#i was convinced that he's gettin his ass beat by his miles for that in btsv kjkadjl

[glouris]

since atsv released digitally, I’m happy to let everyone know that insomniac Peter Parker didn’t take part in the chase after Miles, only his variants did

this makes me a little bit happy, since him trying to stop 1610 Miles from saving his dad would have been kinda messed up (cause, you know, he was introduced to his Miles at Jefferson’s funeral, and he was extremely guilty for not saving him) 

I’m glad it didn’t really happen

[noah-moth-cursed-chaos]

So a few people seemed to want this so here is the promised Drabble! It’s just sorta a first meeting/dynamic setup sort of thing but I like it. I bent canon some with them not having any idea of where Miles is in this for plot purposes but yeah

Patrick O’Hara was heading to the commissary, both to get some lunch for himself and some some treats for Widow, when someone knocked into him. He stopped and stared for a moment, the man was decently tall, wearing an interesting outfit, all black with what may have been a gas mask and a jacket of some sort. Probably just another spiderman he hadn’t met yet.

“Crud Sorry- my bad I should be looking where I’m going-“ Wow. What a voice. Did he sing? He should.

“Ah Uhm-no harm done pal. Say, how long have you been ‘round here? I haven’t seen ya before.” He stood up a bit straighter, hoping he looked good.

“Oh I’m new… what about you?”

“I’ve been here a good few months now. It’s a pretty nice setup, gettin to actually make a difference and all.”

“Yeah it seems pretty nice.”

“… I’m called Webslinger by the way.”

“Noir. Hey uh-I’ve gotta go, but it was nice meeting you.”

“Right-yeah, see ya ‘round newbie.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

It’s funny how all it takes is a few moments to change the course of the future.

Patrick O’Hara was highly familiar with this.

From the moment Ben died, to the moment he joined Morbius’ side show, to getting bit by that spider, to joining the spider society.

And while he did not know if meeting that black-clad stranger would change his *life*, it had most certainly changed his afternoon. He’d been thinking about him all day, sadly nobody he asked knew anything about a ‘Noir’ spiderman. Maybe he should ask Miguel…

Except that turned out to be an awful idea.

“Spiderman Noir? He was here-inside the base?”

“Yes sir I was just wondering if you knew about him, he seemed like a nice man.” He didn’t like the way Miguel was looking at him. Almost like an animal looking at meat.

“He’s part of Spiderpunk’s band of rogue spider people, he isn’t a nice man he’s a danger to the multiverse.” He paused, before seeming to get an idea, “But you aren’t.”

“No I’m not uhm-what does that mean boss?”

“They have information on the whereabouts of a particularly dangerous anomaly, if we had eyes on the inside we could find and contain it.” Ah. This was a mistake. Patrick was a lot of things, a spy wasn’t one of them. Why did all the moments that changed his life seem to change things for the worse eventually?

Noir hadn’t expected to walk into Hobie’s base to find him talking to cowboy. Let alone a familiar one. How did he get that horse in the building? How did he convince Hobie to let a horse in his base, let alone Riotheart?

“And-oh hey! Noir right?” Webslinger turned his attention to him upon seeing him walk in.

“Yep. And you’re Webslinger. I thought you were part of Miguel’s group?”

“Was.” He responded, “Apparently you never were.”

“… I had my reasons for being in there that day.” As soon as Noir had left that day, as a matter of fact, he remembered his reasons had been to beat Miguel’s ass for what he did to Miles. If a cowboy with a cute voice was all it took to distract him, he was glad he didn’t see many cowboys back home.

“I’m sure you did pardner. It is nice to formally be on the same side as you, however. I’m hopin we’ll be working close together from now on.” Webslinger held out his hand, and Noir shook it. He had a firm grip.

“I’m sure we will.”

When Webslinger had walked away, going to do something with his horse, Hobie turned to Noir.

“I don’t trust ‘im, there’s something fishy about ‘im.”

“Give him a chance, he seemed alright the first time we talked.” Noir didn’t know why that would actually matter-they’d spoken for maybe three minutes- but apparently it did.

Hobie squinted at him for a moment, “I am. But I’m keeping an eye on the bloke, and I’m askin you to do the same, mate. Miguel still thinks we know where Miles is, we don’t know what he’ll do to get to us.”

“… Have. We made any progress trying to find Miles?”

“We know the go home machine malfunctioned, but not where it sent him.” Hobie paused before adding, “We’re gonna find him. If he doesn’t find us first, you said he’s crafty like that didn’t you?”

“Well. I sure hope he is.” Noir sighed, “Poor kid must be feeling so alone right now.”

Patrick did learn a lot over the next few weeks. Places where the group met, what universes they were all from, that they hadn’t actually found Miles yet. He reported… bits and pieces back to Miguel. Somehow he couldn’t pull himself to fully betray this ragtag little team he wasn’t even actually a part of. Maybe it was the fact that he’d now heard how Miguel had gone essentially savage on the poor kid. Anomaly or not that had been a child, and a scared one at that. So Patrick made the group seem less organized than it was, understated how much they knew, made them seem smaller and weaker in hopes that Miguel would think they weren’t a big enough threat to take action against. So far it’d worked.

And he learned about Noir. He’d learned about the world he was from and the values he’d carried and that, although it was in a much more metaphorical sense, he was just as isolated as Patrick was. Honestly he could barely imagine it-having an aunt and friends and all these people who loved you and still inevitably being so horribly alone in the way Noir was. It almost made him feel lucky it was just him and his horse back home.

And Noir was. Nice. He may have been serious, but he was far from cold. He cared, a lot. And he was bright and determined and had this sense of justice about him he couldn’t help but find alluring.

And the closer he let himself be to Noir, the more of a bad idea it felt like. The more he knew it’d hurt if his precarious position as a double agent was revealed, or the fact that he wasn’t exactly doing that job the way he should be. The more it’d hurt for Noir to find out.

And the closer he got, every time he went back to the spider society, it made a bit more sense how someone could be so surrounded by people, but still so horribly, irrevocably, alone.

[nitewrighter]

Pre-Fall fic idea for a slow day: Echo asks McCree to go on a date. Liao thinks it'll be a good learning experience for her.

“...I dunno about this...” McCree straightened the collar on his shirt. Why did he dress up for this? Why did Liao feverishly take notes on her tablet when she saw he dressed up for this?

“I think it’s a great opportunity,” said Liao, poking at her tablet.

“See the way you’re gettin’ all excited about it makes me feel like a guinea pig.”

“Echo likes you. She trusts you. This is a chance for her to rapidly expand her social interaction repertoire.”

“It’s still weird.”

“How is it weird?”

“Well... how does it work with the age thing?”

Liao snorted. “What?”

“I mean she just got the body! Don't that make it... y'know...”

“The frame is new, yes, but the bare bones of her coding are only a couple years younger than you,” Liao said breezily, “Her processing levels were miles beyond yours well before she even had a body.”

“Ouch.”

“It’s computer science, Jesse, it’s nothing personal.”

“Why’d you give her hips?”

“Well, controlling said body actually has massive processing demands on its own, so you could say what could be recognized as her pelvic region hosts an 'auxiliary AI core'--"

"There's a brain in her ass?"

"Arguably, humans have a secondary brain in their colonic region--"

"There's a brain in my ass?!"

"We're getting off topic. There's a secondary AI core focused on mechanical coordination that is housed in her pelvic region, it was large enough to warrant certain design shifts to suit her center of gravity, and I wanted a friendly and appealing silhouette so --” Liao perked up, “So you noticed the hips?”

McCree’s face burned and he glanced off.

Liao rolled her eyes and smiled. “Jesse... if this goes really badly, I can just erase it from her memory.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m only saying, the stakes aren’t that high,” said Liao, "I think it's cute that you're getting nervous."

"Nervous, hell! I just don't know what to make of it!"

"You've had plenty of perfectly pleasant conversations with her--"

"They weren't dates!"

"Did you just say yes because you didn't want to hurt her feelings?" the brightness and absolute lack of accusation in Liao's voice only unsettled McCree further.

"N-no..." McCree rubbed the back of his neck, "I--I wasn't really thinking. I guess... I assumed you'd think I'd wreck it or... or wreck her and you'd... write it out of her code..."

"Interesting..." Liao tapped her tablet stylus on her chin.

"I ain't that good with sciencey shit! Reyes brought me on to shoot things!" McCree shrugged a little helplessly, "And the way you talk about her, I don't know if she's a--a work in progress, or-or your kid so..."

"A little bit of both. This is where AI gets messy," said Liao with a smile, "You don't know if you're making something human... but you get to make something new."

McCree just stared at Liao for a few seconds, opened his mouth to say something, realized he had no idea what to say to that, and then closed his mouth.

"It's going to be wonderful," said Liao, gently putting a hand on the back of McCree's shoulder.

"Wait--Is there anything I should---?" McCree started but the door slid open and Liao more or less shoved him out into Zurich Headquarters' courtyard gardens. It was twilight, Friday night, and strings of fairy lights had been strung around the sycamores, magnolias, and plum trees that decorated the garden. A couple of brightly colored paper lanterns were strung along the lines of electric lights, giving the usual contemplative and monumental air of the garden a more warm and festive feeling. McCree scanned the garden, seeing a table set with candles and a small basket of bread about 15 feet ahead of him.

"Jesse?" McCree heard a familiar voice and swiveled on his heel to see... a glowing blue-white Dolly Parton circa 1974 in a daisy-patterned peach sundress.

"Whuh..." McCree's face scrunched up in confusion.

"Is this okay?" Dolly Parton spoke with Echo's voice and McCree visibly flinched again. "Oh you don't like it--" The glowing Dolly Parton pressed her fingers to her forehead. "Give me a moment! I can fix it!"

"Echo--?" McCree started, but holographic pixels spiraled around the not-Dolly Parton and reshaped her into.... Olivia Rai, her usual afro styled into the more-textured Gibson Girl hairstyle she sported in Six Gun Killer. 

"What about this?" said Echo, "Is this all right?"

"I mean I like the movie but--" McCree started but the pixels whirled around Echo.

"Lee Byung-Hun, 2016, Magnificent Seven," said Echo. “My scans of your hormone levels showed an overwhelming positive reaction to him.” Again, this hologram form was still in the sundress.

Okay we really need to talk about the scanning thing, thought McCree, but he just stammered out, "They're all really nice, Echo, but you don't have to--" McCree rubbed the back of his neck, "I mean, I think we'll both be more comfortable if you're... you, y'know?"

"Me? But it's so..." 2016 Lee Byung-hun Echo twiddled her fingers nervously, "It's so..."

"It's the you I know," said McCree, shrugging, "I like it, Echo, really."

The hologram fell away from Echo in a shower of cubic pixels, revealing a partially holographic head on a heavily modified omnic frame. She was a patchwork between a handful of standard omnic parts and sleek parts whipped up on-site at this point. No wings. The sundress sagged a little off her metal frame.

"There you are," said McCree.

Echo smiled a little. "Sorry... the hologram capabilities were for optimal interfacing... so I thought..."

"I get it," said McCree with a smile, "I was a little nervous too."

"You were?!" said Echo, "But you're so... charming! And my scans of your antibodies revealed that it was very statistically likely you have had higher than average amounts of--"

"Hoookay! Moving on!" McCree said quickly.

"Moving on," said Echo, processing this.

There was the sound of a cybernetic throat being cleared and both McCree and Echo turned their heads to see Genji in a long-sleeved collared shirt, black vest, bow tie, and apron.

"Genji?" said McCree, suppressing a laugh in his voice.

"...not a word," said Genji.

"I know I got stuck as the waiter back in Venice but this is--"

"I said not a word!" said Genji, furiously. He drew in a steadying inhale. "Ma'am and sir. If I may direct you to your table."

"...oh this is rich--" McCree started.

"McCree, I know 37 ways of killing you in under 11 seconds, do not test me," said Genji.

"Uh huh," said McCree, "Show us the way, Garçon."

Genji muttered something under his breath in Japanese as he lead them to the table. McCree hurried over to Echo's side and pulled out her chair for her.

"Oh--Thank you!" said Echo, sitting down.

Genji rolled his eyes as McCree took his own seat. "Liao was able to negotiate with the headquarters chefs,” he said, setting glasses of water on the table, “You're getting chicken scallopini and asparagus."

"So there's not a menu--?" McCree started.

"You're getting chicken scallopini and asparagus," said Genji, with about as much murder as anyone could inject into the words 'Chicken scallopini and asparagus.'

"Okay," said McCree meekly as Genji walked off briskly.

"Er--don't mind him," said McCree as Genji walked off, "Blackwatch suspended... getting antsy, y'know."

"I don't," said Echo, equally pleasantly and blankly.

McCree cleared his throat and grabbed some bread from the basket between them, buttering it. "Well... You heard about the Venice incident, right?"

"I did not," said Echo, "I'm quarantined from most networked systems."

"Mm," McCree took a bite of his buttered bread, "Well... the long and short of it is, we fucked up."

"Not you!" said Echo on reflex.

"Well, not me, at first--but we had to follow through on the fuck-up if we were going to get out of it alive," said McCree with a shrug.

"I'm sure you did your best," said Echo, picking up a piece of bread. They both knew she couldn't eat, so instead, she seemed to be using it as something to do with her hands, breaking it off into bits.

"Eh, I don't think any of us were at our best," said McCree, "But... you do what you can, right?"

""Mm-hmm," Echo nodded, "Doctor Liao's been able to convince a handful of operatives to bring my AI processor on the orca with certain missions to observe, but my speech is disabled. Apparently it 'freaks people out.'" Echo glanced off resentfully.

"Not you?" said McCree.

Echo nodded. "And I know Morrison doesn't like me learning combat tactics."

"Echo, I can't think of anyone who loves humanity more than you," said McCree.

"Thank you, Jesse," said Echo. She was silent for a few beats. "And.... thank you for doing this. I--I don't know how you see me..."

"I'm still figuring that out too," said McCree, smiling a little, "But... I like to think I'm a good judge of character. And I'm proud to know you. And I'm proud that I mean enough to you to be here."

Echo's hologram face brightened, and she glanced off, a bit bashfully. "I--I can't even eat bread," she said quietly, smiling as she glanced down at the small pile of shredded bread bits on her plate.

"Psh. Bread. You can turn into whoever you want. Why worry about bread?" said McCree.

Echo snickered a little.

"...who's your favorite to turn into?" asked McCree, "I know you were turnin' into all that stuff earlier for me because of all the stuff we talked about and those dumb movies we watched--”

“I don’t think they’re dumb--”

 “But... what about you? Is there a person you like turning into?"

Echo thought for a few seconds. "I would say...Figure skaters," she said thoughtfully.

"Figure skaters?" McCree repeated.

"Not any individual one, but I’ve been putting together a composite hologram of several of them," said Echo, "Skaters, they--they aren't ruled by the same physics as other humans. All that power, all that grace, all on a plane that does not have the same rules of speed or friction."

"Bet you'd be a hell of a dancer," said McCree, smiling.

"I like to think I'm learning," said Echo, with a slightly smug shrug.

"Chicken scallopini," a plate clanked unceremoniously in front of McCree and McCree flinched to attention to see Genji next to him.

"Jesus, man! A little warning next time!" said McCree.

"Ninja," said Genji flatly.

"What about her?" said McCree, pointing at Echo.

Genji looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Jesse, it's fine," said Echo. She waved her hands and a hologram of what appeared to be lobster thermidor glowed into existence in front of her.

"...she can take care of herself," said Genji, walking off, "Let me know if you need a refill on water."

"Don't mind him," McCree said again.

"I don't," said Echo, materializing a holographic fork into existence and taking a holographic bite of her holographic food.

McCree sectioned off bites of his own meal and took tentative bites and chews, but it was good. A faint 'Mm' fell out of him and he opened his eyes to see Echo closely observing him. He took another bite, not taking his eyes off of Echo this time. Echo seemed to do the same, imitating him. But it wasn't quite the same, he observed. There was a lot of Liao in her, the way she'd stuff food off to one cheek and slowly parse it out as long as she needed while she multitasked. He saw it in all the nights Liao had brought takeout to the lab. In this case, Echo perfectly adapted Liao's eating habits to McCree's.

McCree swallowed hard. "Do you ever uh... make food... make you happy?"

"What do you mean?" said Echo.

"Well, if you eat really good food, you go, like, 'mm' and stuff--if all the food is only stuff you come up with... how does that work?"

Echo thought for a few seconds. "I... never thought of food as stimulating the pleasure response. Mostly it just seemed necessary for interfacing. Does it stimulate a pleasure response?"

McCree tried not to focus too hard on the words 'Pleasure response.' "Well, it depends on the food," said McCree.

"Does your food stimulate a pleasure response?"

"I mean compared to the rest of the shit I've had this month? Definitely," said McCree with a shrug.

"I see," said Echo. She looked at her food for a few seconds. She took a bit of her own holographic meal and a deep, sensual "Mmnh," bloomed out of her, her shoulders bunching up and her head tilting back with the sensation.

McCree sharply inhaled, realized his mouth was full of chicken scallopini, and coughed and choked for nearly a minute.

"Did I do it wrong?!" Echo asked with alarm.

"N--" McCree coughed, "No--" He coughed again, "You're-- You're doin' fine--"

Echo giggled. “I--I’m sorry, I’m still deciphering the appropriate forms of human pleasure.”

McCree found his face burning again and just gulped down some of his water.

“...that was an odd thing to say,” said Echo, glancing off.

“Nah, I’ve been told I’m old-fashioned a lot,” said McCree with a dismissive hand wave.

“Well, that’s why I like you,” said Echo, shyly.

McCree’s chews slowed.

“You... feel solid. I know I can trust you to... to tell me what you think... but.. also to be kind. I don’t know what other people want from me, but I know you just want another person. And... you’re very open in terms of what that person can be.” 

“Well I can tell you you don’t need to be Dolly Parton to win me over,” said McCree with a shrug and another bite of his food.

Echo giggled again and McCree swallowed.

“I’m still not sure if I’m doing this right,” said Echo, smiling down at her own hologram food. 

“Eh, you don’t really think of it in terms of ‘doing it right’--it’s mostly just about both of you having a good time. And trust me, you’re a better date than a lot that I’ve had,” said McCree with a snicker, “I just hope I’m doing it right too, y’know? It’s a lot of pressure, being anyone’s first date.”

“Oh!” Echo perked up, “I never thought of it that way....”

“Am I doing it right?” said McCree with a slight lopsided smile.

“Hmm...” Echo seemed to genuinely and very seriously ponder this.

“Oh come on, you’re making me nervous!” said McCree.

“Current assessments are... positive,” said Echo, “More data may be necessary to confirm any findings I’ve drawn thus far. We may have to do this again. An experiment is useless unless you can replicate its results”

“So... second date then?” said McCree, “That’s generally considered a good sign.”

“Oh! So I’m good at this!” said Echo.

“Sure are,” said McCree with a snicker.

Echo beamed. 

“Think we might have to do something other than dinner next time, though. I think if we try to get Genji in a waiter outfit again, he may actually kill me.”

“I estimate by his hormone levels and body temperature that there is an 89% likelihood of that occurring, yes,” said Echo. They both laughed for a little bit, and as the giggles died down Echo tilted her head. “So... you’ve been on bad dates?”

“Oh, terrible dates--but I don’t want to bore you---”

“It could be very useful data!” said Echo with that same brightness Liao had shown when she saw McCree being nervous.

McCree rubbed his chin. “Well... there’s a couple funny stories....”

-----

McCree was humming when he arrived in the Blackwatch sector later that night, bobbing his head and shoulders a bit with his humming as he loosened his bolo tie and took off his hat.

“Sounds like someone had a good time,” Reyes was seated in front of Blackwatch’s main monitor, mindlessly leafing through some paperwork.

McCree barely interrupted his own humming with an “Mm-hmm” as he kept walking past. 

“Reyes, you really must find a way to end Blackwatch’s suspension, or I fear he’ll romance one of the custodian’s vacuuming bots, next,” said Moira, leaning against the desk next to Reyes.

“Eh, if it means getting Genji in a bowtie again...” Reyes shrugged.

“You will never get me in a bowtie again,” Genji seethed from a shadowed corner.

“You asked for a mission--” Reyes started, but cut himself off as the three of them watched McCree continue to walk and hum down to his own quarters.

“...by god, I think he actually had a good time,” Reyes said quietly.

“Madness is setting in,” Moira mused.

“We need to get out in the field again,” Genji said, his voice tense.

“Or maybe you just need a date,” said Reyes shrugging. Reyes heard the audible click of the shuriken plate on Genji’s arm as Genji’s shoulders tensed up. “...or not.”

[doyouevenshipbr0]

gruvia drabble

~gruvia week: day 2// surprise~

author's note: damn me posting for 2 gruvia days in a row?! crazy shit lmao. get ready for some gruvia fam fluff kiddies!!! and ok listen ik that only one gruvia baby is actually canon (well, canon enough ig) but theres NO WAY u can convince me Juvia didn't try to have a million babies w gray. i jus aint buyin it sorry! and its a liiiil ooc i cant lie but like at this point theyve been married for a bunch of yrs so their dynamic haa to change at least a lil bit. ok enjoy!!! love u all!!!:)

*

Gray groaned as he rubbed his rough hand against his stiff neck, letting some cold air seep through his palms to ease the pain for even just a moment.

"I'm gettin' too old for this shit." Gray huffed jokingly to himself as he held his head low, walking his way back to his house. He had gone on a two week long mission, and it completely drained him. He didn't go on missions longer than a week very often, and his aching body was certainly a result of that.

He approached his home and turned the nob to the front door, and he felt his fingers bend in pain. This job really gave him a run for his money, that was for sure.

When Gray wasn't met with an instant greeting, he was a bit thrown off, but didn't think much of it. He made is way down the hall and into his kitchen.

"Surprise!" Juvia and his kids shouted in unison. The three of them all had big proud smiles on their faces which were all identical.

"Wha-" Gray's eyes widened and his mouth gaped open. On the table sat a cake that read "Best Dad Ever" which looked very similar to a certain eight year old's hand writing that he knew. Behind them was a banner with bold letters that said "Welcome Back!" with a present under it.

"What's all this?" His voice was dry from the shock.

"It's Father's Day, Gray-sama" Juvia replied with a pretty smile.

The day completely slipped his mind. He was so worn out from his mission that he kind of lost his concept of time. Truthfully, he couldn't gave said what day of the week it even was. Regardless, Gray felt himself overcome with an immense amount of joy.

Juvia bent down in between the heights of their son and daughter. "You guys can go hug your father now. The surprise part is over." She hummed.

In the next instant there was a child and a toddler hurling themselves at Gray. They met him with great impact as one clung to his waist and the other to his leg.

"Whoa, hey." Gray chuckled and reciprocated both hugs. "I missed you guys."

"We missed you too, Dad! And oh, you gotta' tell me all about it!" Storm let go of Gray first. "Did you beat all the bad guys?! How big were they?! Did you do your ice devil slayer stuff?!" He spoke a mile a minute, eyes gleaming with wonder and admiration for his father.

"Yes, huge, and yes." Gray looked down at his son with a grin on his face. "I'll give you the details after I rest a bit, ok?" Gray ruffled a hand through Storm's navy blue waves on his head as he pouted in disappointment.

"Did you freeze them, Daddy?" Gray looked lower at his daughter who was still wrapped around his leg. He scooped her up and brought her to his hip.

"Sure did." He smiled.

Neva's big black eyes widened in awe. "And you did the hair thing?"

Juvia and Gray both chuckled. She was referring to his hair sticking up when he used his devil slayer magic.

"Yes, raindrop. My hair did the thing."

"Can you do it?!" Neva perked up.

"Yeah, dad, do the thing!" Storm tugged at his arm.

"Daddy just got back from a big mission, and he's very tired." Juvia walked over to them and brushed a hand through Neva's deep blue locks.

"Aww!" Both kids groaned together.

"Weren't you just saying how excited you were for cake?" Juvia said sweetly to Neva.

"Oh, yeah! Cake time!" Neva squirmed and Gray set her on the ground, and sure enough she sprinted to the cake.

"Storm, why don't you go get daddy's present?" Juvia Kissed the top of her son's head, and he did as he was told.

Once the kids were preoccupied for a moment, Juvia turned to Gray, and her face softened.

"Juvia missed you very much, Gray-sama." She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck, causing Gray to stumble back into a wall, earning a rush of pain to his back.

Gray groaned as he caught his balance and stepped away from the wall, finally putting an arm around Juvia's waist. "And I thought I was done with getting my ass kicked." He scoffed.

Juvia giggled. "Juvia will take that as an 'I miss you too.'" She pressed a kiss on Gray's lips.

Juvia turned an began walking away and gray lowered his hand, discreetly pulling her close to him.

"I'll let you know how much I missed you later." He whispered as he grabbed a little more tightly on her side. Red rushed to Juvia's face, earning a content grin from Gray.

"Juvia will hold you to that." She whispered back, flipped her hair, and began to walk away as Gray watched, still with the same grin on his face.

"Have a seat, dear." Juvia finished her way to the table and pulled out a chair for Gray to sit in, and he followed.

"Damn, what did I do to get treated like royalty?" Gray joked, but on the inside he was boasting.

"Language!" Juvia wagged her finger. "And you are the best husband and father ever. This is the least we could do." She smiled. Gray reached out onto the table and took Juvia's hand, squeezing it.

"Look, Storm did the words on the cake!" Neva's pale face lit up as she pointed to the dessert.

"So that's why it looks like chicken scratch." Gray snorted.

"Hey!" Storm objected as he put the present on the table.

"I'm joking, buddy." Gray grinned and pulled his son in for a hug. "It looks great."

"Well, Mom made it from scratch, so it was really all her." Storm gestured to his mother.

"Then we're in for a treat. Mom's a great cook." Gray looked right at Juvia, causing her to blush.

"I helped too, Daddy!" Neva hopped off her chair and ran over to Gray.

"Oh you did?" Gray picked up the three year old and sat her on his lap. "Then it'll be even better." He playfully began kissing at her cheek, causing Neva to shriek with laughter.

"Ok, ok, Mommy can't wait." Juvia exclaimed, interrupting. "Open your present now." Juvia clapped and nudged the bag towards Gray.

"Sheesh someone's eager." Gray raised a brow.

"Just open it, Dad." Storm nagged excitedly, sounding eerily similar to Juvia.

"Alright, alright." Gray gave in. He turned to Neva who was still perched on his leg. "You wanna' help Daddy?" He asked.

Neva responded with a violent shake of her hair, making her curls swing back and forth.

"No?" Gray was surprised. She was rather nosy, so he was expecting an instant yes.

"Just for you." Neva insisted.

"Well, ok." Gray turned back to the bag, and reached in.

He felt something very soft and pulled it out, and in his hand was a blue knitted scarf.

"Juvia knows you still wear the one I made all those years ago, but, it doesn't hurt to have two." She smiled and shrugged. "And this one's special since the kids helped me."

Once taking a closer look, he could see where the technical things on the scarf started to become inconsistent. It didn't matter though. He loved the scarf.

Gray paused and looked at the scarf, and then at his beautiful family. His wife and kids were the absolute best thing that happened to him, and he didn't know what he did to deserve them. He had to do everything in his power to fight back tears. Damn, they really made him a softy. He didn't mind, though. They also made him the happiest man alive.

"I love it." Gray announced and instantly wrapped it around his neck. "Thank you guys so much." Gray brought his kids in for a hug as a grin was plastered on his face.

"Don't forget to read the card." Juvia inquired.

Gray broke the hole from his kids and reached into the bag to find an envelope. He opened it and the card read "Happy Father's Day!". The inside had little pictures that the kids drew and Gray chuckled while looking at them.

The bottom was signed, "Love, Mommy, Storm, Neva, & Baby Fullbuster."

Gray froze. He looked down at the card, rereading the signatures over and iver again. Once he finally decided he was sure of what he read, he looked straight up at a very anxious Juvia, and his jaw was on the floor.

"A-are you..?" Gray felt something well up in his throat.

Juvia couldn't hold it in any longer. She responded with a vigorous nod. Gray carefully placed Neva on the ground and instantly jumped up and hugged his wife, giving her a little spin off the ground.

"You're pregnant?!" Gray's voice was light, and he felt his eyes sting with those tears he was trying to hold back.

"Yep." Juvia bit her lip in a smile and placed her hand onto her belly.

He looked back at his children. "And did you guys know this whole time?!"

They responded with uncontrollable giggles amongst each other. Gray smiled and ran over to them, scooping them both off the ground and playfully threw them over his back.

"You think you can just keep secrets from your old man like that?!" He jested, and the kids responded in fits of laughing.

Gray finally set them down. "How far along are you?"

"Porlyusica says about seven weeks." Juvia's hand remained on her stomach.

"Wow." Gray finally let out a breath. He took another look at his glowing wife and kids. "You guys really know how to throw a welcome back party." He let out an airy laugh and was so overwhelmed he felt a tear leak out of his eye, and he did his best to nonchalantly wipe it away.

"Want some cake, Daddy?" Neva tugged on his pant leg.

"I would love some." He grinned.

"I'll get you a slice!" Storm quickly hurried to the cake.

"Be careful, sweetie." Juvia followed him over and made sure he didn't cut any fingers off.

At this point, Gray was certain he was the luckiest guy in the world.

[juicehoee]

All Along the Watchtower {Chapter 4: Ghosts and Demons} (Juice Ortiz)

One/Two/Three/Four/Five

This chapter is almost 5,500 words so enjoy!

Chapter 4: Ghosts and Demons

“Have you ever seen the Conjuring?” Lana waved the DVD in front of Juice’s face. He sat idly, looking dreamily into the distance.

The clubhouse was bathed in a soothing yellow-orange light that danced across the walls and the floor. Amber rays accented the wood of the bar, covering the place with a cozy aura that made Juice want to place his head in the crook of his arm and just drift to sleep right there. It was quiet, save for the occasional car zipping down the street, but it was a faraway sound like part of a movie on the television with the volume turned down real low. He was practically dreaming now; his eyes were open, but his mind wasn’t there. It whizzed across the plane between wakefulness and sleepiness; an unconscious purgatory that felt like a brand new home in the dim, amber light of the bar.

Juice perched on the bar with a short glass of whiskey clenched in his fist, deep in thought about some very important things in his life. Was it worth driving down to Nevada tonight? Priscilla had invited him up for the weekend, but he was covering Sack’s Sunday afternoon shift at the garage which meant he had to drive three hours there on a Friday night and drive another three on a Sunday morning. He was having second thoughts about this girl; her and her Uncle Lenny seemed a little too friendly picking up a guy with head tats and an MC kutte without too many questions. It was weird for country folk to be so open about a grown man letting a guy like Juice into his vehicle with his pretty niece in the backseat. Most horror movies started out that way.

Juice, you’re just being paranoid, he told himself. Don’t screw up a good thing with a nice girl gettin’ caught up with all the little details.

He and Priscilla weren’t anything particularly official yet (a few texts back and forth do not a relationship make), but he wanted to talk to her again. He wanted to know about Boston, about her parents, about her life out there in the middle of nowhere, about her high school hockey career. She was so interesting and there was so much information he wanted to learn.

“Hello?” Lana smacked Juice on the nose with the DVD. “Earth to Juice!”

He jumped in alarm a mile in the air, his ass crashing back down onto the barstool. “Holy hell, you scared the shit out of me. Are you trying to give me a damn heart attack?”

“Sorry.” Lana shrugged. Juice decided she definitely didn’t mean it. “You were pretty zoned for five minutes and I kept calling your name, but you didn’t answer.”

Juice looked around the bar to see if Clay or Tig were around. It was silly, considering Clay went home about two hours ago and Tig had been missing in action for most of the day. In fact, you could hear crickets creaking with how quiet the bar was, highly unusual for a Friday night. Juice just figured most of the guys had gone to drink wherever Bobby was performing tonight. As per usual, he either forgot about his invite or didn’t get one at all. Juice and Lana were alone in the bar and it was the first time they’d spoken since the incident at dinner almost a week ago.

“Clay’s not here to beat your ass if that’s what you’re worried about.” Lana chuckled, propping herself on the barstool next to him. “Although, I’m pretty sure you could take him in a fight.”

She poked at his biceps, feeling the taut muscles of his arms that just oozed a sense of strength and masculinity. Sure, he might be able to take Clay in a purely physical head to head match, but Clay had powers he and Lana could only dream of. Still, he didn’t mind her admiring how strong he was and how high her opinion of him seemed to be in hand-to-hand combat. It was nice to be considered strong for once.

“Yeah, I could punch Clay a few times but he could have me buried off the highway and no one would ever find my body.” Juice said, taking a sip of his whiskey. “So, if I turn up dead, check the highway.”

“Easier said than done.” Lana rolled her eyes at him, but turned to face him and got quite serious all of a sudden. “I just wanted to apologize for getting you in trouble. I didn’t mean to cause anything between you and Clay. I know it’s hard being one of the new guys anyway and the guys still treat you like a prospect even though they’ve already got a new prospect.”

“It’s alright, you didn’t get me in trouble. Clay’s just a crazy old man and he’s gotta keep you safe for your dad while he’s not around.” Juice said. “I can understand that. You should, too.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Lana was quiet after that.

A few minutes passed by with neither of them moving. The tension was palpable, a thick smog of unspoken words suspended themselves in the air between the two, focusing on the space between their bodies on the barstool. She was desperate to be his friend and he was desperate for a friend; he was just afraid that they looked for the wrong kinds of satisfaction in each other.

Lana reached across the bar, sick of the silence. She picked up a bottle of Jack Daniels from under the counter and poured the delicious stuff into a glass, knowing anyone who checked the contents of the bar would never dream of suspecting her. Genius.

“When did you even get here?” Juice asked, finishing his own glass in a few more careful sips. He enjoyed the slow burn of his throat as it went down to his gullet, settling comfortably in the warmth of his belly. His eyes closed a bit; he felt so sleepy. “Thought you’d be at Bobby’s gig. You’re an Elvis fan, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I am. Just didn’t feel like facing everybody today, but I didn’t want to go back home either.” Lana avoided his eyes, swirling a drink with a little red mixer. “Came in through the back a few minutes ago while you were in the Dreamland.”

“The Dreamland?”

“You looked like you were asleep but with your eyes open. Dead to the world. I called your name over and over, but you didn’t even blink. I thought you had overdosed or something and I got worried.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.” Juice said, reach over the bar to put his empty glass in the sink. Someone would get it in the morning. Probably.

“If you say so.” Lana didn’t sound convinced, but she was preoccupied with the Jack Daniels.

As she was about to take her first sip, Juice jumped into action. He hopped up and knocked the drink out of her hand. The glass flew a few feet and crashed onto the hard floor, shattering into a thousand pieces and spilling Jack all over the floor. Lana stared at the mess in horror as Juice looked at her in horror.

“Are you trying to get me killed, girl?” he yelled, shaking her by the shoulders.

“You’re the one trying to get me killed!” Lana yelled back, shoving him off of her. “What the hell was that for?”

“You’re nineteen! You can’t be in here underage drinking on my watch!” Juice threw his hands in the air, exasperated.

“Then don’t watch.” Lana shot back. “You’re not my keeper. You’re my friend.”

“Yeah, well Clay would kill me if he knew I was in the clubhouse alone with you,” Juice paced back and forth. “Just imagine what he’d do if he knew I let you get sloshed on Jack Daniels.”

“He’s not here,” Lana pointed out. “It’s not like he’d ever find out.”

“Yeah, well,” Juice started, staring at the open bottle and wanting to smash it to the ground (but he didn’t have the patience to clean up two huge messes tonight). “You just shouldn’t be drinking anyway. You’re young and it’s bad for your liver.”

Lana was quiet, staring at the shattered glass on the floor. Her body turned away from him, particularly, her face, though he could see the red of her cheeks in the outline of her profile. He didn’t mean to embarrass her, but he was already treading on thin ice and he wasn’t a great role model to begin with. What if one of the guys walked in? He’d be toast. Still, it wasn’t his intention to humiliate her.

Juice closed the distance between them and held her face in his hands. “Look at me.” he pleaded tenderly. “Please.”

She turned her face toward him, but refused to meet his eyes. Half a win was better than nothing, he figured. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“What are we gonna do about the broken glass?” Lana ignored his apology and just kept eyeing the mess.

“I’ll clean it up, don’t worry about it.” Juice’s voice lowered into a soothing whisper. “It’s my fault. We’ll call it a. . . muscle spasm.”

“Are you sure?” Lana asked. Her face was still tomato red and she avoided him like the plague. In his head, he gave her the benefit of the doubt that the yellow light making it that much worse. It was kind of cute in a way, but he shook that thought from his brain real quick. It was stupid to think like that right now.

Juice went to a cupboard behind the bar to get the broom and a little barrel to put the glass in. Lana sat at the bar and watched him as he cleaned up the glass. Cleaning was a talent of his, something he did regularly to keep him occupied. Boredom plagued Juice often and cleaning straightened his head out when he had nothing to do or things got a little fuzzy. His head always ran a little ragged and the serenity of cleaning the broken glass cooled him off a little bit thinking about Lana.

Dammit, he wasn’t even acting that drunk and everything was acting up already. Not a good look, Ortiz. He needed to straighten himself out.

Lana got up and got a Pepsi from the fridge, sipping on that while staring hard into the bar counter. She knew her crush on Juice was hopeless and reeked of high school girl fantasy, but it still hurt when she took a running leap trying to get to know him and landing on her face at his feet while Clay stood over like them like a watchful overlord. She felt like she always fucked up when there were people watching and the club had been keeper a closer eye on her lately.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What was your question?” Juice emptied the last of the glass into the trash barrel.

“Have you ever seen the Conjuring?” Lana asked, showing him the DVD cover. “You know the one with the haunted Annabelle doll that takes over that family’s farmhouse? It’s based on a true story.”

“No, but I remember it coming out in theaters.” Juice recalled, taking the DVD from her. “Didn’t make it to the theater in time to see it. You like scary movies?”

“Yeah, I guess this stuff is kind of a guilty pleasure for me.” Lana laughed to herself under her breath. “You want to watch it? I was just gonna hang out in the back room tonight. I think my mother has been circling my apartment building all week.”

The DVD had the blurry image of a tree with a noose hanging down from it with The Conjuring displayed across the top. The whole thing was creepy looking, but didn’t stick out from any of the other bad horror movies he had seen in the theaters every once in awhile. The noose unsettled him a little bit, but not enough for him to decide either way on the quality of the movie. He guessed it peaked his interest enough even with the tugging feeling in his lungs that pushed him toward the door and home to his cats.

“Come on, watch it with me.” Lana urged. She got up and grabbed his hand, coaxing him toward the back room. “Don’t make me watch it alone! Creepy dolls are my weakness.”

Juice didn’t pull away. He followed her lead into the crash pad in the back room, separate from the dorm rooms. “You sound like Tig.”

“Yeah, well, where do you think I get my phobia from?” Lana smirked. “When I was six, he told me a story about a haunted doll that convinced a kid to kill his whole family in cold blood. Couldn’t sleep for weeks. The man has a knack for the gruesome little details.”

“He’s like an episode of Law and Order: SVU come to life.” Juice agreed, flipping on the light switch and bathing them in the same dim, yellow light of the bar.

“Gotta love him though.” Lana said. “He’s always been a sweetheart to me.”

“You just said he’s the source of your phobias.” Juice deadpanned.

“It’s not his fault. He didn’t do it on purpose.” Lana said. “I’ve always liked him.”

“If you say so.” Juice let it go.

Tig gave him the creeps and the clear blue sheen of his eyes reminded Juice of being stranded out at sea while being circled by sharks in a life raft with a hole in it. It was a smothering feeling of hostility, but then again, they really hadn’t gotten to know each other that well yet. He could be the sweetest guy with the biggest heart for all Juice knew. He had his doubts, but he had always been one for giving people the benefit of the doubt despite first impressions.

“Ready?” Juice asked.

“Ready.”

There was an old leather couch against the back wall and a small television next to the door. The television gave off 1970s vibes with two antennae sticking up from the back of the box. It didn’t look like the thing would even hold up for a two and a half hour flick, but they’d be damned if they didn’t try.

“Jesus Christ,” Lana looked shocked. “Is that a fucking toaster?”

Juice’s eyes widened at the profanity having never heard it from her mouth before. “Might as well be. Might make the whole experience a little creepier. It adds a certain horror atmosphere.”

Lana took his hand again. She had a slightly terrified look in her eyes and he was starting to suspect she was lying about being into horror movies. They hadn’t even put the disc in. He decided to test his little theory as he put the DVD into the player with one hand.

“We can pretend we’re in one of those old slasher flicks,” he suggested, furrowing his eyebrows and putting on a crazed grin he had learned from watching Stephen King’s It as a kid. “Like Jason Voorhees or Michael Myers is gonna come through the door and cut out throats before we can get out.”

Lana squeezed his hand hard, and he felt the softness of her palms. She inched closer to him and looked out the window, expecting a deranged killer to be standing there with a butcher knife. Juice knew the only way that would happen was if one of his brothers had returned to the clubhouse from Bobby’s gig early. That would be a real fucking horror movie then with real blood instead of the ketchup shit they use in film.

“Don’t be scared.” Juice told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and giving her a comforting squeeze. “You’ve got a big scary biker to ward off all the bad guys for you.”

“Thanks.” she gave him a weak smile. “But haunted dolls aren’t gonna see your kutte and run like everyone else does.”

“Jesus Christ, Lana,” he rolled his eyes and smiled wide at her. “Let me have my hero moment here, okay?”

“Okay,” she let up on him, weakened by his smile. Dammit, that fucking smile made her knees weak. How could he even be real? “You can be my hero for the night then.”

“Thank you.” he grabbed the remote and dragged them both to the lumpy old couch.

Halfway through the movie, he noticed Lana out of the corner of his eye. She wasn’t cowering, but her eyes were wide, barely blinking. Juice decided to break the tension in hopes that lightening the mood would have her freaked out a little less, but he didn’t have much experience in comforting scared little girls. He wasn’t Superman, for Christ’s sake.

“Why don’t I go make us some microwave popcorn?” Juice stood up right as a woman onscreen screamed her bloody lungs out. “You want extra butter or-”

“No1” Lana hopped up next to him, latching onto his forearm with insistence. “Don’t leave me here by myself.”

“It’s just a movie-”

“Please.” Lana pleaded, digging her nails into his wrists. “Please, Juice. I’m humbly begging you. You hold my life in your hands.”

“Alright, alright.” Juice conceded, taking note of the real fear he saw in the downturned corners of her lips. “Let’s just sit back down and finish the movie alright.”

With no popcorn (he’d make some when he got home for the night, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep without some of it now that he was craving it), they starting watching the movie in all of its glory: screaming children and a sense of instability that made Juice’s stomach churn.

Admittedly, it wasn’t a bad movie. It actually gave him the creeps and made him look at the dark hallway outside a few times, looking for something that shouldn’t be there. It was ridiculous, but he felt a little paranoid himself. Lana looked worse for the wear as time went on; slowly becoming more and more pale like she was turning into a ghost.

“Hey, you okay?” Juice asked, putting a hand on her forehead to check if she had a fever. He felt her warm skin against the back of his knuckles, but it wasn’t hot enough to be a concern.

“I’m fine. It’s just the movie.” she gave him a weak smile. “I’m okay. I’m a big girl, Juice.”

He didn’t believe her especially since her hands were practically shaking every time she glanced at the television. “Come here,” he uttered and she didn’t argue.

Juice adjusted himself so he was laying back on the arm of the couch. He leaned over and gathered her in his arms so the top half of her body was pressed against his chest. One of his hands rubbed her back slowly in soothing circles as he hugged her close to them. Her body relaxed against him, preoccupied with the thought of him so that she completely forgot about the movie. Juice’s chin rested on the top of Lana,s head and he breathed in the scent of her cherry blossom shampoo.

In an article he read, mice were conditioned to fear the scent of cherry blossoms by being shocked after being exposed. Their offspring also feared the scent of cherry blossoms even though they had never come into contact with it, and that’s how some scientists decided that fear and memories can be genetic. But he wasn’t a mouse, and he wasn’t scared. Still, it felt like he was being shocked with electricity and he didn’t know if it was a good thing or a terrible, terrible thing.

“Your hair smells nice.” he commented, burying his nose in her brunette hair.

“Thanks.” she whispered, in awe of him.

There was an unmistakable strength in his arms around her, like gates keeping the ghosts out protecting her from herself (because, of course, the ghosts were all inside her head). The way he ran his hands up and down her back felt like heaven and she could feel the roughness of his hands through her shirt, undoubtedly from his short time working as a mechanic.

She took his other hand in hers, playing with the three gold rings that adorned his fingers. Her pointer finger rubbed the designs on them, all different versions of scary skeletons and other things that added to the image of the big, bad biker he was trying to portray.

“You know, I got into a bar fight a few weeks ago.” Juice told her. “Punched a guy with the rings on and they left a pretty gnarly mark on the guy’s cheek.”

“I bet. I’m sure those rings are tougher than you,” she teased.

They stayed like that, comfortable and happy, while the movie went on, but neither had followed along with the story for a while. Juice could feel Lana’s back rise and fall against him as she breathed and his lungs kept eventually learned to keep in pace with hers.

“Are you still watching the movie?” Juice asked, brushing aside a piece of hair that had fallen into her face.

“I don’t know.” Lana answered, swirling the rings in circles around his fingers.

Juice pulled back his hand from hers and held her under her chin. As her head turned up toward him, he kissed her. He fucking kissed.

Fuck it, he was a dead man, but he was gonna live it up until Clay had Skeeter burn him alive in the incinerator.

Lana was surprised, but she kissed him back as the screaming on the television faded away into the background. She focused on how soft his lips were (they should be, he carried around Blistex 24/7) and how they moved with hers. She clutched him to her, afraid to let him go, and dug her nails into him desperately.

As abruptly as it started, it ended and they separated, but not fully. She still lay against him and he still wrapped an arm around her, holding her at the small of her back. They waited politely for the movie to end, wondering just how the night would end for both of them. Barriers had been broken and the concept of careful had flown out the window. Uncharted territory frightened the both of them.

The credits eventually rolled down the screen, but the tv chose that moment to die and left them complete darkness to contemplate the idea of the clubhouse being haunted. Neither of them wanted to move, but risking falling asleep and waking up to Tig or Chibs finding them was a stupid idea.

“I can give you a ride home, if you want.” Juice offered. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Lana didn’t answer; the darkness had jolted her into delving into an imagination wrought with demons and banshees willing to tear her apart while she couldn’t see them. Her breathing was slow, but her heartbeat was rapid, thumping against her chest uncontrollably. She prayed Juice couldn’t hear it.

“Do you think demons are real?” She asked, timid and quiet. “Like, they can just possess people whenever they want and stuff?”

And that was the very moment Juice decided he wasn’t going to leave her alone in her apartment or the clubhouse. He placed a kiss on her forehead, holding her close to him.

“Come on, you can stay at my house tonight. I’m not leaving you alone for the demons to snatch you up.” Juice smirked. “Anyway, you haven’t met my cats yet, right?”

{***}

“Here are the keys to the black Sedan you needed, Gem.” Juice dropped the keys on the desk in front of her and turned to go straight back into the garage.

“Juice, wait a second.” Gemma said, stopping him before he could slip back into his work.

“Yeah?” Juice asked. “What can I do for you?”

It was hard not to be intimidated by the Queen of Charming when she wanted to have a word with you. Especially in the office where she had the entire club for backup, and that included her husband and son who would snap someone’s neck without a second thought for her. Please, God, he hoped she didn’t want his neck snapped. He was on too many people’s bad sides these days and he didn’t think he could afford to add another one to his list. Clay wanted him dead, Tig was with him, he couldn’t get a read on Jax, and Dolly (his precious cat) hadn’t been talking to him since he started going up to Nevada every couple of weeks to see Priscilla.

“Have a seat.” she told him.

Oh no, this could not be good.

Juice did as he was told, taking a seat in front of Gemma. She took her glasses off and folded them neatly, hanging them on the collar of her shirt. He felt like he was at the principal’s office in high school again, getting reamed for hacking through the school’s firewall so he and his friends could watch porn during study hall. Now, it was easy to admit he was a dumbass kid who didn’t know what to do with his talent, but Principal Wilkins was nowhere near as terrifying as Gemma Teller-Morrow in the same position. He would have given anything to go back to the principal’s office in high school to avoid her wrath.

“What are you doing, Juice?” Gemma asked, in a tone that made him positive that if she could reach across the desk and shake him by the shoulders, she would.

“I’m working?” he rose the pitch of his voice at the end. “I just got you the keys you needed for later on today and-”

She put a hand up to silence him. “No, Juice. I meant with Lana. What was with that shit at the family dinner? Clay blew a gasket and I thought she was going to give Jax a black eye in the middle of our living room!”

“Oh,” Juice realized, dejected. “That.”

“Yeah, that.” Gemma wasn’t happy. “What are you doing, Juice?”

He didn’t exactly know how to answer. Sure, he was friends with Lana before, even when he was a prospect. They were the closest in age (well, until Half-Sack came along, but Lana didn’t seem too keen on him. How could he blame her when Sack had a tendency to drop his pants at any mention of the word ‘balls’?). Ever since the disaster that was Gemma’s last family dinner, he had blown Lana off and avoided her like the plague, as per Clay’s threatening request.

“We’re just friends, Gem. Besides, I got a girl I’m seeing in Nevada and she might be coming to Charming if things work out well enough.” Juice explained. “She was just a little lost and I was trying to help her through it. I was lost before I found the club and she just needs some guidance.”

“Guidance into your pants?” Gemma raised an eyebrow. “Did you know she has a crush on you?”

“Kinda?” Again, he didn’t really know how to answer. “She’s always been a little bit nervous when I talk to her, but I didn’t think too much of it.”

“She’s practically in love with you, Ortiz. You should get glasses if you’re really that damn blind.” Gemma shook her head in disapproval.

“Did she tell you that?”

“No, but she’s not too subtle about it. Luann barely knows you and she could smell the whole thing as soon as she walked into the room and saw her hanging all over you.” Gemma’s voice started to soften. Clay had probably talked to her about the whole thing. “She’s just a kid, Juice.”

“She’s nineteen, Gem. She’s not a kid.” Juice argued. “That’s probably why she’s so lost. Everyone’s treating her like a kid and she’s stuck.”

“Well, maybe Lana’s not a kid, but she’s too young to be your old lady or your late night booty call, or whatever fantasy you got going on in that perverted little head of yours.” Gemma’s voice was stern. As a sidenote, she added, “I know about the panties.”

Juice blushed and wished he could hide in the turned up collars of his Teller-Morrow uniform. “I didn’t. . . I don’t-”

“Relax.” Gemma ordered. “I really don’t give a shit. I’m here to talk to you calmly about Lana on Clay’s behalf because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop himself from blowing a hole straight through those lightning bolts.”

Juice’s fingers instinctively reached toward the tattoos on his head, picturing Clay with a shotgun just tearing a bloody hole with a big bullet straight through the ink. It wasn’t a pretty picture but it surely wasn’t the worst thing Clay had ever done with a gun. They wouldn’t even find his body if Clay cared enough. That would send Lana a message.

“Clay’s been her dad since Otto went to prison. Luann hasn’t been much of a mom. Never wanted kids. A little too self-centered.” Gemma shrugged. “Love the woman, but when is it time to give up sequin handbags and blue eyeshadow?”

“I imagine the porn studio wasn’t much of a place for a kid.” Juice assumed, but he said it slowly and carefully as to not insult Gemma’s best friend.

“No, it wasn’t.” Gemma agreed. “The clubhouse wasn’t much better, but at least she had Clay or Chibs to watch after her.”

“I’ve been staying away from her. Like Clay asked.” Juice assured Gemma, knowing it was in his best interest to just go along with whatever they said. “I don’t see why I can’t be friends with her. She needs someone who-”

Gemma cut him off with a venom that made Juice lean hard into the back of the chair. “You’re fucking her up even worse, Juice. You said you got some girl in Nevada you’re seeing, yet you’re here in Charming getting Lana’s hopes up.”

“I’m not getting her hopes up, I’m just-”

“You are, Juice! You make her feel wanted. And that’s what women need: to be wanted.” Gemma stood up and walked around the desk to stand in front of him with a sense of urgency in her eyes.

There was a  motherly quality in her features made him miss his own mother in Queens. How was she doing? Was she still sick? His sister would have called if there was something really wrong. Right? She wouldn’t leave him in the dark.

“Are you even listening to me?” Gemma said, annoyed.

“Yeah, shit. Sorry.” Juice apologized. “Where were we at again?”

“I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but it needs to be done.” Gemma said. “You don’t have to let her down easy, but you gotta let her down and don’t leave her with any false hope.”

“What are you saying I should do?” Juice asked, afraid he knew what she was getting at. Gemma knew how to be cruel without the use of fists (though he was sure she could put up her dukes when it came down to the nitty gritty).

Gemma grabbed Juice’s cheeks between her strong fingers. Her long, dark-blue acrylics dug into the the soft flesh of his face, forcing him to look her directly in her beady little crow’s eyes. If there was anyone in this world who could give Cruella de Vil a run for her money, it was Gemma Teller-Morrow. The only thing missing was a coat of skinned puppies hanging off her shoulders. Her eyes were black with poison that he felt creeping into his, rising goosebumps on his forearms. It was spooky, Gemma squeezing his cheeks in her hands. There was nowhere to run to.

“You gotta break her pretty little heart, Juan Carlos. You gotta break it hard and you gotta break it good.”

Fuck.