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five-rivers · 4 years

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Stars Aligned Chapter 2

Here’s the thing. Danny knew this was a dumb decision. At least as dumb as stepping into the ghost portal (but at least he’d gotten some nifty powers out of that, hey?). Whatever reason his bio-dad had for chucking him out the door within days of his birth couldn’t be good. Putting himself within reach of the man… Yeah. Not his brightest thought.

(Not to mention the wizards. And witches. That was so weird, how they had two different names for essentially the same thing. Then again… actor, actress… Why were people so weird?)

On the other hand, twin brother. Twin brother who had to live with aforementioned baby-abandoning bio-dad. Twin brother who wasn’t allowed to visit America. Or, Danny suspected, a family of squibs.

Yeah.

So, here he was. Getting everything in order for a wizard passport and wizard international travel, because bio-family refused to even look at an airport.

Danny had a suspicion that, based on how they spelled the word and a few other comments in that particular letter, that they weren’t entirely clear on what an airport was.

Fun.

On the other hand, in comparison to the actual, normal, legal passport he’d gotten, just in case bio-family left him somewhere, wizard passports were much, much easier to get. The wait times were practically nonexistent. He could, in theory, get the passport on the same day he traveled. All that was needed was proof he was a wizard and his adoption papers.

Of course, ‘proof he was a wizard’ actually meant ‘wand.’ Wands being something they used as personal ID, despite the fact that they were a) sticks, and b) didn’t actually carry any personally identifiable information. Sure, Jack said that they were somehow connected to their owners, but unless there were, like, giant books of details about everyone’s wands at every place that would, conceivably, need ID, and had people trained to identify all those tiny little characteristics… Danny just couldn’t see how it would work.

Danny’s current theory was that all wizards were just insane, which meant that his twin would most likely fit right in with the rest of Danny’s family, right as soon as Danny figured out how to legally kidnap him.

(No, Danny didn’t have a ghostly Obsession, and it definitely wasn’t family related. He was only half-ghost, after all. Why do you ask?)

Anyway. Wizard passport. Wizard ID. Wizard sticks.

Wands.

Wands meant a nerve-wracking trip to the nearest wizarding town with Jack. Evidently, he’d lived there a couple of years after his parents sent him away from Britain when he was around fourteen because of ‘the war.’

Abruptly, many of Jack’s stories about his childhood made more sense.

(It had always been something of a joke between Jazz and Danny to try and figure out what ‘the war’ was supposed to be, and if Jack’s parents had just… Conned him into thinking he’d eaten horse meat. For some reason. Even if the Fentons hadn’t seemed like that kind of people, no matter how eccentric.)

(Also, evidently Jazz and Danny had never met Jack’s biological parents, who were not named Fenton, although his adopted mother was also a witch.)

(Why was everything so complicated?)

The “wizarding community” was a small town accessible only by a train line invisible to ‘no-majs.’ And also flying brooms. Which wizards used. Danny had seen the train before, not realizing that he wasn’t supposed to. Several times. Usually while flying to Wisconsin to deal with whatever Vlad had done that week.

If Danny was a wizard, was Vlad? Was being half-ghost somehow tied up in being magical? What did that mean for Dani?

(Hey, maybe this whole affair could be used to bring Dani into the family safely. Who was to say that he didn’t have a secret twin sister?)

Danny could admit that the town itself, which had almost a Ghost Zone vibe with how all the architecture seemed to be from fifty plus to a hundred years ago and also the physics breaking magic, was sort of cool. It was… cute, he guessed. He didn’t really like how everyone was staring at Jack, their clothes were just as weird, but it wasn’t a new thing. People always stared at Jack.

That’s what happened when you wore hazard-orange jumpsuits twenty-four seven.

The shops all had names out of a fantasy novel, and at one point they got turned around and wound up on a residential street where they had to ask for directions, but eventually they made it to ‘Willoughby’s Wand Emporium.’

The interior of Willoughby’s Wand Emporium reminded Danny strongly of a shoe store. The shelves were all lined with boxes of approximately that size, and the employees all carried measuring tape. It also smelled like a shoe store: musty and dry, with a hint of polish. Or maybe it was wood varnish? Or some kind of paint.

A young woman bounced up. “Hi, how can we help you today? Replacement wand?”

“First time, actually,” said Jack.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said the woman. “You’re just so tall for your age.”

“I’m fourteen,” said Danny.

The woman began to turn red.

“He was missed,” said Jack. “It happens.” He smiled, but it looked far more strained than usual.

“Oh,” said the woman. “Ahem. Well, if you’ll come right this way, I can start taking measurements, and start trying out wands. The wand chooses the wizard, they say!”

“Okay,” said Danny, shrugging. That was… interesting. Were the wands sentient? Did that somehow make them acceptable IDs?

Seemed really weird to keep sentient things stored in boxes.

… Said the kid who stored sentient beings in a soup thermos.

A really high-tech soup thermos.

Didn’t make it better.

Except he didn’t keep them in the thermos indefinitely. Except for Dan.

Danny didn’t know if the wizards kept the wands in boxes indefinitely, either. Maybe he should stop assuming things. That had gotten him in trouble with ghosts more than once.

The woman took her measuring tape from where it hung around her shoulders, held it out in front of herself, and promptly dropped it. It did not fall.

As basic as levitation was for ghosts, it was really weird to see a human do it. (Especially when it always took so much concentration for him to levitate things other than himself—Hence why he never really used the ability in battle.)

The measuring tape flitted around Danny’s head, shoulders, arms, and body, taking measurements. He had to sit on his reflexes hard to prevent himself from trying to catch it or knock it out of the air.

He was so nervous. Was it normal to be nervous?

The measuring tape snaked back through the air to the woman, who smiled. “Alright,” she said, “we can start with that. Uh, to explain the process, we usually start out with wands in the appropriate size range and try and zero in on the ones that respond best to you from there.” She flicked her own wand, and several thin boxes slid themselves off the shelves. “We use a wide variety of wand woods from a variety of wandmakers. Just about any tree that grows in North America is probably represented here.” She paused. “Except for palm trees.”

“That makes sense,” said Danny. Palm trees were quite different from other trees.

“Alright. Let’s start with pine. The core of this one is dragon heartstring—Harvested humanely, of course!”

“Core?” said Danny, latching on to the familiar word even as he regarded the wand itself dubiously.

“Yes. As with our woods, we also stock a wide range of wand cores. Each wand has a core made of a small part of a magical creature. Dragon heartstring, unicorn hair, and phoenix feather are the standard ones… But that standardization is rather British. We have a few others available. Thunderbird tail feather—Only taken during molt. Wampus cat hair. Dittany. Rougarou hair. Jackalope antler… Those are the more common ones, though we do have others. Even some kneazle whisker, although most people don’t want those.”

“Why not?”

“Ah, they tend not to be very strong. But sheer power isn’t everything. Some prefer control, need lower power output… or are worried about accidents while they’re learning. We do see some adult learners every now and then.”

That actually sounded sort of appealing to Danny, but he supposed he’d better go about this normally. At least at first.

He picked up the pine wand and immediately dropped it.

“Ow,” he said.

“Ow?” repeated the woman. “Oh,” she said, catching sight of the burn on his hand. “That’s… not supposed to happen.”

“Y’know,” said Danny, conversationally, “I’ve only held, like, two magical things in my life, and both of them have damaged my hands. Is this, like, a common thing, or am I just ridiculously unlucky.”

“Second one, I think,” said the woman. “Cynthia’s good at minor healing charms. I’m going to go get her. Okay? Okay.”

Shortly thereafter, phoenix feather wands were also eliminated as a possibility, not because they burned Danny, but because they seemed intent on burning everything else around him. Pine wands were also a definite no-go (“Don’t worry about the lifespan thing,” said the woman, “that’s a myth.”). As was everything but elder, apple, pear, hornbeam, thorn, and yew (this list got another mention of myths from the shop assistant).

At this point, the shop owner, Mrs. Willoughby, was drawn out from the back room to observe the mess Danny was making.

“My,” she said, “I haven’t seen anyone have this much trouble in a while. Heather, why don’t you go get some of the specialty cores.”

“I thought the unicorn was working well,” protested the woman who’d been helping Danny so far. She winced as Danny picked up a new wand and exploded a light. “Comparatively.”

“Yes, we could probably eventually find a unicorn hair wand that would work for him, but all things considered… I feel like we should explore other avenues.” She sniffed. “Nothing associated with fire. Perhaps kelpie mane?”

“I’ll check,” said Heather.

Kelpie mane, it turned out, did the same sort of thing as phoenix tail feather when it came to Danny. Only with a lot more water involved.

“I didn’t think that would work, anyway,” said Mrs. Willoughby.

“Then why,” said Danny, wringing water out of his shirt, “did you have me try it?”

“Oh, cases like you greatly improve our understanding of wandlore,” said Mrs. Willoughby. “You’re not likely to have noticed this yet, but the population of wizards and witches is so small compared to the no-maj population that everyone who gets very far in a profession has to be a bit of an innovator. I’m recording this for future reference, and I’ll be looking forward to seeing what you do in life. If anything. It would be very helpful to me if you became famous.”

“Hard pass on that,” said Danny.

“Or at least come back at some point.”

“I’ll consider it,” said Danny. “But, like, we were really hoping to do other things today, so maybe…” He made a circular motion with his hand. “Or at least, ugh, I don’t know. I feel like everything you give me is trying to kill me.”

It was a very familiar feeling, and a very unwelcome one, nonetheless.

“We really aren’t,” said Mrs. Willoughby. “But perhaps… from now on, we’ll limit to the woods to the Rosaceaes. The others tend to be called unlucky. Well, except for the hornbeam. Is there anything you’re singularly passionate about?”

Singularly passionate? “Not really,” said Danny, who did not think about ghosts or helping people or space. He shifted, uncomfortable, and squelched.

Screw it. He was supposedly a wizard, now, right?

He phased the water off himself.

“Oh my god!” shouted Heather. “Did you do that on purpose?”

“Uh,” said Danny. “No?”

“Calm down, Heather. Don’t act like you’ve never seen accidental magic before.”

“Not with a teenager doing it!”

They were now attracting a crowd. Yay.

“He’s not trained, yet,” said Mrs. Willoughby, unconcerned. “Don’t be rude.”

“Yeah, can we get back on track, here?”

After a few more tries, Mrs. Willoughby had determined that the wood that reacted the least badly to Danny was hawthorn. Then she sent Heather into the storage room to fetch more.

“I don’t know why we even have these,” said Heather, under her breath, carrying several boxes marked with stamps that read ‘THESTRAL.’

“Because some people have trauma, Heather.”

“He’s a teenager. I seriously doubt he has deep personal experiences with death.”

“Wow, way to assume, Heather,” said another shop assistant, who was passing by with a far-too-curious customer.

“Here,” said Mrs. Willoughby, handing Danny a box. “Try this one. It’s hawthorn.”

With some suspicion, Danny slid the cover off the box and gingerly picked up the wand inside.

It didn’t do anything like what the other wands had. Instead, the slender length of wood gave him a faint echo of the feeling he got when he was on an emotional high and engaging in either extreme mischief or obsession-adjacent activities (because he did not have a real, ghostly, capital-O Obsession).

Danny declined to hold it with all five fingers, lest he be overcome with mania.

Yes, he was paranoid. But when touching things can go as badly for you as they did for Danny, paranoia was justified.

“Oh, it looks like you’ve found your match,” said Mrs. Willoughby, clapping.

With the ease of practice, Danny did not let any trace of horror or unease show on his face. He ignored the surge of glee from the wand, and carefully placed it back in the box.

Yeah. He needed a wand for passport purposes, but there was no way he was going to use that. He’d just fake magic with ghost powers. It had been working out okay so far.

What was the worst that could happen?

A rather relieved Jack paid for the wand, and they made their way, slowly, to the government building.

“So,” said Jack. “You want to save getting those beginner magic manuals for another day?”

“Absolutely,” said Danny. He wondered if his twin had gone through anything even remotely like this and if it was really worth all this trouble to meet a person he would have basically nothing in common with other than blood.

Blood that likely meant less than usual, considering that his was diluted with ectoplasm. A fact he would have to hide. With no allies or back up. In England.

(Again, this whole endeavor was not his greatest idea.)

Draco supervised the house-elves as they cleaned out the room next to his own, feeling rather blank. He had campaigned vigorously for his twin to come, but now that he was…

The boy, for all that he was as much a Malfoy as Draco, was an American for all intents and purposes. What did Americans even like? What did they call their bastardized version of Quidditch? Would Deneb even know about wizard games? According to the woman from the agency, he’d been raised as a muggle by those squibs he’d been placed with.

Slowly but surely, Draco’s heart sank. He had no idea what his twin would be like. Deneb, despite being his brother, would essentially be a stranger.

He was beginning to understand why his mother was so angry at his father.

#danny phantom #dp/hp crossover #dp/hp twin au #stars aligned

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geekgirles · 3 years

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Your Heart

Chapter 3 -- Introductions

READ ON AO3

Word Count: 8831

Sleep. Ah, blissful sleep. The Holy Grail Danny had spent his entire high school life looking for, and that still eluded him from time to time. That wonderful feeling when he just collided on his bed after a long day of balancing his secret identity and his civilian one, of ruling over a race whose reputation had earned him the contempt of many, of fighting rebellious spirits...To just let the tiredness wash over and slumber take him was pure bliss.

Could there be anything more amazing?

At this point Danny’s perfect day had evolved from the amazing activities normal people looked forward to ーgoing to the beach with friends, binge-watching an entire season-worth of episodes in a day, ice skating…ーto the simple joys in life, such as getting a full night’s sleep (maybe even sleeping in, if he was lucky), going to the Nasty Burger with Tucker, and just having a normal day.

But, as an aggravating sound would remind him, those days were far and in between.

Twisting around in bed, eyes tightly shut and his face forming a grimace in annoyance, the halfa did everything in his power to ignore that damned noise. Trying hard as he might, there was no turning off the volume of that obnoxious beeping. Giving up, he reached out a hand from under his covers to tap the snooze button.The fucking alarm clock; his worst enemy after Plasmius. And the second most annoyingーthat title belonged to the Box Ghost.

Stifling a yawn with his hand, he got out of bed. Half-heartedly rummaging through his closet, he picked the first thing he could find and went inside his bathroom, having no choice but to start a new day. Once inside, he locked the door and took one look at himself in the mirror, well, as good as a look through sleepy, half-lidded eyes could be. He was greeted by the sight of his ghost form’s nuclear white hair and glowing green eyes. Seeing his reflection, Danny jumped back in surprise, until he remembered the previous day’s events.

After officially meeting the Witch Queen he decided to crash in his lair in the Ghost Zone, too exhausted to return home.

He attributed not realising it sooner to his chambers’ appearance. Soon after he became the Ghost King, he was instructed to create a lair of his own; to cement his current position as ruler among his subjects, and to have a place where they could go in case they needed his help that wasn’t Fenton Works. Clockwork helpfully pointed out that keeping his secret identity from his parents and the citizens of Amity Park would be considerably more difficult if the ghosts had to look for him around town whenever they needed him.

It was also Clockwork who gave him the idea of designing his lair taking himself as inspiration. “Try creating something both familiar and completely foreign; such as your own condition.” the Ghost of Time advised wisely, “Combine things that remind you of your human halfーtry not to make it very obvious, while you’re at itー with the sort of elements typical of the Ghost Zone.”

And hence, he created his lair.

On the outside it looked like a house belonging to the neighbourhoods he and Tucker grew up in, but on the inside he drew inspiration from Pariah Dark’s castle. Only it wasn’t nearly as frightening, just lavish enough to give the impression that someone powerful resided there. But his favourite room was, without a doubt, his own. An almost exact replica of the one at FentonWorksーthe main difference being that this one had its own bathroom and a few large one-way windows he used to oversee his realmー Danny could feel at ease. And, again, it explained why he hadn’t noticed he wasn’t back on Earth. That, and the sleepiness, of course.

Shrugging, he summoned the twin circles of light to surround his body, the familiar, chilly sensation running down his spine. Once he was Danny Fenton again, he stripped off the clothes he’d worn the previous day, got into the shower, and got the water running.

As he showered, his mind raced back to the previous day. In particular, to his meeting with the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park. She was a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. Even with his alter egos, both of his identities were fairly well-known in the public eye. Danny Fenton was the son of Amity Park’s most notorious ghosthunters, not necessarily for their skill or captured ghosts, but his parents had certainly always been very present around town. With their ghost conferences and pep talks, their field trips searching for ghosts around town, that one time they felt like dressing up like back in the 80’s and embarrassed him and Jazz in the middle of the Nasty Burger just because he’d forgotten his wallet…

Between his parents, puberty, and his new-found ghost powers, his teenage years sure were a blast...

And speaking of ghost powers, there was Danny Phantom. The ghost boy that one day appeared out of the blue, first seen fighting a giant meat monster. The public menace who once attacked the mayor. The spectral intruder who trashed Axion Labs, got one of its employees fired, and was responsible for the rise of the Red Huntress...who also happened to be his sorta-kinda-maybe-it-was-complicated ex-girlfriend. The young hero who valiantly fought against the terrifying, tyrannical Ghost King and defeated him, saving both worlds in the process...only to be then crowned King of the Ghost Zone himself and ignite the ire and distrust of the town whose respect he had just won not even a week prior.

The very same Ghost King who was still doing his best, day after day, to protect everyone from the most malicious ghosts who still challenged his rule. But did anyone care? Well, aside from a, thankfully, ever-growing fan club, if the burn he’d received the other day courtesy of none other than Valerie Gray was any indication...Nope.

Summing up, Danny was fairly well-known.

But the Witch Queen, on the other hand… The only reason he even knew of her existence or where to find her was because he’d found a few pages of Sojourn’s legendary journal flying around the Ghost Zone while he investigated the cause for the numerous portals opening. According to the wandering ghost’s notes, although there were several covens scattered throughout the globe, one in particular had settled in Amity Park after years of travelling around the colonies, fleeing from an event they called ‘The Great Burning’. Although Danny had no idea what that was, even if it did sound bad, what caught his attention was both their abilities, therefore his idea to ask them for help, and the last place Sojourn saw them before continuing on with his own search. He remembered his own eyes widening at the location. A location he knew from personal experience.

The fact that his messenger actually delivered the letter was pure luck, though. For all the halfa knew, the witches could’ve left Amity Park in the centuries between Sojourn’s disappearance and his accident.

Reaching his hand to the faucet, he turned off the water. He grabbed the nearest towel and wrapped it around his lower half while he used a smaller one to dry his hair off. Then he grabbed his clothes from the floor where he put them and got dressed. Combing his unruly hair with a hand, since he had long given up on doing anything with it, he stared at his, now, fully-dressed human reflection.

He looked the same as his fourteen-year-old self, except for the more defined physique that came with daily ghost fights. At least there were some perks to getting your ass handed to you on a regular basis. The only other thing that changed was his wardrobe. It was still casual, he wasn’t going to start wearing Giorgio Armani suits anytime soon (it’d make him look like Vlad), but more grown-up, too. In his sleep-induced blindness he managed to pick up some decent clothing: a baby blue shirt over a long-sleeved, white undershirt, dark blue jeans, and beat-up red sneakers. Not bad.

He left the bathroom after brushing his teeth in the sink. Walking down the corridors on his way to the kitchen, his mind went back to his encounter with Lady Arcana. When he became king, Frostbite served as a tutor of sorts. The leader of the Far Frozen made sure he knew everything he would need about the Ghost Zone and its history to be an effective leader. It was because of his lessons that he even knew who Sojourn was! But, most importantly, it was thanks to them that he learned of the existence of witches.

And what he’d learned about them and what they’d done...it was so horrifying he couldn’t blame the ghosts for having a grudge against them that kept them apart for centuries. Thanks to what he’d read and was told about them, Danny knew what to expect from the spellbinding group of women.

Witches were scheming, often fooling people into making a deal with the devil (figuratively speaking, that is) in exchange for things their clients would never be able to afford. They were selfish: the Witch Queen herself only cared about what happened to her people, never mind two entire dimensions! Much like Vlad, they only showed interest in a confrontation or making a deal if they had the upper hand.

Frostbite had every right to be wary of his decision to ask them for help. After all, not only were the witches malicious, they were dangerous. Even if they lacked the standard ghost abilities such as flight, invisibility, and intangibility; their knowledge of magic was enough to give any ghost a hard time. And it was said that the Queen was the most dangerous of them all…

Danny could definitely attest to that. Although he hadn't seen her in action per se, he could feel an inner strength radiating from her the moment they locked eyes. And the way she fiercely fought for her people's safety only proved that. Even if he really found it selfish that she only cared for her people’s sake, Danny had to admit, it made sense, it even made her a good ruler. The only reason he cared about both worlds was because he lived in both worlds. Had he been fully human or fully ghost, deep down he’d only have cared about whatever dimension he belonged to.

Despite all the red flags and warning signs, there was this part of him who truly believed Lady Arcana (what an odd name) was his only hope. He just hoped that part of him had some kind of clairvoyance and wasn’t just indigestion or something.

“Your Majesty, you’re awake!” A high-pitched voice broke him out of his musings. Looking around, he realised he was in the kitchen and the voice belonged to Dora, his maid. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like to eat, so I made everything I could think of.”

When his eyes landed on the food served on the table, he almost had to do a double-take. She sure went all out… Before him lay a carton of milk, eggs cooked in all ways imaginable (fried, scrambled, boiled, Benedict eggs…), over a dozen toasts, a few jars of different jams, bacon, pancakes, around three boxes of cereal, and an arrangement of fruit and juice.

Mouth watering and eyes as big as the saucers set down on the table, he turned to the ghost maiden, “When did you have time to do all this? Did you even sleep?”

The green-skinned spirit raised a hand to politely cover her mouth, chuckling in amusement. “My Lord, you forget we ghosts don’t sleep. So of course I had time to do this.” She smiled at his flushing face, embarrassment for having forgotten about that apparent on his features. “But, please, don’t trouble yourself with such things, your Majesty. Just sit down and eat.”

He did as he was told before reaching out for a few toasts and strawberry jam. He actually hated toast, but then again, that was probably because the Fenton Toaster always made them way too dry. As Dora poured some coffee on his glass, he spoke up, ignoring he was speaking with his mouth full. “I thought I told you to just call me ‘Danny’”, he swallowed, “We’re friends, Dora, remember? You are under no obligation to treat me as anything but that.”

Princess Dorothea, or Dora, was a ghost he met back in freshman year of high school. The first time they met her magical amulet got him in trouble, since it transformed his former crush into a dragon whenever she got angry. The next time they met, though, was when her asshole of a brother was looking for a bride but, being too out of the loop to try online dating, he forced her to organise a beauty pageant with him as the judge. When he defeated Aragon and freed his kingdom, he also freed Dora, who swore to be his ally after that. And the moment he rose as king, she offered to be his maid.

“I know, but what can I say? My brother kept our kingdom in the Dark Ages for 1600 years. Old habits die hard, I suppose.” She defended.

“But you have no trouble keeping up with the current time’s peech pattern.” He pointed out.

Dorothea just shrugged in response.

They stayed in silence for a while after that. While Danny ate his breakfast, Dora cleaned the kitchen. It was usually like that when he stayed in the Ghost Zone long enough to need the kitchen running. Looking at his cellphone, Danny almost spat his food. In an instant, Dora was by his side, making sure he didn’t choke. “Shit! I’m gonna be late!”

With that, he quickly finished his plate with a quick “See ya!” thrown at Dora and transformed, flying around the Ghost Zone until he could make out the Fenton Ghost Portal in the distance. It was still a little early for his parents to be up and running around the lab, so he didn’t have to turn invisible once he reached the lab. Phasing through the ceiling, he was about to make it to the door when the sound of footsteps startled him.

“Danny? Is that you?” came his mother’s voice.

Panicking slightly, he dropped the transformation. By the time his parents came down the stairs, he was nervously waiting for them at the door, fully human. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.” He waved at them with a nervous smile. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Son.” Jack patted his son, who almost reached his 6’1 height, being 5’9 now, on the back. “Did you sleep well?”

“Um, yeah. Fully rested. And you guys?”

“Oh, you bet, Danno!” the Fenton patriarch exclaimed as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “I dreamed I had that putrid, ectoplasmic apparition of a monarch right where I wanted him; with an ecto-blaster aimed right at his forehead!” Jack boasted, completely ignoring how his son suddenly lost some colour in his face.

Sipping at her own mug of coffee, Maddie chimed in, “We didn’t hear you last night. Did you come too late from college, sweetie? Did you need anything?”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Although he’d got much better at lying to his parents over the years (a fact he hated), that didn’t mean he felt comfortable doing it. “Yeah, sorry. It was late when I was done studying at the university’s library, but before I could get into my dorm I realised I didn’t have the keys with me.” He explained, hating the way the lie naturally rolled off his tongue. “I came here thinking I must’ve forgotten them the last time I came to visit, but no such luck. Anyway, it was too late to return so I decided to crash. Hope that’s okay with you guys.”

His mother went over to place a kiss on his forehead, mug still in hand. “Don’t be silly, honey. This is your home! You’ll always be welcomed here.”

Jack came to stand beside his wife, a hand resting on her shoulder. “That’s right, Son. We were just a little confused. We didn't hear you coming in, that’s all.”

“Care for some toast?” Maddie offered.

“No, thanks. I already ate, besides, I’m gonna be late for class.”

“Then don’t let us keep you! See you later, Danno!” Jack said with a wave of his hand at the same time as Maddie said, “Bye, sweetie! Come back soon!” After closing the door behind him, he swiftly hid behind a nearby car to transform before leaping into the air and speeding up towards APU (Amity Park University). He wasn’t lying when he said he was going to be late.

Besides, he’d promised Tucker he would meet up with him and someone he was dying to introduce him to today.

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

When her alarm clock blared, Sam lazily reached a hand out from her covers to hit the snooze bottom. As the weariness wore off, she arched her back in an attempt to stretch and barely managed to cover her mouth as a yawn came to her. Yanking her red comforter aside, she got up from bed and walked towards her vanity, getting ready to start a new day.

Flopping down her chair, she hazardly opened her eyes to stare at her reflection. An over-sized Humpty Dumpty t-shirt she used to sleep hanging low from one of her shoulders; her disheveled black hair sticking out in disarray; a clammy, pale face contrasting greatly with the dark circles under her eyes… “Aren’t you a sex symbol, Sam.” She drawled sarcastically.

Well, things could only get better from there. Walking over her closet, she picked out the clothes she’d be wearing for the day and then got into the shower. Once she was out and dry, she sat back down her vanity chair and picked up her brush. People always said handling straight hair was easier, but they were wrong. Oh, they were so wrong. Untangling her onix mane was a challenge fit of Hercules himself, with all the tugging it required; case on point, whenever Paulina or Star had to work on her hair, they always marveled she wasn’t already bald.

With her hair taken care of, Sam slipped on her favourite tank top, a black one with a purple circle in its centre. Then came her pants; a pair of black shorts that were ripped at the sides she complemented with a white belt sporting a skull-shaped belt buckle. After that she slipped on a pair of thigh-length purple socks and her favourite steel toe combat boots; black with a row of three buckles on each side. When it came to accessorizing, Sam opted for her trademark black choker and bracelets and a purple opera glove on her left arm; Star recommended it, saying, “there’s just something so fashionable about asymmetry.”

Last but not least would be her make-up. Sam went for her usual style; not too over-the-top, but not too bland either. And so, she carefully applied a heavy coat of eyeliner and mascara on her eyelids and lashes, respectively; and her trademark violet lipstick. Now, the only thing left to do was the spell.

After listening intently and making sure no one was coming, Sam conjured in hushed tones, “Mutatio speciei.” With that, a swirly mist enveloped her head and, where once were her back-length inky locks framing her face, was now a different hairstyle. While the right side of her face remained the same, her left side was shaved with purple undertones, a tiny green ponytail in a purple scrunchie sticking out. Her lavender eyes had been replaced by a pair of hazel ones, and due to her hairdo, the two orbital piercings decorating her lower lobe were visible.

Satisfied with her look, she stood up from her chair, closed the door behind her, and descended the stairs to her kitchen. Yes, her kitchen. Not the one at the clan’s manor. While the large mansion located at 917 Maple Street, which the citizens of Amity Park believed to be an abandoned townsend place that could be rented for Halloween (they had to get funds from somewhere), served as her coven’s headquarters, training grounds, and shelter, the relatively lavish home in the upper class part of town was when she was raised.

In fact, every single witch had a house outside of the manor, for it was crucial to keep their identities hidden. Since having purple eyes and ebony hair was a huge giveaway of her real identity, Sam had to perform that one simple shapeshifting spell to make sure nobody ever recognised her. And now that Danny Phantom had seen her face, even if he didn’t know her real identity, all the more reason to be careful.

After her talk with the king of the Ghost Zone, Sam was almost tempted to think he was someone she could trust. Almost. Even with the explanation of their worlds depending on each other to exist, the Witch Queen still didn’t cross out the possibility of having been lied to. Phantom was known for being capable of anything if it saved the day. And lying to the leader of a tribe of magic users was sure to be nothing for him.

Even if he’d seen a lot less arrogant than he gave the impression of whenever he battled a rogue ghost, with all those puns and the constant taunting, he acted rather...humble towards her. He didn’t even show signs of animosity until she tested the waters and sneered at his kind. But that didn’t mean she was going to let her guard down around him anytime soon. If there was one thing dating that lying, good-for-nothing, Hungarian wannabe had taught her, it was that when something seemed too good to be true, it usually was.

After setting a carton of soy milk, a bowl with cereal and an apple down on the kitchen table, she sat down on her chair. Her dad, Jeremy Manson, read the newspaper with a steaming mug of black coffee beside him. Registering movement from the corner of his eyes, he lowered the paper. “Good morning, Sammy. Did you sleep well?”

Sam sent her dad a small smile. “Yes, Dad. How ‘bout you?”

Jeremy lifted a shoulder up, a nonchalant expression on his face. “Oh, you know… Same all, same all. It’s a bit harder to sleep when your mother’s away, planning events. But that’s how it is, isn’t it? While I oversee the company, she takes care of the social gatherings. We’re a great team like that.” He stated proudly.

“Yeah. You sure are…” Sam commented despondently. She didn’t have the heart to see what being married to a witch meant for her dad. Even though Jeremy was a true Manson, being Ida’s only child, the fact that he was a man meant he had little to no affinity to magic, and therefore, he could never be a part of their clan. The closest he got was marrying Pamela, a witch from a lesser family he somehow fell in love with. Neither Sam nor her Grandma put it past her that she’d been purposely hunting him down, since not only was he the Queen’s son, but Ida’s own father had been a successful and wealthy inventor.

Her Grandma often told her the main reason she accepted her mother was because she, somehow, made her dad happy and she’d given her the most wonderful granddaughter anyone could ask for.

Grandma Ida, on her part, always did her best to show her son how much she loved him, but their circumstances made it very difficult for them to spend time together; especially because Jeremy didn’t even know his mother was a witch. And neither did any other man involved with a woman from their clan, for that matter.

Being part of a secret, women-only tradition made it very difficult for them to have normal lives. It was imperative that the coven never died, which meant they needed children. There were only two ways of doing so: either a witch went downtown in search of a one-night-stand during her fertile days, or she used her civilian identity to start a family. The latter alternative also meant she’d have to protect herself and her children from a possible betrayal, hence, there was a special spell designed to keep their husbands in the dark when it came to their wives and daughters’ activities. In the worst case scenario, that is to say, that they’d been caught doing something suspicious or even performing magic, their partner was bound to forget all about it.

That was the reason why her dad thought Pamela was out planning social events for the sake of the company when, half of the time, she was actually in the manor. It was also the reason why he never commented on the way his daughter’s appearance would constantly change in ways it shouldn’t.

“I like what you’ve done to your hair.” He suddenly said, before taking a gulp of his coffee. “Did you use that new eco-friendly shampoo you wanted to try?”

Sam couldn’t help but smile at the way his father, who was incapable of remembering or realising certain things due to a spell, never failed to realise others. Especially if it concerned her. “Yeah. It’s got passion fruit, blackberries, and I don’t know what else.”

“Well, I like it!”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Jeremy started, giving his daughter his full attention with a soft smile on his face, “since your mother said she’d be busy next Saturday, what do you say we go check out that new vegetarian restaurant you wanted to try out, um?”

Sam’s entire face lit up at that. “Are you serious?”

The blond man chuckled at his daughter’s child-like excitement; it’d been too long since the last time he saw it, “Yes, why not? I’m free that day and you’re always saying how much you want to go. So, what do you say? Do you have any extracurricular activities planned?”

‘Extracurricular activities.’ That was what she and her mother said whenever they talked about her role as the Witch Queen around the house. “I think I’m free, too. Sounds great, Dad.” The young woman smiled at her father warmly.

It was ironic, she couldn’t help but think. Due to all her responsibilities now and growing up, Sam never got to spend much time with her father; she was always near Pamela or her grandma. And yet, she was much closer to him, who actually made an effort to understand and encourage her interests ーespecially if Pamela wasn’t aroundー, than her mother. Then again, perhaps it was precisely because they weren’t together often that she was closer to him. Maybe she’d feel as suffocated around him otherwise.

After all, wasn’t that what people always said? ‘Distance makes the heart grow fonder’?

“Got any plans for today, Sammy?”

“Oh, you know, same as always. Go to class, pay attention in class, go to the library, my...extracurricular activities,” she coughed nervously at that, “come back home, and repeat.” Taking a bite of her apple, her eyes suddenly widened as she remembered something important. “Shit, I almost forgot! Today I agreed to meet up with a friend and someone he wants to introduce me to!”

Sam facepalmed herself. How could she have forgotten about that?!

“First of all, language.” Jeremy admonished her lightly. “And second, then I guess your day won’t be the ‘same as always’ after all.”

The raven-haired girl snorted at her dad’s sense of humour. Dad jokes. They weren’t her cup of tea, preferring witty remarks and dark humour, but they did the trick. Sometimes. “I guess not, Dad.”

“And who’re you meeting up with, kiddo?”

“Oh, my friend Tucker. I don’t think you know him because we mostly hang out at campus. Last week he came to me to ask me for a favour.”

“What sort of favour?” The blond middle-aged man raised an eyebrow, suspicious.

“He wants to introduce me to a friend of his. Apparently, he’s writing a paper on a subject I know quite a lot of.” She was just surprised there were classes teaching her subject of expertise that she wasn’t already a member of.

“His friend’s writing a paper on environmental law? Then you probably know them already!” Jeremy stated, setting his newspaper down.

“Dad, I’m in college, not high school, remember?” She sent him an amused look. “Even in regular classes there’s tons of people I don’t even know the names of.” Sam was tempted to tell him Tucker’s friend was probably not writing about environmental law, either, but she held her tongue. Better play along.

“Well, have a nice day anyway, honey.” He pointed at the clock hanging from the wall with a knowing smirk. “You should hurry up, too.”

Following the direction his thumb pointed at, Sam barely held herself back from cursing again. Eating the remaining food in a couple of large bites, she lunged herself out of the house the moment she grabbed her purple, spider-shaped backpack from a nearby chair. Once outside, she slid her arms through the straps before adjusting them. And with that, she ran to the nearest bus stop.

She couldn’t be late.

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

“Did you have fun last night?”

The bespectacled young man watched as his best friend all but threw himself face-first at his bed on the other side of their room. A groan was all he received as a response. With a sigh, he set his tablet down on the table, directing his full attention to the exhausted half-ghost in front of him. “Could you please repeat that? My Groan-ish is a bit rusty.”

With great effort, Danny rose his head from his pillow, shooting a tired glare at Tucker. “Not in the mood, Tuck.”

“I’m gonna take that as a ‘no’”. He said before getting up from his chair to grab a mug and pour Danny some coffee. An intense espresso with no milk or sugar. Just like the dolt was addicted to.

Their room was an average one. Two beds, each on either side of the room; a kitchenette as you opened the door to step inside whose only appliances they used were the fridge and the microwave, both college students being way too dangerous to be trusted with their daily food. Each of them had a little, wooden desk on their respective side to work on projects and study, and in the middle of the room was a modest table where they ate.

When they first stepped foot in, he and Danny knew the room would undergo some major changesーor as big as the campus’ rules would allow. As time went by, though, only Tucker’s side looked almost identical to his own room back home. But since Danny often ended up crashing in his lair in the Ghost Zone or back at Fenton Works, that was to be expected. Case on point, while Tucker’s side was filled to the brim with screens, computer parts, wires, and the occasional top secret ghost-hunting project; Danny’s only way of telling there’d been some kind of change since they first got the room were his clothes in his drawers, and the occasional space and rock band poster on the wall. Other than that, it couldn’t be any more impersonal.

When he offered the mug to him, Danny snatched it from his hands like a dehydrated man in the middle of the desert would snatch a water bottle. “Correction: I’m gonna take that as ‘rough night doesn’t even begin to cover it.’”

“You have no idea…” Danny said in between gulps of caffeinated goodness. “Remind me again why I thought organising a meeting with the Witch Queen on a Sunday, knowing full well I had several killer classes the next day, was a good idea?”

“Probably because the rest of your week was booked anyway.” Tucker replied offhandedly as he grabbed his chair and got it closer to Danny’s bed. Spinning it around so its back was facing his best friend, he flopped down, a smirk on his face. “Speaking of, how was it? Was the Witch Queen as much of an old troll as we suspected?”

Turning around on his back, Danny rolled his eyes. “I’d wiー” he stopped himself short; one never knew when Desiree was lurking. Clearing his throat, he went on, “I mean, if only. That would’ve made talking to her easier. But, no! She had to be a purple-eyed, hottie brunette!”

Tucker perked up at that. “Wait, she was hot?” A nod from Danny. “Dude, that’s awesome! Wait a minute. Are we talking about Paulina-from-high-school hot, or regular hot?”

“Believe me, there was nothing regular about her.”

“So she was Paulina-from-high-school hot.”

“No, they’re completely different. Lady Arcana ーyeah, that’s her name. Don’t give me that look; I’m not the one who came up with it!ー has the kind of looks that come with a warning sign: ‘you can look, but if you so much as lay a finger on me, you’re dead.’”

“Okay,” Tucker drawled, “So, again, she’s basically Paulina-from-high-school hot.”

Danny shook his head. Tucker wasn’t there, so of course he wouldn’t get it. “No. If you got on her bad side, Paulina would throw the football team at you. Lady Arcana looked like she could kill you with her bare hands.”

The technophiliac tapped his finger against his chin pensively, registering the new information. “I see, so she was drop-dead gorgeous, but in a literal sense.”

“Are her looks all you’re going to fixate on?” Danny asked flatly, before conceding, “But yes, that is a more accurate way to describe her.”

Seeing as his friend was having none of it, Tucker limited himself to raising his palms up in a placating manner. “Sorry, dude. Just trying to dissipate some of the tension coming off of you. Serious talk, now, though. How did it go?”

The blue-eyed young man ran a hand through his jet-black hair, groaning. “Fine, I guess?”

The techno geek frowned. “Fine, you guess? What’s that supposed to mean? Did she or did she not agree to help you?”

“She did.” Danny nodded, but the uneasy expression didn’t leave his face.

Now it was Tucker who wasn’t having none of it. “So? Come on, man! Isn’t that supposed to be a good thing?”

“I don’t know. Frostbite has warned me several times now that asking the witches for help might bite me in the ass...Not with those exact words, of course, but you get the idea.” He elaborated as he repositioned himself on the bed until he was seated on it and facing Tucker.

“So you’re afraid that might happen now.” Tucker guessed.

Danny nodded. “But that’s not all. I have the feeling I might have brought this on myself.” Before Tucker could get a word in, the halfa stopped him with a raise of his hand. “I mean, I already knew I’d be risking a potential betrayal the moment I sent that letter butー.”

“Letters,” Tucker scoffed in disbelief. “In the 21st century. Only for that I already have a feeling I would never get along with one of them.” When he noticed Danny’s withering glare directed at him for interrupting him, the teal-eyed young man smiled sheepishly at him. “Uh, sorry.”

With a roll of his eyes, Danny went on. “As I was saying, I already knew what was on the line when I wrote to her, but I had a plan, you know? If she refused, I’d just have to look for an alternative. But if she didn’t, then I would keep my guard up. But something happened.”

He took Tucker’s silence and his raised eyebrows as a sign to continue. “She agreed to come to the Ghost Zone, she and two other witches came to the Ghost Zoneー.”

“Only two?”

“That’s what I said. Anyways, as I was trying to explain the problem, she basically made it clear that the issue with the portals was none of her business and made her way to the door.”

“None of her business?” Tucker echoed in disbelief. “But of course it’s her business. If there’s a problem in the Ghost Zone, that means the Earth’s next! How could she act like she wants nothing to do with the matter?”

“But that’s just the thing!” Danny pressed. “At first glance, it looked like she didn’t know. After I explained things to her, she seemed far more willing to associate herself with me, albeit very reluctantly.”

What was it with his best friend and never making sense? “Okay, so she accepted. She’s going to help you out. Care to enlighten me in regards to what the problem seems to be?” The techno geek crossed his arms, not following.

“I was getting there!” Danny defended. “The problem is that I was supposed to go on with my life if she said no. Well, she said no, and I practically begged her to help us!”

Okay, that sounded more serious, and not only because it must’ve been a huge blow to Danny’s ego. “Why’d you do that, dude? She’d just given you your ticket out of your,” he paused, thinking better of what he was going to say, “of your second death sentence.”

The halfa just shook his head, groaning. “I don’t know, Tuck. It’s just...One second she was making her leave, and the next there was this voice in my head that panicked. There was this...this...feeling that only she could be of help. So, against all common sense, I stopped her and tried reasoning with her. And now I’m stuck working with a woman who will not hesitate to stab me in the back with her magic wand.”

“Whoa. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was fate and you two are destined to be together.” At Danny’s murderous glare, Tucker burst out laughing. “I..I’m sorry...m-man! It...it’s j-just...t-too good!” He said in between wheezes.

Danny huffed. “As if! Lady Arcana might be pretty, but she is so not my type. Too brooding, with too many trust issues, and far too willing to kill me for real. The less I have to interact with her, the better.”

Sometime during his rant, he closed his eyes as he folded his arms over his chest as he leaned back on his wall, maybe to drive the point home. When he opened them, though, he found Tucker’s smirking face. The sight unnerved him; that was not what he was expecting to see. “What?”

“Are you sure she’s not your type?” The bespectacled young man asked in a teasing tone. “‘Cause you just described Valerie, and, unless my memory fails me, she was so your type back in high school.”

His smirk only widened at his blue-eyed best friend’s dark scowl. “Shut up, Tuck.”

Tucker threw his arms up in surrender, the teasing grin never leaving his face. “I’m just saying, man. Valerie has been hellbent on vaporising you with her ecto-guns for years and that didn’t stop you from crushing on her and giving her lovesick puppy looks even after she ‘broke up’ with you for the remainder of high school.”

Danny rolled his eyes at the reminder. “Trust me, Tuck. Falling for the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park would be like falling for Vlad.”

They both shuddered at the thought.

Finally, Tucker decided to let the issue go with a shrug of his shoulders. “Whatever you say. Just don’t forget we’re meeting up with Sam in an hour.”

That took Danny aback. “With whom?”

Exasperated, Tucker rolled his eyes. “Sam.” He repeated. “You know, that friend of mine I met last year in the library? When you told me you might be working with witches to solve the portal problem I arranged for us to hang out together.”

“Okay, now I remember. What I don’t remember, though, is how this ‘Sam’ is going to be of any help.”

“Dude! Sam knows a helluva lot of stuff about the occult! Probably because she’s a Goth…” He added then, as an afterthought. “Trust me, if there’s someone who can help you take whatever the Witch Queen throws at you, that’s her.”

Danny sighed in defeat. It wouldn’t hurt to try. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to be on time for once, would it?”

“No, what would hurt is making Sam wait.”

Suddenly, Danny wasn’t so sure this was a good idea.

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

The You Mocha Me Crazy was one of Amity Park University’s hidden treasures. While most people gathered at the several Starbucks Coffee establishments spread throughout campus, only a few students knew of the Mocha’s existence or gave the quaint café the time of day.

A small store in the outskirts of campus, near the Law building, the café had more than enough to be the perfect place to relax, or hang out with friends. On the right corner of the store was the counter where people asked for their coffees, with a stand dedicated to displaying the day’s assortment of cakes, sweets, and sandwiches. On the left corner, in contrast, lay a small stage, surrounded by several tables and chairs, that was usually used for the café’s weekly Open Mic nights every Friday. On Open Mic night customers could do basically anything; read their poetry aloud, organise gigs for their bands, try some stand-up comedy… Anything, really. There weren’t organised events for each different artistic approach because the shop was well aware of its obscure status; they didn’t want to attract too much attention.

Summing up, the You Mocha Me Crazy screamed individuality and integrity, which was why Sam was hopelessly in love with the place. The fact that it also had a varied, high quality vegan menu didn’t hurt, either.

“Hi, Sam! Same as usual?” Robert, the barista that was usually manning the counter when Sam went to the café, asked her once it was her turn to order.

“Actually, I’ll start with just a macchiato with soy milk. I’m actually introducing this place to someone and I wouldn’t like to have already ordered without them here.” Sam corrected gently, smiling at him.

“You’re meeting up with someone?” The barista’s eyebrows raised in surprise as he hit the code into the cashier. “Have you found yourself a boyfriend this past week I haven’t seen you around?” He teased her goodnaturedly.

The hazel-eyed witch shook her head slowly with a small smile on her face. “Nah, I’ve been way too busy.” That wasn’t a lie. “Besides, you already know dating is the last thing on my mind at the moment.” That wasn’t a lie, either. “A friend of a friend of mine needs help writing a paper, so we’re going to meet up.”

“Yeah, that makes more sense. I mean, you made it pretty clear that you weren’t looking for a boyfriend when you turned me down.” Robert pouted. For a moment, Sam was worried he might still be hurt over it, but his teasing wink soon put her mind at ease.

She felt comfortable enough to joke around a bit herself. “Oh, please! You say the craziest things, Robert. As if I could ever choose somebody else over you; where would I get free coffee then?”

With an amused expression, the young man set her order down on the counter. “Here you go, Sam. Enjoy!”

Taking her drink, she threw him a quick, “I will, thanks!” and a generous tip as she made her way to a three chair table. Sitting down, she brought her laptop out of her backpack to work on her latest assignment to kill some time as she waited for Tucker and his friend to arrive, taking gulps of her drink now and then.

Her friendship with Tucker was an odd one. And by odd she meant they couldn’t be more different, they couldn’t have met in any weirder circumstances, and they couldn’t get along any better.

Sam met Tucker the previous year, during finals. She was busy studying at the library for her Law and Policy of Climate Change exam when this guy approached her.

He was an African American man around her age. Though he wasn’t what most people would identify as an Adonis, he wasn’t hard on the eyes, either, just...not necessarily Sam’s type. He wore thick-framed glasses, a white dress shirt under a mustard vest, fern green pants, black dress shoes, and a worn-off, red beret.

What truly was odd about their first meeting was that Tucker had tried to hit on her, and Sam didn’t even try to break his arm! When she told Paulina and Star about it the next day, the Latina was crying tears of joy while her blonde counterpart made sure their queen didn’t have a fever.

She had to stop him in his tracks the moment he tried setting up a date with her in a nearby grill. At the mere mention of her being ultra-recyclo-vegetarian, he immediately lost all interest. Despite everything, though, they started talking and, even if they couldn’t be more different ーTucker was majoring in engineering with a minor in computer science, Sam studied environmental law; Tucker was a bigger carnivore than a Tyrannosaurus Rex, Sam didn’t eat anything with a face; Tucker believed in progress through technology, Sam was all about an ecological agenda…ーthey hit it off just fine. After that day, they often texted each other or hung out around campus.

Today, however, was the first time she’d be meeting his famous best friend and roommate; Danny.

Sam was woken up from her reverie by the chime of the door’s bell. Looking up, she noticed Tucker, who happened to be wearing the very same outfit from the day they met, and a guy who happened to tower over him. Oh, great! She was going to be surrounded by giants!

Once they stepped foot inside the café Sam had told him to go to, which had to be on the edge separating Earth from the Ghost Zone, judging by how far from the dorms it was; Tucker looked around until he spotted a purple, gloved hand waving at him. There she was. Nudging at Danny with his shoulder, he pointed at the table where Sam was at before waving at her himself and making their way over.

Taking a good look at who she guessed was Danny, Sam had to admit, he looked kinda cute. With his unkempt jet-black hair that was either natural or a product of countless hours styling it in front of the mirror; the defined lines of his body, the awkwards yet somewhat assured way he carried himself…

The moment they made it to her table she got up. “Took you guys long enough. Did you have trouble finding the place?” She said as she pulled Tucker in for a hug. Normally she wasn’t one for physical affection, but she hadn’t seen him in over a month, so it wouldn’t kill her to be a bit more affectionate for once.

“Well, we would’ve arrived sooner if you’d told us this place exists in its own place of existence.” Tucker rolled his eyes as he broke the hug, his hands resting on her forearms. “I think coming here should qualify as physical exercise; my high school gym teacher would be so proud!” He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye in mock nostalgia.

While Sam rolled her eyes with a knowing smile on her face, she noticed Tucker’s friend chuckling beside him. “Please, Tuck...Knowing Tetslaff, she wouldn’t be proud unless you came here riding a monocycle at the same time as you juggle snakes.”

“Sad but true.”

“You must be Danny,” Sam addressed him for the first time since they entered the café. She held out her hand for him to shake, “Tucker has told me a lot about you.”

“Should I be worried?” Danny joked with a small grin as he took her hand.

The moment their hands touched, however, a familiar sensation ran through their spines. There was something familiar about the, seemingly, natural cold radiating from Danny’s body; and an unexplainable wave of heat coursed through his body the moment he touched Sam’s skin.

Now that he took a closer look, there was something familiar about her as a whole. As if they’d already met. Which was strange, because he was sure he’d never be able to forget a girl with a look as unique as Sam’s.

Before he could ask her, however, Sam beat him to it. “Have I met you before? ‘Cause you look really familiar…”

Somehow, that made more sense. With an uneasy smile, Danny tried to will the embarrassed blush creeping up on his face in line. “My name’s Danny Fenton. The Fentons, the ghost-hunters, are my parents. They...appear on TV often.” Although, in their case, it’s never something to brag about, he thought to himself.

Understanding seemed to dawn on her, for she exclaimed. “Oh, that must be it! Well, Danny, I’m Sam. Sam Manson.”

“As in Samantha?” Danny was immediately confused when Sam’s lazy grin morphed itself into a nasty frown.

“Yes. But call me anything other than Sam and I will bury you six feet under.” Something about the way she said it made him understand she would keep good on her threat. Why was he only meeting dangerous girls lately?

Looking down at their still intertwined hands, an impish grin on his face, Tucker thought it was the perfect time to intervene. “If you guys are done memorising each other’s footprints through physical contact, I’m starving.” He turned to wait in line. “Come on, Sam. You promised this place had food that’s not necessarily green and leafy.”

Looking down themselves and realising they were still shaking hands, the two young adults snatched them away, as if they’d been burned, muttering awkward apologies to each other.

“Yeah, come on...Let me show you what they have.”

As the three waited in line, Danny cleared his throat to get Sam’s attention in an effort to alleviate the sudden tension Tucker’s comment had caused. “Just so you know, I’m not here because I wanted Tucker’s help at picking up girls; I really need your help writing this paper. The topic is a bit hard to find in a school library and Tucker said you really know your stuff, so…”

Sam could only snort at his awkwardness. There was something endearing about his dorkiness, not like she’d ever admit it, though. She meant it when she said she wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. Besides, cute dork or not, Danny was too...normal, for her taste. “Oh, relax. I know that already. I wasn’t suspecting you of having ulterior motives; don’t worry.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I mean, do you seriously expect me to believe anyone would ask Tucker for help when it comes to picking up girls?” Putting a hand on her hip, she couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. “Please, I’m more popular with the ladies than he is.”

“You don’t say.” A devilish grin made its way to Danny’s face, who was looking at Tucker with what could only be described as endless mischief.

Having heard Sam’s uncalled for comment and sensing Danny’s unforgiving eyes burning a hole on his head, Tucker huffed, crossing his arms indignantly. “Okay, okay! That one cute girl did give you her number instead of me. But I’m not going to complain about not being dating material to a cute lesbian; that’s pitiful.”

“Actually...she was bi.” Sam corrected him, almost doubling over in laughter at the sight of Tucker’s eyes comically snapping open. By her side, Danny was doing a poor job trying to stifle his own snickers. “She just wasn’t into you.”

Under Tucker’s withering glare, Danny cleared his throat in an attempt to appear nonchalant. Once he got his laughter under control, he turned to Sam. “Oh, you’re comfortable enough to make jokes at Tucker’s expense! Either you two are good friends...or you two literally just met.”

Turning away from them in an indignant huff, Tucker muttered. “Introducing you two to each other has been a terrible mistake.”

Neither could help bursting out laughing at their friend’s comment. Sharing mischievous smiles, eyes twinkling in amusement, Danny and Sam stared at each other. Maybe they weren’t each other’s first choice for company, but something told them something good would come out of that coffee date, even if it wasn’t really a coffee date since, well, they weren’t looking for a partner in each other. But, hey, they both could use a new friend.

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spn-safeandsound · 4 years

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14. Family Squabbles

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 1x20; Dead Man’s Blood

Word Count: 7,603

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, arguing

Author’s Note: Introducing Luke Alexander! I hope you guys enjoy the chapter. Don’t forget to reblog and like!

Masterlink in Pinned Post!

Julia popped a fry into her mouth and wiped her greasy fingers before looking back at her laptop, reading an email that her Aunt Maggie had sent to her, Abby, and Beth. It was her monthly update with what was going on with PSC; earnings, new contracts, and employee turnaround. Julia didn't know much about what went into keeping a business but she knew enough to know what Maggie was talking about in her emails without having to look it up in a dictionary.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dean reach for one of her fries; she swatted his hand away and ignored the pout he gave her in return. Fries were her favorite and she would only share them on certain occasions. A random weekday didn't count.

Dean sighed and folded the newspaper he was reading. "Not a decent lead in all of Nebraska," he told them before addressing Sam, "What have you got?"

"Well, I've been scanning Wyoming, Colorado, South Dakota..." Sam said from behind his laptop. "Here—a woman in Iowa fell ten thousand feet from an airplane and survived."

Julia raised her eyebrows while Dean cocked his head. "That sounds more like 'that's incredible' than 'the Twilight Zone'."

Sam sighed and continued his search. "Yeah."

"Hey, you know, we could just keep heading east. New York, upstate," Dean suggested. "Could stop by and see Sarah again, huh. She's a cool chick, man, smokin'," he whistled playfully. "You two seemed pretty friendly. What do you say?"

Julia grinned when Sam perked up, a little flustered. "Yeah, I dunno, maybe someday," he placated his brother. "In the meantime, we got a lot of work to do, Dean, you know that."

Dean pressed his lips together. "Yeah, you're right," he conceded. "What else you got?"

"Uh, a man in Colorado," Sam studied his screen. "A local man named Daniel Elkins was found mauled in his home. It sounds like the police don't know what to think. At first they said it was some sort of bear attack and now they've found some signs of robbery."

Julia perked up when she recognized the name. Her dad had known a man named Danny Elkins way back when she was a kid. They had a falling out of some sort but Luke still held him in high regard and made sure he was supplied with anything he needed from PSC.

"My dad knew a Danny Elkins," she told the brothers as Dean pulled out John's journal.

"I think my dad knew him, too," Dean flipped toward the part of the journal where John kept his hunter contacts. "Here—D. Elkins."

He pointed out the contact, which included a phone number, to Sam and Julia.

Sam raised his eyebrows. "You guys think it's the same Elkins?"

"If both of our dads knew a Danny Elkins, it makes sense," Julia shrugged, closing her laptop. "Plus, that's a Colorado area code."

Sam looked from Julia to Dean, who nodded. "Okay," he agreed. "Let's check it out."

Daniel Elkins lived in a secluded cabin up in the mountains and, according to the bartender at the place he frequented every week, he was a bit of a shut-in. Despite the fact that it was July, it was chilly up in the mountains and starting to snow a little.

They had to pick the lock to get into the cabin and since Julia didn't have much experience with that, Sam and Dean made sure that she was the one to do it this time. It took her a few tries but she eventually unlocked the door.

"Good job, shortcake," Dean patted her ass when Sam stepped into the cabin and then followed in behind him. He turned on his flashlight and started looking around. "Well, looks like the maid didn't come today."

Julia stepped into the cabin, lighting her own flashlight. She wandered off into a different room as Sam stayed by the door, observing some of the salt on the ground, and entered the study. It was an absolute disaster; with most of the furniture splintered into pieces, papers and books all over the place, and various collectibles knocked over everywhere.

"Hey, there's salt over here, right beside the door," Sam called from the front room.

"You mean protection-against-demon salt or whoops-I-spilled-the-popcorn salt?" Dean called back from the room he was looking through.

"It's clearly a ring," Julia heard Sam say as she picked up an empty wooden case that used to hold a gun and its bullets. "Do you think this Elkins guy was a player?"

"Definitely!" Julia spoke up loud enough so the boys could hear her.

"He's got a journal here, Jules!" Dean replied back. "Dates back to the sixties."

"Ooh," Julia whispered under her breath; that would be interesting to read.

Finished with searching their rooms, Sam and Dean entered the room where Julia was looking around. Sam's eyes immediately went to the broken skylight. "Whatever attacked him, it looks like there was more than one."

Dean nodded, looking at the wooden case that Julia had discarded on the messy desk. "Looks like he put up a hell of a fight, too."

Julia made a noise of agreement as she continued to slowly step over some of the debris. She paused when her light flashed over some blood and when she took a closer look, she saw that there were some scratches in the wooden floors.

"You got something, J?" Sam noticed her crouching down next to the scratches.

"I think so," Julia nodded. "Hey, can you get me a pencil and some paper?"

Dean quickly grabbed some supplies from the messy desk and handed them over to her. Julia slapped the paper over the scratches, making sure it was flush with the floor, and then scribbled over it with a pencil, marking out whatever Elkins scratched into the wood.

She picked it up when she was finished, reading the letters and numbers that she deciphered. "It's a message."

Dean took the bloody paper from her. "Well, that looks familiar," he showed it to Sam. "Three letters, six digits."

"The location and combination of a post office box," Sam realized. "It's a mail drop."

Dean nodded. "Just the way Dad does it."

After dropping by the local post office and getting into Elkins' mail drop box, Julia, Sam, and Dean went and rented out a motel room. The letter they had discovered in the drop box was written out to a J.W, which just so happened to be John Winchester's initials. Julia didn't think it was a coincidence but Sam and Dean were a little skeptical.

"J.W," Sam sighed, looking over at the envelope Dean held in his hands. "You think it's for Dad?"

"I don't know," Dean studied the initials, looking as if the writing would jump out at him. "Should we open it?"

Before Julia or Sam could answer him, there was a knock on the motel door. The three of them stiffened and Dean dropped the envelope on the table before grabbing his gun to walk over to the door. He aimed it at the door as he reached for the knob and twisted, opening it just a crack so he could see who was on the other side.

His eyes widened in surprise when he saw who it was and he opened the door all the way. "Dad? Luke?"

John Winchester and Luke Alexander made their way into the motel room, shocking Julia and Sam. They both looked a little tired but other than that, they seemed healthy.

Julia silently stared at her father. She hadn't seen him in almost a year and even though she loved him, she had been suppressing some anger toward him for a long time now, especially after what happened to Levi and the fact that he just took off again.

Growing up, Julia and Luke had a good relationship despite the fact that he was gone most of the year, hunting supernatural creatures. Luke had always been closest to Abby, his little protégé, but he loved each of his children in his own ways. He was a strict father but still loving and he loved Naomi to death. When she died, he became distant but he still kept in contact. All that had changed the beginning of Julia's senior year at Stanford.

"Dad, what are you doing here?" Sam asked John, standing up from the table. "Are you guys all right?"

"Yeah, we're fine," John assured his youngest son. "We read the news about Daniel. We got here as fast as we could. We saw you three at his place."

Julia narrowed her eyes at her dad, noticing that he was avoiding eye contact with her. She couldn't believe that he would come all the way to some random cabin in Colorado but didn't have the decency to attend his own son's memorial or make sure that his daughters were okay.

"Why didn't you guys come in?"

"You know why," John said pointedly. "Because we had to make sure you weren't followed by anyone or anything. Nice job covering your tracks, by the way."

Surprisingly, his comment wasn't at all sarcastic.

Dean grinned proudly. "Yeah, well, we learned from the best."

Julia couldn't contain her anger anymore. Not when everyone was acting so casual about John and Luke's reappearance. "So, you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?" she caught everyone's attention with the sharpness in her voice; it wasn't like her at all to speak that way to anyone. "but you couldn't extend the same courtesy for Levi? For your son?"

Luke sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Jujube—"

"No, don't do that!" Julia stood up abruptly, causing Dean and Sam to exchange a knowing look; Dean slowly started moving toward her, hoping she wouldn't direct her ire at him. "Levi died, Dad! He died and you were no where in sight. Oh wait," she scoffed bitterly. "I forgot. You were in Chicago but you decided it was best not to see how the rest of your family was doing!"

Only inches away from her, Dean placed a warm hand on her back, trying to calm her down. "Jules..."

Luke was in the wrong, he knew that, but he wasn't about to let his daughter yell at him like that. Especially in front of other people. "Don't you talk to me like that, Julia Ruth," he pointed at her, his eyes hardening. "I'm still your father and you will show me some respect."

Julia scoffed, tears coming to her eyes. She angrily brushed them away, cursing her overreactive tear ducts. "You don't deserve it," she spat, pushing away Dean's hand as he tried to grab her waist. "You abandoned your family!"

Luke took a threatening step forward and Julia recognized the look in his eyes. She had seen it many times before when she or Abby stepped out of line and got into trouble. It was look he gave when he was two seconds away from whooping their asses.

Luckily, Dean came to her rescue. "Okay, that's enough," he said sternly, firmly grabbing her waist, pulling her to her and Sam's bed, and sitting her down. He gave Luke a glare, too, expressing all of his anger into it for Julia's sake. "You too, Luke. Both of you calm down."

Luke glared back at him but calmed down when John patted his shoulder.

"All right," John sighed and gave Julia a sympathetic look that surprised her. "We need to focus. Dean, can I look at that letter?"

Not letting go of Julia's shoulders, Dean nodded at the letter where he set it on the table. John picked it up and opened the envelope as Sam came to sit by Julia on their bed, grabbing her hand to calm her down.

"If you're reading this, I'm already dead..." John read the letter, trailing off when he came across something shocking. "That son of a bitch."

Luke gave him a questioning look. "What is it?"

John handed him the letter. "He had it the whole time."

"What?"

Luke quickly read the letter and then looked at Julia, Sam, and Dean. "When you searched the place, did you see a gun? An antique, a colt revolver? Did you see it?"

"There was an old case," Julia told him, wiping her tears and swallowing her anger in order to talk to him. "but it was empty."

John sighed angrily. "They have it."

"You mean whatever killed Elkins?" Dean wondered.

John nodded. "We gotta pick up their trail."

"Wait," Sam looked at him in shock. "You want us to help you?"

"If Elkins was telling the truth, we gotta find this gun."

"The gun?" Sam raised his eyebrows. "Why?"

"Because it's important, that's why," John said sharply.

Sam sighed. "Dad, we don't even know what these things are yet."

"They were what Danny Elkins killed best," Luke spoke up. "Vampires."

"Vampires," Dean's grip on Julia's shoulders tightened. "I thought there was no such thing."

"You never even mentioned them, Dad," Sam pointed out.

"We thought they were extinct," John explained. "We thought that Elkins and others had wiped them out. We were wrong."

"Most vampire lore is wrong," Luke took a seat at the table where Julia, Sam, and Dean were previously sitting. "A cross won't repel them, sunlight won't kill them, and neither will a stake to the heart. The bloodlust, though, that's true. They need fresh human blood to survi-ve. They were once people so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late."

Julia pursed her lips and shared a look with Sam, both of them concerned with the unknowns of what was happening. Vampires now existed, their dads were searching for some random gun that the vampires stole from Elkins, and they didn't even know why the gun was so special that Elkins left a letter for John in the event of his death.

She was unsettled already by her dad's presence but now, with all this new information, it was worse. She wrinkled her nose and bowed her head, trying not to let her emotions get the better of her again. Dean had pretty much calmed her down for the moment but her anger was still simmering inside her. There were three things she did while she was angry; cried, gave whoever she was angry at the silent treatment, or act petty.

This time, she was going with silent treatment.

A harsh pat on the end of her bed by her feet woke Julia up from her deep sleep. She could hear Luke and John talking and the hum of a police radio but her mind was trying to catch up to the fact that she was now awake. Sam groaned from next to her and hit her in the shoulder when he stretched out his arms, making her groggily groan in pain.

"Sam, Dean, Julia, wake up," John barked at them; Julia sat up to see that he and Luke were shrugging on their jackets. "Let's go."

Still half-asleep, Dean sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes. "Mmhm."

"What happened?" Sam sighed.

"We picked up a police call," Luke stated, making sure his weapon was loaded. "A couple called 9-1-1, found a body in the street. When the cops got there, everyone was missing."

"It's the vampires," John added.

Sam slowly sat up, groaning. "How do you know?"

"Just follow us, okay?" John said impatiently as Luke opened the door, heading out after the older man.

Julia moaned as she stretched, getting the sleepiness out of her joints, and hopped up to her feet. She had fallen asleep in the leggings and t-shirt she wore the day before, so she simply pulled on her boots and her navy-blue canvas jacket, making sure all her weapons were ready to go.

"Huh, vampires," Dean scoffed groggily, getting up from his bed. "It gets funnier every time I hear it."

A half-hour later, the sun was rising as John and Luke questioned the police gathered around the abandoned car. The two older men had been adamant about having Julia, Sam, and Dean stay back while they did their work, leaving Julia and Sam feeling frustrated.

"I don't see why we couldn't have gone over with them," Sam grumbled from his place against the hood of the Impala.

While Julia nodded in agreement, Dean gave him a calculative look. "Oh, don't tell me it's already starting."

As John and Luke started making their way back to them, Sam furrowed his eyebrows at Dean. "What's starting?

Dean just shook his head and turned to the older hunters. "What'd you get?"

"It was them, all right," John confirmed for them. "Looks like they're heading west. We'll have to double back to get around that detour."

"How can you be so sure?"

Dean gave his brother a warning look. "Sam..."

"I just want to know that we're going in the right direction," Sam defended himself.

John clenched his jaw. "We are."

"How do you know?" Sam challenged him.

John sighed and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling something out and handing it to Dean. "I found this."

Julia silently looked over as Dean flipped over the sharp tooth between his fingers. "It's a vampire fang."

"Not fangs, teeth," Luke corrected him. "The second set descends when they attack."

John gave Sam a hard look. "Any more questions?"

Sam didn't speak but glared down at the gravel at their feet.

"All right," John spoke when he was sure Sam wasn't going to backtalk. "let's get out of here. We're losing daylight."

It was early in the morning and the sun had just set so Julia knew that John was just being an asshole.

He proved her theory correct when he passed by the Impala and commented, "Hey, Dean, why don't you touch up your car before you get rust? I wouldn't have given you the damn thing if I thought you were going to ruin it."

Julia scoffed quietly as John and Luke got into their truck, glaring at the former. Dean took better care of Baby then he did himself. There was no way rust was getting anywhere near the treasured Impala. Dean would rather die.

Sam gave his brother an I-told-you-so look while Dean just smiled awkwardly and shrugged in embarrassment. The three of them got into the Impala, with Sam driving, and started following John's truck to make their way past the detour.

"You take great care of Baby, Dean," Julia assured him, reaching forward to pat his shoulder twice. "Don't listen to your dad."

"Eh, maybe he's right," Dean shrugged as he grabbed Daniel Elkins' journal from the dashboard.

"No, he's not," she insisted.

Sam nodded in agreement. "She's right, Dean."

"All right, all right," Dean sighed and tossed the Elkins journal to Julia. "Find some info on the vamps, would you, shortcake?"

Julia, who caught the journal easily, nodded and started flipping through the pages until she saw the start of the section about vampires.

"Vampires nest in groups of eight to ten," she read out loud so Sam and Dean could hear her. "Smaller packs are sent to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks."

"Ugh," Dean grimaced. "I wonder if that's what happened to the 9-1-1 couple."

"That's probably what Dad is thinking," Sam muttered sourly. "Of course, it would be nice if he just told us what he thinks."

"So," Dean gave his brother a thoughtful look. "it is starting."

Sam glanced at him confused. "What?"

"Sam, we've been looking for Dad all year," Dean pointed out. "Now we're with him for more than a couple of hours and there's static already?"

"No," Sam huffed. "Look, I'm happy he's okay, all right? And I'm happy that we're all working together again..."

"Well, good," Dean thought that he was finished. Julia knew better, though; Sam was itching to make the fact that he was annoyed with John bossing them around known.

"It's just the way he treats us," he blurted out. "Like we're children."

Dean groaned. "Oh, here we go."

"He barks orders at us, Dean," Sam raised his voice to try to make a point. "He expects us to follow them without question. He keeps us on some fucking need-to-know deal."

"He does what he does for a reason," Dean argued, matching Sam's volume.

"What reason?"

"Our job!" Dean exclaimed. "There's no time to argue, there's no margin for error, all right? That's just the way the old man runs things. Luke does it, too."

"Yeah and look at what a great father my dad is," Julia spoke up. "Look, I agree with Sam. You guys are grown men and he should treat you like it."

While Dean gave her an annoyed look, Sam nodded, glad that she was backing him up. "It doesn't work anymore," he agreed. "Not after everything that the three of us have been through, Dean. I mean, are you telling me you're cool with just falling into line and letting him and Luke run the whole show?"

Dean pressed his lips together and looked at Sam. "If that's what it takes."

There was something in the way that Dean said those words that had Julia doubting that he didn't mind John taking charge. Over the last year, Dean had been the one in charge; he was the oldest, what he said goes. More than likely, he didn't like giving up his control, especially when his dad treated him like a kid and not the twenty-seven-year-old man he was.

Nevertheless, Dean gave nothing else away. They continued driving through Colorado throughout the whole day, with little to no breaks. It was well past dark when John called Dean to inform him of their next move.

"Yeah, Dad, I got it," Dean confirmed before hanging up the phone and turning to Sam. "Pull off at the next exit."

"Why?"

"Cause Dad and Luke think that we've got the vampires' trail."

"How?"

Julia winced at Sam's furious tone; John Winchester sure did know how to bring the best out in his sons.

"I don't know. He didn't say."

Sam stomped on the gas pedal, revving the engine. They shot forward, speeding from their current place behind John's truck until they were passing it. Once Sam was sure they were a safe enough distance ahead of their fathers, he abruptly pulled out into the middle of the road, cutting John and Luke off.

"Shit," Julia breathed in shock, pressing her hand against her racing heart. As Sam pushed open his door, she protested, "Sam, no!"

"Fuck, here we go," Dean muttered, getting out of the Impala to run interference between his dad and Sam. "Sam, stop!"

Just as Julia was getting out of the car, John barreled out of his truck and up to Sam, a furious look on his face. "What the fuck was that?"

"We need to talk."

"About what?" John stopped in front of Sam when there was only about three inches between them.

Luke got out of the passenger seat of the truck and leaned against it, watching what was going on with raised eyebrows. He shot Julia a look but she steadily ignored him, watching Sam with furrowed eyebrows.

"About everything," Sam said firmly. "Where are we going, Dad? What's the big deal about this gun?"

"Sammy, come on, we can Q-and-A after we kill all the vampires," Dean tried to interject.

"Your brother's right. We don't have time for this."

"Last time we say you, you said it was too dangerous for us to be together. Now, out of the blue, you need our help," Sam raised his voice. "Obviously something big is going down and we wanna know what!"

John gave him a stone-cold glare. "Get back in the car."

"No."

"I said get back in the fucking car."

"Yeah, and I said no!" Sam yelled.

Before the argument could escalate any further, Julia and Dean stepped in. Julia grabbed Sam's arm and forcefully tugged him a few feet away from his dad, standing her ground when he tried to fight her.

"Okay, you made your point, tough guy," Dean told his little brother as he pushed on his dad's chest to get him to back away. "Look, we're all tired. We can talk about this later."

"Come on, Sam," Julia said encouragingly. "Let it go for now."

Sam shook his head, still glaring at his father. "This is why I left in the first place."

John lunged forward, pressing against Dean's hold on him; Luke jumped into the fray, holding his friend back. "What did you say?"

"You heard me."

"Yeah, you left!" John reminded him scathingly. "Your brother and me, we needed you. You walked away. You walked away!"

"Stop it, both of you!" Dean called as Sam broke loose from Julia's grasp, stalking straight up to John. Dean immediately pushed him back while Luke continued to try to pull John away.

"You were the one who said don't come back, Dad," Sam shouted, tears in his eyes. "You closed that door, not me. You were just pissed off that you couldn't control me anymore!"

Julia shook her head, feeling three angry energies clashing back and forth. Sam was getting more and more riled up and John was the source of the Winchester temper so he was no better. Dean was angry because he just got his family back together and it was splitting apart already. It was too much anger and, added with her own, Julia was having a hard time keeping her composure while Sam needed her. She had to stay calm, though. She—and her dad, really—were the only ones who could right now.

She took a deep breath, calming herself down, and stomped forward, gripping both of Sam's arms to pull him away from John. "Stop it!" she yelled firmly. "Stop it right now! That's enough!"

Dean saw an opportunity when Julia got Sam to back up a couple of inches; he forced himself in between his brother and his father, making sure that they were far enough apart once again.

"That means you too," Dean added to John with a glare.

"Come on, John," Luke grunted, pulling John back toward the truck.

Sam ripped his arms away from Julia and stomped to the Impala, slamming the driver's door shut behind him. Julia and Dean shared with look of exasperation with each other; it'd only been a day and the duo of Sam and John Winchester would be the death of them.

"Fucking terrific," Dean grumbled under his breath as he and Julia joined Sam in the car.

Julia, Sam, Dean, Luke, and John crouched in the woods only a couple hundred feet from the old barn where the vampire nest was living. They had been there for a half-hour already but there was no activity until an old car drove up and parked next to the other ones. A vampire got out and another vampire opened the barn door for him, neither one of them affected by the sun's rays.

"Son of a bitch," Dean swore, shaking his head as the second vampire closed up the barn once again. "So, they're really not afraid of the sun?"

Luke shook his head. "Direct sunlight hurts them like a nasty sunburn," he told them. "The only way to kill them is by beheading."

"And just because they sleep in the day doesn't mean they won't wake up," John added.

Julia hummed. "So, I'm guessing just walking in isn't our best option."

"Actually," John grinned at her, showing off his Winchester dimples. "that's the plan."

The five of them left their hiding place and made their way back to where the truck and Impala were parked. Even though the truck was only a couple years older than Baby, its weapon outfit was much nicer. It buzzed as it mechanically opened, holding numerous weapons in a neatly organized way.

"Come here, baby girl," Luke waved Julia over to their weapons; Julia hesitantly walked over, knowing that now really wasn't the time to be angry with her dad. "This is for you."

Luke pulled a brand-new machete out of the weapons storage, complete with its own holster. It was slightly shorter than the ones that he and John were using but it was pretty and it'd get the job done—well, she had never beheaded anything but she assumed her dad wouldn't give the machete to her unless it would do the work.

She knew this was some sort of truce between them. For the moment, Luke wanted her to set aside her anger so they could trust each other and have one another's back. He had done this many times growing up; when he missed her ninth birthday, Luke had come home from his hunt with a set of brand-new daggers. She easily forgave him and still used them to this day. Usually her problems with her dad didn't disappear but she wasn't perfect and she loved presents. What little girl didn't?

For now, she'd accept the truce. She took the machete from him with a small smile. "Thanks, Dad."

So much for the silent treatment.

Luke grinned and tugged on the end of her French braid like he used to do when she was a girl. "There's my girl."

Julia gave him a closed-mouth smile and went back to Sam and Dean, holding it out for them to look at it. Dean was more impressed than Sam was, holding it up and mimicking an attack, slicing through the air with the blade. She couldn't help but laugh when he grinned happily and gave it back to her.

"So," John spoke up once Julia put the holster around her waist and they were all loaded up with whatever weapons they needed. "You three really wanna know about this colt?"

Sam nodded, his temper calmed down from their fight the night before. "Yes, sir."

"It's just a story, a legend really," John started to tell them. "Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter. Back in 1835, when Halley's comet was overhead, the same night those mean died at the Alamo, they say Samuel Colt made a gun. A special gun."

"He made it for a hunter," Luke took over the story. "He made thirteen bullets and this hunter used the gun half a dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. Somehow, Danny got his hands on it."

"They say...they say that this gun can kill anything," John finished.

"Kill anything," Dean repeated slowly. "Like, supernatural anything?"

Sam stiffened in realization. "Like the demon."

"Yeah, like the demon," John confirmed with a nod. "Ever since Luke and I picked up its trail, we've been looking for a way to destroy that thing. If we find the gun, we may have it."

The five of them split up—John and Luke together while Julia, Sam, and Dean were grouped up—to enter the barn. While John and Luke went to look for the colt, the three of them went to rescue hostages. While Julia and Dean were unlocking the cage full of three human women, Sam went to freeing a woman who was tied to a post, blood all over her. She ended up screaming and alerting all the vampires that they were there, making them abort their mission.

After they got some dead man's blood, which will incapacitate a vampire for a while, and night fell, Julia and Dean were to be the trap for the vampires coming after them. They would make it look like the Impala had quit running, leaving them at the side of the road, looking for help.

Julia crossed her arms tightly over her chest as she watched Dean look over Baby's engine. She wrinkled her nose, trying not to think of what they were about to do; usually she was okay with anxiety before a hunt but she nor Dean had any experience with vampires. She didn't even know if she was strong enough to behead a vampire, for crying out loud.

Dean peeked over at her, giving her a cute smile. "Nervous, shortcake?"

"Yes," Julia didn't bother lying; he knew her tell anyway. "What about you?"

"Nah," he shook his head, his green eyes surprisingly soft. "And you don't have to worry, okay? As long as I'm around, nothing bad is ever going to happen to you."

Julia's heart fluttered in her chest and she couldn't help but grin at him. "Didn't you say that to Sam once?" she teased him. "Are you reusing one-liners, Dean? I never thought I'd see the day."

Dean chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Shuddup," he shook his head in amusement. "I distracted you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I guess you did," she conceded, her eyes flickering to the right when she heard some branches snapping. "Oh, crap."

The smile left Dean's face as he concentrated on the engine again, acting like he had no idea what he was doing. Julia peered over his work, making it seem like she was paying attention to what he was doing.

"Car trouble?" they heard from behind them.

Julia and Dean turned around at the same time, coming face-to-face with an older woman dressed in tacky double denim. She was very obviously a vampire, especially since there was no car around that she would have used to get to them, were she a human.

"Let me give you a lift," the vampire insisted with a seductive smile "I'll take you two back to my place."

"Sorry, we don't do threesomes," Dean said sharply. "And we draw the line at necrophilia, anyway."

"Ooh," the vampire cooed before reaching out and backhanding Dean across the face.

Julia went to help him but another vampire walked over to them—this one was a huge guy—and grabbed her. She was forced to watch as the woman picked Dean up by the chin, raising him up until his feet were off the ground.

"Ugh," Dean grunted. "I don't usually get this friendly until the second date, but..."

While Julia struggled in the man's arms, the woman smirked up at Dean. "You know, we could have some fun," she tempted him. "I always like to make new friends."

The woman lowered her arm until Dean was level with her. She smashed her lips against Dean's, giving him no room to struggle. Julia pushed against the vampire holding her, anger welling in her chest, and shouted for the woman to stop.

"Get off of him!" she yelled at her, still trying to make her way out of the man's arms; he roughly took one of her arms and held it behind her back while placing his other arm in front of her mouth. "Ouch, hey! Let go of me, dammit!"

The woman pulled away from a disgusted Dean and smirked at Julia. "You got yourself a feisty one, don't you," she sent a dig toward Dean as she slowly walked toward Julia. "Mmm...Luther will like you, sweetheart."

Fed up with the talking, Julia kicked back her leg into the man's nuts, making him grunt and let her go. As soon as she was out of his arms, an arrow was shot through his heart and the woman's.

"Damn it," the woman grunted while Julia helped Dean up from where the vampire discarded him; Sam, John, and Luke came out of the woods where they were hiding, bows in their hands. "It barely even stings."

"Give it time, sweetheart," John smirked at her. "That arrow's soaked in dead man's blood. It's like poison to you, isn't it?"

Like clockwork, the woman stumbled and faltered, fainting to the ground. John handed Dean his bow and picked her up. "I'll load her up," John called out toward Luke. "You take care of that one."

Luke grinned and pulled out his machete, angrily leering down at the vampire who was holding Julia. "It'd be my pleasure."

As John went to toss the vampire in Impala's trunk, Luke swung his machete, slicing through the vampire's head with ease.

"I told you I'm okay," Julia assured her father as they sat around the campfire he had built.

"That vamp had you pretty tight, Jujube," Luke said worriedly.

"I've had worse," she told him; she had gotten injuries with almost every hunt that she had been on with Sam and Dean—some of them worse than others.

Luke nodded understandingly. "And how is the training going? Are Sam and Dean treating you all right?"

Julia looked over at the truck, where Sam and Dean were talking to their father about his weapon storage. "Yeah, they are," she nodded, turning back to Luke. "and training's going fine. I did an exorcism on an airplane, you know."

Luke grinned. "I know you did," he hesitated for a few seconds before continuing. "Listen, Julia, I'm sorry for not being there for you and your sisters. I've been with John on this from the very beginning and I got caught up in it. And, when Levi was killed," he shook his head and Julia was surprised to see him tearing up. "Well, I didn't want to face you girls."

"Why, though, Dad?" Julia didn't understand; a girl always needed her daddy.

"Because I was ashamed," Luke confessed. "We think that girl who was controlling the Daeva, the one who killed Levi, was working with the demon that killed Mary and Jessica. And, if she was, that meant that I brought her right to your brother. I'm the reason he's dead."

Julia grabbed Luke's left hand where his wedding ring was still wrapped around his fourth finger. "Dad, it's not your fault," she whispered, her eyes stinging with her own tears. "You couldn't have known that what happened to Levi would actually happen."

"I should have, though," Luke shook his head. "I've been hunting evil my whole life. I should have known that one of you—if not all of you—would pay the price."

"You can't think like that, Dad," Julia sniffed and wiped away some of her tears with her free hand. "You and Mom protected us the best you could."

Before they could talk anymore, the Winchester men walked over to the fire. John was holding a bundle of herbs, which he threw in the fire, immediately stinking up the vicinity.

"Gross," Julia wrinkled her nose at the smell. "What the hell is that?"

"Saffron, skunk's cabbage, a trillium," John informed her. "It'll block our scent and hers until we're ready."

Dean coughed and shook his head. "The stuff stinks."

"That's the idea," Luke let go of Julia's hand and stood up. "Dust your clothes with the ashes and you stand a chance of not being detected."

"And you're sure they'll come after her?" Sam questioned his father, nodding over to the vampire they had tied to a tree.

"Yeah," John confirmed. "Vampires mate for life. She means more to the leader than the gun but the blood sickness is going to wear off soon, so you don't have a lot of time."

"A half-hour ought to do it," Sam checked the machete in his holster.

"And then we want you three out of the area as fast as you can," Luke ordered.

Julia stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. "What?"

"You guys can't take care of them all," Dean protested.

"We'll have her and the colt," John placated him, pointing to the vampire.

"But after, we're gonna meet up, right?" Sam stared hard at his dad. "Use the gun together, right?"

John paused for a long moment, giving them the answer they needed.

Sam scoffed. "You're leaving again, aren't you?" he confronted John. "You still wanna go after the demon alone. You know, I don't get you. You can't treat us like this."

"Like what?"

"Like children."

"You are my children," John said firmly. "I'm trying to keep you safe."

"Dad, all due respect, but that's bullshit," Dean spoke up, earning shocked looks from Sam and Julia.

Never before had Julia heard Dean speak up to his dad like that; and, by the way Sam was looking at his brother, he hadn't heard it either. Julia was proud of him; he was finally sticking up for himself.

John blinked in disbelief at his oldest son. "Excuse me?"

"You know that Sammy, Jules, and I have been hunting," Dean stood his ground. "Hell, you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe."

"It's not the same thing, Dean."

"Then what is it?" Dean asked him. "Why do you want us out of the big fight?"

"This demon is a bad son of a bitch," John told them slowly, like they were kids wouldn't couldn't understand evil and the danger it brings. "I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you alive."

"You mean you can't be as reckless," Dean retorted, seeing through his dad's bullshit.

"Look," John sighed. "I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece. You mother's death, it almost killed me. I can't watch my children die, too. I won't."

"What happens if you die?" Dean countered, his voice wavering. "Dad, what happens if you die and we could have done something about it? You know, I've been thinking and I...Maybe Sam's right about this one. We should do this together."

Sam nodded in agreement.

"We're stronger as a family, Dad. We just are," Dean continued. "You know it."

John shook his head. "We're running out of time," he changed the subject. "You do your job and you get out of the area. That's an order."

Luke tapped Julia's shoulder and when she turned to him, he nodded in Sam and Dean's direction. She knew that he was silently telling her to go with them but she agreed with the brothers; they should stick together. Sam and Dean had as much of a right to see this demon dead as John did.

"Go," Luke urged her. "Be careful."

While John and Luke left with the female vampire to lure out half of the nest, Julia, Dean, and Sam wiped out the rest of them who were left at the barn. It turned out that after a few tries, Julia did have enough strength to behead a vampire, which gave her much relief that she could defend herself.

After they freed the hostages, they made their way to where the fight between John and Luke and the vampires was going down. When they arrived, the vampires had John knocked out and Luke fighting a lost cause. But the tide turned in their favor when Dean shot an arrow drenched in dead man's blood into one of the vamps.

The three of them rushed at the vampires, their machetes drawn. Sam took out two vampires, one after another, while Dean killed the vampire that had Luke on the ropes. Julia was right behind him, ready to kill one of the last ones when another vampire came up behind her and forcefully pushed her to the ground.

The wind was knocked out of her as she hit the ground hard. The vampire who pushed her down stood over her, feet on either side of her body, and bent down, backhanding her face so hard she could taste blood. He wasn't finished with her, though; he grabbed her around the neck and lifted her with one hand, swinging her around so his arm could snap her neck and kill her within a second.

Julia's wide and fearful eyes were on a furious Dean, who was posed to attack the vampire, machete raised.

"Don't," the vampire warned him lowly. "I'll break her neck."

Julia inhaled deeply, silently panicking. This wouldn't have happened if she had been more careful.

"Put the blade down."

Dean hesitated, fire in his eyes, and when Julia grunted as the vampire squeezed her neck threateningly, he did as he was told. He raised his free hand and lowered the machete to the ground with the other. Sam dropped his blade as well, raising his hands in the air.

"You people," the vampire hissed as Julia wheezed in his hold. "Why can't you leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do."

"I don't think so."

The vampire whipped around at John's voice, bringing Julia with him. John had the colt in his hand and waited for less than a second before aiming at the vampire and pulling the trigger. The bullet went right between the vampire's eyes, making him still.

Dean hurriedly pulled Julia into his arms, wrapping them tightly around her. Sam hovered near them, all three of them watching with wide eyes as the vampire slowly died.

The female that they had caught had tried to go after John but the last one wasn't having it. She dragged her into one of the vampire's cars and drove off, leaving Julia, Dean, Sam, Luke, and John to deal with the rest of them.

The vampire chapter of the story was done for now. They were safe and they had the colt. Now, all they had to do was track that demon down and kill it, just like it killed Mary and Jessica.

(Gif is not mine)

#supernatural rewrite #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x original character

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musicandi · 5 years

Text

Craig Knows

Prompted by kchante

A fic centering around the many moments Craig caught or almost caught Deran and Adrian giving each other heart eyes, would be so funny. Him trying to broach the topic every now and again, to let Deran know it’s cool, but not knowing how.

Warning: Swearing, Drugs, and Angst (Sorry girl, this turned out a whole lot more Angsty then it was meant to be.)

UPDATE- How rude of me, I forgot to give love to my betas @heatherofthenight and @allthehearteyes (love these girls, thank you so much)

The first time Craig meets Adrian is when Deran drags him to the beach to see his new friend from school. He remembers Deran busting into his room throwing him off from his video game, said there was this new kid who was so cool and he knew how to surf.

“Craig can you take me to the beach this Saturday? Me and Adrian want to go surfing.”

Craig bites down the urge to roll his eyes and say no because as he looks at his baby brother he sees the biggest smile on his face, one that Deran rarely shows and he couldn’t find it in him to turn him down.

Walking down to the beach, he sees this scrawny freckled kid waiting for them on the sand with his board, practically bouncing on his feet waiting for them.

“Craig this is Adrian. Adrian this is my brother Craig. He’s cool.”

Craig watches as Deran crosses his arms over his chest, trying to remain nonchalant but he knew his brother well enough to know he was nervous. He would run his hand through his hair and his eyes would go back and forth between Craig, Adrian and the ground.

Adrian looks up at Craig and gives him a shy smile.

“Nice to meet you. Thank you for bringing Deran.”

Craig raises his eyebrows at the kid’s manners. It is unusual to see considering the people that make their way into the Cody boys lives but Adrian is something completely different. Adrian’s eyes move back and forth from him to Deran unsure of what to say or do. Craig looks back at Deran and catches him smiling at the other boy and wonders what has got his kid brother so happy?

He turns back to the new boy and answers. “No big deal. Deran says you know how to surf, wanna show us what you got?”

Adrian smiles brightly and nods his head. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Both Deran and Adrian laughs as they grab their boards, running into the water leaving Craig there standing there confused and amused.

~*~*~*~

Since that day, Deran and Adrian are practically inseparable. Craig loves it because it drives the guys crazy. It is sort of refreshing to see the two boys together, always having fun, playing around, trying to one up each other, laughing and causing mischief to everyone around them, even Craig. Those two are thick as thieves, which is nice to know his baby brother has someone like that. Someone that he trusts that much.

He remembers one time when he caught them in his room and the look on their faces. Adrian looked like he had seen a ghost and while Deran tried to remain cool, buffing his shoulders up and stepping between him and Adrian, he could see some fear in his eyes. It diminishes any anger he felt after that. Growing up in Smurf’s house, they learned there were many things to fear but he never wants himself to be one of them.

Later than night he thinks back to that morning and how protective Deran was of Adrian and it made Craig realized it wasn’t the first time he was.

He remembers there was one night Baz and Julia were bagging on Adrian after a night of drinking and smoking whatever crap Julia got that day, saying how Adrian was a pansy, how they didn’t know why Deran was hanging out with him.

Deran shot out of his seat and screamed “Shut the fuck up Baz, don’t talk about him like that.”

“Or what? What is baby boy going to do to me?” Baz says standing up from his spot and getting into Deran’s face. That night all Craig could think was how Baz was being an idiot thinking he was a hot shot for challenging a kid but now he tried to remember how Deran acted. He remembers seeing him curling his fist, anger boiling up in him but he remained still until Smurf walked in to break it up.

“That’s enough Baz.”

“Of course, here comes Smurf to the rescue. It’s not my fault he didn’t like what I had to say about his boyfriend.” Baz says rolling his eyes and going back to the couch.

Craig spotted that exact moment Deran was about to charge at the older man and Craig jumped up putting his arm around his chest to drag him out of the room.

“Baz you are such an asshole.” He threw out as Deran struggled in his arms.

He brought Deran to his room and made him sit on the bed. He watched as Deran pulled his knees up to his chest to attempt to hide his face but it was too late. Craig already saw the tears.

Back then he just thought Deran was embarrassed but now he thinks there might have been more to it. He knows Deran cares about Adrian but now he wonders to what extent.

The next morning he sees Deran sitting at the kitchen counter eating breakfast and sits down next to him.

“Hey, What’s up?” he mutters around a mouth full of cereal.

Craig stays quiet, not sure how to ask Deran about Adrian but Deran must have read it wrong because he jumps up from his seat with panic.

“Look if this is about yesterday I am sorry alright. I just wanted to show Adrian something, it was all my idea.”

“No I know that man. I am not mad.” He tries to comfort his brother, putting his hand on his shoulder and bringing him close. “Look you know I would never hurt you right?’

Deran retracts back, his eyes looking anywhere but at Craig. He nods his head but Craig could tell this was not a conversation he did not want to have with Craig. He sighs out and tries to lighten the mood by ruffling his hair.

“Come bro lighten up. Besides you gotta get dressed if you want to make your competition.”

Deran seems to brush away the awkward moment once surfing is mention and smiles up at Craig before moving to his room.

“Wait, put your fucking dish away!”

~*~*~

Time passes and Craig can’t help but notice little moments between Deran and Adrian. It is mostly at the beach because these two boys were basically fish, but turns out they were fish that could really surf. They were always placing high in competitions that happened around southern California, really making a name for themselves. Craig pretty much became Deran’s designated driver but he didn’t mind. He was happy that Deran was finding something outside of the family, no matter how jealous he was deep down. There were a few times Adrian would catch a ride with them and when he does Deran would always hop in the back with him, telling him about something he watched or something he did. Later as they grew they would even bust out a joint on the way there. Deran always said it helped with the nerves.

“What do you have to be nervous about? You are gonna kill it, like always.” Adrian tells him one day looking over to the blonde boy with that innocent smile that Craig always associates with him.

Deran smirks and gives Adrian a wink while taking a drag from the joint. Craig glances in the rearview mirror to watch the two teenagers pass the joint back and forth, noticing they would look at each other for a second before looking back out the window, how their hands would drag across the other while they pass the drug over. This was getting way out of Craig’s depth.

“Alright, my turn. Give me some of that shit.” Craig interrupts them bringing his hand back to snatch the joint. He hears Adrian chuckling quietly behind his hand, looking out the window trying to be subtle. Deran was trying to do the same but he keeps looking over to Adrian, a smile slightly appearing before turning away.

Later that day, the competition is going good. Deran scores pretty high on his first heat making it to the second round. Instead of sitting with the other boys up in the tent, he sits next to Craig watching Adrian surf his heat. Craig finds himself looking over to Deran as he watches Adrian surf, he lights up everytime Adrian lands his trick, or makes little comments about what Adrian has to do, taking little notes.

“He seems to be in the zone.” Craig comments, wanting to see how Deran will react.

“Yeah he is doing pretty good especially with that little shit, Danny, dropping in on his waves.” He comments, never taking his eyes off the water.

“You guys are close huh?” Craig starts, keeping his focus on the sand around his feet.

“Yeah, so what’s your point?” Deran asks finally looking at Craig.

“It’s just you know Adrian he is cool and if you know you and” Craig mumbles out clearly ruining any chance of him getting this out right.

“Craig what are you trying to say?” Deran looks at him with a raised eyebrow, irritation and panic flashed in his eyes and in the end, Craig shakes his head and clears his throat.

“Never mind, I think I am just having a bad trip.”

He can see Deran wanting to ask something but doesn’t say anything. They both hear the horn to signal the end of the heat and whatever tension that was there disappears.

“Hey I thought I saw someone who I know has a good hook up. I will catch you after alright.” Craig says, hitting Deran in the arm and standing up. He needed to clear his head for a second and he saw Renn earlier. She definitely knows how to clear his head.

~*~*~*~

After that day on the beach, Craig tries to avoid ever bringing it up with Deran, even though he noticed the glances happen a lot more, the touching that tries to be as casual or subtle as possible. He wonders if they even notice they are doing it.

As the next few years go by, Smurf starts putting Deran to work more. Instead of just sending him to collect rents or little side jobs, she starts giving him bigger roles during the heist. A couple of times she has him working the front end, dragging the crowd away, playing the employee role that has to explain the delays. At first he can tell Baz or Pope bites their tongues, wanting to put their two cents in on why Deran shouldn’t but with one look from Smurf they shut their mouths.

It just made Deran fight harder to prove he was good enough for the older boys. The more he did it the more closed off he became. He noticed whenever things got bad at the house, Deran would leave for the night and when he came back the next morning he would be calmer. Although Craig has never had proof, a part of him knew he was going over to Adrian.

It wasn’t until a few months later, he got his answer. One of the jobs had a slight problem resulting with a bloody security guard, and Deran with a headache and a split lip. Everyone was on edge after that, Deran most of all. He could tell Smurf wanted to coddle him and was confused when he would brush her off. Craig heard about a beach party down by the pier and decided to drag Deran with him. Get him out of the house and relax. When they got there, the sun was already down and the party well on it’s way.

“Hey look, there is Adrian.” Craig points out to the taller boy talking to some of their friends. He must have heard them because he turns their way. At first he throws a smile but then a second later his eyebrows scrunch down and he makes his way over.

“Hey guys, where have you been? I have been calling.” He says when he gets to them.

“Sorry, I’ve been busy.” Deran mutters, hugging his arms around himself.

Adrian bites his lips, wanting to say something else but instead nods his head towards Deran’s face. “What happened to you?”

Deran brings his finger up to his lip and flinches at the touch but shrugs it off. “Fucking Pope. We were playing around in the pool and he socked me out of nowhere.”

Craig could immediately tell Adrian didn’t see through the lie and decides to intervene. “Yeah and he has been a little bitch since. Do you think you can take him off my hands and cheer him up?”

Adrian, at first, stays quiet. His own arms crossed over his chest, looking like he doesn’t believe a word they are saying, but in the end, lets a soft chuckle and shakes his head. He drops his arms and grabs on to Deran’s shirt pulling him away. “Yeah sure I will see what I can do.”

After being there for a couple of hours, Craig has had endless drinks handed to him, excellent drugs to make him forget about all the shit going on and enjoys his high. It wasn’t till he wander off to find a spot to take a leak when he comes across Deran and Adrian sitting in the dark, hidden away from the crowd passing a joint back and forth between them.

“I was worried when you didn’t come over last night.” He hears Adrian tell Deran, passing the joint and pulling his jacket closer into him.

“Sorry about that, last night just sucked so bad. By the time I was free it was so late. I figured you would be sleeping already.” Deran says before taking a long inhale.

“When has that ever stopped you?” Adrian shoots back. He watches as Deran and Adrian stare at each other, not saying a word but yet having a complete conversation of their own.

“Look I know you won’t tell me, just be careful alright.” Adrian confesses. His voice so soft, laced with fear and concerns. It makes Craig wonder how many times they have had this talk. Smurf has drilled it into their heads, Family first. No outsiders. They know never to speak to anyone about what they do.

He also knows, they are the worst kept secret in Oceanside. Everyone knows they do things although no one would admit it and no one would ask. Everyone just keeps their mouth closed and things move along.

He looks back at the two and sees Deran now has his head on Adrian’s shoulder, both boys sitting there quietly. He watches as Adrian brings his hand to Deran’s head and brushes his hair back. Almost like how Smurf would do but yet this had a completely different feel to it. When Smurf did it, it always felt heavy and controlled. This looks light and caring. Like something they have done over and over again.

He watches as Adrian calls out to Deran before bringing the joint up to his lips and blowing a big shot of smoke into the younger boy’s face.

“What the fuck was that for?” Deran says laughing, his eyes watering from the smoke, but the smile never leaving his face. He goes to grab the joint when Adrian started coughing through his laugh. The same smile on his face. The weight that was there before completely gone.

“Sorry, it just looked like you could use a smile.” he hears Adrian admit, his eyes never leaving Deran’s. He watches Deran struggle to keep his gaze before looking away. It was one thing he notices about Deran, he doesn’t like to look people in the eyes for too long. His eyes always glancing over or moving away. The stares even shorter depending on how thick the atmosphere is around him.

“Yeah well, you are good at that.” Deran tells Adrian breaking Craig out of his thoughts. He sees Deran look up at Adrian and he thought he would see Deran embarrassed or closed off but instead he is smirking, almost challenging like.

“Fucking right I am.” Adrian challenges back.

This was the ‘Deran and Adrian’ Craig is used to. Completely comfortable with each, playful and relaxed but yet there was still something different, something Craig doesn’t think he is ready to get into it.

“So what, you gonna come over tonight then?”

“Yeah.”

Craig walks away, shaking his head, trying to brush off everything he had just witnessed. He has always known how important Adrian is to his brother, even if Deran would never admit it, but watching them at the moment answered more questions then he ever thought he would need to know.

Right now what Craig needed was a beer, a good amount of coke, and an awesome lay.

~*~*~*~

It wasn’t until years later when Craig watches Adrian walk out, his head in his hands and Deran hot on his heels before turning away when he sees that Craig and Lena were there that he realizes he put it off for too long.

It doesn’t take an idiot to notice that something is different.

When Deran left for Belize and heard that Adrian was with him,he thought things were going to be different when they came back. That Deran and Adrian were actually going to be an ‘Deran and Adrian’ but instead the other boy came around less and less. Deran started getting snappier and anger all the time.

Craig never knew how to approach the topic and ask Deran about Adrian. He always got tongue tied, it made him feel so awkward whenever he thought about it. It’s not that he can’t understand why Deran was gay or bisexual or whatever. It’s just that, he knows Adrian is important to Deran and if he is pushing him away because he thought Craig would hate him or something, that worries him.

He can’t speak for Pope or Baz. He is not even going to try for Smurf because he knows the answer to that. But all he wants is his baby brother to be happy. Adrian did that for a long time as his best friend and maybe more. All though Deran never admitted it, when Craig actually paid attention the answers were always there.

Watching as Deran macks on some random girl after Adrian left, he thinks enough is enough. His brother is hurting his best friend and himself when he doesn’t need too and if he needs to hear Craig tell him what he probably has always been so scared to admit then he can do that for him.

As he gets rid of the girl and all the other random people, watching Deran put up a front like he isn’t hurting, isn’t hiding, it finally made it very easy to say what needed to be said.

“I don’t give a shit who have sex with, man.”

#Animal Kingdom Fic #craig cody #Deran x Adrian #Deran Cody #Adrian Dolan #Animal Kingdom TNT

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 5 years

Text

The Drunken Lie

Hello! By popular demand, this is a sequel to ‘The Sober Truth’. T rating.

Thank you for reading!

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Ellie rolled her eyes, following Hardy up the path to his front door as they bickered. She’d entirely lost the thread of the ‘discussion’, more focused on disagreeing with him for the sake of riling him up. While once it would have been for the enjoyment she got from listening to him rant and rave in that Scottish accent, now it served a... better purpose.

She licked her lips.

“All I’m saying is,” he snarled, yanking open his sliding door, “don’t make promises I have no intention or interest in keeping! Just because you’ve got a bleeding heart-”

Hardy cut himself off, staring inside the door at his house, and she frowned. Leaning to the side she peeked around him, smiling even as her heart fell, their plans evaporating into smoke. “Daisy! What’re you doing here?”

Nudging her stunned partner out of the way she bustled inside, greeting the girl with a well-received warm hug. The teenager had cut and dyed her hair since the last time she’d been back to Broadchurch, and Ellie admired the short, straight, fluorescent pink hair. “This looks lovely!”

“Thanks, Ellie,” Daisy grinned, raising a curious eyebrow at her father. “I’m trying not to be insulted by how disappointed you are to see me, Dad.”

“Of course I’m happy to see you,” he recovered, hugging her close and shooting Ellie an apologetic look when his daughter couldn’t see. “But, erm, why are you here?”

He led her to the couch, Ellie dithering in the doorway, unwilling to interrupt but sorry to lose, among other things, her dinner date.

“I… needed a favor. From both of you,” Daisy added, when Ellie moved to leave.

“Anything,” she promised, perching on the arm of the chair while Hardy settled next to his daughter.

Hardy shot her an exasperated look of warning, before turning his gaze on the teenager. “Are you in trouble? Or… trouble?”

“What? No! And, no! Dad! Jeez,” Daisy complained, crossing her arms and glaring at him. “Come on!”

“I just… wasn’t expecting you. What’s going on?”

The teenager took a deep breath, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Um, remember how Mum’s getting married?”

“Yes,” he said shortly, and Ellie nodded in agreement, biting her lip to hide a smile. She honestly couldn’t care less about Tess’s impending wedding, but the initial news had been what had pushed her and Hardy together – for that, she’d like to thank her. Maybe.

Well, probably not.

“So, I’m supposed to be in the wedding, give her away, whatever.”

“Okay?”

Daisy fidgeted with a ring on her middle finger, turning the band and sliding it off and on. “Well, I just found out why they’re getting married.” She gave them both a significant look, one Ellie caught and understood immediately, shaking her head with a soft sigh. She could hardly judge though; it was the same reason her own marriage had come to be.

“Why’s that?”

Poor, clueless bloke, Ellie snorted, and he glanced between the women, confused, while they shared an eye-roll.

“She’s pregnant.” Daisy broke it gently, and Ellie watched his expression carefully only to see the confusion clear, with no hint of longing or regret.

“That’s nice,” he said neutrally.

His daughter shook her head, pink hair bouncing with the movement. “Not really – I sort of flipped out on her. Turns out it’s made her introspective, wants to ‘heal the wounds of the past’, so this new kid can… I dunno, have a place in my life or something. That’s what she wants at least.”

A gnawing feeling started low in Ellie’s gut as she realized what the favor was likely to be, and already wondering how she would keep Hardy from losing his mind.

“What d’you need with us, then? An excuse not to go?” He didn’t seem to have gotten it yet.

Daisy shook her head slowly. “I, uh, told her I refused to go if you weren’t there.”

There it is.

“And?” Hardy’s expression turned thunderous, steam practically coming out of his ears and making Ellie wince.

“She called my bluff,” she said miserably. “Said ‘fine, whatever, he can come – though he’ll be at the farthest table.’ And I said… well, I told her that you wouldn’t come without your fiancée,” Daisy’s voice trailed off, and she offered her father a tentative smile.

“My fiancée?”

Ellie groaned, burying her face in her hands.

Daisy had the good sense to look ashamed. “I didn’t think she’d go for it, I was trying to be unreasonable!”

“Well, tell her you’ve thought about it and you’re a big girl, you don’t need Dad there with you.” Hardy was unsympathetic, though Ellie noticed he steadfastly refused to look at her, focusing on his daughter a bit too intently to be genuine.

“I can’t do that! Dad, please?”

“Is that how I’m involved?” Ellie asked, trying to divert Daisy’s attention away from her father for a moment so he could rein in his anger. “You said that I was…”

Daisy nodded. “Sorry, I know it’s not like that between you, but… it would really mean a lot. If nothing else, it’s a free night away, and they’re doing it all posh. You won’t know anyone but us, and you’ll never see any of them again.”

“I know them all!”

She waved dismissively, not even glancing back at him. “This isn’t about you. Chloe’ll be there too, but she already knows about the ruse so that’s not a problem. Please? Don’t make me go alone.”

Ellie sighed, but was unable to deny pleading eyes. “All right. When is it?”

Daisy winced. “This Saturday.”

It was Thursday evening. Hardy looked ready to have a stroke.

“Daisy!”

In the end, it was easier to sneak away than they'd first feared. They already had the weekend off, and if her vague explanation led her father to assume it was a work trip, so much the better.

They left the office at three on Friday, Ellie behind the wheel as they headed northeast. Despite the last time having been a good five years earlier, the drive to Sandbrook was almost like muscle memory. Of course, she thought, checking on Daisy in the backseat via the rearview mirror, this is a much different trip.

It was funny, how much had changed. Then, Hardy had been terribly ill and downtrodden, borderline hopeless, and Ellie's rage had been about the only thing she could feel.

Now Hardy was healthy, his daughter's love doing as much for his heart as the pacemaker. Ellie… she had found peace, had moved on. Joe rarely plagued her dreams, and she looked forward now, not back. The man beside her had quite a bit to do with that, even before they had started their relationship a few weeks earlier.

"I know you're not thrilled about this," Ellie said quietly, double checking the mirror to make sure Daisy was distracted with her earbuds and smartphone, "but consider how this is good."

"What good could possibly come from this?" her partner grumbled from the passenger seat, turning his head to do his own check on his daughter. It hadn’t been discussed, but Ellie was a detective – it was clear enough that he hadn’t shared his new relationship status with the teenager, one who was already upset enough about her mother’s remarriage.

She hummed. "For one, we actually get to spend the entire night together. And not just 'cause we're stuck at work. In a bed and everything."

Hardy's eyebrows rose as he considered that. "True. First time." He swept his eyes over her, sparking a low burn of desire to flood her belly.

"Free cake. I looked the place they're having it up - easily £150 a plate."

His expression fell to a scowl and he went back to staring out the window. After a minute he said softly, "You realize basically everyone at this wedding will know who I am, right?"

She did, but tried for levity anyway. "Someone certainly thinks a lot of himself."

"They'll all know about the case, and the affair, and how clueless I was about both," he ignored her. "How my incompetence let not one, but two child-killers escape justice."

"We got the Ashworths, and Ricky Gillespie. They'll all rot in prison for decades."

He smiled sardonically. "Most of the guests will be friends and co-workers. They'll all know about- Danny."

Ellie's breath caught - she hadn't even considered that possibility. Then she rallied. "Well, if they're gossiping about me then they're too busy to talk about you," she shrugged, knowing her would-be casual air wasn't fooling him.

"Miller-"

“We’re a team,” she cut him off firmly. “Who cares what people you haven’t seen in seven years think of you. And remember, we’re here for Daisy, to make this easier on her. So no matter what happens, we will focus on her. Hang the rest of them.”

When he didn’t answer she glanced in his direction, wondering if she’d somehow over stepped, only to find him gazing lovingly at her.

“What?”

“Sometimes you know exactly the right thing to say,” Hardy murmured, reaching out to brush his fingertips against her cheek and over her ear. “You’re right – this is for her.”

“And the free hotel room.”

“Aye, and that.” His expression lightened, turning teasing and a bit naughty. “You, me, two nights alone… anything can happen.”

Ellie laughed softly. “I hope you know I have high expectations.”

“Me too.”

They shared a promising grin, and despite his daughter in the backseat not knowing about their deepening relationship she felt free. Free to be coy and flirty, to bask in her new relationship. To feel like a woman, instead of just the exhausted mother/daughter/employee rut she’d been in. To wear a pretty dress, and touch her lover boyfriend significant other in public, be seen together.

She pressed a little heavier on the gas pedal, pushing the car forward. She couldn’t wait.

“Really, Daisy, it’s fine,” Ellie promised, as they stood in the doorway to Ellie and Hardy’s room. “You should be in your room closer to the rest of the wedding party. We’ll be fine.”

“But won’t it be awkward sharing a room?” Daisy hissed, keeping her voice low as she looked around for other potential guests.

Hardy let out an annoyed sigh. “Daiz, we’re adults. It’s fine. You have stuff to do with the wedding. We will see you in the morning, yeah?”

The girl nodded slowly, biting her lip. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” they said in chorus, Ellie trying to rein in her delight at being so close to being alone with her boyfriend in a room with a bed. And a lock. “I promise,” she said more moderately, hoping she didn’t look at happy as she felt. “Now, run along. Your mum’s waiting.”

“Breakfast is until ten. See you then,” Daisy said reluctantly, trudging back towards the lift. Her room was a floor up and farther down the hall, near the rest of the wedding party, while Ellie and Hardy’s was as far from Tess and Daisy’s as they could discreetly manage.

They waited until the doors closed on her to enter the room, setting their bags down by the wall and surveying the single king bed.

“Such a shame they couldn’t get us those double beds,” she smirked, crossing her arms and turning to him. “However will we cope?”

“We’re adults, I’m sure we can share it in an adult manner,” Hardy’s eyes twinkled, and he pulled her close, their arms wrapping around each other. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

He kissed her leisurely, the promise of the night to come making her blood sing. “We’re finally alone,” he husked out, hands smoothing along her side. “What do you want to do? Dinner? We could get a drink?”

Ellie was hardly a passive participant, and she hummed, starting on the buttons of his shirt. “I could use a nap.”

“Oh?” He moved backwards towards the bed, working on the buttons of her own blouse. “I could… cuddle you to sleep, if you like.”

She laughed, letting his shirt hang open in favor of opening his belt. “You can something me to sleep, all right.”

It was a long time before they made it out of the room in search of dinner.

Ellie’s eyes snapped open, and she inhaled sharply to find a nose a hair’s breadth away from her own.

“Sorry,” Hardy whispered, thumb drawing soothing arcs on her skin when she automatically tensed. “Did I wake you?”

She carefully shrugged one shoulder, relaxing into the mattress. Daylight was starting to peek through gaps in the curtains, offering just enough light to see his face. He looked peaceful, and happy, and Ellie let a shy smile grow across her face. She was happy too, was happy to wake up next to him, and couldn’t help herself.

“I love you.”

It took a moment for his expression to brighten further, a beaming smile spreading across his face. “Aye?”

Ellie nodded, chuckling softly. “Yes.”

Hardy leaned forward, kissing her, and she rolled quite willingly to her back, tugging him atop her. Though he’d already said the words the day they became a couple, she’d held back, pretended not to be sure.

Of course, it wasn’t so much a pretension as a protection, but when she allowed the walls around her heart to crumble, she had to quietly admit to herself that she did, in fact, love him.

She’d spent the last fortnight trying to figure out how to say it, when to say it. This hadn’t been what she’d envisioned, had hoped they’d both be dressed at a minimum, but lying there, with him, waking up in his arms…

She couldn’t wait any longer.

“I love you too,” he whispered joyfully, peppering kisses across her face. “Truly.”

“I love you,” Ellie repeated for the simple pleasure of doing so, running her hands over his back and sides, reveling in the feel of him against her. “So much.”

They missed breakfast.

Ellie nodded, working hard to keep her polite smile as the woman she was talking to wittered on about her children, or her dog, or something – she’d long since tuned her out. Hardy had left her alone at the table twenty minutes before to fetch drinks from the bar, and within a minute this woman had claimed his seat and started talking her ear off.

“Sorry, how do you know the couple?” she interrupted, mentally willing Hardy to return as quickly as possible.

“Oh, I work with them,” the woman tucked away an errant curl, grinning widely. “Known them for years. Knew her ex-husband, too, he was our DI.”

“Ah.” That caught Ellie’s attention, and she narrowed her eyes. She was certainly used to people insulting Hardy, had said her fair share behind his back during the first investigation, but felt a stronger-than-normal need to defend him. “Is that so?”

The woman nodded sagely. “Bit of a wanker. Well, more than a bit. Dave’s a much nicer bloke, if you ask me.”

Ellie pursed her lips, trying to choose her words carefully. “He had an affair with a married woman, while married himself. Not sure he’d top my list.” Quite the opposite.

“Well, apparently Hardy’s got quite the type.” She leaned closer before looking around quite obviously, lowering her voice to whisper, “I heard he moved to a little village on the coast and had an affair with a married DS down there. From what I’ve heard, he’s even marrying her. Can you imagine?”

“I’m certain you don’t have all the facts,” Ellie said coolly, reminding herself sternly Don’t embarrass Daisy and Hardy. Don’t ruin this.

“Apparently he framed the woman’s husband for murder! I always knew he was an arse, but that’s a bit extreme, don’tcha think?”

Ellie had enough, rising abruptly to her feet and snatching her purse. “For your information,” she started quietly, meeting the woman’s gaze head on, “Alec Hardy is easily the most noble, caring, principled man I’ve ever met. He is an excellent detective, entirely dedicated to bringing about justice through the courts. I am very proud to call myself his partner, and am very much looking forward to the day I call him husband. Now piss off.”

Spinning around with the intent of stalking away from the table, she walked right into Hardy’s chest.

“Oh, fuck,” she muttered as he steadied her, glancing up at him with wide eyes. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Eh, basically none of it,” Hardy shrugged, eyes twinkling madly.

“None?”

“Maybe just a bit,” he whispered, one hand settling on her hip as the other cradled her head, mindful of her fancy hairdo she’d spent a solid twenty minutes lecturing him on not messing up.

A small smile spread across her face, as the memory of the woman’s cattiness melted away and she focus on him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He kissed her then, the kind of kiss that leaves no room for interpretation, dipping her slightly. If she had been capable of thinking in the moment, she’d have thought something along the lines of the newlyweds didn’t kiss like this earlier.

They broke apart, panting slightly, and without another word Hardy took her hand and led her towards the exit.

Daisy stood between them and the doors, eyes so wide she must have seen the kiss, and Ellie flushed.

Hardy, however, barely blinked, just flashing his daughter a smile on the way past. “See you in the morning.”

They pushed through the doors into the hallway, eyes meeting before they immediately burst into laughter. Wrapping their arms around each other they headed for the lift, still chuckling.

“So…” he started pseudo-casually as the doors opened, “‘looking forward to the day I call him husband’? Mrs. Miller I’m positively scandalized.”

Ellie hit the button for their floor, before turning to grin up at him.

“If that scandalizes you, you’re not ready for our wedding night.”

#bbatcfic #Broadfic #Broadchurch #HardyxMiller #Hardy #Miller #The Drunken Lie

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tinamrazik · 5 years

Text

Revisited: My Interview with Lily Tomlin

The Wit, The Wisdom, The Wonderful Lily Tomlin

Lily Tomlin is more than a legend in the Entertainment business. She is living proof that with talent and perseverance, a long and successful career is not only possible but it’s inevitable. Comedian, actress, writer, producer, recording artist, activist, multiple award winner; there is nothing Tomlin can’t do. Many of us remember first seeing her in the 60’s show Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In. Her cast of characters is still as relevant today as they were then. Like us, they have changed with the times, matured (except for Edith Ann, she’s still 5 ½ years old), and developed a wisdom and insight that comes with age and time, much like Tomlin herself. Her films have also spanned the spectrum in regards to comedy vs. drama and the varied women she has played. Comedy classics “9 To 5,” “All Of Me,” and “The Incredible Shrinking Woman,”; dramas “Nashville,” (in which she made her film debut in 1975 and was nominated for an Academy Award), “A Prairie Home Companion,” “Tea With Mussolini,” and “Moment By Moment.” First appearing on Broadway in 1977 her one-woman shows have also been memorable and that of which a legend is made. “The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe,” was made into a feature film in 1991. She has made guest appearances in such critically acclaimed television shows as “Murphy Brown,” “Will & Grace,” “The West Wing,” and “Damages.” Her latest endeavor on the small screen now filming is “Malibu Country,” with Reba McEntire. At age 72 she is once again embarking on the road with a few scheduled stops with her one-woman show. She was called by Time Magazine “the woman with the kaleidoscope face.” There is no doubt she has been an inspiration to hundreds of comedians who have followed after her. A civil and gay rights activist she has been with her life partner Jane Wagner for over 40 years; a personal accomplishment almost unheard of not only in the Entertainment industry but the real world as well. Lily Tomlin is truly an artist in every sense of the word and a woman for all seasons.

May 6, 2012 is South Florida’s time in the sun with Ms. Tomlin; but on this day I had the distinct pleasure of speaking with her one on one. I found her to be extremely personable, funny, thought provoking, and completely in tune with the world we all share. This certainly isn’t the fluff piece I was expecting to write and you may be expecting to read. She was open, willing, and able to talk about everything under the sun, I felt as if I were catching up with an old friend.

Tina Mrazik: Hi, how are you? Lily Tomlin: I’m good. Okay so, I’m coming to Miami. TM: Yes, to the Adrienne Arsht Center on May. 6th. How many dates are on your current tour? LT: I do dates every year, I don’t do a tour. I do what I can do in between other stuff. I think there’s an advantage there. Last week, I would have had to move a bunch of dates. TM: Has "Malibu Country" been picked up for the season? LT: No, I don’t know if it’s been picked up yet or not. We shot it on Tuesday night, a week ago.

TM: How did you get the role starring alongside Reba McEntire in the upcoming ABC TV comedy “Malibu Country”? LT: They had that part and asked me to do it. I know Reba and I like Reba. It was a funny script so I agreed to it. I think it went pretty well. TM: Do you enjoy working again network television? LT: Oh yeah, I like to do a bit of it all. I’ve done a lot of TV this past year. TM: Indeed, you’ve made several appearances on TV including Damages, in which you earned an Emmy nomination for Outstanding Guest Actress for your role as Marilyn Tobin. LT: Yes, I did. Web Therapy starts airing on Showtime in July. TM: You’ve also participated in several projects for cable networks including HBO and Showtime. Do you find there’s a lot more freedom on cable verses commercial network? LT: Of course there is, absolutely. You get to step out a bit. And I like all of them. As long as the material is interesting, something exciting to play. I especially love Web Therapy and I did Eastbound and Down too. I had a lot of fun doing that. You know what show Eastbound? TM: Yes, it’s a very funny show. LT: I loved playing Danny McBride’s character, Tammy Powers. It all has a different kind of feel to it. And Reba’s show too. This pilot was interesting too. They let me name the character after my own mother. So I named her Lily May and that was sort of the attraction too. TM: There are many women of this generation that are working in comedy. With the material they’re doing and the way they’re presenting it, do you think women are finally able to keep up with the boys when it comes to edgy material. LT: Yeah, I think there is that youth audience. Yeah, I do. I think it’s expected. Just like on cable, the language is expected too. The sensibility, just being more ostentatious. TM: Do you believe this evolution in popular culture is going in more positive or negative direction? LT: Well, I don’t know. I think the culture has a tendency to become a little coarser in general. Maybe it’s good though. Maybe it’s flattened boundaries. It all depends on how it’s used. ��I remember on Deadwood, the show on HBO, they said ‘c***sucker’ about every other word. Then they had that woman, that nice woman in the first season that she was sort of gentile and became kind of rough. Her husband, I can’t remember the exact, I didn’t watch it every week. I hardly have time to watch anything every week including myself. She was sort of a gentle woman you know. Educated or married or something; and then she sat out awhile and then she (laughing) began out talking the guy who ran the saloon or whatever he did. But yeah, I wonder all the people talking; probably they used a lot language at that time. You know on Laugh-In we had The Flying Fickle Finger of Fate and the Farkel Family. Everybody was always trying to push the barriers. TM: With Laugh-In there was more innuendo, now everything is in your face. LT: As I recall you couldn’t even say the word ‘ass.’ I remember I was an usher at the movies, movie house. The first movie that ever used the word ‘virgin’ on screen was a big deal. TM: Do you think in some instances, we've become too politically correct when news anchors and TV personalities are having to apologize because they offended certain groups of people with words that most Americans hear everyday? LT: Well some of those just happened recently. It’s part of their vocabulary now. If you do it what’s the point of apologizing you should just own it. But I guess people, the group that’s offended, I don’t know, I’d have to be in their shoes. It does seem a little over the top but it came from a desire to change the vocabulary and the culture, you know? Like calling women employees ‘girls’; "my girl". "My girl will call your girl." Stuff like that- that’s the feminist era. But I remember concepts that were accepted, you know. Even myself, I had begun working on a character and the result was an old person. I had a line in there that goes back to the very earliest 70’s. And I had a line in it which became really foolish; the character was supposed to be like an old woman, 90 years old and she’s saying, “Drop kick those grandbabies up against a wall.” And it seemed funny to me at the time but it was a stupid thing to say. So that kind of stuff when you first hear it, and yet you can do it, the pendulum swings the other way gets deeper and heavier. Because behavior is sometimes imitated is just like children grow up in a white supremacist group. They’re totally programmed to be racist and hateful. They know nothing else. They just repeat the language. So I don’t know where it stops and where it starts. I would be the last one to try and censor someone. And when you judge something, the idea of not apologizing is just immature. I don’t know anyone who’s had to do it besides Tracy (Morgan). Do newscasters do it a lot, commentators? I doubt anybody at Fox does it. TM: Sometimes I think they go a little bit overboard as far as apologizing. Perhaps America has become too sensitive. I remember when we used to be a lot tougher. LT: I think a lot of stuff is accepted, really. There was a time when a certain amount of hatred, not even hatred, I don’t even want to use the word. But you had people thinking Jews or blacks or whatever. Women, gay people, whatever - they’re just going to have an attack mode for those people. They don’t want to have to hear them, hear about them. I think there are a lot of weird points of view in the world. I mean look, I grew up in Detroit, the inner city in a black neighborhood. My mother and dad are both Southern, I went to Kentucky every summer on the farm. I lived in an old apartment house; I grew up with all kinds of people. And I’ve been exposed to a lot of different human beings and weren’t so different. They may appear different on the surface. So again you have to have respect for other people’s feelings, you just do. But if you’re not stupid and somewhat educated or sensitive or have a feeling, then you have room for other people too. To say we’re too sensitive you’re talking about which group is offended; me, I don’t know. I really don’t know where to draw the line. You have to draw it on your own sensibility. TM: You’ve been with Jane (Wagner) for over 40 years, correct? LT: 41. TM: Congratulations. LT: Thank you. She thanks you too. (Laughing) TM: Is she there? LT: No, no. She doesn’t go on the road with me. I love to perform a certain number of dates a year so she doesn’t go out too often. TM: In my opinion, Hollywood is doing something that I’m not really crazy about. They’re doing too many remakes of classic films or turning TV shows into movies. From your and Jane’s perspective as writers, is there a lack of originality in Hollywood? LT. Well, we’ve talked about it sometimes just because we, yeah that has come up with us, you’re right. The idea of remaking something and not doing something that’s original or not perusing something that’s original; we do comment on that. But I can’t say we’ve started a movement in the organization; down with remakes. TM: They’ve put “9 to 5” on Broadway. LT. That’s right, they’ve done that. “ TM: How would you feel about a remake of “9 To 5”? What if it was completely different than the original? Like what if it was remade into a raunchy sort of “American Pie”-type comedy, would that bother you? LT: Well, it wouldn’t bother me, I mean gosh, what bothers me is if we get into a nuclear war. I’d be disappointed probably for a minute the fact that they would do that but I wouldn’t dwell on it. There was the intention of Jane, Dolly and me to do a sequel to it, not a remake but a sequel. And a sequel might have worked closer to the time the original appeared but nothing ever worked out; no script was ever acceptable all around the block. And I know Jada Pinkett Smith had the rights and was going to do an African American version. Now what form that would have taken I don’t know. If it would have been a redo of the original or a completely different invention. I just don’t know. I mean I heard that Queen Latifah was going to redo “All of Me.” So I don’t quite know what it means. Or how far they’d go or don’t go or how far they’d corrupt it. I would see it. Maybe if I were the producer or the director had written “9 to 5” maybe I’d feel more possessive. In the musical they used the actors to look and move just like us from the stage. Even Mr. Hart looked like Dabney; I can’t remember the actor’s name. He was good in the musical. Allison (Janney) looks enough like me from the stage. I mean she’s tall and lankly. Meg Hilty is very stocked and big busted like Dolly (Parton) and a little blonde you know. And then the Jane (Fonda) character, anyway, they were enough like us; in a sense it looked like the movie. For us at that time, I don’t know about Fonda because she produced it originally but all of us felt it looked kind of eerie, surreal. The three of us went to the opening because of Dolly in LA and New York. And sitting there watching those three people (laughing) and they were sitting there almost, because Pat Resnick wrote the book for the musical, and she had written the screenplay. She took very much from herself and the original, even the costumes were similar to what Ann Roth had designed in the movie. And anyway, so that’s the effect it had on me at the time. It was kind of surreal. And I wasn’t sure it was live, maybe it was us up there. (Laughing) TM: Now that you have my number will you give it to Cher? LT: If I run into her I will. (Laughing) Oh, my gosh, you’d get a kick out of her. TM: I’ve actually met her. LT: Yes, she fun and interesting. TM: This is one of the great things about meeting people in the entertainment business and getting to talk to you. Everyone that I’ve met has basically been very down to earth. When I can go on record and say that I made Cher, Bette Midler and Lily Tomlin laugh, that’s pretty good. LT: Okay, (laughing) maybe we should do “9 To 5”? Bette, Cher and I - they’re 24/7...

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the-kings-tail-fin · 6 years

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Was there ever a racer who made it to the Piston Cup and ended up with a team that worked after hours and overtime to make their team the best it could be, only for that racer to like. Show no initiative, not try at all, and make altogether utterly subpar laps around the track come race day? How did that go down? And given how completely opposite that behavior is to what being in the Piston Cup means, who was the most let down? His team owner? CC? Pit crew? Competitors? The analysts? The fans?

Pretty sure I recognize the parallel that prompted this ask XD

Allow me to analyze this much deeper than anyone should…

The Piston Cup is such a prestigious level of circuit racing that it’s nearly impossible to reach without giving up everything to focus on your racing passion. Even then, sometimes it’s not enough. How could someone just hitchhike their way into the big leagues? It seems impossible.

But that’s not to say that it hasn’t happened. Historically there have been three periods in Piston Cup racing history where the racer turnover was at an all time high - the mid-fifties when the manufacturers started focusing more on speed than simple luxuries, the late sixties and early seventies when they engaged in the horsepower war, and what we see in Cars 3 with the next gens using technology to their advantage. Wiping most of the field clean and bringing in new talent is a messy sort of business.

No team wants to be left out of the game because they refuse to embrace the future. If they don’t hop on the bandwagon as it passes, they’re going to get left in the dust, and what happens when you don’t do well? You lose sponsorship, you make less money, your employees and your team are less happy, and therefore don’t work to their full potential. Why should they when they know they’re not gonna do any better than P30 at any given race? They start to question why they’re even there. It’s a slippery slope leading to the death of a racing team.

When changes happen, they happen rapidly. Let’s take what we see in Cars 3 as an example to further elaborate. In less than a handful of races, half the field has cycled to employing next generation racers. In only a few races, the seasoned veterans we all love are no longer the best of the best, but instead a bunch of rookies that have barely been around long enough to know what pavement actually feels like under their tires. By the end of the season? There’s maybe three cars that aren’t next gens.

Fearing death itself, all these race teams that made the sudden switch to a new racer didn’t really have time to sit back and get to know the racer super deeply beforehand. Are they fast? Check. Are they rockstars on the simulator? Absolutely. Have they gone to some remotely ‘prestigious’ training center? Uhhhh, sure. Do they want to race? Well, they’re racecars, aren’t they?

The lack of relationship between team and racer can’t be solidified under the stresses of mid-season racing. The crew and the racer just don’t know each other well enough to read between the lines while communicating. Making a crucial decision in the last stage of a race based on which octave the racer is giving feedback in can be problematic for a racer that sounds akin to a dial up tone. Some racers don’t appreciate joking during a race while others can’t seem to take basic constructive criticism. Some teams just become complete basketfires, making mistake after mistake because they just don’t know each other.

But it’s not all bad. Aside from Jackson outperforming everyone, there are a few other racing teams consistently performing at the front of the pack. We see Chase and Danny a lot. They were some of the first next gens to be brought onto the track before the entire sport jumped on board. It seemed like a few teams were prepared for the switch - and those were the ones that spent time investigating the newest generation of up and coming racers. The relationship, or lacking that, a general sense of a racer’s enthusiasm, was already noted and confirmed.

But back on track. The teams that weren’t prepared to make the switch to a new racer - they made their decision in a hurry. You know how sometimes someone can look really good on paper, and even make themselves sound good, but when it comes down to it, they’re a worthless employee? I would almost guarantee that at least one of the next gens fits this bill.

It was probably some mid-range team looking for change and embracing the first thing that came along. The racer they ended up with is a lot like that kid whose parents forced him to go to college and get a degree and then paid for all of it for him. He’s not motivated. He’s not had to try and push himself to achieve anything spectacular his whole life. He doesn’t know what it means to truly love and be passionate about anything. He’s fast, yes. He has technical knowledge about how to race. He even knows how to apply it. But does he want to? There’s no conviction there. Speed is a fleeting metric. What’s fast one day will be slow the next. If a racer has no other redeeming qualities about him, there’s no point in keeping him. It’s time to move on.

In the wake of the next gens overthrowing the Piston Cup as we knew it, he’s just another name no one knows. In a field of forty very fast cars, someone’s gotta bring up the rear. Might as well be him. He’s still getting paid handsomely, why should he try any harder?

The fans don’t really know him. There’s a few that like him just for his paint scheme and apparent laid-back personality, but that’s it. The racers ignore him and push past him. The commentators brush over mentioning him unless he’s caught in a wreck. The analysts never consider him in their coverage - not even as a garage pick. He’s as far removed from the spotlight as he can get. And he’s fine with that.

But his team is most certainly not. They’re paying him a decent fortune to go out there and win races, and he’s never come close. They’re P20 on a fantastic day. The crew chief and pit crew are the most annoyed. They’re the ones that have to work with him on a regular basis. They’re the ones that suffer when he decides that running real laps a full second slower than his average time on the simulated track is fine. They can work their absolute hardest and not fix the problems that he’s bringing to the table. So why should they even try? They’ve worked their tails off and got no reward. They can only do this for so long.

The team owner takes responsibility, because it was his decision to begin with to bring this racer into the organization that no one knew. He feels guilty. His team shouldn’t have to suffer like this in order to pull off a mediocre day at best. The ripple effect of the racer’s attitude and lack of conviction starts to wash through the organization as a whole and it hasn’t gone unnoticed. This team compared to the team is was a year ago is an entirely different animal, and that needs to change before it’s too late.

They tough out the rest of the season with their halfhearted racer and spend some time genuinely looking at the other racers waiting in line. They get to know a few of them and get a feel for how they’ll perform. They’ll make an educated decision this time, one that won’t devalue their work. They’ll give a young racer a chance to race at the Piston Cup level - someone who deserves it.

#whipplefilter #questions about the piston cup

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auberginesdonthavelimbs · 6 years

Text

Day 1: The Witching Hour

(I was planning to write a complete story, but I ran out of time, alas, so this is basically the first chapter to a story that I probably won't finish.)

“Guys, come on! What are you doing in there?” Sam stood outside Danny’s bedroom door, tapping her foot. After a moment, Tucker opened the door and ushered in into the room, where she saw Danny standing shirtless next to his bed, on which a few monster-themed t-shirts had been laid out.

“Sam, thank god you’re dressed appropriately,” Tucker said. Sam was wearing an oversized, long-sleeved black shirt, the extra fabric tied out of the way with red elastics, and a red tutu over black leggings. On the front of her shirt was a promotional image from The Werewolf of Wall Street, which was framed by the straps of her backpack-style purse. Sam noted that Tucker was wearing a shirt with a different image from the same movie, and his uncovered arms bore temporary tattoos of the movie’s logo on one arm and the titular monster on the other.

“No, Sam, not you too,” Danny whined. “This movie is about a witch. It doesn’t make any sense to wear a werewolf shirt to the screening.”

“It makes sense,” Tucker said, probably not for the first time that night, “Because The Witch of Wall Street is basically a sequel to The Werewolf of Wall Street. It was made by almost exactly the same team.”

“I know, but,” Danny said, turning to Sam, “aesthetically, it doesn’t match. I should wear something that has to do with witches, because it’s a witch movie.” Danny gestured to the bed, where there was another promotional t-shirt, this one for the movie From the East, and, next to it, a non-branded t-shirt with a cartoon of a bubbling cauldron on the front. Sam rolled her eyes.

“Obviously you can’t wear a shirt from a different studio - that’s basically sacrilegious.”

“Exactly!” Tucker said, a victorious smile forming on his lips.

“But -” Sam continued, and Tucker’s grin fell into a suspicious scowl. “If you want to wear the cauldron shirt, that’s fine. We won’t be matching, but you’re right, it fits the aesthetic better. Not great,” she shrugged, “but better.”

Danny frowned. “Do you care if we match?”

“What I care about is whether we get there in time. It’s almost eleven, and we need to get there soon if we want to get seats. Pick a shirt and let’s go.” Danny deliberated for a moment more, before finally pulling on his Werewolf shirt. Then he grabbed his purse and followed his friends out.

“Shotgun!” Tucker called as they got outside, running toward the passenger door of Sam’s matte black Prius. The back of the car was littered with bumper stickers, but from the front, it just looked dark and ominous. Well, as ominous as a Prius could be, anyway.

On the way to the theatre, the trio discussed the most recent trailer for the movie, speculating about the meaning of the new details. Once they arrived, they overheard another group of three friends discussing the same ideas and joined their conversation. After getting snacks, they all found seats together, next to an aisle. R-rated screenings were always less busy, but the group was also pretty lucky to get 6 seats in a row. The young adults continued to talk as the theatre filled up, automatically raising their voices to match the increasing volume of the other excited conversations in the room.

Finally, the house lights dimmed and the conversations died down. Somehow, the excitement in the room was even more palpable in the darkness. For a moment, two hundred people looked toward the screen in silent anticipation.

A cheer went up as the projector turned on, filling the screen with white light. The cheering faded after a few seconds and was soon replaced with confused murmurs as the screen stayed completely white. It looked like the projector’s light was turned on but there was no film.

Danny, Sam, and Tucker were all looking up and back, trying to see what was happening in the projection booth, so they didn’t notice, at first, the fog that was slowly covering the ground. Their attention was drawn to the mysterious vapour when one of their companions let out a small yelp, lifting her feet to avoid contact.

By now, everyone in the theatre was looking around, trying to discern where the fog was coming from. Some people were already walking briskly out of the theatre, while others, like the girl sitting next to Danny, had their feet up on their chairs. Danny had a feeling he knew what was about to happen. He stood, intending to get somewhere private where he could go ghost. He didn’t even get into the aisle before a small wisp of fog escaped his lips. A second later, the temperature plummeted. Everyone in Amity Park knew what that meant.

Danny sighed as the screams erupted around him and people started running for the exits in a blind panic, pushing and climbing over other moviegoers with no regard for their safety. The other three youths who had been talking with the trio ran into the adjacent aisle and were pulled along with the throng of people heading for the exits. After he watched them leave, Danny turned to Sam and Tucker. They had already put on their Fenton Phones, and Tucker was pulling his lipstick/ecto-blaster out of his fanny pack. As Danny put on his own Fenton Phones, he said “Make sure everyone got out safely, then let me know if this is happening at the other screens, too. I’ll check out the projection booth.” With that, Danny transformed with his classic cry of, “I’m going ghost!” and then flew up to the back of the room, phasing through the glass and landing on the floor of the booth.

He looked around, starting when he noticed the unconscious theatre employee slumped against a wall. As he got closer, Danny realized the older woman wasn’t unconscious at all - she was humming absentmindedly to herself. Danny called out,

“Hey! Are you ok?” When she didn’t respond, he carefully crept closer, keeping his senses open to note any danger that came from behind him. The sudden noise in his ears caused him to spin around, raising his hands to blast whatever faced him. Before he even completed the movement, he realized that the sound was just Sam speaking over the Fenton Phones.

“Everyone’s fine. I don’t think anything happened in the other screens, but everyone is evacuating now.” Danny nodded to himself. He always preferred to fight with as few bystanders in the way as possible.

“Good. Get back in here, then - whatever’s going to happen will probably happen here.” Sam and Tucker both acknowledged, and then Danny continued. “I found the projectionist. She seems uninjured, but she’s way out of it. It could be some sort of charm. Do we know where Ember is?” Tucker’s response was immediate and indignant.

“No way, man, Ember is clean. You know that.” Danny sighed quietly. Admittedly, it had been years since the singer had caused any trouble, but Danny still worried about his friend’s feelings for her. Despite her lack of recent illegal activities, she hadn’t exactly declared her loyalty to the forces of good. It was still always possible that she could be up to something.

“Uh, Danny?” Sam whispered, interrupting his musing. “Are you seeing this?” Danny looked away from the woman on the floor, and immediately saw what Sam was talking about through the small glass window. The ghost has appeared, hovering just in front of the screen. She looked like - well, she looked like a witch, pointed hat and all. Danny restrained himself from laughing at the sight of her cartoonish appearance, made even sillier by her obvious frustration. As the other ghost placed her hands on her hips and scanned the room, Danny went invisible and intangible and floated toward her.

“And here I thought you humans wanted to see a witch,” the ghost said, clearly offended. “I try to be dramatic, and you all run screaming before I can even finish my entrance. Honestly, you people have no appreciation for -” She cut off suddenly, finally noticing Sam and Tucker creeping along the front row of seats, almost directly underneath her. Sam had taken the Fenton Thermos from her purse, and she activated it as soon as she realized they’d been spotted. The ghost above laughed, dodging the beam easily. Then she waved her hand toward Sam and said, ĵeti, her voice suddenly booming. The thermos was violently thrown from Sam’s hands toward the back of the theatre. Danny dove toward it, hoping to catch the ghost off-guard with it as Sam had intended to do. He trusted his friends to stay alive long enough for him to pull it off.

Unfortunately, despite his invisibility, his sudden movement caught the other ghost’s attention. She reached toward him and said, “ligi,” in that same booming voice. Danny plummeted to the ground. When he tried to get up again, he realized he was almost completely immobile.

“Ah, you must be Danny Phantom and associates,” the ghost said with obvious delight. Danny heard the sounds of an ecto-blaster being fired, but it obviously wasn’t hitting its mark. “Oh, the stories they tell about you … Of course, even if they were all true, you still wouldn’t stand a chance against Sorĉara, the greatest witch in the entire ghost zone!” She raised her voice dramatically to announce her title, but her dramatic pose was ruined by her dodging ecto-blasts. “Oh, do stop that,” she said, sounding only slightly annoyed. “Varmiĝi.”

Tucker screamed, dropping the blaster in his hands as it grew unbearably hot. He huffed in frustration. He understood Sorĉara’s spells well enough, since they were in Esperanto, but she wasn’t leaving him any time to respond. As he ran toward the side of the room, trying to get his back against the wall, at least, he tried to think of how they could stop her.

She was fast, and strong, so direct combat was a poor choice. She clearly needed to be able to speak to cast spells, but he didn’t need to be able to hear her to be affected, so his Fenton Phones wouldn’t be much help. Was there any way they could silence her?

“I don’t know why you’re wasting your time with us,” Sam yelled from across the room. She had taken cover among the rows of seats, but stood now to address Sorĉara. “Your audience is outside.” Sorĉara considered the young woman for a moment, then nodded.

“That they are,” she said, her lips pulling into a smile that was just a little bit wider than should have been possible. She briefly considered the ghost hunters - unarmed, and too weak to hurt her even with weapons. “I’ll catch up with you lot later,” she said dismissively, and then she flew out through the ceiling without a second glance at her enemies.

“What the Hell are you doing?” Tucker yelled, running toward Sam, who was climbing over seats and frantically looking around the floor. “You’re putting civilians in danger!”

“I’m buying time,” Sam said firmly, still searching. “I don’t think she’s going to hurt anyone, not until she wins their respect or whatever.” She finally looked up when Tucker stood directly in front of her. He started to say something, but Sam cut him off. “Tucker,” she said, the panic in her eyes seeping into her voice, as well. “Where’s Danny?”

#danny phantom #ectoberweek18 #phandom #my writing

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the-firebird69 · 3 years

Text

The sopranos intro

youtube

This begins in Earnest today and Tony goes after everybody who's been perpetrating crimes against him and those who are still in his employee that he fired and won't leave his employee and he's going to find out who they are no he knows who they are this one sitting there bothering right now and he is doing it on purpose and she did figure it out but someone had to tell her that's how dumb there but really we're going to take over Walmart and her shares it's almost gone and that's what he says but right now Corky has

1MNNNN and almost in each City it's a total of

5MNNNNN

Which is pretty hefty but it doesn't compare to the max who have

100MNNNNN and that's in each City area no that's in total that's a lot and it really didn't change from what I've been saying it's been coming down of course but really these hits are not really huge to them if I'm wicked attitude and they are doing what I'm saying and it's because of their number so we're taking over Walmart and they feel fine about it because they think they can overwhelm us still cuz they don't know how many of us are anyway we're trying to buy time using our son incorrectly in other words if you want to buy time you put them on ice a little and you keep saying you can't it's just not true and you're trying to force us to raise the army which we need time to do what he's saying is we have no more time and it's fine Danny we have to use conscription and a draft and everything else and we have to go ahead and do it are people think for some reason that they can't join they have to understand they have to so I'm going to go ahead and do that and to me personally I don't really want to know my preferences if they come in but if they're drafted and they have that reasoning that they're to hold the line with teachings then they can help and hold the line with teachings and it's almost perfect because we do have to do that at the same time so go ahead and do that that's a good idea we need to really issue the draft we need to issue the draft in the format I said we need to do it today and have everyone sign up 18 and above and etc if we haven't and we already did that so we start conscripting now cuz they know that's going to happen we also know that it's a good idea

And we are at 20% and you can tell because it's really cold that's what they say I'm trying to sit on it so what I'm going to do is reverse what they're doing sitting on it and do it the right way see manage to slow it down we're going to change gears and go out the tunnel and it goes just as fast if not faster cuz you're pulling out in clumps and what he's saying now is do both it's going to be very hectic no they said you're in two different locations so I started doing it last night and the young will be out shortly and we're going to do it everywhere that way tons and tons of them will be out today if a gigantic Army we're just sitting here bothering one person telling him nothing is happening this is a deception that's working on them he says you can't complain too much but I can but boy does it work on them it says this huge plan though he says aside from that to try and move me to Utah to try and get everyone to run in there and doesn't seem like they're bothering to enact it but they are sort of doing it and there's some letters that are written and they're here in Port Charlotte and it would have to be the lawyer out there so we're going back to that and you'd have to write it there and he hasn't done that so we have to sit on me because if you're not going to send it they're going to start sending stupid crap to him locally that's what they say they do we have to figure out what to do I'm going to ask Mark but he's planning cuz if he's not going to do that then we are if we're going to do that we know what to do no sense as we have to do it come over do it he's just stingy stupid idiot and today is going to prove that we can do it cuz he's going to get hit as Johnny bag of s*** the second s*** I'm sorry it's true his name is Johnny sack or sax like sacks of s***.

We're proceeding in The sopranos will kick in any second now and they're going to go out there because we're busting up there union movement whenever they call it and they think they'll catch us I can't even catch a cold up there in Canada

Thor Freya

#Youtube

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manhattanprincesmythe · 6 years

Text

Refuge || ST. SMYTHE

Jesse walked into the club early, glancing around to see if there was anybody already here. He was often the first one here, or the only one practicing his show. There were a lot of dancers that had come and gone already, even in his few months here. It was a good job, but most of them had bigger aspirations. He did too, he supposed, but he'd really lost track of them over time. Still, he saw nobody here and wasn't surprised. He glanced at the staircase where he knew Sebastian's office was waiting at the top. He'd barely spoken to his boss in months, with the exception of work talk or polite greetings and he'd be lying if he said it didn't hurt. "Idiot," he muttered to himself. He'd been nothing but a warm mouth for Sebastian and he'd known that going in. Hell, it was all Jesse had wanting going into it as well. So he shouldn't be surprised or disappointed. Still, it had been nice to have somebody to blow some steam off with for a time. He sighed, and walked towards the stairs, knowing he had to ask Sebastian to approve a new routine, the one he'd been working on, anyway.

Walking into his office, Sebastian had left the door open, which wasn't really a thing that he did. He guarded the privacy of his office, wanting to keep the way business were handle apart from the employees; they didn't need to know all the pesky, sometimes dark details of how business was taken care of most times, which was why Sebastian walked in with a troubled mind, not minding he had left the door open. He poured himself a drink and sighed as he sat down on his chair, his eyes looking at the ceiling for a long while, not even drinking yet, and also not even noticing someone was walking in.

@notyourbroadwaybabe

When Jesse reached the top of the stairs, he stared at the door in front of him for the longest time. He debated just turning around and walking away again, abandoning the new routine. But he'd been working on it for some time and he knew the crowd would like it and, truthfully, he needed the extra tips. People paid when they saw something new, it was basic performing. He knocked lightly and then pushed the door open out of habit, "boss? I have something I need to run by you."

Sebastian had his head between his hands, his elbows resting on the desk while he sat on the chair, his brain working a thousand miles an hour with thoughts; when he heard Jesse's voice he looked up and leaned back on his chair, sighing. "Yeah, what is it?"

Jesse felt bad for disturbing Sebastian for a moment, because it was clear he'd been probably using the few seconds of private time he had to compose his thoughts. "I finally got that move I've been working on for months so I changed up my routine and I know I have to run it by you." His eyes wandered to the desk for a second, and he couldn't help but thinking of Sebastian bending him over it. Not that they'd ever done that here, only the one time in Sebastian's apartment, but sometimes he still found his mind wandering. He blinked, shaking his head and then looked back up to Sebastian, I can come back, if you're busy."

Sebastian didn't really pay attention to anything Jesse said, except the part when he said he was leaving. "No, in fact... Close the door and sit down. We have- I have something to tell you, Jesse."

Jesse's brow creased in confusion and then he nodded, stepping inside of the office. He was suddenly glad he'd been practicing in a shirt, because although being shirtless around Sebastian was nothing he wasn't used to given his job. But he was sure that nowadays, wearing merely the short, tight shorts he wore to work in the office alone with Sebastian would make him feel uncomfortable, at least mildly. "We?" He asked, looking around.

Sebastian waited until Jesse closed the door and was sitting down, then put his glass down before he leaned forward on his chair. "The guy that jumped you... His body- They found him. The Morettis found him."

Jesse felt like the floor had given away beneath him, and he just stared at Sebastian, the words ringing in his ears. It was like he couldn't quite comprehend them, but also had all the consequences already swirling through my brain. "Oh my god..." He leaned back against the wall, "I think I'm going to be sick... fuck, I knew I should have called the cops... risked the self defence charge. But then, no, the Morettis would have killed me for killing one of theirs. They wanted me dead anyway. But you... great. I'm going to prison. I'm not even one of your foot soldiers, you'll throw me under the bus because the cops will assume you did it. Fuck, when they find out I'm gay in prison, I'm fucking screwed. I can pass as straight right? Totally. Fuck," he said again, his back sliding down until he was sitting on the ground in Sebastian's office, "wait." A thought struck him and he looked up at Sebastian, the mild panic from earlier only growing and he was sure Sebastian was going to kick him out for being a nuisance, "you said the Morettis found him. Not the cops. How did they even know where to look?"

Sebastian raised his brow so high, it almost touched his hairline, then as he watched Jesse slipping down to the floor, he stood up and poured some bourbon in a second glass and walked back to where Jesse was, then gave it to him. "Shut the fuck and drink this, St. James. Jesus..." He shook his head and leaned against his desk as he took a sip of his own drink. "Because that's where our families usually dump the trash" he said matter of factly.

Jesse looked up from where his head was resting in his hands and saw the small glass with the amber liquid being held in front of him. He narrowed his eyes but took it from Sebastian, giving it a small sniff. "It isn't poison, is it?" At Sebastian's look - and oh boy, if looks could kill - he shrunk back in himself and took a drink. He supposed Sebastian would have no need to kill him, he probably needed him to throw him under the bus. With that thought in mind, he took a much larger mouthful of the drink, always so jealous as to how smoothly Sebastian's expensive bourbon went down. "Right," he muttered to himself, "of course. What does that... what does that mean though? Do they want blood? Or are the cops investigating? I don't know what's worse, oh my god," he thudded his head against the wall behind him and groaned.

Sebastian frowned when Jesse said that, then rolled his eyes as he walked back to the edge of his desk and drank some more, his hand holding onto the counter so tight, his knuckles turned white, that's how on the edge he was, even if he didn't show it. Things were much more simpler just a while ago, when he held Jesse down onto that same desk and fucked the lights out of him; but things had changed, and in what way. "They usually don't want the poilce involved in things like these, and the police don't care about our families feud either, so... If I remember correctly from my childhood, there should be some sort of meeting soon."

Jesse stared at Sebastian, hand gripping onto the glass as he down the rest of the drink in one go. His legs felt too unsteady to stand up so he didn't he bothered trying, instead he just set the glass aside him on the ground, and ran a hand through his hair before he realised. An ex girlfriend had told him once that when he got nervous, he used to run his hand through his hair like ... what was the example she used? Right, Danny Zuko. He supposed he still did it sometimes. "A meeting? What between the two families? That sounds more like a bloodbath." He paused and then added after taking a breath steady himself. Maybe the past couple of years had taken him down a notch, with everything that happened at Dante's, and everything with Sebastian here... but he was still Jesse St James and he needed to stop acting like some kind of coward. "I don't feel bad. About killing him. It was actually mildly satisfying. So I don't care what you tell them."

Sebastian chuckled and downed the rest of his scotch, already on his way to get another one. Once he had joked with a cousin of his that it would be cool if their families would be anything like they were in The Godfather movies; turns out, it was a lot like that, even to his own liking. "It's not. Not at first, at least. We need to sit down and talk about what happened, what can it be done, if there can any leverage from both sides, things like that. If no arragement is made then-" He shrugged, figuring that Jesse could imagine the rest. "Things had been rather calmd for years, but both families now have different people at front, i mean different people from our parents, so I guess it's as good a time as any to lay down some new rules. Plus, the attack on you was deliberate. It was meant to stir things up, and it did, so now we have to deal with it. What you did was self deffense, nothing more or less, and that's story you're sticking to, understood?" He was about to pour himself more scotch, then he turned around to look at him with a frown in his face. "Wait... What's that suppose to mean? 'I don't care what you tell them.' What do you think I was going to tell them anyway?"

Jesse listened to Sebastian's words, but didn't reply. If someone had told him a year ago he'd been entangled in a fight between two of New York's most prolific mob families, he would have laughed at them. And yet, here he was, sitting on the floor of Sebastian's office. It was almost surreal, imagining the two of them sitting down. Comical even. He knew it wouldn't be like that, but he couldn't help but picture Sebastian sitting on a large spinning chair at the end of a table, cat in hand as dramatic music played. "I... I don't know," he shrugged, "I guess that I killed one of their guys. I know it was a deliberate hit on me but they'll want blood, right? Blood for blood? Telling them it's me gets them off your case. I'm not part of your family, I'm just some nobody that dances at your club."

Sebastian walked back to where he had been standing on his desk and leaned back, a soft chuckle falling from his lips. "What are you saying, that you're willing to be the poetic martyr in this whole story? Is that it, St. James?"

Jesse made a face, giving Sebastian a look, "nobody wants to be a martyr. Anybody who says they want that is ridiculous. But if you're going to tell them what happened and what I did to save your family's skins, then I may as well not be some coward about this. Even though I'm sure you think I am."

Sebastian shrugged. "I don't think you're a coward. You killed that man to protect yourself. I haven't done in all of my life yet, nor I think I'd be able to. As for telling them, they already know what happened. All that's left is decide what to do next. Until that's done, you'll be under total survelliance with one of our security teams, understood?"

Jesse stared at Sebastian, not blinking, for a few moments as an uncomfortable silence filled the room. "You-" he said, breaking it, "- you've never killed someone? I ... I always figured you had. I know you guys never get your hands dirty and all that, but I figured as some test you would have had to at some point." He laughed, though it was sad and unamused and shook his head, thudding it back against the wall, "why are you helping me? I would have thought with everything that happened, you wouldn't have really cared anymore."

Sebastian chuckled, then turned around to go back to his chair. "Yeah, it's always easier to think like that." He put the glass aside and looked at him with a frown on his face. "What'd you mean why? I- well, I don't know- Maybe I just don't want anything else bad happen to you. PLus, it's all connected to you, so you deserved to know what's going on."

Jesse looked at Sebastian, almost like he was studying him, "I don't know. You and I have barely spoken since you kicked me out of your office, so I guess I just figured we had sex, you were done with me and that was that. So I wondered why. I just assumed you wouldn't really care anymore." He finally pushed himself off the ground, though he still leaned back against the wall, "I'm not trying to say I don't appreciate it, because I do. I don't want to die and be dumped in a river. I guess I just figured if it ever came to that, me being gone wouldn't exactly make a difference to anybody."

Sebastian crossed his arms as he watched Jesse stood up from the floor. "Like I once already said, I care about you, and all my employees for that matter, because you all work for me. It's my responsability to keep a safe work environment, and if something happens that is work related, like this case in point, it's my duty to see it through. So yeah. I care." He sat down and gave him a curious, almost fond look. "Come on... I wouldn't let that happen to you, St. James. You think I'd willingly let go, in any way, of the best piece of ass I've had in years?"

Jesse couldn't help but let out a genuine laughter at that, though there was something uneasy in his stomach. He knew - or hoped - Sebastian didn't mean it like that, but it just reminded him of Dante's, or just things in the past in general. Being treated as nothing more than a - in Sebastian's words - piece of ass, wasn't exactly an experience he wanted to go through again. He nodded. "I am a very nice piece of ass, I'll give you that. Always more where that came from," he winked, because he couldn't help himself and then pushed off the wall. He sat in the chair opposite Sebastian, on the other side of his desk. "You always say that though. About it being your responsibility to keep a safe work environment and all that. I don't think you get how unusual that is, for this line of work. You talk like it's the norm. It's not. May I?" He asked, reached out for the bottle of whisky sitting on the desk.

Sebastian pushed tthe bottle towards Jesse so he could pour some more scotch himself, glad that the other man seemed a lot more calm than a while ago. "I suppose it could be weird, but you guys are the reason why this place has the thrive it's gotten lately. I just... run things, and if something bad happens, whose responsabilty is to make it right but mine? As for you, well... let's just say your well being concerns me more than others."

Jesse accepted the bottle, pouring a little more into his glass. And who could blame him, he was used to cheap, awful wine when he wanted a drink and Sebastian knew his scotch. When his boss finished speaking he smirked, leaning forward just a little, "see! I knew I was your favourite. And not that you really have much competition from sleazebag one and sleazebag two, but you're my favourite boss too."

Sebastian's lips curled into a smirk over the rim of his glass, then he shook his head and chuckled. "Shut up" he said at first, then looked at him with a grin on his face. "Of course I am. I'm way better than those two, and I outrank them too, you know?" He winked at him, then put the glass down and stood up, walking back to where Jesse was again, and he held his chin with his fingertips to make him look up. "Did you really believe I'd let any harm come to you, St. James? I thought you'd know me better than that."

Jesse rolled his eyes and muttered, as Sebastian stood up, "I'm not sure the rank of prince counts when it's a mob prince." He swallowed when Sebastian tilted his chin up and made him up look from where he was sitting in the chair. Sebastian was barely two inches taller than when they were standing but right now, with Jesse sitting down in the chair, his boss was practically looming over the top of him. "Well... if they've found his body and they know I did it, I don't know if I feel safe going back to my apartment alone, boss." He looked up at him, his gaze challenging.

Sebastian licked his lips slightly. "I'm sure my father has dealt with similar cases in the past, and they all have worked out so far." A small smirk appeared on his face. "Hmm, you're right about that. You shouldn't be alone, at least not until the meeting happens and everything settles down. The room you slept in the other night is still available, if you're interested, unless you want one of my bodyguards to room with you." His gaze was equally challenging.

Jesse tilted his head, and then shook it slightly with a smirk on his face, "no, that's not necessary. I think I'd rather take the room." He paused, then then his smile faltered, remembering. "But, I've been here since this morning. I... I should probably check on Matilda. My cat," he added, in case Sebastian had forgotten. He knew the other man probably thought the amount he did actually care for his cat was ridiculous, but he didn't care. She depended on him, and that was his job as her owner. And he doubted one of Sebastian's guys would check on her for him, or that Sebastian would allow him to bring her to his fancy apartment. "So I guess I should go home. She's probably hungry. Unless you'd be willing to wait. I'd feel so much safer at yours tonight, boss." He winked at him.

Sebastian chuckled. "I know who Matilda is, Jesse. And you're right. She needs some food and water, probably some milk even. But I have a better idea, so that you wouldn't have to worry about that for a while... We go together to your place, you gathered some of your things, and also Matilda, and we all go to my place? I'm sure you would feel a lot better having her around. Plus, a cat is not of such maintanence like a dog is, so it should be fine. So? What'd you think?"

Jesse's face lit up - probably an embarrassing amount if he was being honest - at Sebastian's words. He wasn't even expecting his boss to remember who Matilda was since last time he'd mentioned her the other didn't seem to really care. Or acted like he didn't even understand why Jesse would want a cat. Clearly his throat, he composed himself, "that ... actually, that sounds perfect. And you're right, she won't be any trouble. Cats just ignore you most of the time."

Sebastian chuckled. "Which makes them the perfect kind of pets, am I right? So, how about we just go then? The quicker the better. You'll be much safer at my place, believe me." He stood up and grabbed his jacket, along with his phone and car keys. "So? Shall we?" he asked as he held the door open.

Jesse nodded, but didn't feel the need to voice his agreement. The truth was, he'd feel safer anywhere Sebastian was, for a multitude of reasons. He had to remind himself that Sebastian was still his boss. As much as he talked the talk, ultimately he cared about the profit of his business. And Jesse made him profit, so of course he'd be concerned about him to an extent. But Sebastian had been quick to remind him last time, that was all it was. And he wasn't going to make that mistake again... as much as he wanted to. God, he wanted to. "Thanks, yeah. Let's." He followed Sebastian out of the office, and down the stairs towards where the car he recognised as Sebastian's.

They made it quick into the car that was waiting outside, which had been guarded by two men all the time he was inside, then after Jesse also climbed inside they made it all the way to where Jesse lived, but instead of parking at the door, Sebastian pulled over half a block before. "I'm coming with you" he said, not leaving room for any protest on the subject, then he got out of the car and waited for Jesse to join him to walk to the entrance of the building.

Jesse looked up at his building and when Sebastian said he was coming with him, he wanted to argue. He didn't really want Sebastian to see anymore of the building than he had to, but the other man was already out of the car and waiting so he didn't have much of a choice. He sighed, and got out of the car slowly, walking over to Sebastian, "just... please don't say anything, okay? It's not exactly my first choice of apartment either." The area was definitely one of the lower socio-economic areas of New York City, and the building probably wasn't even up to code. It was in pretty bad condition, and the front door to the apartment building didn't even shut properly. "Uhh, the elevator's never worked, sorry. I'm only on the second floor though." When they reached his apartment, he shifted the key to the exact angle and pushed on the door to get it to open, revealing the shoebox of an apartment he called home. It wasn't anything special, it was almost too dark and just old, but not in the charming way. But he did his best. He had additional lighting, he didn't let the type of apartment stop him from keeping it neat and tidy so it wasn't messy or cluttered. And most days he felt like he spent more time at the club than here so it hardly mattered. "Let me just find Matilda, and then I'll grab some of her food and maybe her bed too, if that's okay?"

"Just shut up and get up there, St. James" he said as he followed Jesse up the stairs, then stood behind him as he opened the door. He looked over his shoulder to see the small but well put together apartment, and nodded when he told him he would get his things, and his cat. "I'll wait for you here" he said and turned back to the door, where he stayed in guard while Jesse got everything he migtht needed.

"Thanks," Jesse muttered in reply. He was sure being regulated to the guarding duties was not generally what Sebastian had to do. Jesse had seen him with his own entourage of body guards and lookouts on more than one occasion, so if the situation had been different, it may have been amusing to see Sebastian standing guard at the door to his apartment."Won't be long." He ignored the fact Sebastian was there, and made kissing sounds, calling out for Matilda. "I bet you're hiding in the cupboard again, aren't you? Cheeky," he stepped into his bedroom, leaving the door open behind him and peeked into the cupboard to find her curled up, sound asleep. "Gee, hello to you too," he rolled his eyes, grabbing her carrier from where it sat on his second bedside table. He felt a little bad for waking her up, and her angry meow she let out certainly didn't help. "Sorry beautiful, but I'll let you out as soon as I can, okay?" As in response, she turned around in the carrier, swishing her tail in his direction, and laid down with her head to the back of the crate. He shook his head to himself but smiled, standing up, carefully holding the carrier in one hand. He set it aside on the bench, and threw a some of her food and her bowls (after emptying them) in a bag, as well as two toys, and hooked it on his arm. Then he picked up the carrier with one hand and her bed with the other. "Okay. We're ready, aren't we Matilda?" She gave a soft, still annoyed sounding meow and Jesse shrugged, "she hates the carrier, sorry. It generally means the vet."

Sebastian had to bite back a chuckle when he heard Jesse making kissing noises to call the cat out, and only when he heard his voice saying he was ready, and after checking the hallway was clear, he turned around and raised a brow when he saw what he was carrying in his hand. "Nice. Did you by any chance actually grab some of your own things. you know, clothes, toothbrush and such, St. James?"

"Um," Jesse looked down at the items he had and then gave Sebastian a sheepish grin, "no? Sorry, I was so focused on Matilda. Give me a second." He bit back the urge to ask Sebastian if he really needed clothes, because he knew Sebastian was just letting him stay in the guest room. And he wouldn't be knocking on his boss' door this time. He stepped back into the bedroom and quickly threw some clothes and toiletries into a bag, before slinging it over his back, "there. Done." He'd taken less care in choosing his own things than he had Matilda's.

"Uh huh" Sebastian said with a chuckle as he watched going back into his room to get his things, then when he rejoined him at the door he nodded. "Let's go" he said then they both went down the stairs and out to the street, wher they walked back to where he had left his car. They got in quickly and he drove off, headed to his place. "Welcome, both of you" he said as they walked through the door of his apartment. "You know where the guest room is, so get comfortable, St. James." He closed the door down and went into the kitchen to get some water for both of them.

Jesse nodded, "thanks." He set down Matilda's carrier on the floor, hesitating. He wasn't sure if he should let her out or not, because this was Sebastian's apartment after all, but the other man had told him it was okay to bring her here. And what was the point of bringing her bed and some toys and bowls, if he wasn't able to let her out. Surely he would have said something earlier. So he unclipped the door of the carrier, opening it and letting her step out cautiously. "Watch her, yeah? I'm just going to put my stuff in the guest room." He hiked his bag up on shoulder and walked down the hall he knew lead to the bedrooms.

Sebastian rolled his eyes at him. "If she decides to jump out the window I'm not gong after her" he said at his back, but of course he was joking. The windows were already closed and he knew cats were smarter than that. He went into the kitchen and opened up the pantry. "Come here, kitty" he called out as he pulled a small can of tuna out and grabbed the opener. "You want something to eat, Matilda?" he asked with a soft voice, the opener clinking the can gently.

Jesse heard Sebastian's words and rolled his eyes to himself. He knew Matilda wouldn't jump even if the windows were open. She'd likely just stalk around the apartment until she found somewhere she deemed up to her standards to nap in. He dumped his bag quickly, not bothering to open it just yet. When he came back he found Sebastian opening a can of tuna for Matilda and smiled to himself, "you give her human tuna and she'll never leave you alone. She loves the stuff," he said with a laugh. He only gave it to her very rarely, as a treat, because while she loved it, human grade tuna lacked nutrients cats needed if they ate it frequently.

Sebastian shrugged. "I have tuna cans to last a lifetime, so I'm not worried about that. Plus, I don't have any cat chow around, so this should do it for tonight. Did you bring her water bowl? She will be thisrty after this." He lowered the bowl where he had just emptied the tuna can onto thee floor, then threw the can away.

Jesse's eyes widened slightly, "please don't feed her a lifetime's supply of tuna. Tuna is fine for them in small amounts, but she'd get really sick if she ate it a lot and... well, honestly, she's all I have." He said, bluntly. He rarely spoke to his family and while he got along with people from work, they generally made an effort to keep their personal lives separate. "I did bring her water bowl. And her food bowl, but she's probably enjoying the fine china." He chuckled, taking out her water bowl and filling it, setting it carefully down on the floor so she'd have access to it. "Thank you for letting us stay here, Sebastian." He was looking at Matilda eating as he spoke, his voice serious now, all hints of the previous joke gone, "I don't... I can't really do anything but say thank you. So thank you."

Sebastian rolled his eyes at him. "It was a figuretively speech, St. James. Jesus... I don't plan to stuff her up with tuna." He threw the empty can inside the pan, then headed to where the fridge. "Don't need to thank me. You should be safe here, at least until all of this is settled. You want something to eat? I have some... roasted chicken here that I can heat up, or we could order some takeout."

Jesse sighed, and crossed his arms with a shrug, "except that I do need to thank you. Even if I don't really talk to my family, my parents still raised me to be a mildly decent - if slightly egotistical and incapable of accepting failure - human being. And you're doing a good thing. You don't have to let me stay here, and you certainly didn't have to let me bring Matilda. So thank you." When Sebastian mentioned food, his stomach gave a large growl as if on cue and he laughed, "leftover chicken is fine. Waste not, want not right?"

Sebastian smiled softly and shrugged. "Got to know I can still surprise you." He chuckled when he heard the man's stomach growling and nodded. "Certainly. Maybe a nice couple of sandwiches with it even? I can slice some tomatoes up and get them in there too." As he spoke, he grabbed the bowl with the chicken in and put it inside the oven to re-heat.

"Mmm," Jesse nodded, "sounds great to me. Do you need help with anything? Hang on. Shit." He'd realised - with everything Sebastian had told him - he'd got distracted with the fact he'd gone into Sebastian's office before his shift. He wondered if Sebastian had told somebody Jesse wouldn't be there. "I was supposed to be dancing tonight. I got there early because I wanted to run a new routine by you. Did you tell them I wasn't going to be there? I," he glanced at his watch, "I can probably make it back on time."

Sebastian raised his hand. "Lower the panic attack, St. James. Hang on." He grabbed his phone and typed a somewhat lengthy text, then pressed Send. "Done. See? No need to worry when you hang out with the boss." He winked at him, then the bell from the oven rang and he put the mittens on to get the tray out, so he could make the sandwiches. "A new routine, huh? Well, as long as we're here you can still show me, right?"

Jesse relaxed a little nodded, "okay, okay. Fine. Sorry, I know you're the boss and all but I just can't do anything that'll risk me losing this job." He leaned against the counter and watched as Sebastian busied himself with the chicken, "not really ... unless you have a pole hiding here somewhere, I can't exactly show you much of the routine. But if that was your way of asking for a lap dance, you just need to say the word," he winked at him, chuckling.

Sebastian was checking the time on the oven to make sure the leftover chicken wouldn't heat too much, then he turned to look at him with a shocked face, that soon turned into a smirk. "Well of course I do. I have one in my own BSDM red room, down the hall." He chuckled . "are you saying that you will give me one if I ask? Hmm... Maybe I'd need to make sure that the customers will be happy, you know?"

Jesse rolled his eyes, since he was about 95% certain Sebastian was kidding. And the 5% that doubted he was, he ignored. "Uhuh, sure," he replied with a laugh, and then leaned forward on the counter with a smirk, "maybe you'll have to ask one day and find out."

Sebastian looked up from the tray where he was slicing the veggies for their sandwiches, then put the knife down and also leaned over the counter, his face almost within reach of the other male's. "Maybe. But not tonight. Tonight we wat and go to bed. It's been a long day." He chuckled and pulled back up, then got the chicken from th eoven and worked on getting the sandwiches ready.

"Pity," Jesse replied with a wink, though he knew Sebastian was right. Somehow being with Sebastian always made him forget about everything else that had happened. He'd almost forgot - in the moment - that a body had been found. Or, more specifically, the body of the man he'd shot. He'd killed a man. Sometimes he forgot that too. "You need me to do anything?" He asked, though he knew Sebastian was practically finishing up.

Sebastian thought about that for a second, then nodded. "You can grab a couple of plates and napkins. Make the counter look pretty for us to eat on it?" He chuckled.

"I'm pretty enough for that, don't worry," Jesse laughed, but complied with Sebastian's instructions, setting up the plates and getting the napkins out as well. "If you want me to make it any prettier, you're going to have to have flowers around here."

Sebastian skillfully chopped everything needed and stuffed the fresh baked bread with the chicken and the veggies, then put them both on the grill and pressed it down so they would grilled up a bit. "Well, then you know what your first stop is going to be tomorrow. The flower shop." He got the sandwiches out, then put them on a larger plate and placed it on the counter. "There you go. Careful, it's hot."

"Mmm," Jesse said, taking one from the plate from where Sebastian put it on the counter, whistling softly because it was hot like Sebastian said - and placed it on the plate in front of him. "Thank you. This smells great. Beats the ramen noodles I was probably going to have tonight."

Sebastian shrugged, though he smiled just a little. "Damn right it does. It's leftover nonetheless, but that won't make it any less good." He blew a puff of air on his own sandwich and took a small bite at it. "Mmm... I was right" he said, then looked at him and winked, then drank a sip of wine after swallowing his bite.

Jesse laughed, "you were. But I'm pretty sure you think you're always right," he pointed out, raising an eyebrow at Sebastian. He blew softly on his sandwich before taking a bite, both of them continuing to eat and take sips of the wine.

Sebastian lifted his own brow in response. "I don't think it. I am" he said, then chuckled and kept on eating their sandwich, while Matilda patted around the apartment, making her way. The quiet that fell on down while they ate was a welcome change from the crazy way that night, that whole day had started. And even though the storm was far from over, it was nice to enjoy those peaceful moments. For now.

END SCENE.

#st.smythe rp #1x1 rp #para #discord

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jenniferhettenbach · 3 years

Text

Inside the Whale

This is something I wrote for a class I'm taking.

Inside the Whale

By Jennifer Hettenbach

If there was a response to my outburst, I didn't hear it. The only thing I could hear or focus on was the rapid building pressure, the emotion that roared inside my head, the numbness inside my fingers and toes, inside my chest, as if I could feel my body clamp down and try to keep me from exploding all over the small room. It wasn't working. Something was breaking in me, the pressure too much to hold back any longer. The fight to keep tears corralled behind closed lids to spilled over and roll down my cheeks. Pushed too far, and now I had gone crazy.

Society doesn't think much of people like me, low-wage workers, mothers, fathers, those of us who might have made a wrong turn or misjudged a step a time or two, us unskilled workers. Those of us who didn’t start with a leg up or even a lot of choices to begin with. Those of us who stock shelves, run registers, bring the food to your table, make overpriced coffee taste nothing like coffee or fulfill your online orders. We are all too often treated not like human beings, but cogs in a machine where our wants and needs don't matter. Where we don’t matter. Treated as if we deserve to struggle, to do without, abused and used because we didn’t make better choices, we weren’t born into different families didn’t try harder.

Society doesn’t take into consideration the brutality of low wage work. The constant stress, worry, of an unstable, unreliable, unrelenting job day in and day out with no promise of reward or finish line (Guendelsberger 10). A corporation that changes the rules as often as they change their CEO’s, to the benefit of its appearance rather than the toll of its employees. Or the manager who doesn’t pitch in when the work is in the weeds. Coworkers who look for a simple way out or customers who use you as a punching bag. Low wage work is “dehumanizing” (Guendelsberger 10) degrading and relentless.

I’d worked for Wally-World for almost four years when management approached me about a job. A supervisory position for the unloaders, someone to run the crew of maybe ten to fifteen people who unloaded the eighteen-wheeler trailer trucks and sorting merch for both the grocery side of the superstore and the G. M (general merchandise).

“You should apply for the position, Jennifer,” Larry, a support manager I had taken a liking to since he first appeared less than a year ago. We had a lot in common, as we both seemed to share that, “I’m not taking any more shit from you” vibe about us. When he worked, he often stopped by wherever department I was in to shoot the shit, but that night he had something different on his mind.

“I don’t know, I have a low tolerance for people, and even less for their bullshit,” I had told him between opening and breaking down cardboard boxes.

“Why do you think they always put you one the heaviest freight, Jennifer? Because you go in there and get the job done without having to have someone looking over your shoulder all the time. That is the kind of person this job needs. I think you will get the hang of the people in no time.”

And right there was my first mistake. I let myself be flattered by compliments, sucked into that game of sweet talk, none of which helps me pay my bills. One of my many flaws has always been looking for the approval of others, and when that approval comes with a side of encouragement, I let myself believe that other people know me better than I know myself. And what follows is the inevitable ignoring of that little voice in my head saying, “this is a bad idea.”

I took this news home and told anyone who would listen that there was a promotion available, and I was thinking of applying for it. I wanted advice, I wanted thoughtfulness, I wanted praise for my hard work. I wanted someone to tell me that I could do this job, but there was no one who could tell me what I wanted to hear. I had to find out on my own. I also talked to the higher ups, including the store manager, Daryl who would oversee the new spots. A fact that only added to the jobs appeal. I had worked for Daryl on the overnight shift, and I had liked him. He was easy to talk to, nice, and always made the crew under him feel like they were all working toward the same goal, unlike other managers I had worked for when they feel as if their crew should shutter at the sound of their voice.

The interview was conducted by Daryl, which he explained to me in detail what the job consisted of and what my responsibilities were, there was even talk about how my application bumped other applicants down a notch. A nugget that again stroked a very neglected part of my ego and started to add strength to my confidence. It felt good. And I was determined to get this job right. It didn’t take long for word to come back on my favor, a first for everything.

For about a minute and a half I was, dare I say, proud of myself. These people I had been working for, with had thought well enough of me and the job I had been doing to put me in charge of a bigger job. They didn’t think of me as trouble or a liar or untrustworthy, or a screwup. They trusted me to get the job done. I had earned it.

Hold onto something because here comes my second mistake.

I took the job as Cap Team Supervisor with the understanding of how things were going to run and who would be running them. I had asked all the questions and gotten all the answers, these were major factors in the decision of taking the job. But as always, nothing could be trusted, or counted on. From the start I had felt overwhelmed, unsupported, and left out there to survive on my own. Depending on what manager was on duty was the difference in answers or instructions. While one team of management might tell us to focus on the sort of the truck, the other on another day would tell us we needed to get the departments on the floor worked. Work unfinished by other shifts, departments, or just other employees often fell to the Cap Team to clean up or finish. Overstock that should have been binned on shelves in the back were left on carts we needed to sort incoming freight. Wrapped pallets of overstock taken down off a high stack to fetch one item would be left where it sat on the dancefloor.

Maybe it was Wally World Inc. or the store manager, Bret, or maybe it was Daryl himself, but one of them reached down and grabbed the edge of my metaphorical rug and yanked. Before I knew it, I was ass over elbows.

In a quick succession of moves, the job I had signed up for evaporated. The man in charge moved to another shift. Replaced by a mouthy little shit that loved the sound of his own voice more than any one of those plastic dolls on one of those “Real Housewives” shows. He thought a lot of himself, and I could feel it roll off him even before he opened his mouth. I had been in one of the outer offices complaining about one thing or another and looking for suggestions or resolutions to the problems that seemed to be piling up around me.

“I have big plans on how we can change this system and make it better, more efficient and less waste of time,” Danny had said sitting in the corner of the office looking at his phone the first time I saw him. That office was always crowded with management, a place employee out on the floor said they went to hide so I hadn’t paid him any attention. I didn’t know who he was or why he was commenting on a conversation he hadn’t been invited into when Daryl was nice enough to clue me in.

“Oh, this is Danny. He will be taking my place as Cap Team Manager.”

I didn’t like him from the jump. He wore his sunglasses on his head and spoke as if all the problems we had would simply vanish once “wait until they get a load of me”. And as much as I hoped that were true, I had my doubts. It didn’t take me long to realize that our new leader was there under his own set of skillful praise.

Our replacement leader was not only wanting the usual the two, sometimes three, truckloads of freight unloaded and sorted but was also looking to impress the elders. He volunteered us to have more and more departments on the floor stocked by the time the night crew came into stock. All of this with a constantly fluctuating crew of hires, fires, and quitters, not to mention the ones who were always continuous and on more than one occasion violent.

“Davidson!” I had shouted over the sound of rollers on the line, a stretchable line of rollers carrying boxes down off the truck and to the guys sorting it at the other end. Davidson, a new hire, was the size of a football player and easily must have weighed 400 pounds. He had only been working a week and even though his temper was quick triggered, he could throw an entire truck from one end to the other without complaint. The problem was he had a nasty habit of shoving the boxes down the line as if he were launching grenades at the enemy. Doing so, damaged freight, sent freight off the line and smashed fingers of the guys on the other end.

“Davidson!” I shouted again, trying to get his attention. When he finally looked at me, I felt a little spooked by the look on his face. “You are pushing too hard again!”

“Man, why don’t you tell these assholes to hurry the hell up!” he shouted back at me. “Look at the line, its packed full again!”

“Yes, I know, it does that when they have to move and reset pallets.”

“Fuck that!” he shouted and started down the line of rollers violently forcing the line of boxes to spill out onto the floor and bunch together. Boxes of every shape, size and weight spilled out onto the floor of both the trailer and the dance floor where guys on the other end shouted for the line to stop. But all I could do is watch this brute of a man as he stormed toward me. The only thing I could think was, “I hope he hurts me because I don��t know how much more of this I can take.”

For this job, I had stepped so far outside my comfort zone, so far outside the box, so far away from what I am and who I am, I couldn’t even find my comfort anymore. I was miserable and unhappy. All I thought about anymore was work. How to deal with it. How to survive it. I took a job I thought I could learn how to do and found myself drifting alone out at sea without a harbor insight. I did the best I could with every ounce of myself, and with little to no help or advice from the upper management. I felt used.

I knew even before I pushed open that heavy wooden door leading into the small manager’s office, that my six-month performance review was going to be a far cry from the positive reviews I had received before. But I didn’t really know how bad until I opened the door and found not one but three managers sitting around the tiny room, none of them make eye contact.

Walmart has a policy that when reviews or talks are given there is supposed to be another person in the room as a witness to what happened. The fact that Danny, thought he needed two other people with him meant that he was concerned with how that little meeting was going to go. It was unlikely that he was concerned that my happiness at my good review would send me into such gleeful hysterics that I would be unable to control myself and he would need these other two to pull my fat ass off him. I thought I felt something hit the floor between my feet, turned out it was that last bit of heart.

Standing there in that manager's office that day, my fight-or-flight mechanism twitched. It felt like a morgue, as if no one wanted to be in there, especially me. I thought I was going to be fired. I had wished, contemplated, threatened, and screamed and maybe even prayed a little over the past months for the strength to quit, to walk out of that building and never come back. But I hadn't, I kept pushing, kept trying to get it right. I tortured myself for absolutely nothing.

“Come in, have a seat, Jennifer,” Danny said, speaking first, and I did, reluctantly.

The small office was square in shape with just enough room to hold two desks on either side of the room. One desk was held a computer, files, and manuals, while the one across from it seemed to be the catch all for everything else that came into the room. Four plastic chairs filled the space between the desk, all but one was occupied. The room felt tighter than it had before, and I felt a twinge of claustrophobia, another kick to my fight or flight. To give myself a little room, I leaned my butt against the catch all desk and put my feet in the chair, giving Danny my undivided.

Danny sat with his back to the computer, papers in his hands. I had tried to like him; some days were easier than others. He was an average guy with average looks, but something about him just told you a bald head and beer gut was somewhere in his future. He had thin blonde hair, combed back from his face, and usually topped with his sunglasses, but not that day. He was one of those guys who was always warning people about what a bad ass he was which was probably one of the first things I didn’t like about him.

Brandon, the overnight manager, sat in front of the door, opposite of Danny. Handsome, sweet, and a good personality with a fondness for bike riding and music. I don’t think I ever saw him get upset, though I did see reflections of a bad day set in his face, though he never took it out on people. There was a woman there, but I cannot remember who she was and if she said anything I don’t remember what it could have been.

“As you know, it's time for your six-month review,” Danny started, some papers sitting on his crossed legs.

Sitting on the desk, my hands gripping the edge to the point of pain. I leaned on my hands, and let my head fall between my shoulders. I don’t know if my brain registered what he was saying at first or if I was just trying to save myself the disappointment of hearing it all by only reaching out to grasp ahold of certain words--

“--giving you the lowest score possible--”

“--this job isn’t for you--”

“--not good with people--”

“--complaints against you--”

Every word felt like a blow to my self-esteem, the pain of complete failure. I felt like an idiot. Nothing I had done, nothing I had tried to do, pushing myself out of my comfort zone, driving myself crazy with anger and frustration to do a good job did any good. It didn't matter that Danny had never pulled me aside and told me there was a problem. It didn't seem to matter then when the company instigated a new protocol; they asked for time to iron out the kinks; a courtesy not allotted to me. Danny gave me the lowest score allowed, so all the other scores I had received before this, all the hard work I did before, wiped out.

There was something about me that Danny didn't like, but the reason is unclear. I know that when he first arrived and increased our workload without the stabilizing the workload, we already had; I told him so. When a former manager I worked under came back as a regular Joe and didn't like me telling him what to do, tried to rile up the crew against me. I didn't hide my anger at him for putting me through it. Maybe it was me not liking him. I have never been good at hiding my disdain. And as he was reading off my review, he had made no effort to hide himself. Afterword, I heard rumors about his distaste for women who were less than cooperative. Of course, people could have just been saying that to be sympathetic.

I don’t know if it were the tears, I could no longer hold back or the feel like something alien like was about to come through my chest, but I very much needed to be out of that room and away from that man. Before anyone could move, I was on my feet weaving through legs and chairs, passed Danny and the witness to my humiliation, fighting to get out that door as if the room were on fire, mumbling through a tight throat and dry mouth about needing a minute. I weaved I was in a full-blown panic, but there wasn’t any relief on the other side of that door.

I poured out of that tiny office as if there hadn’t been enough air inside and hoped to find a great big lungful of relief in that grey hallway that ran the length of the store. To my annoyance, I only found more people. I had to get away from people. The voices, the energy, the words felt like fingers touching me, agitating me, holding me down and keeping me there. If I didn’t, I would draw attention, attention I didn’t want or need, and eventually someone would ask what was wrong, a question my ego wasn’t ready to admit out loud; that I’d been an idiot and a fool to think that hard work and determination would get me through, would earn me a little corrective feedback if I were doing it wrong or maybe a little respect. But apparently, that was another one of those fairy tales like unconditional love and they create all men equal.

There wasn’t a lot of praise in my family. Or understanding, support, or emotion for that matter. My mother was one who couldn’t hide her distain either, though hers was directed at me. She hated everything about me and wasn’t shy about telling me about it. She never would admit she didn’t like me, but I could feel it. She hated me for making her a mother, and maker her feel things she didn’t want to feel; like guilt at not being around. I tried everything to win her love. Changed who I was, what I want, what I looked like, but there was always something. It wasn’t until she got a call from Texas, two states away from her Kansas home. A man she barely knew on the other end. He was fighting with me, hitting me, spitting on me, and he was calling so she could listen. The man continued his tirade, cursing me, punching me, backing me into the corner of the room. On his way out of the room, he picked up the phone to tell her, I was a whore before throwing the phone down and leaving the room. When I felt safe enough to go for the phone, some part of me thought she might ask if I was alright, I was wrong. “How could any daughter of mine be so stupid?”

I squeezed past people, elbowed through groups and freight being rolled this direction or that, mumbling something that sounded perversely polite. I burst through the swinging double doors that lead out of the back and onto the sales floor. I was somewhere between the men’s department and the shoes when I caught sight of Carmon, someone I considered a friend, and she of me.

“Jennifer, what’s wrong?” the small woman said moving toward me. For the briefest of seconds, I wanted to tell her, “I fucked up!” I wanted to let go of all that anger and frustration, hurt and outrage, but I stopped myself. If I opened my mouth and let it out, it probably wasn’t going to be pleasant, or kind or quiet for that matter. I liked Carmen, she had been sweet to me when I first started, and even bought me a cake and present for my birthday once. I didn’t want to take this out on her. Before she could get to me, I waved a hand at her and hurried away, cutting through the baby department into the men’s department.

I dodged and weaved past people, carts, displays and shelves until I burst out into the night air, taking a sharp deep breath as if coming up from underwater. I moved out of the flow of traffic coming in and out of the store and over to the side of the building where there were no people and no lights. The cool night air felt good on skin soaked in sweat and heated with fever. I took long, deep drags of smoke, held it in my lungs before blowing what my lungs didn’t absorb out through my nostrils.

A smile that held no laughter spread across my face as my tightened throat grew unbearable as I completely let go. The tears that had all fallen where joined by others and leaning against the cement building, I slide down the wall until my ass met the ground. You idiot! You stupid fucking idiot! I wanted to scream, but the sight of customers passing by kept me from it, even in my state, I still tried to be a good employee.

I’m not sure how long I sat there on the dirty cement. I knew it wasn’t long enough, the only way it would have been to never have went back inside, and for a minute I thought about it, but even that was beyond my ability to do. My son was in there, working the third shift we had started together, but I had thought I was special, good. But there was also the freedom. My entire life had been at someone else’s discretion. I got married too young, had kids too young, divorced too young. Through all of it, I was helped by others until the choices I made for my life, my children’s lives were no longer my own. That job afforded me a freedom that I could have gotten nowhere else.

Once back inside the cell, I tried to busy myself with removing pens, printer pages, and lists that I always seemed to be stuffed or sticking out of some pocket or another. I stripped off the navy-blue vest with the built-in yellow target on the back in case an active shooter happened to wonder if half his work was already done for him, as Danny continued reading aloud my list of flaws and defects, rounding it off with my lack of civil tone.

“You have several complaints against you from your crew.”

“I give as good as I get, Danny! If they choose to be a constant pain in my ass, constantly take up time, constantly need attention and argumentative, we are not going to be buddies. This is a job not Romper Room!” I said, feeling my control slipping with every word I uttered. Out of the fifteen some odd guys that were on the crew at the time, I bet I could have narrowed down that list to the two or three that had the problem with me. They had had that problem since day one. Some of the guys didn’t like being put in departments where I needed them but wanted to be put in the departments where they wanted to go. They didn’t like that when they gave me shit, I gave it right back.

“Speaking of complaints, is there a reason why this review needs an audience?”

All three seemed to try and speak at once, but Danny’s voice won out. “There needs to be a witness…” Brandon jumped to his feet and volunteered to go as if he couldn’t wait to get out of that room. It wasn’t the only one feeling it. Danny continued to ramble about how much I suck and told me he couldn't make me quit the position, but he thought I would be better off as a department manager working by myself.

“Do you have any openings for department managers?” I’d asked, hoping to get away from him as fast as possible.

“No.”

I threw the nylon vest I had balled in my hands onto the desk behind him, by tomorrow the story would sound as if I threw a hammer at his head instead of a nylon vest. I was done. I was done with this conversation, with this company, with this whole job.

“And by that action, I can see I’ve made the right choice.”

As soon as I was out of that office, I was on my phone first texting my son who was at work somewhere in the building and then calling my husband. I was looking for support, compassion, an ally, but the more I told him the angrier I became. I had worked hard, done my best and gotten the work done. My voice became louder and louder echoing in the hollows of the back room. I felt out of control and on the verge of madness, while my husband kept telling me to stop and calm down before they fired me. His concern for the job, the paycheck, outweighed his concern for my pride, my hurt, my self-respect. I’m sure that if I had been in a different state of mind some part of me might have been able to understand that, but not nearly enough.

I quit my job as supervisor and went back to stocking shelves with my son for a couple more weeks at least. I saw Danny in the store from time to time until one day he was gone. I heard he took another job at another retailer. And one of the few females that had been on the unloading crew took my spot as supervisor, though I heard she didn’t fare much better.

I like to think I learned a little bit about myself. For one, I don’t play well with others. And I don’t like it when the fate of the project depends on others. Wally-World can say a lot of things about me, but they can’t say that I didn’t get shit done. After I left, I started looking for something better, something that might make me feel good about myself. Something to prove to myself that I am better than some egotistical blow hard. Something that said, not so stupid. I decided to go to college. I am currently working toward my bachelor’s degree in English and Creative Writing.

#You're better than that

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wineanddinosaur · 4 years

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Next Round: James O’Brien, Owner of Brooklyn’s Popina, on Pivoting to Fast-Casual During Covid-19

Airing between regular episodes of the VinePair Podcast, “Next Round” explores the ideas and innovations that are helping drinks businesses adapt in a time of unprecedented change. As the coronavirus crisis continues and new challenges arise, VP Pro is in your corner, supporting the drinks community for all the rounds to come. If you have a story or perspective to share, email us at [email protected].

In this episode of “Next Round,” VinePair CEO and founder Adam Teeter sits down with James O’Brien, the owner-operator of Popina in Brooklyn. Like every “Next Round” guest before him, O’Brien has dealt with his share of difficulties as he restructured his restaurant to function during Covid-19.

While expanding to outdoor dining meant placing tables over a former bocce ball court, it also meant switching to counter-service dining. In a restaurant that prioritizes hospitality, a stellar wine program, and relationships with its regulars, this wasn’t always easy. Moreover, the changing weather has brought its own hassles in terms of rethinking the menu and choosing the perfect, no-hassle rooftop.

Throughout it all, O’Brien manages to stay positive as he describes these frustrations, and even opens up about his own experience in lockdown. After Popina closed for a month, he emerged and decided to be more mindful about creating a good work-life balance for himself and his team. This approach weighed into recent discussions about what to do when the winter sets in, as Popina is one of many “cozy” New York restaurants that has refused to seat guests indoors. All in all, O’Brien discusses his plans with a level of gratitude for the regulars who have helped keep Popina afloat.

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Adam: From Brooklyn, New York, I’m Adam Teeter. And this is a VinePair “Next Round” conversation. We’re bringing you these conversations between our regular podcast episodes to give you a clear picture of what’s going on in the industry during the Covid-19 crisis. Today, I’m talking with James O’Brien, partner of Popina restaurant in Brooklyn, New York. James thanks so much for joining me.

James: Hey, thanks for having me.

A: So, I obviously am familiar with the restaurant. I think for those who don’t know about you guys, you’ve really, I don’t want to say quietly anymore, but really become a spot in the city that’s just become known for really awesome takes on Italian food. You do some really cool — I don’t want to call it fusion cuisine, but interesting mashups. Your Milanese hot chicken is ridiculous, but then also a just incredible wine program. And a place that lots of people who are wine geeks and people in the industry seek out to drink at. And that was well before all of this happened, but you guys have built this incredible reputation for yourselves as just having this amazing place where people can go and drink really delicious stuff. So for those who do not know about Popina, you gotta go check it out after this interview. But can you just give us a little background on the restaurant, and your background, and how you guys started?

J: Yeah, for sure. So we opened up Popina, myself and Chris McDade, who’s my business partner and the chef of Popina. He is originally from Georgia. So that helped create the food programming. He’s always cooked Italian food. I always worked in Italian restaurants, and he basically took up his upbringing, his nostalgia, and the ingredients of the South, but he applied them in an Italian context. So, we met at Maialino in Gramercy Park, one of Danny Meyer’s restaurants, and we just kinda hit it off. I mean Chris has an incredible work ethic, and that was one of the things that attracted me to continuing the conversation with him. And obviously he cooks delicious food. He’s a pasta guru. If he’s not actually cooking, he’s studying pasta, reading about it, learning new things. Whether it’s a traditional shape or technique. So he’s really into food in general, but obviously pasta is one of the strong suits of the restaurant. So we met, we worked over there. I worked all in a lot of Danny’s restaurants. I started at Tabla. When Tabla closed I went to Maialino and then I actually joined the team over at Marta for a little bit, before taking some time off and doing a year of travel. And when I got back, Chris at that point had moved back to Atlanta, then moved back to New York. And we linked up and we were just talking about what we wanted to do. And we overlapped on a lot of what that vision was. I mean, we started out with a ton of ideas, but at the heart of all of it was we wanted to create a neighborhood restaurant. It was important for us to create a space that could be a special occasion place, but was more a community gathering place where people could come and have a bowl of pasta and a glass of wine and not break the bank. And they can do it on a regular basis. So, that being said, we also wanted to make sure we were elevating it. More so than your neighborhood restaurant, in the food, the beverage, and also the hospitality. So, you come in, if you like ice in your water our staff would remember that. And, you would continue to create regulars, and create kind of “wow” experiences. But do it in a context that wasn’t forced and just kept people smiling. We started the restaurant with one goal and that was to like, make your day a little bit better. And if it could be a lot better, that’s even better. That’s even greater, but we live in New York City, and it is so tough, right? Everyone’s just trying to make a living and get by. And sometimes it’s hard and it chases people out. And I think that food is super powerful. And if people could come into our restaurant and kind of forget that they just worked a 12-hour day, or maybe they’re thinking about their rent bill, or thinking about a bad subway experience, or whatever it could be. If we could transport you and make you forget about the everyday worries of living in New York and just make your day a little bit better with a glass of wine or a bowl of pasta, then that’s our goal. And if we could build on that, even better. But it’s as simple and as complicated as that.

A: That’s really, really cool. And so obviously, the restaurant has been around for a few years and has been really doing well. You guys have had a bunch of really cool winemaker dinners and things like that. Can you take me through what has gone through your head and how you guys have changed, or done different things since basically March 13th? So I think March 13th, everything across the country changed for a lot of people, for most people, and especially for restaurants and bars. So I’d love to get an idea of what you guys have done, and take us from that point to like where we are now, basically.

J: Yeah. So in March, a lot of other restaurant owners had to let go of their staff. And it was a crazy year. It was our first January and February that we were busy. The last two winters were, if you came to Popina on a Wednesday, Thursday, pretty much any day but a Friday, Saturday in the winter, it was crickets, right? We excelled in the summer and on the weekends, but it was so difficult to get people in there on a Wednesday in January and February. And so we were feeling so good about that. And then basically, March was a busy time. Chris was cooking at the Food and Wine Festival down in Charleston. I was down there with him and then I came back to work at La Paulée with all the winemakers, which is crazy to think that that was in March. And that’s right before all this shutdown and just all those people together, sharing glasses, hugging.

A: Totally crazy.

J: Crazy. And then, fast forward, and we get to the 14th or somewhere around that date where we had a conversation with our staff, I want to say Thursday or Friday, that it was going to go to half capacity. And we said, we’re a small restaurant, guys. And we don’t think this is going in a positive direction. And we just want to be upfront with people. And we don’t think that half capacity works for us. Inside Popina, for those of you who have been, 36 people sat in there and seated. It was like sardines. Right? Hopefully it didn’t feel like that. Like, I feel like it felt more cozy than cramped. But yeah, we used to fit 36 people in there, but under these new Covid guidelines, it’s like even at half capacity it was just too close for comfort. We can’t really responsibly sit people in that space. And that kind of goes to our plan as of now, which is crazy that we’re talking about March and that was our mindset, and we’re still dealing with that same issue now that we can’t really use the outside space again, it’s a little colder. But we don’t feel like it would be responsible seating people inside under these circumstances. So we gave our team a big tip before we actually had to shut down. We gave our team the heads up and basically told them that they should start applying to unemployment and we gave them a little cash in hand, as like a little severance of sorts and just said, “Hey, hopefully this will float you just in case you have any issues with unemployment.” And also during the shutdown, we did I think two or three rounds of employee fund outreach. So basically, we had our guests donate. We didn’t do it through GoFundMe because I feel like they take a percentage of it, or at least that was my understanding of it. So we did it through our Instagram and our Venmo and stuff like that. So we raised some money for them, and everyone was so grateful. I mean, it wasn’t a ton of money, but just a little something. I think our staff was just pumped that we were continuing to look out for them, even though technically the likelihood of bringing them back was a long shot, at least in recent times. So then, we tried delivery for a week with a bare bones staff. Me, Mike, who is our executive sous chef, Chris, and Sean, who was the G.M. We were doing actually decent business because I think people just wanted to support us. Our delivery business, in general, is pretty terrible. We just don’t do a lot of it. Especially because we don’t do pasta to go. That’s one of Chris’s things that he just won’t bend on. At all.

A: I understand. If he doesn’t think it travels well, then he doesn’t think it travels well.

J: Yeah. That’s kinda what it boils down to. And we actually over time we’ve started doing some pasta kits and some other delivery alternatives. but as far as cooking pasta and putting it in a box, it’s just like not his thing. So we have to continue to think about creative ways to not do that, but still continue to try to make people’s day a little bit better. And when you can’t actually have people at the restaurant, we found that that’s incredibly challenging. So we do delivery for a week with the bare bones staff, things get worse, obviously everyone in New York kinda knew. If we think about late March, early April, New York was a scary place. And so we decided to call it. Then we cleaned out our fridge. We told our staff that if anyone wanted some things to take home, but when Chris orders he does an amazing job at basically ordering enough food for said service or two services or whatever. So there’s not a lot of extra food. Which from a business standpoint, I’m always like, “Man, you’re good.” Like this is awesome for business. But then when I’m rummaging around the fridge for an extra snack at the end of the night, that’s not always the best, but we had some leftover product. And any dried pasta we were using doesn’t really go bad, but like if people wanted the greens, we had some produce, we had some meat, and we reached out to our staff and we said, “Hey, if you want some food, come on by.” And I would go to the restaurant regularly just to check in. And one of the things that was super sad, but helped out a lot was I liquidated my inventory. I had probably close to 60K of wine inventory, and then in like two weeks, I brought it down to $10,000.

A: How did you do that? Did you sell to other restaurants? Did you sell it to customers?

J: I reached out to a couple of my wine regulars that I knew drank really well, and I had offered them some pretty good discounts with what’s still making money. I mean, there was this one guy that probably bought $15K of wine by himself, and he bought it all at list price. And I told this guy, he will forever have a reservation for a table in the backyard. I might even name the table after him and his wife, seriously. He continues to buy wine and he’s a wine collector, but the best kind where he doesn’t always talk about it. He just loves wine, and he loves really great wine. And he continues to buy. So it’s been great, especially with the loosening of the S.L.A. guidelines. So when he comes in to dinner, he’ll come in and spend a couple hundred bucks on dinner, but then before he leaves, he’ll pick up a case of wine and that helps us, especially on the rainy days. It’s either feast or famine with us. It’s either the backyard is jammin’ from 12 to 8 on a Saturday, the sun is shining. It’s amazing. Kind of like last Saturday, especially with all the good energy.

A: Oh, yeah. With the election.

J: Yeah. But then yesterday, it was raining and I saw three people yesterday, and you know what I’m saying? Like, we didn’t do any business yesterday. So those guidelines, although they’re annoying with the whole, like “we have to sell food” and all this it at least allows us a little bit of a lifeline. So basically, I sold a bunch of inventory to some of my wine regulars, and then just basically was like, “Hey guys, New York is a sad place. It’s probably going to get sadder. If you want a case of wine, come on by.” I also gave industry people who got laid off wine at cost and the whole idea behind that was it’s like these people lost their job, but they still need good wine and stuff like that. So I put it out there to our channels on Instagram or whatever. And I said, If you’re in the industry, and you lost your job, wine at cost. Whether it’s the $15 bottle of wine or the $100 bottle of wine, I don’t really care. And that also helped us decrease inventory. When you still have to pay rent, and do all these other things, paying all the invoices, a bottle of wine is not going to really help you. So I liquidated a lot of that, which again it was sad because it was three years of me building up what I thought was an awesome list with back vintage this, and this rare wine from here. And it was sad to let it go. But I know they went to good homes. And I really like when I open that bottle for somebody and they drink it with the food at Popina and you see this reaction and you create this special food and wine experience. And when you sell it retail you just hope that they served it right. Or they enjoyed it as much as they would if they were at Popina. So basically after doing that, I just took a break. Like, I took a month, and it was kind of wild. I don’t think besides traveling throughout the last couple of years, if I took a big trip, or took that year off and just traveled, I haven’t stayed at home. And I was actually super scared, and I had to like buy a spice cabinet. I didn’t have salt. My fridge was Champagne, white wine, and hot sauce. I didn’t have anything else. So I’m building a spice cabinet. I’m taking the stickers off my pots and pans. I live by myself, and I was super scared of “what am I going to do with all this time?” I had to update all my Hulu or Netflix because I get home from work and I go to sleep. I won’t spend a lot of time at home, and I was kinda nervous about it. Chris was super pumped, ‘cause he has a 2-year-old, and he was just pumped to be at home with the kid and have some family time. ‘Cause in our industry, it’s a tough thing to come by. But for me I was just like, “Oh s***, I don’t really do well by myself,” or at least I didn’t think I would. But it was awesome because I was in New York. I got to read a book that wasn’t about wine, or I got to learn Spanish. I got to start doing yoga and do all these things that I’m always like, “I’m too busy for it.” I wake up and I’m back on this grind, unfortunately, where I don’t give a lot of me time, but I wake up and I’m like, “I got to go to work.” And then I work until my eyes are shutting and then I go to sleep, you know what I’m saying? So, the month was great, obviously a lot of s*****, I don’t really mean great, but it allowed me to have this time and really hopefully take advantage of it and put in a little self-care, which I think is hard in our industry. And I think if there was anything that came out of this is I think, I’m going to try to be more mindful about myself and my team, creating a good work-life balance and a healthy lifestyle where people don’t feel like they just need to grind it out all the time. But as a business owner, it’s hard, because every day I wake up and I’m like, “OK, no one’s going to hand this to me. I have to go out and get it.” And it makes you motivated.

A: Well James, at any time during this period, were you freaking out about — I mean, I assume you guys felt pretty comfortable where you guys were as a business. ‘Cause at any time were you freaking out about, “Well, what about our landlord? Could we get evicted, or what’s going to happen?” I don’t know if at this point, PPP, everyone was talking about it, but I know none of us knew if we were going to get it. Was that all happening too, or, were you pretty confident that you could manage it to get to where you’d maybe be able to reopen?

J: Well, our landlord was really great throughout this. He didn’t necessarily give us any rent concessions or a discount on rent, but he made us aware that he was there. And he actually got engaged at Popina, which was pretty awesome. And I think he just wants us to be around, especially because there are a couple of restaurants in his spaces that are shuttered. And I think he helped us. And one of the first things that I actually did is we had a driveway space next to us that used to belong to Pok-Pok when we took over the lease. But then we actually were like, “Oh, we don’t want this driveway.” And Pok-Pok was still on the corner. So they kept the driveway space. And, long story short is there was this empty driveway. And I asked him, I was like, “Hey, can we get that driveway?” ‘Cause this was in March, so I had no idea what it was going to look like. I think a lot of people were like, “Oh yeah, by summertime, we’re going to be good. Back to normal.” But I was just like, outside space is going to be the biggest, hottest commodity. So, I’m like, we need this outside space. So I called him, and I think he was already on the defensive because other businesses were calling him like, “Hey, Greg, can I get a discount on rent?” And I was like, “Greg, I’m not asking for a discount. I just want the driveway space next to it. It’s been vacant for a year. I know it’s not our space right now, but if we could attach that to our lease at a reasonable rate, hopefully, free rate, that would help us. That would make us so much more comfortable going into this uncertain period.” And he agreed to it. And so we took over the space, and basically that space has allowed us to spread out the tables this summer and we created a very different service model than we used to do at Popina. So Popina used to be full service, and now we’ve pivoted to a counter service. We didn’t want you to walk into Popina, go into the backyard, and have this QR code here, and have like a very “airport” kind of experience, right? Where you’re ordering through an iPad or your phone or whatever. Like as much as safety was our biggest concern, we wanted to have at least one “Hello,” you know? So the guests walk into Popina, “Hello, welcome.” And then they order their drinks and their food, and then we give them their drinks, and then they take a number. And they could sit anywhere they want in the backyard, which also allows different people to have different comfort levels. So if you want to be at this table, in the corner where no one will pass you or anything, that’s cool, grab that table. If you want to be closer to the door so you could reorder, cool, grab that table. So, we’ve done that, and we’ve set up the wine shop where people could come in and just grab their bottle. So we wanted to basically take less from the full-service model of giving more is actually giving less. So we wanted to have that “Hello” point, but then we want to say, “Hey, once you’re in the backyard, we’re just going to bring you food.” And it’s evolved. We used to bring people’s stuff in to-go containers. And then one day we were like, “Hey. Maybe we should put it on plates.” And then it was plates with wrapped-up silverware, and then we’re like, “Hey, maybe we should give people real silverware, because those knives don’t really seem like they’re cutting the chicken.” So it’s evolved a lot into what it is right now. And you know, we’re still asking ourselves, “How could we do this better, beyond the guest side of making it easy and comfortable?” So it’s continuing to evolve, for sure. But right, now we are in this sweet spot where I think a lot of people really like it, and there’s some people that don’t get it. And I think a lot of those people are the first timers who are probably reading old Infatuation reviews, but we have an amazing group of regulars who come every week and they love the system, and they know the system. So if you want to start with a cocktail, but you’re going to get a bottle of wine, get it all, you know, get it all. And we pop the bottle. We’ll give you your glasses, give you your cocktails. And then you literally don’t have to come back in. And then what we do is all the pricing includes a gratuity. We built it in because of this fast-casual service. And so if you don’t want to come back into the restaurant, we just close out. We close out your check, and everything’s good. It’s like if you went to a Superiority Burger or whatever. You pay up front, and then you’re good. You don’t have to come back in or anything. You could order your whole meal, and we still course things out for you. But, yeah, it’s definitely new to us, but we will likely change it going into the next spring or fall or spring or summer, but right now it works and people seem to dig it. And we don’t worry about turning tables, because we don’t take reservations. It’s first come, first serve. And yeah, it’s how we’re doing it right now.

A: So it’s really funny because you mentioned Atlanta earlier, and I lived in Atlanta for a little while, and there’s a restaurant I used to like when I was in my early 20s called FIGO Pasta, which was like this model. And it’s always been interesting to me that you never really found that in New York, so it’s cool that you guys have adapted it and moved to that now. Because to me, it seems like it does make a lot of sense and you have such a nice backyard, and kudos to you for being willing to do that, and figuring out what could work for your customers. I think that shows what everyone is having to do, which is try to change their models to make it work. What are you thinking about now? It’s November 12th, and we’re talking. We had a gorgeous weekend, as you mentioned last weekend, but it’s gonna start to get colder. The city has just passed the ordinance that you can’t stay open until past 10, as opposed to 11, which I don’t understand why Covid spreads further past 10 than past 11. And as you mentioned earlier, the space inside is small. In the winter, it actually feels super cozy, and that’s what makes it special. But obviously, no one wants to feel super cozy in a pandemic. Right? They don’t want to be right next to people. Are you guys buying heaters? Have you thought about that kind of stuff? Have you thought about trying to cover parts of your backyard? What’s going through your mind?

J: Yeah. Pretty much all those things. So, we’ve had like a million plans. And we always come in and we’re like, “OK, well maybe how about this? Or how about that?” And we always decide on something and then things change. I mean, the fact that it was 70 degrees last weekend, it was kind of crazy. So the plan right now is we ordered heaters two months ago. They just got here last weekend. It’s, a pain in the a**. And now we’re faced with, OK, we want to start using the heaters, but now we’re trying to jump over all the hurdles and obstacles related to getting them going with the fire department. One thing that Chris and I always agree on is we always want to do things the right way, and sometimes that’s either expensive or time-consuming. And right now, it’s like doing everything properly with the FDNY and the registration of the heaters and the placement of the propane cage and getting a fitness test related to using the propane heaters. So we’re doing all that stuff, but it’s very time-consuming and expensive. And, part of us sometimes are like, cool, we’re over in Red Hook. Let’s just take a chance, and are they going to really come to get us? And then, and then we think maybe if we owned the restaurant and didn’t have any investors, but then we’re like, cool. Our pool of investors are a little bit more prudent. And we just want to make sure we’re making the right decision for them. And so the heaters are to be determined. Hopefully, we could get all that stuff squared away, but the one thing that we didn’t notice, the weekend of Halloween, it was super cold. And even if we had heaters, the food gets cold. And then when you’re doing pasta, it’s like sure, people might come out and dress warm — throwing their long johns on or whatever — but what’s the deal with the food? And we want the food to be good and delicious and hot, you know? And so that’s the latest conversation I’m having with Chris, is “How do we create a menu without getting far from what we do?” ‘Cause if we don’t do pasta, then pasta is one of the things that people come for, and if we don’t do pasta, then our menu changes, and then are people coming to Popina for that stuff? And that’s the challenging part. Figuring out the food. So, yesterday I actually had somebody come by and quote me on a retractable roof, which I think I will have to sell way more wine or maybe even like a body part to afford. But it’s long-term, and we’re trying to link up with our landlord to see if he has any interest in either splitting the cost with us or doing something that will allow us to afford to do it, because Popina is not covered in the backyard. So basically anytime it rains, you’re kind of screwed. We work with a tent company when people have events. But it’s like $1,700 every time you want to put up a tent. That’s a lot of money, especially because when we’re selling events, we’re not charging people that much to have our look, have the space, and the food, and the drink. So it’s like that tent could double the price of your event real quick. So we’re considering that, and looking into other alternatives. Unfortunately, everything is either kind of shoddy and cheap, or very expensive. And if there’s anyone out there that has any good recommendations on outdoor coverings — and that’s the tough part too, our backyard. We don’t want there to be a tent around it all the time, because part of being outside is you want to see the sky and the tree and all that. So we’re trying to figure out how to cover it, and I’m also not trying to put up a big-a** tent every time I think it’s going to rain.

A: That’d be the worst. You’re running out into the backyard. You’re getting all the stakes. You’re like trying to build the tent as fast as you can. Yeah, that would be the worst.

J: Yeah, no, I got enough stuff to do. And so we’re trying to figure that out. We actually are considering closing for January and February and just going on a little sabbatical of sorts.

A: Yeah, I’ve heard a lot of restaurants were considering that.

J: Yeah. And I was fighting against it, it was actually Chris’s idea, and I was like, “Chris, we need to be there for our people and our community that have supported us.” And I was super against it. ‘Cause I’m just like, we got to figure out a way to keep the lights on, and if that means reducing salary or whatever I have to do to make that happen, I’ll do it. But then I thought about it, I played it out in my mind and it’s like Chris boxing up to-go food, me trying to sell some wine — if the S.L.A. keeps restrictions loose. And I didn’t see us coming out of this, maybe better financially than closing, but not in the best spirits. A lot of people that stayed open for delivery since March, they were like, “Cool. I was the most expensive to-go boxer in all of New York.” And I don’t want us to grow to resent doing the delivery or just the restaurant in general. I want us to be excited about it and go back to that time in April when we took off. I also want to be able to think about things outside the everyday running of the restaurant. Sometimes I’m like “s***, I don’t think about the long-term plan, because there’s not enough hours in the day, because I’m putting in orders or making sure we’re staffed or whatever it is.” There’s not enough hours in the day. So if we close down, that would allow us to think about the long-term business or “how do we revamp the backyard?” Since summer’s our strongest season, right? How do we basically make it into the most efficient, profitable, situation that we could? And right now, if we’re just going to be doing the grind of the everyday, it’s hard to think about that kind of stuff. So, we’re considering closing for those couple months. And obviously it sucks, because rent is still due and all those things, but I think it will give us a different way to look at business, and hopefully just get re-inspired and dive into those creative thoughts of what the future looks like. There’s a restaurant, I think they’re called The Willows Inn, that I think they do that every year. In the winter, they just close up shop and then they go travel and do this and do that. And they work so hard during the rest of the year, that they’re like, “Cool, we’re going to take a couple of months off.” And again, we’re way different. We’re a neighborhood restaurant, but I think we’re still trying to think about how to make people’s day a little bit better and how to revamp the food program and the wine program or think about creative partnerships. You know, maybe we’ll have a Popina wine or a beer on tap. These are things that I always wanted to pursue, but there’s just not enough time, because I am checking in a delivery or ordering our dry goods or whatever it is. And so, I think we’re leading towards that, but if we could get our S.B.A. loan and we could get this retractable roof that we could actually use year-round, and stay open January, February, that’s also not a bad alternative, too. So, the plan is right now to close for a couple of months, but who knows? We’ve made changes before. And one of the good things about being a little shop is we can make these decisions day to day. We don’t have to make an announcement. It takes less to steer the ship, you know?

A: Yeah. Well, James, it’s amazing how much you guys have adapted and how well you have adapted. And this has been just like a really interesting conversation to hear what’s happening with you, but also hopefully gives other people listening some perspective on what’s happening for neighborhood restaurants and how neighborhood restaurants are figuring out how to make it work. So I really appreciate you taking the time today, obviously also understanding that you’ve basically given me almost an hour to talk about this when there’s probably a lot that you need to do as you, as you mentioned throughout the podcast. So thank you so much. This has been really awesome.

A: You’re welcome. We wouldn’t be able to do without people like you, so I really appreciate you coming on. And I can’t wait to see you at Popina again soon, definitely a few times before you guys close for January and February, but I support the decision.

J: All right, my man.

A: Thank you, James.

J: Have a good one.

Thanks so much for listening to the VinePair Podcast. If you enjoy listening to us every week, please leave us a review or rating on iTunes, Stitcher, Spotify, or wherever it is that you get your podcasts. It really helps everyone else discover the show. Now, for the credits. VinePair is produced and hosted by Zach Geballe and me, Adam Teeter. Our engineer is Nick Patri and Keith Beavers. I’d also like to give a special shout-out to my VinePair co-founder Josh Malin and the rest of the VinePair team for their support. Thanks so much for listening, and we’ll see you again right here next week.

Ed. note: This episode has been edited for length and clarity

The article Next Round: James O’Brien, Owner of Brooklyn’s Popina, on Pivoting to Fast-Casual During Covid-19 appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/next-round-james-obrien-popina/

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johnboothus · 4 years

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Next Round: James OBrien Owner of Brooklyns Popina on Pivoting to Fast-Casual During Covid-19

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Or Check out the conversation here

James: Hey, thanks for having me.

A: Totally crazy.

A: I understand. If he doesn’t think it travels well, then he doesn’t think it travels well.

A: How did you do that? Did you sell to other restaurants? Did you sell it to customers?

A: Oh, yeah. With the election.

A: That’d be the worst. You’re running out into the backyard. You’re getting all the stakes. You’re like trying to build the tent as fast as you can. Yeah, that would be the worst.

J: Yeah, no, I got enough stuff to do. And so we’re trying to figure that out. We actually are considering closing for January and February and just going on a little sabbatical of sorts.

A: Yeah, I’ve heard a lot of restaurants were considering that.

J: All right, my man.

A: Thank you, James.

J: Have a good one.

Ed. note: This episode has been edited for length and clarity

The article Next Round: James O’Brien, Owner of Brooklyn’s Popina, on Pivoting to Fast-Casual During Covid-19 appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/next-round-james-obrien-popina/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/next-round-james-obrien-owner-of-brooklyns-popina-on-pivoting-to-fast-casual-during-covid-19

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ghostbustermelanieking · 7 years

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shadow demon; part two: october 31, 2017

s11 spec. based off a prompt by @firstofoctober: Mulder and Scully find themselves wrapped up in an unexpected case at a Halloween carnival when a teenage boy asks for their help.

part one

Jackson comes loping downstairs at seven a.m., when the sun is pinking the horizon. Scully hasn't moved from her spot on the couch, feeling like a bizarre burglar, but at least Mulder is awake to keep her company. The kid does something of an awkward double take when he sees them, then remembers. “Morning,” he says in a rush. “Did the shadow demon come back?”

“No,” Mulder says with a yawn. (He only got a few hours of sleep.) “Free and clear all night, or so Scully tells me.”

“How did you sleep?” Scully asks instinctively. She's aware she is acting vaguely maternal, but she's also not sure what the right way is to act in this situation. (It's not like she has any right, but it's also not like anyone else is here to do it.) She's somewhat deferring to a more subdued manner she adapted when her nephew was about this age and she visited Bill in California. (She pushes aside the thought that she never got to do this for anyone else.)

Jackson shrugs awkwardly. “Fine, I guess. Have you figured out how to find Danny?”

“We thought we'd go take a look at the carnival and see what we could find,” Mulder says. Him, we hope, Scully adds silently, and hopefully perfectly intact.

The kid perks right up at that. “That's a great idea! When do we leave?”

“You're not coming,” Scully says automatically. Whatever is going on here, taking Jackson with them is out of the question. He's a child, for God's sake. “Isn't it a school day?”

Jackson deflates, shoulders slumping. “You've got to be kidding,” he says. “Danny is my friend. I can't go to school when he's missing! I want to help!”

“We can't take you into a potentially dangerous situation,” says Mulder. (Scully thanks him silently for backing her up; she was afraid he would advocate for the kid to come along.) “Sorry, kid. You asked for our help finding your friend, and we do want to help. But your parents asked us to protect you, and we wouldn't be doing that if we took you into a dangerous situation.”

“How will you be protecting me if I'm at school?” Jackson retorts.

“The shadow demon has only attacked when you're alone, right?” Mulder counters. “Not when you were in a large group of people. You didn't see a sign of it when you were with a bunch of people at the carnival, looking for Danny. And it didn't attack me until I was alone, either. Plus, I'd guess that your high school has security guards who are there to protect the students. I'd say school is the safest place you can be.”

Jackson’s shoulders slump further and he kicks at a corner of the rug, not looking at them. “This is weird as shit,” he mutters. “You acting like my parents and all.”

Scully swallows the lump in her throat and says, “We're just trying to do what your parents would want, kiddo. Speaking of, have you talked to them this morning? I wanted to talk to them, get their okay for us to take care of you.”

“I called em. They're still on their way. Mom said to tell you guys thanks. She, um, she thought I should go to school, too. Said I should let you guys look for Danny and stay out of the way, that I'd be safer there.” Jackson shrugs again, sheepishly. “How the hell am I going to get to school? My car is still at the carnival, Danny had the keys.”

“We can drop you off,” Mulder says.

Jackson scrunches up his nose in disapproval, but nods. “Be right back,” he says, and disappears back into the house.

Scully doesn't look at Mulder. Jackson is right about this being weird. The rhythm is all off. They are acting like parents, albeit rather awkward ones. Even if they have communicated with the parents, they haven't been officially ordered to do anything. They are just the friendly neighborhood X-Files agents who stepped in when a paranormal problem popped up. But they are not his parents. They are parents to a child they don't know how to find.

They drive the kid to school per his directions. The directions are all he says on the ride. When Scully looks into the backseat, she finds him hunched over his phone, thumb moving. At first she thinks it's some kind of video game, but then she sees the name above the button he's hitting. He's calling his friend, repeatedly. “Hey, Jackson?” she asks. “How's your leg?”

“It's fine.” He hits the button again. The phone starts to ring. “You should probably drop me off a couple blocks away,” he says. “Everyone knows me around here, and they will definitely call the cops if they see me driving around with a stranger.”

And Scully is reminded of the bizarre awkwardness of the situation. “We're cops,” Mulder says. “Sort of. But we’ll drop you off here, I guess.”

He pulls over to the curb. “Thanks,” Jackson says. “Want to just meet me after school? I don't want to complicate things by, like, having two strangers pick me up.”

“I suppose that's fine. Somewhere close to the school, though; I don't want you running around alone too much,” says Scully.

“There's a diner. I'll text you the address.” Jackson opens the door, climbing out. “You'll text me?” he asks, nervously. “If you find him?”

“Of course, kid,” Mulder says encouragingly.

Jackson nods, hand on the door. “This is still weird as shit, by the way,” he says. “But… thanks. For looking for Danny. And for helping me.”

Scully smiles at him. He shuts the door and walks away, backpack dangling from his shoulders.

Mulder pulls away from the curb. “Well, the kid's right about one thing,” Scully says. “This is weird.”

“It's not like we've never had to take care of a kid before, Scully,” Mulder points out. “Remember Kevin Kryder?”

“Yeah, but we've never taken care of a grumpy teenager on a case we’re not officially on.”

“You're thinking about William,” Mulder says. Quietly.

They never used to talk about this, but now. Now it would seem ridiculous not to talk about it, while they're actively looking for him. (Their son.) But they are out of practice. They don't have real conversations, not about William.

Scully looks out the window, at the small town flitting by. “Yes,” she admits, fingers on the chilled glass. “I mean, how could I not? Here we are looking for William, and we meet this boy around his age who needs our help. Of course I'm thinking of him.” She presses her palm flat against the glass. Their son will save the world or destroy it. The world hangs in the balance, on whether they can find William before his grandfather does, and here they are chasing monsters and saving a kid who's old enough to be their son. “Of course I am,” she says softly. “Aren't you?”

“Of course,” Mulder replies, just as softly. “I just wanted to see if you were.”

Scully feels him take her hand and she squeezes tightly. “We're going to find him, Scully,” he says. “I know you think this is going to set us back, but I also know how horrible you would feel if we didn't help this kid. And no matter what, we are going to find him.”

Scully squeezes his hand again, turning towards him in her seat. “I know,” she says. “I know we are.”

They drive the rest of the way to the carnival in silence.

---

At the carnival, all of the employees are in full Halloween mode, running around like crazy to try and prepare for the Big Night. The owners seem irritated at the two FBI agents following them around with badges and questions. “Did that kid from last night send you?” the man in the jack-o-lantern t-shirt snaps at Mulder.

“Sir, a child is missing,” Scully says patiently. “It doesn't matter who sent us. We need your cooperation in the search.”

The owners grumble a few times, but let them look around the carnival. They mill around the stands and rides, interviewing the employees. Mulder passes around a picture of Danny that Jackson texted to him and Scully routinely asks questions about the night before. No one has seen him. “Wasn't some kid asking about this guy the other night?’’ the popcorn stand guy asks, scratching underneath his chin. “Said a monster got him or something.” Scully clears her throat irritably and lets Mulder take over. The rest of the interviews go much in this form.

“No one saw anything last night, clearly,” Scully says with some irritation once they are finished with every part of the bare bones of the carnival expect for the haunted house itself.

“Which makes sense,” says Mulder. “With the story Jackson told, there'd be no witnesses.”

“If someone really did kidnap--or god forbid, kill--Danny, than they would've had to do something with him,” says Scully. “And if no one saw anything… than either the perpetrator had to come back after hours…”

“Or he's still in the haunted house,” Mulder says.

They're facing the clapboard house at the end of the dusty road, red painted sign identifying it as the house. “Want to go inside and look around?” Scully asks.

“Oh, Scully.” He grins. “We have the worst luck with haunted houses.”

As it would seem, they do have something of a bad luck with haunted houses--it's just not the kind they were expecting. Two people are talking in front of the house, two teenager-ish people. The one closest to Mulder and Scully is a tall teenage girl that Mulder doesn't recognize until she turns around and he sees her face. The hair is different, smooth, long, dark hair instead of ratty blonde ringlets, and she isn't wearing ghostly zombie makeup, but it's her. The girl who attacked him last night.

Mulder tenses from head to toe when he sees her, and he clutches for Scully's arm. “Scully,” he hisses. “Scully, it's the girl from last night. The… demon thing.”

When he looks down at her, she looks extremely grumpy, mouth set in a thin line. “Oh, we have bigger problems, Mulder,” she says grimly, and motions back to the duo.

Upon a second look, he sees that the person talking to the knife-demon girl is none other than Jackson Van de Kamp, whose face reddens at the sight of them. “He's supposed to be at school,” Mulder says, stunned, dumbfounded.

The girl is talking to Jackson, brow furrowed. “Are those the guys who are looking for Danny?” she asks, and Jackson nods, looking at the ground. The girl turns and walks towards them, hand extended. Mulder holds back from flinching away. “You guys are looking for Danny?” she asks again, and Scully nods. “I'm Lucy Gerald,” the girl says. “I'm Danny’s girlfriend and an employee in the haunted house.”

“You're Danny’s girlfriend?” Mulder repeats, dumbfounded.

“And you work in the haunted house,” Scully repeats dryly.

Jackson is approaching them, awkwardly. Lucy Gerald is glaring at him. Between Lucy and Scully, this cluster of people must not seem very welcoming to the kid. And Mulder isn't too happy with him, either, even if ditching school to look for his friend is something that he would do.

“I can explain everything,” Jackson says.

---

“So you play a knife-sharpening girl in the haunted house?” Scully asks, scribbling notes on her pad of paper.

Lucy (who Mulder suspects isn't the girl who attacked him last night, but in reality, the basis that the demon used) nods. “Yeah, I, like, lunge at people in a harness. It's cool. It's more of a temporary job, actually, while the carnival’s in town… but yeah. I was super excited to get the job. Danny came to visit me here all the time.”

“What do you remember about the night Danny disappeared?” Scully continues.

“He came in and said hi to me before the show started. Said he and Jackson would be coming through at some point. I didn't know that'd be the last time I'd see him before he disappeared--or that Jack wouldn't tell me that my boyfriend was gone.” She shoots another searing glare at Jackson.

“Look, Lu, I would've told you! But you weren't there, you don't know how terrifying it was. That thing was chasing me, and I was scared to death for Danny and myself. I forgot. I came here this morning to tell you.”

“Yeah, sure. Real classy, Van de Kamp,” Lucy snaps, tugging on her sleeves.

“Speaking of, Miss Gerald…” Mulder says quickly. “Did you see the, um, monster Jackson talked about? In the house?”

Lucy shrugs. “I dunno. It's a fucking haunted house, man. There's a lot of weird sounds. I've never seen anything. And I haven't seen Danny, either. Maybe you should call the police?”

“We are the police,” Scully says wearily.

“Well, okay.” Lucy reaches for her bag, standing up. “I hope I helped some, and I hope you find Danny. There's no one inside the haunt right now if you want to look around.”

“One more question, Miss Gerald,” Mulder says suddenly. Lucy stops, turning to face him with a questioning look on her face. “You weren't… you were at the Motel 6 last night, were you?” Face flickering with surprise, she shakes her head. “You weren't… doing your haunted house bit on the roof of the breezeway?”

“Um, no. Can I go now?”

“Sure, go on,” Scully says, a slight edge in her voice. “We'll get in touch with you if we require further questioning.”

“Okay.” Lucy addresses Jackson sternly as she walks off: “Text me if you find him, Van de Kamp.”

Jackson shifts awkwardly in his seat, scratching the back of his neck. “It wasn't Lucy who attacked you,” he says to Mulder. “I think this… thing… might be able to imitate people.”

“And I think you said you were going to school,” Scully says, crossing her arms.

Jackson gulps. “I thought maybe Lucy would have a lead.”

“That's something we could've looked into,” Scully says sternly. “If you'd told us that Danny had a girlfriend.”

Jackson is staring at the ground. “I can… I can show you the room where Danny disappeared,” he offers.

“Fine.” Scully is still giving Jackson a stern look that gives Mulder a feeling somewhere between fascination and regret. “But no more running off. That is not okay. We told your parents we'd protect you, and we can't do that if we don't know where you are.”

“Sure, fine, whatever.” Jackson scrambles to his feet, motioning them towards the house. “C’mon, I haven't gotten a chance to look around yet. Maybe Danny is still in the house!”

---

Danny is not in the house.

Lucy was right, the entire house is empty. With the lights on, it has lost some of its eerie advantage. It just looks like a rundown mansion full of props. There's no need for flashlights, but they search the entire house from head to toe. No sign of Danny.

Jackson reminds Scully of Mulder in the moment, strangely enough, as he feverishly throws himself into finding his friend. The disappointment that flickers across his face every time they don't. Finally, he leads them towards the end of the house, practically dragging Mulder, to show them the room where Danny disappeared. “It's here, it's right here,” he says as they come to a nondescript chestnut door with a sheet of plastic taped to it. “I remember, because we went through the clown room and then we saw this door and Danny opened it…”

“Jackson?” With two fingers, Scully lifts the sheet of plastic to reveal the bright yellow front, the red letters reading DO NOT ENTER.

Jackson visibly falters. “That… that was not there before,” he says uncertainly. “This is the room, it…” He reaches past Scully to yank it open and shoves his way inside. They follow, Mulder flicking on the light as they enter.

The inside of the room is completely empty. Four walls, ceiling and floor. No windows or doors or anywhere that Danny could be kept hostage. No haunted house props. It looks like an oversized closet.

Jackson is kneeling on the floor, poking at floorboards. “Here!” he says suddenly. “Scully, look--it's my blood from when I was cut.”

Scully kneels beside him on the floor and sees the red-brown splotches under his finger. “I see that, Jackson,” she says uncertainly.

“This can't be… I don't… I'm gonna go find Lucy.” And with that, the kid gets up and runs out of the room. Scully makes no move to follow.

“Scully?” Mulder's hand brushes over her shoulder. “What are you thinking?”

“If it weren't for the scratch on his leg and whatever attacked you the other night, I'd be convinced that this was all a prank,” says Scully. She gets to her feet slowly. “I'm still considering the possibility of a prank… I just don't think Jackson isn't in on it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, think about it, Mulder. Anything could've made that cut on Jackson's leg. Danny has a girlfriend who works at the haunted house who could help him pull this off. You're the only one who's actually seen anything, one of the things you saw looked like Lucy and the other one was wearing a mask. This could very easily be a mean-spirited prank on Jackson.”

“Don't forget, I shot whatever attacked me, and Lucy Gerald looks pretty damn intact,” Mulder says. “And I saw both the clown and the girl disappear.”

“You could've missed Lucy, Mulder, we talked about this,” Scully says. “And you might’ve been seeing things… hell, Jackson might’ve been seeing things. No one saw or heard anything that suggests Danny was really abducted last night. I'm starting to have my doubts.”

“Starting?” Mulder raises an eyebrow. “You're forgetting, Scully, we're experts in the unexplained. Just because no one saw anything doesn't mean that Danny wasn't abducted. Something supernatural could've easily done something without anyone seeing.”

“Yes, but there's usually some kind of suggestion of that,” Scully counters. “All I'm seeing here is suggestion that all this was faked.”

“Of course it is, Scully,” Mulder snaps. “That's all you ever see.”

“What the hell does that mean?” she protests. “We're not even supposed to be here, Mulder, remember, we're supposed to be looking for…”

“Mulder, Scully!” Jackson reappears in the room, panting hard from clearly having ran back. “Lucy’s gone. Her boss has no idea where she is, he says she doesn't have a lunch break for another two hours and he thought she was working on putting together one of their fake ghosts. But I looked and she's just… she's just gone.”

---

Lucy Gerald’s car is still in the parking lot, but there's no sign of her on the entire carnival grounds, leaving Mulder and Jackson certain that whatever monster got Danny also got Lucy, and leaving Scully certain that this is all an elaborate plan so that Lucy and Danny could run away together. (She doesn't share her suspicions, of course.)

In the end, they have nothing to go on. In the end, Jackson is hungry, so they end up at the diner he mentioned earlier. “Mom texted,” he tells them as soon as the waitress takes their order and leaves with their menus. “She said they'll be in town soon. I told them to meet us here.”

Scully breathes out a sigh of relief. “That's good,” she says. She'll feel better once they're here, she thinks. Once they can get some straight history on Danny and can decide, once and for all, whether or not they need to keep looking for him.

“Yeah.” Jackson plays with his napkin. He's not looking at either of them. “You don't believe me anymore, do you,” he says.

Scully doesn't say anything. “Jackson, why didn't you tell us that Danny had a girlfriend who worked in the haunted house?” Mulder asks, and she can't read his tone.

“Because…” Jackson clears his throat awkwardly, cerulean eyes flashing in the light above the table. “Because Lucy and Danny used to talk about running away together.” Scully holds in the urge to say I told you so; she doesn't think it would help anything at the moment. “They both hate this town so much--Lucy’s homeschooled, she never gets out or sees anyone, they're both so lonely… but I thought if I told you that, you wouldn't want to look for Danny. Even if Mulder believed me…” He's looking straight at Scully now. “I wasn't sure if you would.”

Scully swallows uncomfortably, says, “You should've told us.”

Jackson fixes her with a determined look. “Who's William?”

Mulder's hand jolts, sending water cascading across the table. Scully's frozen in place, horrified. “How do you know about William?” Mulder asks, voice low and guarded.

“I've heard you talking about him,” Jackson says. “Is he the one you're supposed to be looking for?”

Scully breathes sharply, her fingernails digging into the cracked leather of the booth. “Jackson, I don't…”

“I heard you in the haunted house,” he says quietly.

She's not looking at Mulder. She's staring at the teenage boy sitting across from them, thinking he has them figured out. There are so many things she wants to say, but they do not owe an explanation to this random kid in a small town in Wyoming. He's the one who lied to them, for fuck’s sake. He's the one who lied to them.

“Who's William?” Jackson asks again, softer this time.

The bell of the diner door rings sharply, and everyone in the booth turns towards the door. “Mom,” Jackson says, his voice as sharp as the jabs in Scully's chest, and he scrambles to his feet and runs to hug the woman in the door.

Mom. She was a mother once, and now she is not, and she is supposed to be looking for her son. She gets up from the booth. “Scully,” Mulder says next to her. His fingers brush over the bend of her wrist.

She clenches her jaw. “I'm going back to the hotel, Mulder.”

“Scully?” His voice a question this time.

“Danny ran away,” she says, her voice hard. “We need to find our son, Mulder.”

“Scully.” His fingers tighten around her wrist, keeping her from leaving. “We never said William's name in the haunted house. As far as I know, we haven't referred to William by name in a place where Jackson could hear us.”

“What are you saying?” she hisses. Behind them, Jackson is frantically talking to four adults, hands waving. There's no truth to this and she wants to leave.

“I don't know what I'm saying, Scully. I'm saying…” His eyes are pleading. “I'm saying we can't walk away from this right now.”

Scully looks at the kid again. He reminds her of someone, but she can't put her finger on who. “You can take care of this, Mulder,” she says softly. “You were always better at that. I'm going to go look for our son.”

“Scully…” he tries again, but she's already pulled free and is walking towards the door. Jackson's eyes widen as he sees her pass and he says, “Scully,” too, in a tone that sounds like an apology, but she doesn't stop, and if anyone asked her she wouldn't be able to tell them why.

---

Mulder and Jackson give a brief version of the events of the past day to the Van de Kamps and Danny’s parents. When they want to know why his partner left, he lies and says she wasn't feeling well.

Mulder tells them what he saw, the clown and the strange girl. Jackson fills in the holes in his story, swearing a thousand times up and down as to what he saw. Danny’s parents don't believe them. Of course they don't, Mulder fills in bitterly; he is more than used to this by now, but it never stops being irritating, and it stings a little more right after his wife has run off for not believing him.

“You've got to be kidding me,” Jackson says, voice layered thick with disgust, when Danny’s parents reveal their feelings. “I saw him disappear! I saw him. Look at my leg!” He motions furiously at where he'd rolled up his jeans to show them Scully's bandaging job.

“Mae, something clearly attacked Jackson…” Mrs. Van de Kamp ventures.

“That doesn't matter,” Danny’s father snaps. “No one in their right mind would believe that story!”

“The FBI does,” Jackson snaps back, petulant.

“Well then, that man is crazy, too.” Danny’s father crosses his arms. “Our son is missing, and you put this crackpot on the case? Instead of calling the police?”

“He’s an FBI agent and I knew he'd believe me,” Jackson says.

“Well, after hearing that pack of bullshit, I think it's more likely that Daniel just ran away. It wouldn't be the first time, you know,” says Danny’s father. Danny’s mother's mouth thins, but she nods in agreement.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me,” Jackson growls.

“Jackson!” his father scolds.

Jackson ignores him. His fists are balled by his sides. “Danny’s out there, in trouble, and you just want to ignore that? Let him die?”

“Daniel is not going to die,” Danny’s mother says. “And we are not ignoring him. We're going to go and look for him right now.”

“You're not going to find him,” Jackson hisses. “You're not.” He turns and storms out, towards his parents’ parked car.

Danny’s parents exit directly after that, with some whispered parting words to the Van de Kamps and no acknowledgement of Mulder. The Van de Kamps shift awkwardly as the diner bell jingles behind them. “We… don't know how to thank you for protecting Jackson, Agent Mulder,” Jackson's father says finally. “It sounds like… I don't know what would've happened if you and your partner hadn't been there.”

“Yeah, well…” Mulder balls his hands in his pockets, bouncing up and down on his feet. “It's all part of the job description.”

“Hey!” Mulder turns to see the cook jabbing a spatula at them. “Either buy something or leave!”

“Would you mind coming back to the house with us?” Jackson's mother asks quickly. “I know it's a lot to ask, but… in case Danny really didn't run away…”

He didn't, Mulder wants to say. “Sure,” he says out loud.

Which is how he ends up jostling around in the back of the Van de Kamps car with Jackson while they drive home. (Scully took the car.) Jackson retreats upstairs to his room as soon as they get home, so Mulder suffers through an awkward afternoon and meal with the Van de Kamps while they wait for something to happen. Either for Danny to turn up or for the thing to attack again, he supposes. Scully texts a few times but he swipes the messages aside without looking at them.

Darkness starts to fall, slowly and then quickly, and trick-or-treaters start to mill up the Van de Kamps’ dusty driveway. Mulder had actually forgotten it was Halloween up until this moment. He almost can't believe it.

The Van de Kamps make light conversation about the time spent protecting Jackson and his work on the X-Files until there is nothing left to say, nothing left to do but to pick at Halloween candy. Mulder tears at a wrapper absently until Jackson's dad suggests he go check on Jackson. “Just to… make sure.”

Mulder is relieved for the excuse to leave. He follows Mrs. Van de Kamp’s instructions up the stairs and down the dark hallway, and knocks on Jackson's door. “Come in,” he says, and Mulder opens the door.

Jackson is hunched over a ragged cardboard box when Mulder comes in, labeled 2002 in faded Sharpie. He sits up when Mulder comes in, but keeps something made of brightly colored fabric on his lap. “Oh, hey, Agent Mulder,” he says uncertainly.

“Mulder is fine,” Mulder says, surveying the room a little. Overstuffed bookshelf, messy desk. Jackson motions to the desk chair and Mulder sits in it.”How, um… how are you doing, kid?” he tries, an attempt at conversation.

Jackson shrugs. “I'm worried about Danny.”

“I can imagine,” Mulder says softly. So many times he's lost people, more than enough to emphasize with the kid.

“Yeah, um.” Jackson twists the cloth on his lap. “Why did Scully leave?”

“Oh, she, um…”

“Was it because of what I said? About William?”

“Um…” Mulder sighs, shifting in the desk chair. “The thing you've gotta understand about Scully is that she's under a lot of pressure. Aside from the fact that she doesn't even believe in this… demon stuff… we're, uh, we're looking for someone, and she's very grounded in that. It's not that she doesn't care, it's just…”

“William,” Jackson supplies. “You're looking for William.”

“Yeah,” Mulder says, defeated. “Yeah, we are.”

“Who's William?”

Mulder leans his head in his hands briefly, tries not to think of his son in danger somewhere. “He's our son,” he says.

Jackson doesn't prod anymore. When Mulder looks up, he's staring at the fabric in his lap. The patterns on it are blurry, but they look half familiar. Kind of like… stars. Stars and UFOs.

“Jackson,” he ventures. “How did you know about William? The only time we ever called him by name is after we dropped you off at school, and there's no way you could've heard us there.”

“Um, no.” Jackson is shaking his head. “No, you definitely brought it up around me. Last night… at the house…”

“No,” Mulder says. “No, we definitely didn't talk about it then. I remember.”

Jackson's hands twist into fists around the UFO cloth in his lap. No, not cloth--something like a onesie. Mulder is about to ask him what else he's hiding, but what ends up coming out of his mouth is, “What's all that stuff?”

“Oh, um…” Jackson's hands move in a clumsy but quick motion, dropping the onesie back into the box. “Just some stuff from when Mom and Dad first adopted me. No big deal.”

“You were adopted?” Mulder asks, in disbelief.

Jackson nods, turning his bright blue eyes up to meet Mulder's.

Something springs forth in Mulder's mind, like the light of a flame. “Jack--” he starts.

A creaking footstep out in the hall before the door slams open.

Mulder and Jackson both get to their feet and turn to face what's in the doorway. It's a kid, a little boy in a cowboy costume. But there is red smeared along his face, red on his teeth when he smiles menacingly (in the same way that the not-Lucy had the night before), red spilling out of the plastic pumpkin he extends forward.

“Mulder?” Jackson whispers. “What do we…”

The boy lunges at Mulder, making the decision for them. Mulder stumbles back, startled, fumbling for his gun, but the boy slams into him with more force than expected and the gun goes clattering out of his hand. He collapses against the bed, groaning at the pain that reverberates through his back.

“Not my weapon of choice,” the kid says in an unnerving voice, scooping up Mulder's gun. In his hand, it melts away to shadows.

“Hey!” Mulder yelps, mostly a stalling technique. “I liked that gun!”

The child smiles sweetly before lunging again, fingernails glinting sharp as knives. Mulder closes his eyes and waits for the pain, but it never comes. He hears a loud thump. He opens his eyes and sees the demon-child crumpled against the wall, sees Jackson with his hand extended, shaking just a little, but his eyes blazing enough to make up for it. “Where the fuck is my friend?” he shouts.

The boy's eyes glint red and he growls. Jackson flicks his hand in a sharp motion, and the demon slams into the wall again. “Tell me!”

The lights flicker off and Mulder yelps, reaching for the kid. When they come back on, Jackson is still there, and so is Scully. Scully is hunched against the wall in the demon's place. It takes a few good looks to tell it is not Scully, but the demon imitating Scully. Like the fucking doppelgangers. Just his fucking luck.

“You don't want to hurt me, Jackson,” it says in Scully's voice, and God help him, he falters.

“I-I won't,” Jackson stammers. “I won't if you tell me where Danny is.”

It smiles, crueler than Scully smiles. “Jackson, yo-you have to fight it,” Mulder says, and he can barely get the words out. It's Scully.

“I don't see you doing any better,” it says, turning its grin on Mulder, and he feels something clamp around his ankle all of a sudden. He can't move away, he's rooted to the spot.

“Tell. Me. Where. Danny. Is,” Jackson hisses through clenched teeth. He's putting on a good act, but his hands are still shaking. Poor kid, his hands are still shaking.

“I don't think I will,” the horrible Scully-thing says, and this is so much worse than the doppelgangers. So much worse. “And whether I do or I don't, you still won't hurt me, and do you know why? Do you know why, Jackson?”

“No,” the kid hisses.

The room is shaking, and its nails are digging hard into Mulder's ankle and he still can't move, can't even find the strength to talk. “You won't hurt me, Jackson, sweetie,” the thing says sweetly, in the voice of the woman Mulder loves. “Because you know I'm your m--”

“NO,” Jackson roars, and the lights flicker off, and the room shakes hard. Mulder absently tries to rate it on the Richter scale as he is thrown back and forth so hard that his teeth rattle in his head. The thing is hissing, and its claws are digging into Mulder's leg hard enough to draw blood, and Jackson is saying things Mulder can't understand. And the shadows are surrounding them, choking him. He's a part of them.

He tries to fight as the laughter of the thing that doesn't sound like Scully anymore echoes through his ears, but it's too late. Everything goes black.

---

Scully has typed at least five apologies to Mulder and has received a reply on none of them. She's frustrated and worried and sad. She is trying. She is. She thought they'd agree that they'd both try. She had a knee-jerk reaction like this during the first two X-Files; she thought he'd expect it. Maybe this one is because she's never actually walked away before. Or maybe it's because there's a kid involved. This is Gibson Praise and Kevin Kryder and Amber LaPierre all over again: it's always the kids with them.

Scully sits hunched over her laptop at the little table, fingers moving rapidly across the keyboard. She is combing through adoption records, trying to untangle the thread she'd knotted tightly to hide William. So tightly that she'd never be able to find him. She's buried so deeply in her screen that she misses the first call (she keeps her phone on vibrate out of annoyance for all the little sounds it makes). When she finally looks up, her screen announces the missed call from an unknown number, Wyoming area code. And then the number calls again, vibrating like an angry bee against the tabletop.

Mulder, she thinks, probably broken his phone again and calling from someone else's. She never answers numbers she doesn't recognize, but. Maybe he needs her help. Maybe this is their chance to bury the hatchet. She presses Send and lifts the phone to her ear.

“Scully, it's me!” someone unfamiliar roars into the phone.

Mulder's typical greeting, but the voice is too high to be Mulder. “Who is ‘me’?” she demands.

“Jackson Van de Kamp! You need to meet me at the carnival, right away. I stole my parents’ car.”

“You stole your parents’…” Closing her eyes wearily, she rubs her temples. “Jackson, what's going on? Where's Mulder?”

“That's what I'm trying to tell you,” Jackson says frantically. “The demon thingy, it took him.” Scully's blood freezes in her veins and she finds herself unable to speak. “It has my friend and my friend's girlfriend, I think, and now it has your boyfriend. We need to kill it. We need to kill it and save them.”

She has the same tight feeling in her chest as she's had a thousand times before, the underlying monologue of I never should've left them. “Jackson?” she says softly.

“Yeah?”

“I'll meet you there.” He sighs with relief, audibly, on the other line. “Don't do anything until I get there,” she says sharply. “I'm serious.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Jackson stammers, and she hangs up and lets the phone fall on the bed.

She wants to swear or cry out or both. She settles for swearing as she rummages for her gun. Why did she think she could leave him alone and disaster wouldn't result? Part of her wants to say that at least the kid didn't get hurt; the other part of her wants to vehemently protest that this is just as bad, with Mulder, the most equipped to fight a monster or whatever, gone, and her taking a kid into danger. But she can't argue with him; he's as stubborn as Mulder in his determination to bring his friend home.

Her fingers close around her gun and she turns and bursts out of the hotel room, running straight for the door.

---

Jackson is waiting for her at the entrance, eyes wide and nervous, fingers tangled in his jacket. “What happened?” Scully demands as she catches up to him.

Jackson motions her into the park, recounts how the demon attacked him and Mulder in his bedroom, taking on the form of a trick-or-treater first, and then her. Scully shudders; after the doppelganger mess, that couldn't have been easy for Mulder. “I think it had its hand around Mulder's ankle,” Jackson says in a rushed voice, motioning wildly with his hands. “He couldn't move. I tried to fight it, and then the lights turned off, and when they turned back on, he was gone.”

“Why did it take Mulder?” Scully demands. “Why did it take Mulder instead of you? I thought you were the intended target.”

Jackson bites his lower lip--just for a minute, he looks like a little kid. “I wouldn't let it.”

“You wouldn't let it?”

“No,” Jackson says, and doesn't elaborate.

“Jackson, what do you mean you…”

“Would you rather it have taken me?”

Scully is stunned. “No, sweetie, of course not,” she says quickly, words tangling in her mouth. “You're our responsibility, we have to keep you safe. If anyone has to be taken, it's… it's better that it's Mulder. Now I know it's real.” Even if she has no idea how to fight it.

“Why do you believe me now?” Jackson demands. “Is it because your boyfriend was taken?”

Her face is growing red; she clenches her hand around the butt of her gun and searches the crash of people in costumes and masks for the haunted house. “I always believed you, Jackson,” she says, and she doesn't know why, but she did. “I believed everything you told me. I just thought you were being lied to.”

“Well, I wasn't.” Jackson's face is just as red as hers, but from anger instead of embarrassment. “I know what I saw.”

“I know,” Scully says quietly. He reminds her so much of Mulder in this moment, and she doesn't know why. “I know.” She sees the house and motions him towards it. “Over there.”

They walk in silence for a split second before Jackson asks, “If it were… your son, telling these stories… would you believe him?” And his tone isn't accusatory but actually questioning, and he sounds like a little kid.

Scully swallows hard. “Mulder told you?”

“Yeah,” Jackson mumbles. “Would you?”

“Jackson...”

“You people again!” It's the guy who runs the haunted house, who they butted heads with quite a few times that morning. “I thought you'd have more decency than to ruin the biggest night of the year, you know…”

Scully shoves her badge in his face. “Federal agent, you have to shut down the haunted house,” she says breathlessly.

“What? You've gotta be fucking kidding me!”

“Sir, I have reason to believe that there are three people in danger in there, two of whom are adolescents. Now if I were you, I'd shut down the house right now,” Scully says in the iciest tone she has.

The owner balks under her stare and turns to start filing people out of the attraction. “Nice,” Jackson mutters under his breath, admiringly if not somewhat begrudgingly. Despite the tumultuous emotions of the moment, Scully smiles a little.

“You can't go in with me, you know,” she says to the kid as they watch people file out of the house.

“What? Scully, you have to take me with you!”

“No, I really don't,” she says. “You're a minor, you're not trained in any of this, I am not putting you in danger tonight…”

“You need me,” Jackson insists, voice hard. “I can do… just watch this.” He levels his arm in front of him, extending his hand towards the house.

Scully watches in panicked disbelief as the red Prepare for your DOOM sign rises a few inches out of the dirt. The last time she was someone do this was… no. She watches as Jackson lowers the sign gently, considers. She still wants to say no… but what are the odds that she can get any of them out on her own? “You can come,” she says quietly.

Jackson perks up. “Really?”

“Yes, but on three conditions. One, you have to do what I say. Two, you have to stay behind me. And three, if I tell you to leave, just listen.”

“Okay,” Jackson says, bouncing. “Okay.”

The people coming out of the house have slowed to a trickle. The guy motions them forward. Scully draws her gun and tells Jackson, “Stay behind me,” one more time before they enter the house.

---

The house is badly lit from candles hanging from the wall. Jackson flips the light switch to no avail. “Power's out.”

Scully groans. “Of course it is.” She digs around in her bag for a flashlight, turns apologetically back to Jackson and says, “I only have the one.”

“I have one on my keychain.” He pulls the clanking metal out of his pocket and clicks on a little light that is insanely bright for its size. Scully nods, motions him forward, and the two of them keep going.

There are no actors in the haunted house, but some of the automated scares haven't been disabled yet. So around almost every corner, there is something rigged to pop out or look gruesome. Scully's nerves are strong enough that she just jolts a few times, tensing more and more with every jump scare, but Jackson is a lot more susceptible, jumping a mile most of the time and yelping briefly with fear. “Sorry,” he mumbles on the third or fourth one.

Scully pats his shoulder comfortingly. “It happens. Mulder hates these things, you know.”

“Really?” he asks. Scully nods, and his shoulders fall a little bit with relief. “We're almost there, I think,” he adds.

“What are we looking for?” Scully bats away the ghost girl that came flying out on a string as they enter the next room.

“The room where Danny and I were taken,” Jackson says. “I think that's where it lives.”

They reach the room a few minutes later, and Jackson reaches out and turns the doorknob without hesitation. The door's hinges squeal slowly and painfully as the door swings open; Scully shudders and enters the room, flashlight held up and motioning Jackson to stay behind her. Her beam bounces off the empty wall as they come into the room, flickers once and then goes out completely, plunging them into darkness as the door slams shut behind them. “Shit!” Jackson hisses, panicked, and she can hear the jangle of his keys as he tries to get the light to come on. Scully smacks her torch hard, shaking it in place, but no luck. “Danny?” Jackson calls, voice high with fear. “Mulder?”

The next thing Scully hears is footsteps. Footsteps that can't be coming from either of them, because it's headed straight for where Jackson stands behind her. Footsteps over the creaking floorboards, and then a growling sound.

“Jackson, look out!” Scully shouts, shoving him away and stumbling into the place where he stood a minute ago. Something slams into her, something large and dark and freezing cold that slams her to the floor with its weight. Acting on instinct, she whacks it hard in what she hopes is the head with her flashlight. The growling stops; hoping it's stunned, she fumbles for her gun and aims above her, crying out, “Jackson, get out of the way!” before firing three times into the mass above her.

Nothing in the room but Jackson's shallow breathing. There is a sharp sound from somewhere above her, and then Mulder's wounded voice: “Scully?”

For a moment, she can't breathe. Her grip goes slack on the gun. “Mulder?”

The gun is knocked from her hand. Hysterical laughter fills her ears as she is pinned to the floor; she tries to struggle, but she can't move. She can feel the darkness surrounding her, getting closer, closer, closing in. “Scully!” Jackson yelps, but she can't do anything to help him, can't scream, can't do anything but…

She's somewhere else, all of a sudden, sprawled out on what feels something like a flat surface, and she hears Mulder's voice as if from underwater: “Scully?”

His arms go around her as he helps her up, and she leans into him, hugging him hard around the waist. “Mulder,” she says, voice thick with relief. “Where are we? Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” Mulder says, and he sounds kind of sad in the dark. “I don't know where we are.”

Scully blinks hard, clearing her clouded vision, and struggles to sit up without leaning on Mulder. They are in somewhere dark, somewhere without shape or form; a short distance away from them, Lucy Gerald huddles on the ground with a kid she recognizes from his photos. Danny. “God,” she says, hushed. “I should've believed him sooner.”

“Where did it get you?” Mulder touches her arm. “Back at the motel?”

“No,” she says foggily, remembering. Jackson. He's alone and defenseless now. Fuck. “No, at the haunted house. We came here to find you and Danny.”

Danny lifts his head from his girlfriend's shoulder. “Jackson? Is he here?”

“No,” Scully says, crouching on the floor in an attempt to gage their surroundings. “No, he's back there.”

“There's no way out, I've already looked,” says Mulder, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Jackson’s here? You brought him with you?”

“No, of course not! He would've come either way, I couldn't have stopped him. He… stole his parents’ car and called me on the way.”

Mulder is startled at first, but he immediately dissolves into laughs. “That kid,” he says. “That kid is endlessly creative and mildly insane.”

“Yes.” Scully swallows, says softly, “He reminds me of you.”

Mulder blinks, stunned. Seems to consider things before saying, “He's out there, right now?”

“Yeah.” She's viciously hoping that the kid runs instead of trying to save her. “Why?”

In lieu of an answer, Mulder just squeezes his eyes shut and screws up his face in concentration. It reminds her a bit of the times when he'd try to read minds after his brain surgery, even though the power had been taken away. “What are you doing?” she asks.

“I'm calling for Jackson. If he hears me, he can find us.”

“Mulder, Jackson can't hear us here,” Scully says, but she knows that's not true.

Mulder opens his eyes, squeezes her arm encouragingly, knowingly. “Yes, he can, Scully.” He turns to face the teenagers in the corner. “Danny?”

Danny blinks slowly as he switches his focus from Lucy to them. “Yeah?”

“Has Jackson ever shown you a… thing he can do? Like lifting things with his mind? Or reading thoughts?” Mulder asks, and Scully suddenly knows how he knew about William. God, she never would've known…

“Yeah, I guess so,” Danny says nervously.

“I need you to think at him. Call out for him in your mind.” Mulder squeezes her arm again. “You too, Scully.”

“O-okay,” Danny says, and he closes his eyes in an expression similar to Mulder a few minutes ago. Mulder closes his eyes, too.

Scully feels strange, trying to do this, but no stranger, she supposes, than when she'd tried to reassure Mulder when he was sick and reading minds. When she'd tried to tell him that she was there and she loved him and not to leave her. She wishes she could have talked to William when she had the chance. She closes her eyes, leaning into Mulder, and thinks, Jackson, this is Scully. We're here, we need your help.

Underneath Lucy’s protests of, “Hey, what the hell is going on?”, Scully feels the chamber they're in start to shift around them. She grips on tightly to Mulder, not wanting to lose him in the transfer, and he grips her tightly back. She opens her eyes as the shadow-room around then becomes the room she was in a few minutes ago, now lit just a little by a tiny flame. The strange sensation falls away, and she and Mulder fall, too, hitting the floor hard a few feet away from Lucy and Danny.

“Shit,” says Jackson, standing a few feet away with a strange look on his face and the flame in his hand. He's shaking, but he stands his ground. “How the hell did I do that.”

Scully hears a rabid hissing and turns to see the shape in the corner, the shape turning and advancing on Lucy and Danny, and she fumbles for her gun before she remembers that she doesn't have it. Lucy is shrieking as the monster gets closer, and Scully tries to get to her feet.

There is a whoosh of air, and the shadow demon gets pushed back into the corner with a considerable amount of force. She turns and sees Jackson with his hand extended, arm trembling but holding the monster in place. “You need to go,” he says. “Now.”

“We're not leaving you, kid,” Mulder says, voice wavering.

“Go!” Jackson shouts, all teenage exasperation, trembling from the effort. “I can't hold it much longer. I have a plan. Get Danny and Lucy out of here.”

His hand with the flame is extended, next to the hand he is using to pin the demon to the wall, and Scully suddenly recognizes the flame for what it is: a lighter. “Let's go, Mulder,” she says, moving to where Lucy and Danny are huddled on the floor. Mulder is already there, helping Danny off of the floor; she loops Lucy’s arm around her shoulders and hoists her up. They move outside of the room, where Lucy stumbles away from Scully with irritation and goes to Danny’s side. Mulder leaves Danny with her and comes with Scully to the door to watch Jackson.

He is pulling a water bottle filled with dark liquid out of his jacket, flicking off the lighter and moving closer to the demon. The demon is growling and struggling in place. Jackson unscrews the water bottle, and Scully recognizes the cloying scent. “What the fuck is that kid doing,” Mulder hisses.

Jackson is trembling with the effort of keeping the demon still, but he manages to put the lighter away and spray his Dasani of gasoline all over the monster. It hisses wildly, angrily. “Jackson, you're gonna have to get out of there, fast!” Scully shouts.

Jackson ignites the lighter, holds it over the demon. “Run!” Mulder shouts, pounding the door frame with one hand.

He drops the lighter and spins on his heel, runs as the demon ignites in flame. It roars in pain, and the room shakes, the walls shifting. Scully reaches for him and yanks him out of the room by his arm. “We need to go,” she says breathlessly.

The fire is spreading as the demon shrieks and runs around the room, smoke choking the tiny space. Jackson slams the door behind them before leading them towards the nearby exit. Smoke chokes the hallways as they exit, Lucy and Danny with their arms around each other's waists, Mulder and Scully huddling near Jackson. Scully puts a hand on the kid's shoulder and covers her mouth and nose with her free hand. Mulder puts his hand in hers and squeezes. It is getting harder and harder to see. Scully breathes a sigh of relief when they hit the outside, fresh air.

Carnival goers and employees mingle around outside; their eyes widen when they see the ragged group of people outside the haunted house. “Call an ambulance!” Mulder shouts.

Lucy and Danny collapse at a nearby picnic table and Jackson comes over to hug them in relief. Lucy doesn't seem too thrilled about that--she must still be mad at him--but Danny accepts his friend's hug gratefully. “Dude,” he says, sounded exhausted but no less impressed. “That was badass.”

Jackson laughs, thumping him on the back. “Thanks, man. I'm glad you're okay.”

Scully turns to hug Mulder briefly but gratefully. They both smell like ashes and gunpowder, but she is glad they're all okay. She's glad the kid is okay.

Sirens start up in the distance, close to the entrance of the park. “Oh, I should… probably go explain things,” Jackson says to Danny and Lucy. “Will you guys be okay?”

Lucy says nothing, but Danny nods, taking her hand. “We'll be fine.”

“Okay. I'll send a paramedic over here,” Jackson says, standing and coming towards the sirens.

“We'll come, too,” says Scully, stepping away from Mulder. “We can help fill in the gaps.”

“Oh, yeah.” Jackson looks awkwardly at the ground, but there is the hint of a smile at the edges of his mouth. “Thank you guys for, um… for saving my life.”

Mulder is smiling a little, too. “Thank you for saving ours.”

Jackson nods, looking up and meeting their eyes. “I'm sorry I lied before,” he says. “You guys are really cool.” He turns and walks towards the sirens. They follow behind him.

“Mulder,” Scully says. They are both watching Jackson, she realizes, as he walks a few feet in front of them. “I, uh, I had a few thoughts on this… this search for William.”

Before they can say anything, they hear a loudly bellowed, “William Jackson Van de Kamp!” Seconds later, Jackson's mother appears, throwing her arms around her son.

“Scully,” Mulder says quietly, watching Jackson suffocated in his mother's embrace. “I don't think we need to look for William anymore.”

“I know,” she whispers, taking his hand. Jackson's bright blue eyes glint in the light of the spreading fire behind them and she rests her head on his shoulder. “I know.”

this fic was a long wip that changed premise at least 4 times and actually managed to get finished despite me starting it 27 days later than i would’ve liked. @firstofoctober sent me the excellent prompt “creepy halloween carnival/fair - mulder & scully, william”, and i finally, finally found something i wanted to do and ran with it. having written it entirely between college visits, installments of stranger things, and at 5 am, chunks of writing can be attested to this

- danny was straight up named after the kid in the shining; i bought a copy at a university book store the day i started writing it

- any parallels to stranger things or other various horror movies i probably channeled are unintentional.the demon was always a demon who moved through shadows (thought up pre-st s2), but i didn’t name it “shadow demon” until post st s2, and didn’t figure out the parallels to shadow monster/shadow demon until i’d already posted prt 1. headdesk.

- sources for most of my s11 spec: x, x, x. i mostly centered this story around the two major s11 theories i’ve had: that mulder and scully will be on the run looking for william all season, and that they’ll meet william(/jackson??) on a case and have no idea it’s him

- that being said, i don’t love calling william jackson, and you better believe it was hard for me. (one time, i straight up typed william instead of jackson, in the scene where mulder is talking to the vdks on the phone.) i mostly wanted to do it to a) try and get used to the william’s name is jackson now theory (news???) and b) to help conceal william’s identity from m&s longer, bc i thought they’d figure it out sooner if they were hanging with a kid who reminds them a lot of them, and oh, hey, his name happens to be william...

- that also being said, the clown in this fic is dedicated to it, s7 of ahs, the potential murder clown i saw outside my mom’s house, and my friend jack’s (short for jackson, go figure) haunted trail, which really did feauture the white room with strobe lights and clowns invading your personal space that jackson/william talks about in the book. go figure

#happy halloween pt 2 #xf fanfic #i wrote this

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