed less and less food being eaten by me? They got really concerned. That’s not typical, I usually ate quite a bit. Now I was eating barely anything. I’m told these days that it’s a pretty common side effect of this stuff? But this was way out of the ordinary, make no mistake. I couldn’t finish a happy meal. at 10 years old. 

My parents were concerned, and when we stopped taking the pills after about a year, my mother asked if I wanted to look at any other meds for it?

I said no. 

I mean, granted, at the time, I didn’t notice the big stuff. I knew I was lighter, and I knew I felt a little more sick, but I didn’t know that they were scared for my life or anything. I just kinda said ‘nah, I’m good’. It was a trauma that sort of slowly seeped in over time. I got older and realized it. It was weird, and to be frank, it was kinda scary. Of course I didn’t figure this out when I was 10, I was 10! My biggest concern was when Spongebob came on!

By the time I was 12, I never really wanted to try meds again. Not because I thought it was quackery; friends of mine took meds all their lives, and they did fine. This stuff works for people. But I figured that maybe they didn’t work for everyone, at least, not for me. And for the most part, it doesn’t get brought up. When ADHD does come up, usually with someone else who has ADHD, it’s not like the first question they ask is ‘what pills are you on’, that’s not a typical thing to talk about in my experience. 

I get by most days, and I’ve managed, somehow, to get into a sort of routine. This routine involves a lot of me time, and It’ll take me some extra semesters to get through college, but if that’s what it takes then that’s what it takes. I go on a lot of walks, I cook a lot, and I listen to a lot of music, and eventually I’m able to focus on getting stuff done, so long as there isn’t a massive amount to do. I try very hard to get everything in one location done before heading home for the evening, too. 

I wanted to get this stuff off of my chest because recently, a person who I was pretty close with, and who knew I didn’t medicate, tried to use me as some sort of example of ‘overcoming the need for medication’ or whatever. I was talking about how I had cleaned my room and that I was kinda proud of myself, and they said “Oh, well, y’know, you’re pretty well off, you don’t need to take meds! You’ve, like, overcome that or something, right? You’re past that, you’re better off without.” 

I hate that sort of thing with a bitter passion. It’s not like you just grow out of it. Especially not in my case. Sorry, Bucky, but I’m gonna have fucking ‘cool guy syndrome’ for the rest of my waking days. But the other insidious thing about this is that it makes it sound like people who use medications are somehow worse off than I am? 

I HATE that line of thinking, and it’s way too common. I’m not ‘better off’ because I don’t use medication, and people who DO use medication aren’t worse off because they need it! 

The worst thing is, though, I guess I have, like this guilt complex or this impostor syndrome. When this person said that, they made it sound like I was ‘cured’ or whatever bullshit they were thinking. I just felt like I wasn’t really experiencing it, despite the diagnoses from 3 different doctors, it being clearly marked in pretty much every medical history thing I’ve ever had, IEPs that lasted through most of my public school years, and even the doctors up here at college knowing about it. I’d say I have it on paper, hands down. 

But a comment like that just made me feel as if I’d been lied to my whole life. It made me feel like I didn’t have a real problem, like I wasn’t ‘legit’ because I wasn’t taking meds. And this wasn’t some weird, surely non existent diagnosed elitist saying this, it was a random person who I thought didn’t care what I did, and who I figured was supportive.  And this is all because I stopped eating while I was on some meds. It makes me kind of upset that I’m...like this? I know it’s okay to be afraid of things but this just always felt weird. 

Anyway, long story short, I’m afraid to take meds because it was screwy when I was a youngster and now I constantly fight with myself as to whether or not it’s okay to be nervous about meds. 

NOW THAT YOU’VE READ THIS IT’S A GOOD TIME TO REMIND YOU THAT IF YOU TAKE MEDS THEN YOU SHOULD REMEMBER TO TAKE THEM BECAUSE AGAIN THIS POST ISN’T TRYING TO STOP YOU FROM TAKING YOUR MEDS SO POP THOSE PILLS IN A RESPONSIBLE FASHION PLEASE AND THANK YOU

[powertobehandsome]

The Way I See It || Matt and Seth

part four. oh my god i forgot how much i loved this story || @blindlyburning

Seth nodded, looking over his shoulder at the young man. “Can we bring you anything back? Coffee? Breakfast?”

There was something in the back of his mind that let him know the chances of running into Matt at his place were very slim. But still, he hoped. He found he missed Matt. Missed the careful way he touched and the way his lips turned into a smile. “Pain pills would be nice,” he replied finally looking at Foggy, reaching up to rest a hand on his shoulder as they walked out. “Thank you,” he said quietly when they reached the elevator. “You and Matt have given Ryan and I so much. Including a friendship I’m not sure we deserve. Still. I… I know you would disagree, and if I could choose for none of us to be hurt, naturally I would go that route. But I am thankful that neither of you…” Well, he assumed Matt hadn’t been hurt. “That neither of you were hurt in all this. I can only hope it stays that way.”

He was quiet the rest of the way down, only barely sparing a glance at himself in the reflection of the elevator doors just before they opened. As they did, he smiled lightly. “I hadn’t even realized my eye opened. At least there’s that.” It was entirely bloodshot, and perhaps made him look worse this way than when it had been swollen shut. But at least he could use both eyes again.

“How are you, Foggy? Do you need anything?”

Montparnasse had asked for a ridiculously sweet coffee but that was it.

As for Foggy, he had set a slow pace as they walked out, careful to keep on supporting Seth as well as he could. "I'm... I'm kind of in shock. You both got hurt so bad, and if he got hit somewhere else... and I'm scared what we're gonna find when we get back to Matt, you know?" He swallowed hard. "But I guess...this is just... this shit happens."

Right. That felt like a lie, but he figured it was better to lie than to be too honest right now.

When they got to Matt's apartment, Foggy mentally prepared himself for the worst, but when they walked in, it smelled like coffee. Matt was on the couch, looking exhausted but uninjured, and Andrew was in the kitchen.

"Ryan okay?" Matt asked weakly, wearily.

Andrew brought a cup of coffee over and put it in Matt's hands, more to focus him than because he thought Matt would really drink it.

Seth didn’t know he had been holding his breath as much as possible as they’d made their way up to the apartment. It wasn’t solely because the stairs were a bunch of assholes and he was too long off his pain medication. But when they were inside and the door was closed, he rested back against it and slid down to the floor, his knees obnoxiously weak.

“He’ll live,” Seth replied, his face buried in his hands, feeling the sting of the pressure of his palms against his eyes, combined with the tears that were suddenly brimming, causing the red pollution in the white of his eye to really shine. He hadn’t expected to cry. Everybody was alive. Things were going to be fine. But the weight of the past few days had been crushing every bone, every breath of air in his body.

He felt ridiculous in this room, with these three men who were all stronger than him, crying like a child. But he couldn’t stop himself. So he pulled his right knee to his chest, rested his forehead on it, and silently wept.

Matt got up and went over to him. He set his coffee down on the floor, then sunk down next to Seth and wrapped his arms around him. He didn't try to hush his tears, he just held him as he wept, gentle and patient as he knew how to be.

Foggy bit his lip and went to put some things together for Ryan, then got Seth's next dose and a glass of water. He brought them over and set them down by Matt, then went and sat heavily on the couch. "Andrew, I'm so sorry to ask you this, but could you make us some breakfast? I don't know if.. any of us are even hungry, but.. we gotta eat."

"Yeah, man, of course. No problem." Andrew's voice was gentle and soothing, as if compassion itself had been made into a calm, tranquil sound, and he went back into the kitchen to get started. Matt never had a lot of food, so he had to work with what Matt hadn't cooked up the day before. He fried the chicken in pancake batter and washed a box of strawberries, then set two bowls of the food on the coffee table. A communal meal was probably more reassuring than everyone having their own place settings, he thought, and this way it would be there whenever they wanted it.

"Here," Matt murmured, once Seth seemed to have cried himself out for now. "You want your pain meds? I've got them right here, and some water.."

Wiping at the tears with the palm of his hand couldn’t have made Seth look more child-like than he felt, but it certainly came close. He had appreciated the comfort more than he could express, and he sighed heavily, resting his head against Matt’s shoulder and nodding. Words felt too difficult right now around the lump in his throat, so he found Matt’s hand and squeezed lightly — thanking him, but also letting him know that his relief was for Matt’s safety as well.

“I don’t think I can muster the energy for the grocery store today,” he said quietly, feeling guilty that he was, yet again, eating more of Matt’s food, sponging off  him without having offered anything yet in return. “But I can put in an order to have some delivered, or to make them available for pick up and we just stop by and pay. Either way.” He took a shaky breath in and exhaled slowly through his nose. “Either way I need to do something.”

Seth’s hand opened to receive the pills, and he swallowed them one at a time with the water.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, technically to all three of them, but he didn’t know if the other two could even hear him. “I didn’t mean to fall apart.”

"You have nothing to apologize for," Matt said. "Breaking down, when these things happen, it's normal. Sometimes it's necessary. Don't feel bad, okay? Or embarrassed. When I get stressed, I curl up on the couch and cry. Foggy watches Netflix and cries. It's okay. And don't worry about the food. Andrew made us breakfast. Don't worry."

Matt stood up and lifted Seth with him as he did. He helped him to the couch so that he could sit down in reach of food, then went back for their cups.

"As for groceries," Andrew said, "you guys seriously don't need to be worrying about that right now. I'll go grocery shopping and then get a few meals cooked up so all you have to do is reheat them. This is a time for resting, not worrying about the little stuff."

"Thanks," Matt said.

Foggy finally reached for a piece of chicken, bit in, and then started crying.

Andrew looked worried. "Are you... Foggy?"

"I'm fine. It's just really good. And I get emotional over food when I'm stressed. And there's so much shit going on and.."

"We don't have to worry about Ramirez, at least," Matt said.

"Huh?"

"He decided to take a vacation. Probably a permanent one. Behind bars. Turned out the FBI wanted him for some shit in Florida, so when he found his way to their office..."

"Jesus. Thank God." Foggy looked at his chicken, then dipped it in the little, warm bowl of mixed butter and syrup that Andrew had set down. "Sorry. That was gross of me. But it's so good, guys. Fuck Ramirez. Chicken."

Seth cracked a smile as he watched Foggy and then leaned a little against Matt. Just for a moment. Just to feel the comfort of his proximity. Seth knew his mind was focusing on all the wrong things. Food, payment, debts or whatever else. He should be worrying about Ryan, about Matt. People were more important. But he didn’t know how to fix people. He knew how to pay for things.

“Thank you,” Seth said to Andrew, offering a soft smile, one that was warmer and more welcoming than the looks he’d given the day before.

“Are you okay?” he asked after some time, a mostly eaten piece of chicken still resting between fingers. He didn’t want to berate for details, but he wanted to make sure Matt was really okay. “Foggy and I were planning on going back to the hospital sometime before noon. I know Ryan. I’ve seen him in the hospital before. He won’t let us stay. But you… Don’t feel like you need to go if you would be better off staying home and resting.”

"I'm really okay. Andrew... helped me. I'd been shot, but.. sometimes I guess it... pays to have very, very strange friends." Matt put his arm around Seth.

"Andrew helped you?" Foggy looked over. "Just Andrew? And what do you mean, shot?"

"I healed him," Andrew said simply, honestly, and he sat down across from them in a chair. "And I'd be willing to do the same for you, Seth, if you want it."

“I would rather you heal Ryan. If you��� I mean. I don’t know how limited this is. Sure, I’d love to not hurt anymore. But my rib will mend and my eye is opening. I mean, yes, however you manage it. But if I’m choosing? Heal my brother.”

Andrew shook his head with a kind smile. "It's not one or the other. Once Ryan is awake enough to consent, I know Montparnasse will offer him the same -- although it will be easier for Ryan to accept if you're there, I'm sure..."

He got up and went over to Seth, knelt, and slipped one of his pearly, smooth fangs into the back of his hand, neatly slicing open. "I know this looks and seems pretty freaky, but I promise it won't hurt you. All you need to do is drink some of my blood. Don't worry, it won't make you sick or anything."

Matt seemed entirely relaxed with what was happening, and he gave Seth a small nod.

Seth looked at Matt, then briefly at Foggy before shrugging and muttering, “what the hell,” then finally closing his mouth over the lightly pooling blood. His brows pinched together as he drank, and he didn’t take much, and soon, he licked at his lightly red stained lips, leaning back against the arm that was around him.

“Superheroes, why the hell not vampires as well.” He looked up at Andrew. “That… is what you are, right?” He didn’t need details. He didn’t care about which lore was right or wrong. He just liked knowing who people were. He wanted to give them credit when they were due. He never wanted to underestimate people. Besides, they were all friends here, right?”

“Thank you for… Montparnasse? By the way. He… I mean, I didn’t know, of course, but his presence comforted enough to allow me to sleep last night.”

Looking back at Foggy, Seth gave a warm smile. “And Foggy never left Ryan’s side. You’re a good man.”

"Thanks," Foggy said, smiling wearily. "I try."

"And yeah, vampire. So is Montparnasse... he's old. Over two hundred now, I think, if you count his human years... but he's good, too. Anyway, you should start healing pretty soon here, but you'll still want to take it easy for a few days, okay? Even with the wounds gone, your body is gonna be.. kind of weak, still, like it is now. You're going to heal quickly, but it'll be using up your body's energy. You'll need extra rest and support."

Matt bumped his forehead against the side of Seth's head lightly. "He'll get both," he promised.

Andrew stood and stepped away. "Alright. I'm gonna go grocery shopping. You guys be safe, get some rest. Text or call if you need anything before I get back." He slipped out.

“I should maybe be in more shock than I am,” Seth said wryly, his voice warm and affectionate as Matt remained close by. The head bump had made him smile, dimples showing, a light color rising to his cheeks. “But I honestly think the shock factor has worn thin on this week.”

Seth checked his phone and exhaled a quiet laugh when he saw a text message from Ryan.

>>This “undercover cop” just tried to offer to heal me. What don’t I know?

“I think, when Ryan gets home… I mean, back here, we’ll all need a solid day’s nap. How else are we going to prepare for the excitement we’re likely going to encounter tomorrow?”

"Mmm," Matt agreed, and started eating breakfast.

----

Meanwhile, at the hospital, Montparnasse watched the young Jim Gordon in amusement. "Didn't your friends warn you? I'm a faith healer. We just need to go to a tent in a field full of lunatics, chant, pray, sweat, you'll be fine." He was still in the windowsill and had his arms wrapped around a leg, looking relaxed and amused and content.

Ryan watched the kid for a while, eyes narrowed. “That sounds great, except of the getting out of bed part. I assume since Seth left you here,” and Ryan did know they’d been here at the same time after waking up once during the night, “that he trusts you.” He was unsure, but nothing about this week was turning out exactly as he’d expected. “How long will it take to heal?”

"Like five minutes, because I'm awesome." He hopped down to the ground. "The only catch is that we basically have to make out for it to work." Total lie, but he was going to get something out of this, damn it, and that something might as well be kisses from a looker. "You can pretend I'm a woman if it makes it easier."

“It doesn’t. I mean… it doesn’t affect it one way or the other. This feels… well, more like a hallucination than anything else. So why the fuck not. You’re… You have a badge. So you’re not a minor, right?”

"Totally not a minor. So if you want to fuck me later, it's completely legal." He winked, then leaned down and kissed him.

It really was a nice make-out session as far as he was concerned. He periodically pumped his own pleasure venom into his mouth, mixing it with a bit of fresh-nicked blood as their kisses deepened. Unlike Andrew, Montparnasse's blood was far more complete when it came to healing -- he did have a few years on the guy -- but it required a little more of his.

When he judged that Ryan had had enough, he pulled back just enough to ask, "How are you feeling?"

Wide eyes looked up at the other man — and with a kiss like that, how could Ryan really claim that he was a kid — and he smiled. There was a sense in the back of his mind that he might look a little dumbfounded, or like… hell, he didn’t even know, but he shifted in the bed and reached with the hand that still had the IV and the oxygen monitor on his finger to cup the man’s face. “I’ve had good kisses. I’ve had pretty great kisses. But I haven’t had a kiss like that.”

Still half convinced he was either dreaming or hallucinating, Ryan pulled Montparnasse in for another kiss. It would be something he’d be a little shy about later, when he realized how easily he’d been affected, but at the same time, he was half sure Seth was banging the lawyer by this time. “I wanna get out of here,” he whispered, barely pulling away enough to get the words out.

What the hell did he have to lose?

"Mm." He enjoyed the next kiss and wasn't ashamed to show it, kissing Ryan like they'd fallen in love together for the first time. Eventually, though, he had to straighten up -- ha -- and pay attention to what Ryan had said.

"Okay. So let's get out of here. But first... tell me you'll be more careful which fights you pick, okay? You could have died and Matt almost did. You're way, way more valuable to this world alive."

He started getting Ryan detached from everything, seemingly quite familiar with what needed to be done and the best, smoothest way to do it.

“Seth is, eventually, going to be pissed at me for getting his lawyer hurt. I just… I didn’t feel like I was picking it to just be a stubborn pain in the ass. They… god, they broke him. If you’d seen him lying on that sidewalk in the fetal position, spitting out blood, and you watched as that blood mixed with that which was already running from his split cheek. It reminded me too much of watching my ex-girlfriend die from a car crash.” He sat up when he was free of all the wires and tubes, surprised at how easy it was, and then looked back over his shoulder. “It was stupid. And I owe Matt an apology. But I’ll never not stand up for Seth.”

"I'm not saying don't stand up for him." He found Ryan's clothes in a bag and handed them to him piece by piece. "Just that when something that brutal happens, keep your mouth shut -- and then get revenge. People who do this shit are monsters. Righteous fury, however justified, doesn't stop them, but putting them down? That's a solution that works."

“That’s quite an outlook you have. Goes relatively well with that badge you carry around, though perhaps not the best advice to a civilian.” Ryan dressed with his gown still on, but he wasn’t particularly careful about making sure everything stayed covered as he pulled his clothes on, and then he nodded, making sure he grabbed his phone and wallet and then took a step, smiling when he realized he hadn’t hurt through any of it.

>>I’m on my way out of the hospital. I’ll meet up with you sometime today. I’m fine, tho. I feel great. You get some sleep. I will apologize to Matt when I get there.

Ryan looked at the… whatever he was. The healer — and offered a crooked grin. “I’m famished.”

----

Seth sleepily glanced at his phone, rubbing his belly, his feet kicked resting over Foggy’s lap while he leaned back against Matt. He smirked and shook his head.

“Apparently Ryan didn’t need me to convince him. He’s out of the hospital. Said he’d meet up with me later. Guess the kid got through to him.”

"Good," Matt murmured as he slipped off to sleep. Foggy was already out, full and comfortable and just too worn to go on, and there were few things better than sleep when it was truly needed.

----

"Badge? Oh, right. Yeah. Badge." He shrugged and put his arm under Ryan's, for appearance's sake of course, and helped him out. From there, it was just a few minutes before Montparnasse's lies had Ryan checked out, and they took a taxi to Matt's place.

"I was serious, though. If you really want to protect someone, make sure the people who hurt them can never do it again. And the best way to do that? Not to let them see it coming." After a moment's pause, he added, "I'm sorry about your girlfriend. That... you must have a lot of strength to have gotten through that. I'm sorry you had to."

Ryan shrugged because he didn’t know how else to talk about Marissa. She had been a long time ago, another lifetime, it sometimes felt like. But she had been a vital part of his arrival at Newport, and he missed her still. But seeing Seth on the ground, bleeding, broken, Ryan knew he wouldn’t have been able to go on without him. It would have been far too much.

“You’re proposing I go out on my own and get even? What? Now? Aren’t they expecting some kind of retaliation now that they’ve shot me? I mean, granted they wouldn’t expect it to be me. But I… This seems… like I don’t know why I’m questioning you. Clearly you have more shit figured out than I do. I just want myself and Seth and the lawyers and our families to be safe. I can’t get into more trouble. That’s not fair to Seth.”

"Pfff, well, don't go out alone obviously. Not for your first time. And maybe don't even go right away. Train. Learn to fight. I mean from what I hear, Ramirez is on his way to prison and half his crew will be in traction for months because that vigilante ran across them shooting up the bar..." They headed up the stairs. "So maybe that's that. But as a future plan, if shit like this happens again? Why not really be ready?"

A sleepy looking Matt came and let them in, then went and picked Seth up and carried him into the bedroom. Foggy was still out cold on one end of the couch, and there were a few pieces of chicken and a few strawberries left.

"You said you were hungry... so how are you doing though? Want me to stick around for anything? Want alone time?"

Ryan watched as Matt carried a mostly sleeping Seth to bed and again thought about how quickly Seth had become attached. He had known Seth to have relationships. Anna, then Summer. Then Alex, then Summer. And the pattern continued like that until Seth had had to say enough. The pair of them had given it a shot when it felt like all they were doing was fighting against being together. But the romance ran its course and the brotherly love lingered. So that's what they remained.

"I don't need anything. I imagine you have things to do. But thank you -- for the kiss that made me better. That's quite a talent. I might have to fake an injury some day in the future."

"You don't have to fake a thing. You're all kinds of handsome. Just call me." He slipped a card into Ryan's pocket -- all it had was his name and a number -- and then he headed for the door.

Matt settled into bed with his arm around Seth, feeling protective and affectionate, but he stayed quiet as he listened to Ryan and Montparnasse.

Ryan ran his thumb over the card, over Montparnasse's name and then lifted his hand to wave. When he turned and saw Foggy, he reached for the blanket he usually used, covered the man with it, and then kissed him on the top of the head.

When he sat, his back was against the base of the couch and he sat in the floor, eating, and then took the dishes to the kitchen, washed them all before going back and stretching out on the floor under another throw blanket.

Meanwhile, Seth stretched in a way his rib wouldn't have allowed before, and he gently pressed the tip of his nose to Matt's cheek. "I'm really glad you're okay. Thank you for not dying."

Matt smiled and turned his head so he could touch his nose to Seth's, but it was their lips that touched instead, in a light and easy feeling kiss. Matt hadn't planned the kiss, and it left his heart hammering, but he just moved on to touch his nose to Seth's after.

"I'm just glad things are looking up."

Seth felt silly for the way he got butterflies and the way he knew his heart was pounding. But the kiss was soft and perfect and unexpected.

Both the boys slept through most of the day, getting up on occasion to pee, but then crawling right back to where they'd been, hiding under covers and blankets. They were happy here, happy things were, as Matt had said, looking up.

Maybe New York wasn't so bad after all.

----

Only a couple of days had passed, but Seth was feeling comfortable here. They'd paid their bill -- double what they were charged, because honestly, Nelson and Murdock had earned it.

He hadn't thought much about anything besides the major events of the week. The fight, the shooting, the kiss. Okay, so maybe that was just a big deal to Seth, and he'd been cautious since it happened, wanting to make sure to let things go at Matt's pace. But the more time he spent with him, the more Seth found he liked this little untouchable sanctuary in Hell's Kitchen.

He'd promised to get more food after Ryan had devoured a good portion of it the night before, and Seth had invited Matt along just so they could have some time alone together -- to talk, get to know each other better.

The woman had appeared in front of the cart Seth was pushing without making a sound, and her smile was wicked  in the most enticing manner. She looked at Seth for only a heartbeat before her eyes rested on Matt.

"Hello, Matthew. I was hoping I'd run into you before much longer. I was worried after you'd doubtless been told of my arrival, and I hadn't seen you, that maybe you were avoiding me."

Matt stopped in his tracks and felt his blood run cold as her voice washed over him. The taste and scent of her perfume moved through his body, and the familiar beat of her heart had his wanting to match the rhythm, no matter how his soul recoiled.

"Elektra. What are you... nobody told... what do you want?" What could she want, though, but to persuade him to kill? To be like her? To reignite the intense, insane passions that had nearly ruled and ruined him?

Matt took a small step towards Seth without realizing he'd done it.

Her smile didn't fade, but Seth watched as Matt's half sentences settled fully into her mind. Now she gave Seth a longer, more analytical once over, quickly decided she wasn't threatened by this phase in Matthew's life, and tilted her head almost playfully.

"You mean Foggy didn't tell you? He had to have known. When I ran into Andrew Gale late last week I knew it would only be a matter of time before the news traveled."

She took a step closer to watch what would happened, then leaned in to whisper: "I've missed you, Matthew. It's been ages. And I thought..."

"Hi!" Seth interrupted, tired of being ignored by her. "My name is Seth. I've heard... absolutely nothing about you. I can't say it's a pleasure, but it's certainly an experience."

"Matthew, is this who you went and got yourself shot for? Rumors travel fast. How about we have dinner soon. Just to catch up. I promise I'll behave."

"Elektra, this is Seth. Seth, Elektra." Matt reached over and took one of Seth's hands, needing the reassurance that he was still there, that he wasn't a hallucination. His world was spinning, and without an anchor, Matt feared falling.

"Elektra... I can't. I can't go -- anywhere with you. Please. Don't ask me to."

She pouted and Seth couldn't help but think how terribly unflattering the expression was on her face.

Maybe it had something to do with the flash of hostility he saw go through her eyes when Matt had grabbed his hand.

Again, though, Elektra was convinced it was nothing more than a phase. Matt had always been straight. Would always be.

She watched as the boy gave a reassuring squeeze back to Matt's hand and rolled her eyes. "You're my family, Matthew. We belong together -- we're too much alike to not belong. I'll give you time to settle with the idea of my return. But honestly I didn't think my presence would be such a shock. And I refuse to believe it's an unwelcome one. So I'll be in touch, Matthew. You can count on it."

And with that she silently walked away, Seth watching her go until she'd exited the building.

He looked back at Matt and lifted a hand to his face. "Are you okay?"

Matt shook his head. Feeling sick and cold, he wrapped his arms around Seth, buried his face against his shoulder, and took a harsh, gasping breath -- his first since his last words to Elektra.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, angry and ashamed and shaking and completely unable to let go.

Seth returned the embrace, his own was tight and grounding -- supportive to assure Matt that he wasn't alone.

He didn't want to throw Foggy under the bus by claiming he had thought Matt had been told. Too much had happened over the past few days to even begin to blame Matt's best friend for forgetting to deliver the news. Though, this certainly felt like something bigger than just an ex-girlfriend being in town.

"We can get food later. Do you want to go home?" His fingers ran through Matt's hair, and for a moment all he could think was how happy he was that she hadn't tried to touch Matt.

This time, at least.

"Come on. I'll read to you or something. Or we'll... I don't know. You don't have to tell me anything, though, Matt. But I'm here. I'm here."

Matt steadied his breathing and calmed himself as Seth spoke. Then, embarrassed by his weak behavior, he clenched his jaw and made himself step away -- although all he wanted was more of Seth's touches. More Seth.

"We should finish the groceries. And then... I'd really like to... listen to you read. Anything. As long as it's with you."

Though Matt had stepped away, Seth took him by the hand and lifted it up to take Seth by the elbow, offering to lead him through the store.

As they walked up and down the aisles, Seth's eyes kept going back to the entrance, half expecting to see her there again. But she'd gone.

Or so he believed.

The drive home was relatively quiet, and Seth started unpacking the groceries as soon as they were inside. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to approach the ex-girlfriend who left canyons in her wake. Before he could finish with the seemingly mindless busy work of shelving groceries, he abandoned the project and walked over to Matt, again taking him by the face and rubbing their noses together before he rested his forehead against Matt's. "Tell me what I can do? Anything, Matt. I'll read or cook or we can catch the next flight to California. Anything you need.”

"Can we go to bed?" He felt childish for asking, for thinking of bed and Seth as such a sanctuary, but together, they were. His attraction to this man had so little to do with the physical, based instead in the good things inside Seth, things he wanted to be lost in.

"I don't mean for sex, I mean... just to be there. Together. Please."

Everything at Matt's pace. That had been Seth's plan. And it still was. But he wanted to give him some kind of reassurance.

Seth took Matt gently by his face with both hands and slowly, so Matt could pull away if he wished to, stretched for a soft kiss.

"Yes," he replied. "Whatever you need. I'm not going anywhere."

Matt didn't pull away. If anything, the kiss seemed to calm him. He hadn't tried to kiss Seth again before this because he had been so unsure of how he felt, but now that he thought he knew? Matt was grateful. He kissed Seth back, adoring him and grateful for what was happening, and he wished Elektra had never walked back into his life. She'd want to take him away from Seth, and Matt just wanted to stay.

Seth kept the kiss on his side compassionate and warm instead of wanting and hot. As much as perhaps his ego was telling him to be possessive now, he couldn't do that.

"Let's go lay in bed. We'll nap. I'll be by your side when you wake up."

Matt nodded and went back to his room. He stripped down to his boxers, no longer ashamed of letting Seth see any of his scars, comfortable with letting him see his eyes as well, unguarded by the glasses that he used to keep the world out.

Once Seth was there, Matt curled up with him, eyes closed, and focused only on his heartbeat.

It took Seth a while before he could sleep, but while he was awake, his affections were constant and soft, fingertips roaming over Matt's skin, through his hair. He wanted to be happy about this, but something warred in his mind that he shouldn't get too comfortable. This wouldn't last.

Once they had both -- finally -- settled to sleep, Elektra broke into Matt's place, a blade pulled. She really had no interest in killing the kid, but maybe Matthew needed to see he wasn't worth as much trouble as he was pretending to be.

She could take Seth. Torture Matt a little as punishment. But that would anger him. Besides, it would be so much easier to just get him to come with her. "Matthew," she whispered as she moved to sit at the bar in his kitchen, waiting for him to join her.

Matt had moved carefully and quietly so as not to wake Seth, but from the instant Elektra showed up he had been ready for a fight. Now that he was over his shock, only anger pumped through him at the sound of her voice.

On silent feet, he stalked out halfway into the living room where he stopped, hands halfway curled, shoulders tensed. "What do you want, Elektra?"

"I want you, Matthew. Isn't that obvious? Come with me. Let's go out into the night. Work together like old times. We were always better together."

She was casual in the way she spoke and the way she leaned against the counter. Looking at him in the darkness made her feel... possessive, and slightly frustrated that he was even messing around with the kid. It was a waste of time and they both knew it.

"Come with me."

Matt shook his head. How the hell could she be so arrogant? He was astounded, yet bitterly so, and without any real shock.

"No. You're -- no. I don't want to go with you. I don't want you. What we had? We are never going back to. All I want from you is for you to stay out of my life."

She moved closer to him, around the edge of the bar. He was angry. She knew he likely would be. She'd pushed him too far too fast last time. This time would be more gradual. More at his pace.

Elektra reached to run fingers over his chest. "We belong together, Matthew. This phase? He won't last. Not like we do."

Her touch was still familiar and still set his skin on fire. Matt's eyes had been half open, but he closed them at her touch and took a somewhat shuddering breath before he was able to grab her hand and push it away.

"Elektra, no. No. It's over. We're over." Matt shook his head. "We're done."

She scowled and used his hold on her to pull him closer, holding him now, close, her breath mixing with his.

"Matt, nobody tells me no." Her tongue snaked out to brush along his bottom lip. "I'll find a way to make you come, Matthew." She smiled at the unintended innuendo and then let him go. "If you like him, maybe think about the best way to keep him safe." She moved toward his door. "I'll be in touch."

Matt reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder, pulling her back around to face him.

"Did you just threaten him?" He demanded. "You really think that's going to bring me back? Listen to me, Elektra, and listen very goddamn closely. I will kill myself before ever going back to you. You always wanted me to take a life? I will. My own. We are never happening again. Why can't you just accept that?"

Her playful expression fell and she looked away, causing her to seem momentarily vulnerable. "Because I love you. We were made to be together. Because you are the only one who is strong enough for me. And because I know the way your heart stutters for me."

She spared one glance toward the bedroom, opting to not make a comment on her "threat." Elektra didn't make threats. "I think your distraction is awake. Tell him I said hello, will you?" The darkness in her eyes flared. "Or I'll tell him myself next time."

Elektra kicked Matt's legs out from under him, and she was out the door before he hit the floor.

At the noise, Seth sat up in bed, then ran over to check on Matt. "What... what happened? Did I leave something in the floor? Are you okay?"

Matt hadn't seen her vulnerability of course, nor would he have believed in it if he had. He stayed on the floor for a moment, unable to answer Seth, just quiet and still before he shook his head.

"Elektra was here.”

Instead of trying to help him up, Seth joined Matt in the floor, slipping an arm under Matt's head and studying his face. "Is she always this... prone to breaking and entering? You don't have to tell me about her. But I... Do you still want me to stay?"

"She said to tell you hello," Matt said bitterly, "and yeah. Pretty much." He curled up around Seth, wishing he could guarantee his safety. "She threatened you. I don't... maybe you should... go back to California for a while until I can -- sort out this shit with her. I don't want you to go... but Elektra's an assassin. And I need you safe. Alive." Matt squeezed a little tighter.

He hadn't actually expected Matt to say yes. Something about the idea of going back to California felt so permanent. Final. And Seth wasn't close to being ready to say goodbye. But. He also didn't want to risk Matt's life by giving him a new vulnerability.

Seth pressed his cheek against Matt's forehead and tried to be comforting. "Whatever you need me to do. I... I'll do it."

Matt picked him up after a few minutes and went to curl up on the couch with him, where he still held tightly. "Seth... look I know it's... it's probably too soon and I shouldn't say this.. but I think I'm falling for you. I don't want to lose you. Not to her. I can. I can find a way to deal with her. There's got to be something. Maybe... God." He finally let go and sat up, only to hunch back over, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. "Maybe give her the worst, most boring sex of her life so she'll just. Move on." Even saying it made him feel sick, and it was audible in his voice. "I don't know. What... what do you think?" He straightened up and turned towards Seth. "We're... there's something happening between us, right?"

Seth's lips parted as the words settled over him. He hadn't wanted to say it, to admit that he was falling for the superhero who was too good for him. He didn't want to obsess over Matt after he and Ryan inevitably left here. But he would.

He knew he would.

"There is," he replied when Matt prompted. "Yes. I... yes. I don't want to leave. And as far as assassin ex-girlfriends go, I don't really have any suggestions. Clearly she's not one to take no for an answer." He reached to take Matt by the hand. "I... I'll go for a while? Let her think I'm gone? Maybe it's just seeing you with someone else. But I will come back. I promise, Matt."

Matt nodded. "Or I can come out to California. You were going to show me the sights, right? I mean. If you'd want me out there... are you -- we can survive a short separation, right...?"

"I would love to take you through California, take you out to the ocean. Matt, I... want to share every part of my life with you."

Because if that wasn't an 'I'm falling in love with you,' who the hell knew what was?

"I'll look for flights in the morning and let Ryan now we're leaving."

Matt nodded, then leaned closer and kissed him. "Thank you. I'm sorry... when you go to the airport... maybe ask Montparnasse to go with you? To watch your backs. I'm afraid that if I go with you, it'll only make you even more of a target."

"Or, we don't have to convenience anybody. If I'm leaving you, what reason could she have to attack me?"

"Just... please? Besides, he'll probably want to flirt goodbye with Ryan."

Seth sat up and pulled Matt into a lingering kiss. "Fine. Okay. If it'll make you happy."

What would make Matt happy would be more kisses with Seth. Hours of kisses, days of kisses, weeks, months. A lifetime. Maybe he was a fool for falling, but now that he had, he didn't want to get up again, to step back into reality.

Matt didn't answer aloud, but he nodded and kissed Seth again before he finally sighed and sat back. "I'm sorry that things have to be so complicated. We'll make it work. Somehow."

"I hope so," he said honestly, sadly. The truth was, it was difficult for Seth to he charming and witty from a distance. His appeal seemed to lose traction. And he was worried this time would be no different.

"Meanwhile, can we spend the day together? Whether it be in bed... um... not... I'm not asking to... I just mean reading or napping. Or we can go to the roof. Or out around town? I don't really care what we do. I’d just like to spend it with you."

When he finally mustered up enough acceptance of the situation, he sent a quick text to Ryan.

>> We have to head back home tomorrow. Will you book us a couple plane tickets? And ask Montparnasse if he'll be our escort to the airport. I don't know if you've been hanging out with him or Foggy, but I can get an uber tomorrow morning and meet you at either one of their houses to head that way. Unless you plan on sleeping here tonight.

Ryan text back almost immediately.

>> I'll let you know where to meet me. Enjoy tonight.

Matt, meanwhile, had readily agreed to spend the rest of the day with Seth. He didn't particularly care what they did as long as they were together and he could collect every moment and save it up use when the inevitable pain and separation came.

The night went smoothly and Ryan let Seth know he was staying with Montparnasse, learning... well, a variety of ways to hack into someone's life to find more creative ways of ending people's lives.

Seth and Matt were quiet and domestic, and by the morning, Seth was trying to find reasons to stay. But he knew things had to go this way. "I'll see you before you know it," he promised, offering one more soft kiss at the door as the uber pulled up.

Roughly 45 minutes later, Ryan text Matt.

>> So. Tell me he's at least on his way or we're going to miss our flight. He's not answering my calls.