#oz realize now he shoulders all the bullshit again

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 5

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @thunderintheshadows​

“So how did you end up here?” Salena asks, as they lounge on her back deck, sipping sparkling water infused with fresh fruit and enjoying the view and the sound of the ocean. With a steady wind blowing though, the waves are impressive, perfect surfing conditions.  Mac and Stanlee are asleep and curled up together in the sun while Declan is tucked tightly into the new neighbour’s side, comfortably napping with his head resting against her. “In Australia?”

 Esme settles back into her chair, Addie -awake and content- laying along her arm.  “My husband’s Australian.”

 “But how did you end up here? You’re obviously not from Oz.”

 “I’m actually a long way from home. Well, what used to be my home. I’m originally from Colorado.”

 “From the snow and the mountains to this,” Salena nods towards the ocean. “That’s quite the change in scenery.”

 “I’ll take this over the snow and mountains any day of the week. We used to live here. We actually met here. My husband used to live in Kimberley. We got married here, our oldest was born here. We used to live just outside of Sydney.”

 Salena gently combs her fingers through Declan’s hair. “And you moved back to the States?”

 “Because of work. My husband’s work.  He was contracted out a lot. Constantly travelling. So we thought it would be a good idea to be closer to my family, in case I ever needed something while he was out of town. He just thought it would be a good idea to have people close by. Just in case.”

 Her neighbour nods. “How did you two even meet? Colorado and Australia are pretty far apart. And on two completely different sides of the world.”

 “We were working for the same company and got contracted out to the same job.”  It’s a vague explanation, but it’s the truth.

 “What kind of company? Sorry!” she laughs, and Declan gives a small jump but doesn’t waken. “I’m not trying to be nosy. I’m just trying to get a read on you. You’re a hard person to read. Has anyone ever told you that?”

 “I may have heard it once or twice,” Esme admits. Or a dozen. A side effect of the job, she supposes. Years of pretending to be someone she wasn’t to get what she wanted ….and what others needed…out of people. Being herself had never been an option with Mark; he was too busy trying to tear her down and turn her into something and someone she wasn’t. It had taken a lot of work, and a phenomenal amount of patience, on Tyler’s part to get her to be herself -her true self- with him. In the same way she’d had to work long and hard at breaking all his walls down.

 “If it’s a trust thing…”

 “It’s not that. I mean it is,” Esme attempts to explain. “In a way. It’s not something that comes easily to me. The job I was in…the other people who were in it…it was complicated, and they were complicated. It’s engrained in me. Not connecting with people. Which is really sad and pathetic, I know.”

 “It doesn’t sound sad or pathetic,” Salena assures her. “It sounds like someone who’s used to getting hurt.”

 “That’s part of it, I guess. My ex-husband was a complete and utter dick. Abusive in every way you can imagine. When I got away from him, I swore I was done with men. That I’d never again trust one, let alone get married again. Well, I think it’s obvious that didn’t last.”

 Salena laughs at that.

 “It was private security,” her eyes are on the infant in her arms, a soft smile on her face as she uses a fingertip to push the thick, dark tresses off of Addie’s forehead. “What we were contracted out to do. That’s how we met. Through work.”

 It’s not that simple of course; it wasn’t as innocent as two people connecting at the water cooler or making eyes at one another across a meeting room. It is much more complicated. Twisted, even. But it’s definitely not the kind of love story to be telling the neighbour the first time you meet her. Not to mention Tyler would lose his mind if he found out she was telling a total stranger the details of their old life.

 “And you just sort of clicked, huh? That sounds cute. Kind of romantic, even.”

 Esme laughs. “It was far from cute or romantic. Let’s just say that lust was the driving influence and leave it that. He was pretty hard to resist. He still is.”  

 It makes her smile; that even after six years and five kids, even the simplest of kiss or look from him can still take her breath away.

 “So you ended up hooking up through work, got married, started off in Australia and ended up Colorado.”

 Esme nods and sips her drink. “Then he came into some money and was able to retire and we decided to come back here. We figured it was the best place to raise our family and grow old together. Somewhere quiet and fairly secluded. Safe.”

 “You guys have a hell of a spot, that’s for sure. Definitely perfect for a family. I remember when it went up for sale. I took a look at it but was way to big just for Stanny and I. Not to mention it was way out of my price range. But it’s an incredible place.”

 “We love it. It’s everything we could have possibly wanted.  Or even dreamed of having. I wish we’d come back sooner. It would have avoided a lot of drama and solved a lot of problems.”

 “Well what’s the saying? Hindsight is twenty twenty? No sense looking back. Just keeping looking forward. Mind you, it took me a long time to practice what I preach.  I didn’t make a lot of good decisions myself. With my personal life.”

 Esme moves the baby to her chest; pressing a kiss to her daughter’s temple before placing a palm on the back of her head for support, then gently guiding it down to her shoulder, other hand softly patting her on her diapered bum.  “Bad relationship?”

 “Same as you. Bad ex-husband. Mine wasn’t abusive, but he had addiction issues. I tried for three years to help him. But you can’t help anyone that won’t help themselves. No matter how much you love them and want to save them.”

 “Some people can’t be saved,” Esme reasons, and Salena nods in agreement. “I learned that the hard way. And I’m sorry you had to, too.”

 “It’s nice to find someone that ‘gets it’.  That knows what it’s like to live with someone like that. How it isn’t as easy to get away like most people think. Don’t they think we would if we could? Get the hell out? If it was that simple, wouldn’t we have left a long time ago?”

 “I would have left the second Mark started his shit.  The very first time he ever raised his hand to me. But I thought I loved him and that we were meant to be and all that other stupid shit we believe at first.  I thought I could help him and change him and that everything would be great. And the worse it got, the more I thought I could help. I guess I thought it made me a failure if I just gave up and walked away. Not to mention I have a mother that put that crap in my head but that’s besides the point.”

 “Are we sisters from another mister?” Salena gives a dry laugh. “Because our mothers sound one in the same.”

 “I can’t believe I actually thought he was a decent person at first. I mean, looking back at it? The signs were all there that he was a dick! But I was young, and I thought him being controlling and protective was just his way of showing he loves me. I was so goddamn stupid. It’s infuriating! Especially now that I know what real love feels like.”

 “And what does it feel like?”

 “It’s hard to describe. You just feel it. Every time they smile at you or they do something so unexpected and sweet for you. Or when you’re feeling gross and ugly and all you have to do is look at the way they’re looking at you. Or how they make you feel like you’re the most important person in their entire world. I know that sounds like a bunch of bullshit, and I always thought it was too. Until I actually started experiencing it.”

 She’s never thought about it before. All the things…big and small…that remind her every day that just how loved she is.  The soft forehead kisses or the ones to the temple. The tight, strong hugs that feels as if they’re capable of solving any problem.  Or how he always covers her up with a blanket if she manages a nap on the couch or outside in one of the recliners. How he’ll get up in the middle of the night even she is the feeding the baby; fetching her a snack and something to drink and then staying awake with her until Addie is ready for sleep again.

 It’s all the thing you don’t realize are happening until you sit back and take stock of them. Those tender moments that you’d never expect from a big, strong, and often intimidating man.

 “Well, you’re lucky,” Salena says. “Very lucky.”

 “I am,” Esme smiles. “I don’t think I realize it often enough. You sort of take it for granted.  That they’ll just be there doing these things.”

 “Until one day they’re not.”

 Esme nods. She’s already come close to that. Mere minutes from away from not having the life that she does now. Had the ending in Dhaka gone different, she would have been back in Colorado, alone, when she was expecting Millie. Her daughter would have never known her father, and none of the kids after her would even exist. And it’s a sobering thought.

 “I hope I get to experience it one day,” Salena muses. “That kind of love.”

 “I never thought I’d find it. I’d give up that decent men even existed. It happens when you least expect it, trust me. I did not take that job thinking I was going to meet my future husband. Or that I’d end up with five kids.”

 “Are you going to make it an even half dozen?”

 “Oh hell no,” Esme laughs. “We are done. We’ve closed up shop. Five is enough. And first, after the twins, we thought three was enough. Apparently, we changed our minds. Twice.”

 “I don’t know what your other kiddos look like, but this guy…” she smiles down at Declan. “…is a cutie pie. I could just sit here snuggling with him all day, I swear. What a cuddle bug.”

 “Well you’re more than welcome to borrow him from time to time. Because this momma needs a break some days.”

 “Anytime you need that break; you just send him this way. Because he is just too freaking precious.”

 “He probably needs a break too. He’s a little jealous of his baby sister. And his big sister and brothers like to torment him. They’re going to have to be careful. Because he’s going to be huge and strong and lay them all out one day.”

 “He’s definitely a big boy,” Salena agrees. “But so goddamn cute. I mean, look at those eyelashes. They go on for days.”

 “He gets those from daddy. All the kids have them.”

 “I used to run a day care,” she says.  “So I have the experience. I’m not joking when I say you can bring him here. He’d be in good hands.”

 “I may just take you up on that. It’s fine when my husband’s home because he doesn’t think twice about jumping in and doing it all himself.  These two alone can wear me out. Never mind when the other three aren’t in school.”

 “Well think about it. I’m more than willing to tame little man off your hands when you need me to.”

 “I will,” Esme promises. “Think about it.”

 Salena smiles, then leans down to press a kiss to Declan’s forehead. “I do I hope I find it one day. That love you’re talking about.”

 “You will,” Esme assures her. “When you’re not even looking for it.”

 ****

 It’s four thirty by the time they arrive home; covered in sweat and grime after a long day of working hard in the sun.  Ovi had fallen asleep only five minutes into the drive home; snoring lightly, head resting against his window. Now Tyler nudges him awake; gently, so as not to startle him enough to jump clear out of his skin. He’s been having sleep issues for years as well; night terrors, bouts of insomnia, easily frightened and startled if woken up too abruptly.  And he raises his head from the glass, blinking several times as he tries to orientate himself with his surroundings; a frown on his face, a hand rubbing at his stick neck.

 “What we talked about this morning,” Ovi begins, as he climbs out of the truck and follows Tyler around to the tailgate.  “About the whole job thing.”

 “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that anymore,” Tyler toes off his dirty work boots, dropping them into the bed of the pickup. “In fact…” he yanks his t-shirt over his head, using it to wipe the sweat from his forehead and the back of his neck. “…I thought I said we’re not talking about it again.”

 “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Ovi says in way of an apology. “Or bring up bad memories.”

 “Yeah? So why’d you even bring up then? Did you think I was going to be okay with it?”  There’s a gym bag with a change of clothes in the bed of the truck, and he pulls out a tank top and slips it on. Then steps out of his filthy cargos and climbs into a pair of board short. “You thought I’d say it was a good idea?”

 “I thought you’d at least listen,” Ovi admits.  “That you of all people would understand.”

 “Understand what?” Tyler gathers up the dirty clothes, bunching then and rolling them together before heading up the driveway. “That you’re a fucking idiot for even thinking about it?”

 “You thought about it once. You went into it.”

 “Yeah, because I was a fucking idiot.”

 “If you’d never gotten into the job, you never would have met Esme,” Ovi points out.

 “She has nothing to do with this. Don’t bring her into your bullshit.”

 “It kind of has everything to do with it. Without the job, there’d be no Esme. And without Esme, there’d be no kids, so…”

 “Don’t use my wife and my kids as an excuse for making a shitty ass decision. Don’t use them to justify something stupid. I’m one of the lucky ones. I managed to stay alive. I managed to get the hell out and have a normal life. Or whatever normal is. Do you know how many guys actually manage that? To survive? To get out and have a wife and kids?”

 Ovi shakes his head.

 “Ten percent. If that. And the ones who do get married and start having kids and are still in the job? Most are divorced. Most don’t ever see their kids. Why the hell would you want that for yourself?”

 “It would be a good opportunity.”

 He tosses the dirty work clothes into the laundry basket that sits next to the door that leads into the house. “A good opportunity for what? Getting shot in the fucking head?”

 “To prove myself.”

 “What the hell does going into the job prove? Other than you’re an idiot. I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation. There’s nothing to prove. You know what kind of guys go into the job? The ones who don’t have the fucking brains to do anything else. Or the ones who like to kill or get off on it. The ones who have nothing left to live for and don’t care if they catch a bullet or not.  I was that guy. That’s why I did it. Because I was too much of a coward to pull the trigger myself, so I figured why not just let someone else do it.”

 “And the money…”

 “Fuck the money. It was never really about that. That was just a bonus if I managed to survive. You are too good for this. For the job. Way too good. And you deserve more than that. A better life. Don’t get caught up in that bullshit. Don’t end up like me; fucked in the head. You think I want to be like this? Have these issues? Have to drug myself up every day just to function? You think this is how I want to live? I can’t go back and change things. I can’t take back all the ways I hurt my wife. All the lies I told her, the promises I never kept, the times I left her when she needed me the most. I fucked up. I should have left the job after Dhaka and never went back.”

 “But this time would be different,” Ovi insists. “We’d be working together. We’d be in charge.”

 “And what the hell do you know about the job? Other than what you saw in Dhaka. Name one thing you know about it that didn’t come from watching me.”

 “I don’t know…” Ovi shrugs, scratching at the back of his head.

 “You know shit about that job. Keep it that way.  It’s a horrible fucking life. Don’t do that yourself. And especially don’t do that to Chloe.”

 “She thinks it’s a good idea.  That it’s something I should try.”

 “Then you go back to Chloe and you tell her I said she’s just as stupid as you are.”

 “Where are you going?” Ovi asks, when Tyler opens the door to step inside the house. “We’re not done talking about this.”

 “Yeah, we are. Or at least I am. Now I’m going inside, and I’m going to kiss my wife and spend time with my kids. Don’t bring this up again.”

 And with that he disappears into the house, slamming the door behind him.

 ****

She’s on the back patio, pulling clean laundry from a massive wicker basket that sits on the ground beside her. Folding clothes of all sizes and neatly arranging them -according to person- on the table. And she looks up at him as he steps through the sliding door, flashing that smile that still manages to make him weak in the knees even six years later.

 “Hey,” she cheerfully greets. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t home until later. How did…?”

 Placing his hands on the sides of her face, he kisses her. Long, slow, and deep. Until she’s standing her tip toes and her body is leaning into his. He’d been dying to do it all day; since he conversation with his father. After he’d talked about just how lucky he was to have someone like her. Not just as his wife and the mother of his children, but as his best friend, partner, lover, and confidant. The one person in the world that knows all his deepest and darkest secrets yet never judges or condemns him for them.  Who he can be himself with, even at his weakest and most vulnerable.  Who knows what kind of fucked up mess he is and still sticks around, giving him chance after chance.

She gives a long sigh of approval when the moment ends, her forearms resting against his chest as she smiles up at him.  “Mmmm…what was that for?”

 He pushes his hands through her hair, letting them fall onto her shoulders and down her back, coming to rest on her hips. “I need a reason to kiss my wife?”

 “That wasn’t your usual ‘hey, I’m home’ kind of kiss. That was something entirely different. Kiss me like that again.”

 He obliges; hands tightening their grip on her and pulling her against him, her palms sliding up his chest and over his shoulders and settling at back of his neck as she eagerly returns the kiss. Giggling and pulling away when his hands slid down to her ass.

 “Okay…now that’s just wrong,” she scolds. “That is taking things way too far and you know it. Why do you insist on torturing me like this?”

 “Believe me, I’m torturing myself just as much.”

 “If you want to call two blow jobs in one night torture….”

 He grins, hands back on her hips as he presses a kiss to her forehead. “I thought I showed you how grateful I was. Twice. Or did you forget about that part? Me returning the favour?”

 “Oh trust me, you don’t forget orgasms like that. And can we stop talking about this? Because you smell so good right now and you’re all sweaty and dirty and just when I think my hormones cannot get any more out of control then they are already are…” she places her hands on his chest and tries to push him away; he’s all rock solid muscle and doesn’t even budge. “…you need to step back like ten feet before I just say to hell with what the doctor said and jump you right here.”

 “I probably wouldn’t stop you,” he admits, and then laughs when she reaches for the waist of his shorts. “But, it’s not a good idea.”

 “You’re the worst,” she pouts dramatically and returns to the laundry.

 “The absolute worst,” he agrees, and kisses her temple before journeying over to the bar fridge in the corner, taking out two bottles of water, uncapping both and handing one to her. “Where’s the kids?” he asks, as he drops into the chair across from her.

 “The baby is in her crib asleep and Chloe took the rest of your feral offspring down to the water.”

 “Chloe, huh?”

 “What’s the matter with Chloe?? You never had a problem with her watching the kids before. I thought you liked her.”

 Tyler shrugs. “I can take her or leave her.”

 “Well I think Ovi would appreciate a little more enthusiasm from you. Dd you he tell you that they’ve been looking at rings?”

 His eyes narrow, bottle of pressed against his lips. “What kind of rings?”

 “Engagement rings. I guess they’ve been talking. About the next step.”

 “He just turned twenty.”

 “I know,” Esme sighs. “But they’ve been talking about it. I told him that if he’s going to ask, they should make it a long engagement. Not to rush into actually getting married. I mean, they’re already living together so they’re getting the opportunity to see what marriage is like in a sense.”

 “Don’t encourage them.”

 “I’m not encouraging it. If he’s going to get her a ring, he’s going to do it regardless of what either of us say. It’s not we can tell him what to do.”

 Tyler scowls. “Why the hell not?”

 “Because he’s twenty years old, that’s why. He’s an adult.”

 “Barely.”

 “Regardless, he’s is a man now and he’s going to do what he wants. And apparently what he wants is to marry her. Hopefully later, rather than sooner. We can’t stop them, Tyler. It’s going to happen whether we think it’s a bad idea or not.”

 “It’s a fucking terrible idea,” he growls. “I know you like her, but…”

 “It’s not that I like her or dislike her. It’s that I love Ovi like he’s my own and I just want him to be happy. And if Chloe is who makes him happy…”

 “How does he even know?” Tyler challenges. “She’s like the second girl he’s ever been with for fuck sakes. How does he know there’s not someone out there that might make him even happier?”

 “You were only the third guy I’d ever been with and I knew you made me happy,” she points out.

 “That’s not the same thing and you know it.  We were both in our thirties when we met. We were old enough to know exactly what…and who…we wanted. He’s barely out of his teens and he wants to get married? Fuck that.”

 Esme smirks. “Is your problem with Chloe or marriage itself?”

 “If I had a problem with marriage do you think I would have even asked you? Or stuck around for six years? And if you even think of saying something like ‘you stick around for the kids’ I will lose my shit.”

 “Okay, you are getting a little too wound up. I meant it as a joke. I obviously know you haven’t stuck around just for the kids. Just like I already know this is about Chloe. Why’d you ever agree to let her move here with me if you didn’t like her?”

 “Because I knew he wouldn’t come with us if I didn’t.”

 “Because you want him to be happy, right?”

 “Of course I do. But I also wanted him where he belongs. With us. He wasn’t ready to live away from us and you know it. He’s still not. Yet you think it’s perfectly fine that he gets married?”

 “Tyler, I don’t want to fight about this.”

 “I’m not…” he sighs heavily, then lowers his voice and softens his tone. “…I’m not fighting. I just think it’s bullshit. It’s way too soon and he’s nowhere near ready for that kind of thing.”

 “Which…” she steps around to his side of the table, softly rubbing his shoulders before curling her arms around his neck and perching herself on his thigh. “…is why I told him if he does ask her, he needs to take the next part slow.  That he doesn’t need to rush things. That he should just enjoy being engaged and planning things. And he said he would. So…” she kisses his cheek. “…why are you so wound up over this?”

 “I’m not wound up.”

 “This bulging vein in the side of your neck…” she runs a fingertip down it. “….says you are wound up. What’s going on? All of a sudden you have a hate on for Chloe? I thought you liked her.”

 “I never said I liked her. I said I was okay with her. There’s a difference.”

 “Well can you at least rein it in a bit for tonight? Because I sort of…kind of…invited them for dinner and…”

 “Oh for fuck sake,” he grumbles.

 “…and I thought we could cook down on the beach. Nice and casual. Relaxed. And judging by the tension in your shoulders, you could use something casual and relaxed. Are you okay? This it not all about Ovi and Chloe.”

 “It’s just been a long day,” Tyler reasons. “A lot of hours out in the sun and I’m tired and sore and now I have to play nice with Ovi’s…whatever the hell she is.”

 “If you play nice for me, I will play nice for you. Later. When all of the kids are asleep.”

 He smirks. “Are you trying to bribe me?”

 “I don’t know. Does bribery work on you?”

 “You’ve used it before on me and it’s worked,” he points out. “You really do have all the power. You know exactly how to get what you want.”

 “Oh baby, you don’t know the full extent of my power,” she teases, and kisses him, her fingers combing through his hair, nails digging lightly into his scalp and dragging all the way down to the nape of his neck. “Are you okay? You seem a little…I don’t know…on edge.”

 “I’m fine. It was just a really long day. I’m tired, I stink…”

 “I like your stink,” she nestles her face into the side of his neck. “…and it’s not a stink. It’s just how you smell when you’ve been working hard. It’s…you.”

 “Fuck you’re weird.”

 “But you love me.”

 “Yeah,” he rubs her back. “I do. For some goddamn reason.”

 “Did it go that bad today? At your dad’s? I thought you would have said something when you first got home, and I didn’t want to pressure you into talking about.”

 “Things went fine. We got everything done we needed to.”

 “That’s not what I’m asking, and you know it. Did you actually talk to him?”

 Tyler nods.

 “And? How bad is he? The dementia?”

 “Well he told his nurse that I was his brother who died twenty years ago if that’s telling you anything.”

 “I’m sorry, baby,” she nuzzles her nose against his neck and softly strokes the hair at the back of his head. “I know we were told it was bad, but it’s still a blow to see it for yourself.”

 “I felt nothing. When I saw him. When I talked to him. I didn’t feel sad, I didn’t feel pity, I didn’t feel regret. I felt nothing.”   Fuck, it sounds horrible to his own ears. Has his own mental health actually come to this? That he’s become emotionally absent? That he just has nothing left to give anyone else? Is it really possible to be that empty inside and still be alive?  “How fucked up is that? How fucked up am I? That I felt nothing? What the hell is wrong with me?”

 “Nothing is wrong with you, Tyler.  You don’t owe him anything. Not after everything he put you through. What he put your mother through. You have nothing but pain and bad memories because of him. You’re not fucked up. You’re just…hurt.”

 “I didn’t even feel that. And I thought I would. Or that I’d be angry. And I wasn’t. I just sat there. I just sat there and talked to him and that was it.”

 “What did you talk about? Just regular stuff or…?”

 “A whole bunch of things. Us. The kids.  He seemed happy that we named the baby after my mum. That I finally did something right with my life in his eyes.”

 “You’ve done a lot right and you know. Just because he can’t see those things, doesn’t mean they never happened. You know what they are. I know what they are. That’s all that matters.”

 He nods in agreement.

 “And you can say you feel nothing, but I know you do. I know there’s a lot of anger there. And you have every right to feel that.  I just don’t want it destroying you. You don’t have to hold that in, you know. It’s okay to be pissed off. You had a shitty childhood. He made your life hell. No one will judge you for being angry.”

 “I just need to go in the gym and beat the shit out of the heavy bag for half an hour and I’ll be fine.”

 “Then do it,” she encourages, pecking his lips before tousling his hair and sliding off his lap. “If that’s what will make you feel better.”

 “Well there’s something else that would make feel even better than that, but we can’t do that yet, so…” he stands up and lays a hand on the side of her face, kissing her softly before drawing her into his arms once more; one hand on the back of her head, the other on the small of her back.  “Thank you.”

 “For what?”

 He drops a kiss on the top of her head and squeezes her tightly. “Everything.”

[theajaheira]

imperfections (60/?)

read it on ao3!

it is SO NICE to have reached the part of this fic where canon is more a Suggestion than anything. like i know we got there when i kept jenny alive but STILL.

Jenny entered the room and saw Rupert looking at her with glassy, tired eyes. He looked like he wanted to say something in response, and so she added, “If you speak and ruin your voice—”

In answer, Rupert picked up a pad and paper, scribbling something down and holding it up. Can’t speak, it read. Doctor’s orders.

Jenny tried to smile. “I’m so glad you’re not dead,” she managed. “I think I kinda flipped out and scared pretty much all our kids.”

Rupert considered, then made a little motion with his hand. Jenny stepped closer, watching him write. When you were tortured by Angelus, the paper read, I was short with Xander, distant with Willow, and completely detached from reality until I was positive you were all right.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t stab somebody,” said Jenny, trying to laugh.

She felt Rupert’s free hand at her waist. I love you, darling, he wrote. I am so lucky to have you in my life.

It was so strange that Jenny wasn’t absolutely in tears at that statement. She’d been crying on and off all night, and had half-expected to completely break down as soon as she saw that Rupert was okay. But seeing him, knowing he wasokay, somehow made every terrible part of the night bearable again, and so she sat down on the bed next to him, settling herself into his arms. “I love you all the time and always,” she whispered.

On the paper, Rupert drew a little heart.

Faith poked her head around the door, smiling slightly upon seeing them both. “How are you guys?” she asked in a whisper.

“Okay,” said Jenny, and managed a watery smile. “Sorry I went all psycho.”

“Eh,” said Faith. “You get a get-out-of-jail-free card when your boyfriend gets kidnapped. If that Cruciamentum bullshit had happened to Buffy, I’d have stabbed way more people than just Travers.”

You stabbed TRAVERS?????? Rupert wrote, then gave Jenny an extremely impassioned kiss on the cheek.

“Stop—stop!” Despite herself, Jenny was laughing. “I set such a bad example for the kids—”

“Are you kidding?” said Faith. “You’ve made me realize my long-hidden dreams of becoming an axe murderer. I owe you so much, Jen.” She entered the room, then called over her shoulder, “Hey, guys, c’mon in! Jen’s all normal again!”

Buffy was next through the door. Upon seeing Rupert, she made this little sobbing noise, then took two running steps over to the bed, clambering into his lap like a five-year-old and winding her arms around his neck. Rupert looked a bit overcome.

“Yeah, she’s majorly fucked up,” said Faith helpfully, stepping to the side so that Willow and Xander could move past her. “She said while we were driving over that she thought you were dead when she saw you.” Though her tone was light, her posture was tense. “So I think she should get a whole bunch of hugs, ‘cause thinking your Watcher’s dead can mess you the fuck up—”

Jenny held out her hand, and was somewhat startled when Faith came over to the bed without the usual awkward hesitancy. Instead, she sat down next to Jenny, then snuggled into her side. “I could do with some hugs too, y’know,” Faith added. “Seeing as you went all psycho in the car.”

Jenny tugged Faith closer. “I’m so sorry I scared you,” she murmured.

Faith shrugged, looking up at her. “I know what it’s like to go through fucked up stuff and have it come back to get you,” she said. “That Travers guy, he was the reason Giles left over the summer, right?”

“He was,” said Jenny, touched.

Faith grinned. “I’m glad you got a good stab in,” she said.

Jenny dared a glance at Rupert at that statement, and was surprised to find that there was no disapproval or regret in his eyes. She’d been expecting him to be upset that she’d stabbed his old boss, or at least a little emotionally conflicted, but—

Turning very slightly and reaching over Buffy’s head, Rupert tilted Jenny’s chin up and kissed her, soft and solid. And all of a sudden, Jenny knew that they were not going to be breaking up again.

Faith wolf-whistled, Willow dissolved into relieved giggles, Joyce seemed to be pretending to read one of the pamphlets she’d taken from the waiting room, and Xander said, “Do you guys just make it a habit of making out in hospital rooms?”

“Leave them alone, Xander, they’ve had a tough night,” said Buffy into Rupert’s shoulder. Raising her head, she gave them both a soft, crooked smile. “You okay, Ms. Calendar?” she asked.

Jenny made a face.

Buffy giggled. “Me too,” she said.

Willow stepped forward, sitting down at the foot of the bed with a small sigh. “What time is it?” she asked through a yawn. “We have school tomorrow—”

“Yeah, none of you are going to school tomorrow,” said Jenny, waving a hand. Belatedly, she realized that one of these kids actually did have a parent who might object to her statement, and hastily added, “Though I can’t speak for Buffy—”

“Oh, no, Buffy is staying home,” Joyce agreed. “I think we all need a break after tonight. Myself included.” She let out a shaky laugh. “Are all your nights like this?”

“Last time it was me and Ms. Calendar who got kidnapped by a crazy vampire,” Willow replied with a little grin. Her smile faded. “Nobody got their throat cut, though.”

“No, but I think my sweater is still soaked through with drunken vampire tears,” quipped Jenny, reaching out to give Willow’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “So are we going home, or—”

“The doctor mentioned something about Rupert staying overnight for observation, I think,” said Joyce somewhat apologetically. “If you want, I can go get some things from your house, make this a little more comfortable?”

“Thank you, Joyce, yes,” said Jenny, giving her a small, grateful smile. “I don’t think any of us feel really ready to leave Rupert just yet.” Upon seeing that the children were all nodding in agreement, Rupert looked incredibly touched. “Stop looking so surprised, you dork, we love you,” Jenny added, pressing a theatrical kiss to his temple.

“Yeah!” Xander agreed. “Who else would I check out hot guys with?”

There was then a shocked silence. Slowly, and trying not to laugh, Jenny turned to look at Rupert, who had his lips pressed together in a way that suggested he was doing his best not to start giggling himself.

It took a moment for Xander to realize what he’d just said. “That,” he said, then, “Uh,” and finally, “Oh god.”

“Wait, man, you like dudes?” said Faith, looking interested.

“This is my nightmare,” said Xander to himself. “This is my nightmare come to life again. Where’s that baseball-playing kid so we can snap him out of it?”

“Speaking of baseball,” said Jenny helpfully, “you and Rupert aren’t the only ones in this room who play for both teams.” She grinned. “If that helps.”

“Oh my fucking god,” said Faith, and started giggling. “Is no one in this room straight?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Xander, his panic now edging towards bemusement.

“Well, there’s me,” said Faith, gesturing to herself with her thumbs, “and I’m all about the ladies. And there’s you and Jen and Giles, and you guys are into everyone, right?”

“That about sums it up,” Jenny agreed.

“And there’s me,” said Buffy, a small, shy smile on her face.

Faith’s easy grin faltered and her eyes went all soft. “You?” she said, turning to look at Buffy.

“But you already knew that one, though, right?” said Buffy, her gaze directed unhesitatingly at Faith. “Seeing as I liked Angel and I like you.”

Jenny and Rupert stared, Xander’s jaw dropped, and a huge, stupid grin spread across Faith’s face. Joyce, however, smiled slightly, then said, “Well, there were a lot of Dorothy Hamill posters on your wall when you were eight—”

“Mom!” said Buffy indignantly, but she was grinning a little.

“So wait, you and Buffy—” Xander was saying to Faith.

“Can she help it?” Faith seemed to be doing her best to sound casual, but she was all but glowing. “I’m totally hot stuff.”

Jenny heard the scritch-scratch of pen on paper, and turned to look at Rupert. You know, he was writing, I believe there was a study done about the tendency of non-heterosexual youth to group off early in life, though I daresay it is unusual that both of us are included in that number—

“Nerd,” said Jenny, kissing him on the cheek.

Abruptly, and without explanation, Willow stood up, her eyes full of tears. “I—” she began, wavered, then raced out of the room, not even bothering to shut the door behind her.

Buffy’s smile faded. “Is she okay?” she asked timidly. “I didn’t think—I mean, maybe she’s bothered by—did she know you guys were—?”

Jenny and Rupert exchanged a purposeful look. Hastily, Rupert scribbled something else down on the paper, then held it up for Buffy to see.

Buffy’s jaw dropped. “You and Ethan Rayne?” she all but shrieked, Willow forgotten. As the children clustered around Rupert, all of them asking questions a mile a minute, Jenny quietly got up off the bed, hurrying out of the hospital room.

Willow was sitting outside, curled into a ball, shoulders shaking as she quietly cried. Carefully, Jenny sat down next to her, leaning back against the wall and waiting a few seconds. Then she said, “What’s wrong?”

Willow only cried harder.

“Come here,” said Jenny softly, tugging Willow upright and into her arms. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, I promise it’s okay.”

“I don’t like Angel-and-Faith,” Willow sobbed. “I just like Faith!”

“You have a crush on Faith?” said Jenny slowly, frowning.

Willow shook her head furiously. “It’s a metaphor—”

And then Jenny got it. Holy shit, was she obtuse. “Willow,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “is there a possibility that none of my kids are straight?”

“I’m dating Oz,” wailed Willow. “I’m not gay if I’m dating Oz!”

“No one said gay, remember?” said Jenny, stroking Willow’s hair. “You could be bisexual, like Xander, or like some super cool techno-mom who shall for now remain nameless.”

Willow raised her head, sniffling. “But Jenny, I’m not,” she said in a small voice. “I spent half of freshman year trying to mix the shade of Cordelia’s hair in art class. A-and when Buffy showed up I knew the exact color of lip gloss she wore, and sometimes I’d buy it and put it on and I wouldn’t know why, and Faith says you can just be into girls and if you’re all into girls then it’s okay to be into girls and my mom said being into girls is just a phase and—”

“Breathe,” said Jenny.

“—and if it’s not a phase and it’s not something that happens to everyone then I’m definitely into girls but I can’t be into girls because Oz is so nice and he’d be so hurt and so mad at me and he likes me so much and I didn’t—”

“Willow,” Jenny persisted, pulling back to cup Willow’s face in her hands. “What happened last time you told Oz something you were scared to tell him?”

Willow stopped, taking a few shaky breaths while she considered the question. “He got it,” she said in a small voice. “He was upset, but he was glad I told him before things got messy.”

“And how do you think Oz would feel if he knew you were keeping this big, huge secret just to save his feelings?”

Willow sniffled, then smiled, a sad, wobbly smile. “Communication is an important part of a healthy relationship,” she mumbled.

“Yeah,” Jenny whispered, and kissed Willow’s forehead. “You are such a brave, strong girl, Willow, and I am so proud of you. Okay?”

Willow’s face crumpled and she dissolved into tears again. Jenny held her close as she cried.

[thatbluegibson]

CH 93

"Can we talk?"

She sounded hopeful... or maybe he was just imagining it.

"You can talk all you want," he muttered, the pictures he had been sent of her and Johnny at The Rainbow were still fresh in his mind as he leaned against the foyer wall and crossed his arms.

Liz calmly finished climbing the front steps and took a deep breath to start explaining, but a call from the dark driveway made her jaw snap shut.

"You good, baby girl?"

Dave slowly craned his neck to see Jesse nervously watching them from the seat of his bike and felt as if he might snap. She had been on a fucking date with Depp, knocking back shots like they were best buddies and then showed up on the back of Jesse's bike when she had specifically promised him she wouldn't anything of the sort and now she was here to beg for forgiveness? "She's good, man," he replied for her, eager to hear how she was going to explain her way out of this one.

Liz closed her eyes and sighed deeply, pivoting on her heel to wave goodbye to Jesse when he fired up his bike. Once the bike was revved enough to wake the entire neighborhood, he gunned it out of the driveway and down the hill.

Dave waited until it was quiet again then raised an eyebrow at her. "Baby girl?"

"Do you want me to start with that or with the thing that I agonized over the entire trip here?" she asked, her voice low and even.

"Ladies' choice."

"Great," she sighed and reached into her leather jacket to produce a white card with his handwriting on the front in black marker.

He recognized it instantly as the one he decided upon after having written several drafts in the front seat of Jordyn's rental car as she broke several Parisian traffic laws to get him to the airport before Liz left. The first notes were long, poetic and romantic, but they didn't feel right. They weren't the words he really wanted to tell her and in the end, he had settled on a memory from the night they met, knowing it would get through to her better than some bullshit Hallmark prose. Can we start over?

"I...," she started to speak and he looked from the note to her face just as the tears spilled over her lashes, "I had a whole speech but I was never any good at monologues. Maybe I found this far too late, but I'd like to start over too... If you're still willing."

He could very easily toss her a polite, 'No, thank you' and turn her out into the night. She knew where Taylor and Allison lived, certainly they'd give her a ride home and then he'd be free from the drama that seemed to plague his life as of late. He could simply walk away and go back to running the vast musical empire he had so painstakingly created, maybe he could even check out of that as well and just be a dad for a while, but if he were honest with himself he knew he'd always miss her. He'd always wonder what she was up to and if someone was making her laugh as much as he did.

"You ready for that date?" he asked casually, taking her by surprise.

She tilted her head slightly in confusion, but dashed the tears off her cheeks and forced a smile, "I mean, that's why I'm in this dress."

"Great," he quickly repeated her words and snatched his keys off the little table next to the door, knowing that if he stayed in that house with her another moment they wouldn't be going anywhere.

Liz's heels clicked on the tile as she followed him out into the garage, then stopped short when she saw the entirety of his motorcycle collection lined up next to the Tesla. He had finally managed to get all of them out of the garage at his old place, much to Jordyn's delight, but didn't even realize that Liz had only seen two of them until that moment. She walked between them, running her fingers over the custom paint on the tank of his newest Harley and glanced up when she heard him swear. He was standing on the other side of the Tesla, staring down at the floor with an annoyed look on his face.

"Your rocket ship out of juice?" she teased from her spot behind the Street Glide.

"I can never remember to plug the fucking thing in," he grumbled and roughly shoved the charger into the outlet in the wall.

"It was charged after the Oscar's though!"

"Yeah, I made Taylor come over and plug it in because I was trying to impress you."

"No, your little 'Hi, I'm Dave' line was charming enough for me," she said quietly. "We can take a bike if you-"

"Hell no," he interrupted and fished his truck keys out of his pocket, "Now that I know how cranky you get when you're cold, the bike's off limits when you're not wearing jeans. And I never said 'Hi, I'm Dave', I said 'Elizabeth, it's nice to finally meet you.'"

"That's a very detailed account of our first encounter, David," she replied, trying to keep up again as he strode towards the pickup.

"That's because I think about it all the time," he grinned while opening her door for her.

A little taken aback by his sweet statement, she blushed and climbed into the passenger seat, wondering what exactly he had planned for their night.

*

"What... are we doing?" she asked, looking around the empty loading dock at the Staples Center as Dave locked up the truck.

"I'm taking you on a date, Elizabeth," he replied, pretending to be deeply offended by her questioning.

"Okay...," she smiled and took his offered hand, following him up a ramp and into the depths of the building.

None of it looked familiar to her, it was just one endless white painted hallway after another and though Dave seemed to know exactly where he was going, they didn't see another soul along the way. She wondered if anyone knew they were there or if maybe Dave just knew they kept the back door unlocked, which seemed unlikely. They didn't speak as he led her along, walking with a purpose until he stopped in front of a nondescript grey double door and pulling it open.

The green room seemed so much bigger now that it wasn't full of celebrities and catering tables, and the only way Liz recognized it was from the blue velvet curtain that hung on one end. The same one Dave had stood in front of when she first met him.

"Wait here."

He said it quietly, but it echoed all the same across the empty room. She shoved her hands in her leather jacket so she wouldn't fidget and looked around, recognizing the door off to the side that she and Travis had gone through to get to the stage. It all seemed like a lifetime ago, back when she was just trying to keep her head above water and failing miserably. Back before he casually strolled into her life like the missing piece she didn't know she was even looking for.

"Move a little to your right," Dave called out his instructions from his spot in front of the curtain and she took a half step to the side, then looked up at him expectantly.

"Little bit more," he urged, waving his hands until she was just where he wanted her. "There."

She stood as still as she could, feeling awkward and exposed as he stared at her with a half grin in silence. "Okay, now what?"

"Nothing," he shrugged. "That's the exact spot I first laid eyes on you."

Surprised, Liz looked at the doors behind her and then back at Dave. "You saw me when I first walked in?"

He nodded and began to walk back to her, keeping his eyes on her face. "I did and I thought, 'Great, another vapid actress-slash-model that thinks she can sing and I'll have to put her on a fucking record because Paul asked me nicely.'"

Liz's smile faltered a little and she cleared her throat just as he stopped in front of her. "Oh."

A faint smile pulled at his lips as he reached out to brush her hair off her shoulder and she let out a ragged breath, expecting him to elaborate on his statement, but he only lightly touched her cheek before stepping past her. "Okay, next stop."

*

Liz felt the familiar apprehension when she saw John Silva's driveway lined with expensive cars and sat motionless even when Dave opened her door.

"Coming?" he asked, watching her closely.

"Yeah," she whispered and stiffly pivoted out of the seat.

Following him up the stamped concrete in silence, she took a moment to look back at the spot where he almost kissed her that first night and felt a warm giddiness spread through her. Dave's knuckles on the massive wooden doors got her attention and she hurried to his side, lacing her fingers with his just as the doors opened like the gates of Oz to reveal a man about Liz's height with ripped jeans, skate shoes and a sharp stare.

"Hey, man!" his deep, gravelly voice boomed across the front lawn as the man threw his arms around Dave's shoulders and Liz instantly remembered it from the hallway argument her old manager had the morning of the Grammy's.

"John, this is Liz," Dave said proudly and threw his arms around her shoulders.

"It's so nice to finally meet you," she said politely and had to steady herself when he roughly shook her hand.

John stepped back to invite them in, his voice still far too loud for how close they were standing and announced, "We would have met sooner if that jackass you had as your manager had allowed it."

Liz forced a laugh and leaned into Dave's hand on her back. "Yeah, he was an idiot. Sorry about that."

"It was obvious he thought I was going to snatch you up," John replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "Which, if he had done any fucking research, he would know that I don't go near actors. You're all fucking disasters."

"That's an accurate statement and a wise business decision," she laughed again, this time genuinely.

John smiled at her for a moment, then abruptly stepped back and waved them towards the living room. "It's all yours," he said, again far too loudly. "Yell if you need anything."

"Thanks, John," Dave replied and grabbed Liz's hand once again, pulling her towards the steps that led to the basement, down the hallway and into the dark room still illuminated by the swimming pool just outside that gave a rippling effect to all the guitars hanging on the walls. Liz gazed at them as Dave softly closed the door behind them.

She melted into him when he wrapped his arms around her from behind and whispered just behind her ear, "This is where you proved me wrong."

"What?" she giggled nervously, worried about where he was going with this.

"You played that twelve string like it was an extension of your own arm and you didn't fucking sing, Liz."

"The tone was too beautiful to sing over," she whispered, almost to herself as she turned to look at the guitar hanging in its spot on the wall.

"That!," he said sharply and let her go, moving to stand in front of her. "That's what proved me wrong. You're not a vapid actress-slash-model that just wants to be some rock stars girlfriend."

Liz looked from the guitars to him and then back again. "I gotta tell you, man. This is a really weird date."

"Yeah, the narrative sounded better in my head," he admitted and once again stepped close enough to kiss her, but didn't. "Hungry?"

The memory of them standing in front of the table upstairs flooded her mind and she slowly smiled at him.

"... starving."

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, John was at the top waiting with a wide grin on his face. "Got a minute to talk business, Grohl?"

Dave hummed a little sounding unsure, so Liz answered for him. "He does!" she shouted back and left him to the group of people waiting excitedly in the living room for him. She slipped into the foyer to avoid being a distraction herself, thankful for a moment alone.

Sitting on the snow white settee, she thought again about the night of the party. The huge security men, the wasted topless woman sitting in that very spot, the moment when James Hetfield's bellowing had scared the woman so much she spilled her red wine. Liz began to look around for any sign of a stain and was wondering if maybe it had been reupholstered when she felt a hand on her back.

"Hello again, gorgeous."

Liz spun around and jumped up. "Nancy! Hi! How are you?"

"Oh, fine," she said sweetly and hugged Liz tightly. "I see you took my advice and found one of the few nice ones," she nodded towards the living room just as Dave's laugh echoed across the foyer.

"It was pure luck, I assure you," Liz laughed and noticed Dave's eyes on her as the group around him tried to keep his attention.

"Men like that convince me that God is a woman," Nancy mused, blatantly looking Dave up and down. "It's like he was custom made as an apology for the rest of them."

Liz drew in a sharp breath, but Nancy interrupted with an upheld hand. "No! I know you're going to tell me he's not perfect and I don't want to hear it. Let me live in my bubble, Elizabeth," she laughed and Liz giggled with her, remembering she was in the very same bubble the last time she was there. "So what are you kids up to this late at night?"

"We're on a date," Liz explained. "So far he's taken me to all the places we were at the night we met."

Nancy raised an eyebrow and snatched up Liz's left hand, running her thumb over the bare ring finger. "Oh, romance," she sighed and pulled Liz in for another hug. "I'll expect an invitation to the wedding," she whispered and let her go with a wink just as Dave joined them in the foyer.

Liz watched her go in a daze, only snapping out of it when Dave cautiously took her hand. "Ready?"

Back out on the front walk, Liz was almost to the truck when Dave tugged on her arm. She didn't even have time to look over before she was pulled to his chest and sighing against his lips. He kissed her in the way he always did when he had something to tell her but either wasn't totally ready or was too embarrassed to put it into words. She held on to him tightly, first gripping his forearms, then his shoulders and finally his face, unwilling to let him go until she was damn good and ready.

"Would you have let me kiss you that night?" he asked softly when she finally gave up to breathe.

"Well, you didn't let me win at Uno," she said bitterly and giggled when he rolled his eyes at her. "And I let the whole party think we were already sleeping together so... Part of me wishes you would have but the other part is really enamored with the kiss in the hotel hallway."

"Yeah, that was pretty good," he grinned at the memory and kissed her again, pulling away far too quickly for Liz's liking. "Let's go."

*

They sat next to each other on the table outside the In-N-Out just as they had done that first night, though this time felt much more relaxed.

"So what did you do after I left the party?" she asked and snatched a fry, careful not to mess up all the work Dave had done to organize them just a moment earlier.

He chuckled nervously and scratched at his beard a bit, "Taylor and I hassled some people into playing CalJam with us and then I left when the strippers showed up."

Liz's drink halted on it's way to her mouth and her eyes danced with laughter though her lips didn't betray a smile, "The what now?"

Dave shrugged and watched her carefully. "Someone invited a bunch of strippers over for the crowd that was still there."

"Got it," she nodded and slid across the few inches that separated them when he put his arm around her.

"Then I went home and laid in bed for an hour staring at the ceiling and thinking of any possible way to creep into your life," he said honestly.

She threw her head back in a laugh and set her drink down beside her. "Creep? David, you blew into my life like a goddamn hurricane."

"Knocked a bunch of shit over and left just as quickly as I came?"

"Exactly," she nodded and huddled into him when a soft breeze chilled her exposed skin.

He was quiet a moment, remembering all the insane ideas he had come up with just to try and see her again. "At first I thought I could ask you to play on a record and then make you hang out at the studio long enough that you'd fall in love with me by default."

"Mmm...," Liz smiled into his shoulder. "Stockholm Syndrome! I love it."

"But I knew you wouldn't agree to the record. Not when it took three grown men to get you on a drum kit."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

"Option two was to weasel my way on to one of your movie sets, but since the entirety of my acting career involves the Muppets and dressing up as Satan, I didn't think they'd let me anywhere near you."

Liz giggled softly at the thought of him showing up on one of her sets looking lost and out of place.

"Option three was to just show up on your doorstep and wing it from there."

"Oooh, I like that one," she said excitedly. "Did it work?"

"It did, actually," his wide smile returned when she played along and he kissed the spot above her ear that he loved so much, even when it was broken. "You agreed to drag the bikes almost 50 miles one way just so I could stare at you in my mirrors."

"Yeah, I caught you doing that a couple times," she whispered, then sat up a little to look him in the eye, now with a stern glare. "Don't do that anymore, it's dangerous."

"I couldn't help it. I was too busy trying to figure you out."

"And did you?" she asked, not really expecting an answer and shook herself out of his arms so she could slide off the table. It was getting cold and she wanted back in the truck.

"No, but I think I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying."

She stood in front of him as he leaned forward onto his knees, watching her as if he were expecting her to say something witty and charming, but she had nothing of the sort to offer. "So what's next?"

He climbed off the table and once again put his arm around her, something he knew he did too much of but he just couldn't be around her and not touch her. "Nate's waiting in his driveway with that pink apron on so I guess we should go there next."

"Oh my god," Liz laughed and shook her head, just hoping he was kidding.

*

Dave slowed the truck just before the evergreen shrubs that surrounded Nate's driveway, fighting back a laugh when she gasped a little and then continued on past his bassist's dark house and figured he and Kate were long since asleep.

"Ass," she accused under her breath and he looked over to find her sitting back with her arms crossed as if she were angry, but she couldn't hide the smile playing at her lips. He loved when they were like this, in their little playful competition to see who could make the other laugh first and the high he got from winning was something he thought he would always chase.

Once again back in his own garage, he killed the engine on the truck and closed the garage door behind them, then quieted the stereo to a dull hum while she unbuckled her seatbelt. It was one of his favorite things about his new truck, that he could turn off the engine and the music would still play until he opened his door like a killswitch. Liz went still, seemingly mesmerized by the soft glow of the dash lights and the Royal Blood song that was playing until he reached into his back pocket and held out the note that had passed between them twice now. He heard her breathing become shallow when her eyes landed on his bold handwriting loudly proclaiming, I love you, as he hovered the card over the console and cup holders that separated them.

"When I wrote this back in Paris, I wanted to start your night over," he said in a voice just loud enough for her to hear and flipped open the card with his thumb to read the handwriting inside, "I felt, and still feel, so bad about what I did that night and the plan was to sit you down and play you Lumberjack on whatever guitar I could scrounge up and try my fucking hardest to be worthy of any apology I could possibly give you. We keep fucking up, Liz. Why is that?"

He paused when she let out a long breath that was clearly masking a sob and covered her lips with the back of her hand. She rested her elbow on the sill of the door beside her and just stared straight ahead, the dash lights reflecting off the tears in her eyes as she gave her silent answer.

"We managed to fit like a decade's worth of fights into eight months and we're both still here. We keep coming back for more, so either we're both complete idiots or there's something here that neither of us wants to throw away."

Again, he was met with silence though her glassy eyes were now on his and he forced himself not to do or say anything that might distract her from whatever she was working up the courage to say. She worked her jaw, opening and closing her mouth as if she were deciding how her words tasted before she spit them out.

"That was a really good speech," she finally said in a whoosh of air, effectively lifting the heaviness around them.

"Right?" he agreed, leaning forward a little to see her face better, "I'll probably never be able to do that again, so I'm glad you were here for it."

That earned him a laugh and when her hand reached for his, he pulled her across the console to his lips. It was meant to be fleeting, something reassuring before they went inside and felt out more of the unknown, but only seconds passed before she was suddenly in his lap with her tongue against his. He hadn't thought his words were that good, but he welcomed her all the same with his hands sliding up the outsides of her thighs until his fingers grazed the hem of her green velvet dress. Her hand left his cheek to pull the seat lever and he found himself almost flat on his back watching her peel off her leather jacket and toss it into her abandoned seat. And, oh fuck, she couldn't have chosen a better dress to wear for a night of apologizing. The emerald green played up her eyes and exposed her skin in all the right places while modestly covering the rest, altogether classy and sexy and maybe a little dangerous when she added the leather and heels. She looked like she had stepped off the set of Mad Men, the kind of girl that had her shit together in a world where everyone else was faking it.

She sat up on his hips with her back almost touching the steering wheel and swatted his hands away when he tried to pull her down to him. Their grins matched when she moved on her own, lowering herself against him and flipping her hair to the side just before her lips grazed his.

"I thought we were gonna talk."

His voice was already thick in his throat, heavy with the weight of her thighs on his, her hands pressed against his chest and how badly he wanted her. The last thing he wanted to do was talk, but he still had questions about what had happened at The Rainbow and though it made him feel like a manipulative jerk, he wanted her vulnerable enough to spit the truth.

"You're talking right now," she reminded him with her lips dancing along the line of his ear. "Start making those words count."

The planets somehow aligned and the garage was plunged into blackness when the light mounted on the garage door opener timed out, making her draw in a sharp breath and push herself up again to look around. He groaned and rolled his head to the side as her hips bounced against his, the incredible dislocation between what his mind wanted and what the rest of him wanted becoming overtly painful; cruel, really and in an attempt at self-preservation, his hands went to the narrowest part of her waist to lift her just enough to break their contact and gently guide her over the console and into the backseat.

He clumsily crawled after her, eager to start talking or finish what they had started in the front seat, though this time it was her that was flat on her back. It was cramped and dark in the narrow backseat, illuminated only by the blue and green dash lights filtered from just feet away and forced them to focus on just one another with no distractions.

"Tell me about your date," he kept his voice low and hovered above her, raking his eyes down her body as she watched, keenly aware they weren't actually touching. When his eyes returned to her's, she tilted her head as if she were thinking and exposed the length of her neck that he could never resist kissing. The game was in play and neither of them were saving their heaviest hits for last.

"I'm actually kind of in the middle of it and so far it's going really well so ask me tomorrow," she sighed when his lips touched her skin.

"No, your other date," he growled against her jaw.

She caved like a house of cards in a tornado, tangling her fingers in his hair in case he had any ideas about breaking contact with her skin. "He picked me up...," she gasped when he hummed against her throat, her entire body shivering against his. "And I threw a little tantrum when I realized it was him," she tried to laugh, but it caught in her chest when he pulled away.

"You didn't know it was him?"

She shook her head almost imperceptibly and gently tucked his hair behind his ear. "The only info Sophie had was that his name was John. Travis had security cleared ahead of time so..."

They both stared at each other for a beat while Dave tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Maybe he had this whole thing wrong...

"I refused to go unless we went on my terms," she added. "and I chose The Rainbow because I didn't want anyone to think..."

She didn't need to finish her sentence, he knew where she was going with it. She didn't go to The Rainbow to humiliate him, she went there because she knew every move she made would be reported back to him in great detail and the receipts of that were already in his phone.

"I only agreed to one drink," she tried to go on but he ducked back into her shoulder and found the zipper on her dress, slowly dragging it down her skin. A soft whine curled from her lips when his hand slipped beneath the open zipper and down her ribcage.

"... And?" he pulled back with a teasing grin and she huffed in frustration at him, hooking her leg over his hips to try and regain some contact, but he held fast. His hand went back to her knee and drifted upwards, his smile widening when he almost made a comment about how her tights kept her from complaining about the cold when he felt the lace tops of her stockings. There was a sharp intake of breath, probably from him though he wasn't able to confirm it, and tried, really tried to keep it together as he talked himself down.

Don't look, don't look, Jesus fucking Christ, don't look... but the disconnect between the side of him that wanted answers and the side that just wanted to be fully wrapped up in her was so great that he dropped his head anyways, groaning at the black french lace wrapped around her upper thighs with just a peek of more black lace around her hips, still mostly covered by green velvet.  And Liz, for her part, took his hand and encouraged it to continue it's path over the lace bands and the bare skin above it then giggled when he finally broke.

"Oh fuck," he whined and lurched back to undo his belt and jeans, only able to get them down just enough before Liz was pulling him in and gently holding his face to hers as he guided himself inside of her. She purred against his lips and pushed back against him, just as desperate for him as he was for her.

Once that need was well met and they were both somewhat coherent again, he tried to steer them back to the original conversation while coaxing her body towards the edge. "Did he kiss you?"

"He tried," she breathed and tightened her hold on him, knowing he was doing all he can to keep the anger at bay. "Jesse bailed me out."

He shifted his weight to one elbow and raised an eyebrow at her, hoping she grasped the irony of Jesse bailing her out of a jam at The Rainbow and with his mind circling thoughts of putting his fist through Depp's face began to move faster, chasing her up the leather seat as her back arched in the early stages of her downfall. Then with a simple cry of his name, it all fell away. The fear that she would find someone else, that she would betray him in such a devastating way, it was just gone and replaced with an almost overwhelming sense of need for her. And maybe she felt the same because at that moment she broke, scrambling to bring him flush against her as she repeated his name over and over again, shuddering and stretching against herself as she dragged him over the edge along with her.

Once they were still again, trying to catch their breath and wrap their minds around what had just happened, she raised her shaking hands to his face. "I missed you," she whispered, staring up into his eyes as tears streamed out of hers. "Baby, I missed you so much. I need you and that scares me and-"

"I know," he shushed her. "I'm scared, too."

[charlyawilliams]

Each time we fall in love, it feels more shallow doesn’t it? Similar to a draining river, leaks of you slipping into the tepid air with the break of another heart. I’d say each heartbreak becomes easier, a thinner veil of clearing glass that you can peer through to the past in order to help you pick up the pieces. Putting yourself together is so simple after a while, and the core, the part of you that doesn’t break, gets larger, stronger, and more sustainable to the pain of loss and love. But the clear and never ending through line remains the same

That once the smoke clears, you are broken and you stare deep into a hole and see a figure, a presence, the person who broke you first.

There is forever a crevice deep within us that holds onto the first love we ever had. It’s a dirty, damp place filled with memories, most of which are bad if you had the majority experience. I am gifted to lie on the other side of that fence.

When I was 17, I fell in love with a boy.

Now, when I say fell in love I mean, holy shit, I fell in love. And I remember the feeling because I still feel it to this day. Such an intense landscape of colors that surround the memories of us that I can funnel so much quiet contemplative energy to. It’s the only place I can truly store my sadness, where the bitter loneliness of my current state won’t taint it.  I can replay those nights together; I can feel them, taste them.

I met him through a friend at work. Who just randomly said, “You know Chris, right? Because you two would get along.”

Two weeks later I showed up at a house party, where he was. He was running around this place like a god damn idiot wearing women’s sunglasses at night asking everyone if he were pretty enough to ‘pull them off’ and if they said yes, he’d literally just pull them off.  It was the stupidest fucking thing I’d ever seen.

And that’s what it took. The dumbest joke in the world (which we would argue over a lot when we would have a ‘dumb joke off’) to cause a teenager who had never really opened her mind to anything, ever, to pull apart and crumble.

Chris dealt with me in a way no one else would, which mean he very rarely put up with my bullshit. Charly at 17 was conceited, a brat, ignorant and brash. My mind was a salted sea of nothing until Chris came along. He found it his personal mission to teach me things I’d never heard of before. He, of course, was a philosophy major, which was just the worst because he never shut up about it.

Our first date, I took him to try sushi (Tony’s Sushi, which I guess if you’ve known me for awhile, know its one of my favorite places on earth. Now you know why) He’d never had it before and also decided that night that he was never going to retire the ‘walrus’ chopstick joke and created a walrus character that I kept feeding fish to. We took a walk around the Ocala Square where we named all the horses. Chris yammered on about a thousand things, and for the first time, I became the listener. He was so invested in his study of life, and it swept through me like wildfire.

I tried everything to win this guy over, all my good moves. But in Florida, the good moves are just wearing a titty shirt, short skirt, and talking about how much we love giving head. Again, Chris saw right through this ass-hatery and shut me down about it pretty quickly. But I still played the card of awkward late teen turning twenty and crashed and burned almost every chance I got. Chris would just laugh and give me this stupid crooked smile that made him look sleepy. (“Take a nap you weirdo”)

So, after a few years of putting my best foot forward, I settled into an amazing friendship.

Then I moved to Charleston.

I would creep on him about twice a year when I went back home to Florida. For the next four years, that was our relationship. We’d text every few months, and I’d see him briefly while he poured drinks at whatever bar he was working at that year.

My heart ached, as it still does, to be with him. I hated Charleston, even though it gave me my love of improv and taught me a very difficult lesson. But it also gave me the rare opportunity to begin one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.

When people say you shouldn’t change yourself for anyone, I think that’s bullshit. People should change you, shape you, mold you with experience and words and art and create you. You can internalize this but you can’t deny it. Be the best version of yourself, but let other people help you realize this.

“My dream job is to be a stand up comedian.” Chris once said to me while we ate sandwiches in a hot tub. Three years later I took the stage at the Upper Deck in Charleston and mumbled my first set of ridiculous jokes to a bare bar and I’d never felt happier. The first thing I did when I got off stage was text him.

“I’m so jealous and proud of you!” in all caps was his response. If you’ve seen me do any type of comedy, whether it’s old stand up, improv, or bits between friends, now you know why.

“Ancient Philosophy is my favorite, Socrates, Aristotle, Parmenides” He would sprinkle me with bits of personal flashes of himself that sent me running to the bookstore. If you’ve seen my very large personal library, now you know why.

“I love it when you teach me about the constellations. It’s so interesting!” If you’ve ever seen me look up at the night sky, when it’s glittering and perfect, and just stare. Well, now you know why.

I made the decision to move to Chicago on a whim with one of my best friends over drinks at a bar. 6 months later, in July, I moved. But before I uprooted myself, that March, I took one more trip to Florida to tell Chris in person.

I coordinated with my cousin that we’d meet up at his bar after seeing a movie (That James Franco Wizard Of Oz) and grab some drinks (Bud Light probably).  As always, the first thing He’d do after seeing me was hug me over the bar and demand to know everything about everything in my life, which I obliged, leaving out the fact that Chicago was in my near future.

When Anna, my cousin, slipped away to the restroom, I stood up on the horizontal legs my stool (Something all of you have probably seen me do), and told him I had a secret. When I told him that I was moving to pursue my love of comedy, he literally leapt across the bar, grabbed me in his arms and screamed. He swung me around and around and everything was dizzying and beautiful.  “This is so cool!” he said over and over again.

We talked about it all. The scene, what the city was like, what my plans and dreams were, and I just remember him watching me, listening. The details of this memory are what make it my most treasured. His sleepy crooked smile (Chris, take a damn nap, ya weirdo!), the sky blue hue of the bar neon lights that drowned out the similar color of his eyes, his plain gray shirt, which he ALWAYS wore, the cant of his head as he listened.

Anna left soon after, and I closed the bar down with him. We sat trying craft beer until about 4 am, and laughing about literally everything. He took me into the office as he counted the bar till and he gave me a bunch of St. Patty’s Day swag that consisted of sunglasses, green beaded necklaces, and a XXL T-shirt. I drunkenly put all of it on and danced the Charlie Brown dance, which he called the dance of my namesake.

Then we went to Denny’s and he yelled at me for not liking Avocado on my sandwich, and our servers name was Tammy. He then demanded we go back to his place because I was “in no state to stop drinking!”

“Ok ok fine, but that means I’m crashing on your couch.” I huffed out of an open window, staring upwards at the Florida stars. “No, you won’t, you see, I got this bed and it sleeps two.”

He shifted the gears in his car. We sped onwards.

The next morning he took me to Starbucks. Chris had this golden Starbucks card that he loved to flaunt about and I just rolled my eyes because no one should love coffee as much as that boy did.

When he dropped me off at the bar, he gave me his signature hug and I trotted off, screaming over my shoulder that I’d be back to steal him away to Chicago someday.

And that was the last time I ever saw him.

A storm took him from me. Violent and unforgiving, terrible and pure. I remember everything about him; I remember everything about the day I found out.

They say the hurt gets better, but that’s bullshit. It just gets covered up. Shallow love that feels great at the time, but internally you’re still harboring a core so unbreakable and designingly you that the pain never changes. Sometimes, that same storm washes over me, and it feels like I’m finding out all over again. Its so overwhelming that it vertigoes everything around me, and I’m lying on the floor ugly crying because I miss him so fucking much.

It tremors and breaks the very ground I’m trying to cling to, and on some days, days like today, I just feel like letting go. To sink back into the feeling of my first love, the one that never feels like any of the others, and remember.

If you ever wonder why I am the way I am, It’s all because of Chris.

And now you know.

[hysterialevi]

In the Smoke pt. 23 (Cobblebats)

From Oswald’s POV

COBBLEPOT PARK

Stepping out of the vehicle and into the park, Bruce and I found a spot to relax for a moment once we were certain no one was following us. Things here were much more peaceful compared to the storm currently raging at the GCPD, and it almost felt like the huge battle had never happened. It was strange, I thought, how quickly the mood in Gotham was able to swerve just by going from one end to the other. If it weren’t for the reporters losing their shit on the news, you’d never even know what was happening with Grogan.

Plopping down onto one of the benches, I slipped a flask out from my jacket and hungrily took a long swig, staring at my father’s bust which sat only a few feet away from me. Nostalgia began to pinch at the back of my mind the more I looked at him, and turning to our parked vehicle in the street, I started to wonder what he’d think of me if he were still alive today. 

Taking a seat next to me, Bruce tiredly leaned back as the smell of gunpowder immediately filled my nose, and I suddenly found myself thinking back to his actions at the GCPD. I let out a frustrated sigh.

“...what...the hell...happened back there, Bruce?” I could feel him looking at me, but I didn’t meet his gaze. “Our weapons, our supplies...all of it--just gone. Because of you. What were you thinking?”

Bruce’s eyes traveled to the blue veins on his arm, and I could tell he was hesitant to open up to me.

“I care about you, Oz,” he said, “but I can’t support what you’re doing. Not anymore.”

I threw an angry glare at him, feeling betrayed. What the fuck was he on about?

“What d’you mean you can’t support me anymore?” I snapped, turning towards him. “You’ve always been there for me, Bruce. Remember--it was you who defended me against those bullies at school when we was kids. It was you who kept me company when my dad resorted to suicide, and it was you who said you’d help me get revenge for everything this city had done to us--in this very park, no less. And now you’re saying you can’t?” I stood up, shaking my head. “No. You can’t claim to care about me, and then just walk away like this. That’s not how this works.”

Bruce followed my actions and rose from his seat, stepping closer to me as I wandered over to my dad’s bust.

“The men who wronged us are dead, Oz,” he said, trying to calm me down. “We’ve already killed Hill and Falcone. Our parents have been avenged.”

I clenched my fist. “Your mum may be able to rest easy now, but mine’s not quite there yet. After all, the person who threw her in Arkham in the first place is still at the top of Gotham--and he’ll stay there--unless I take matters into my own hands.”

Bruce crossed his arms in a disapproving manner, awkwardly shifting his feet.

“Listen,” he began, letting out a breath, “I know there’s probably nothing I can say or do that’ll change your mind, but if you love me as much as you say, then at least consider what I’m about to tell you.”

He glanced up at the moon. 

“My dad has done some horrible, downright inhumane things to other people. I won’t deny that. Taking away their sanity, assassinating them when they threatened to blow his cover...and profiting from it--I’ll never be able to look at him the same way again. But ever since my mom’s death, he’s done a lot more good than bad. Especially these days. Believe me, I’ve seen it. He saves innocent people, protects them from criminals like us.” 

There was a pause.

“...He was there when you killed Grogan.”

That tangled my mind up a bit. “Wait, what?” I blurted out. “What d’you...what d’you mean...” my voice trailed off into silence, faltering as a sudden realization hit me. 

I felt my jaw drop.

“...h-holy hell...” I turned around, facing Bruce. I nearly fainted on the spot.

“...he’s...” I gulped, blinking rapidly due to shock. “...he’s...Batman. Isn’t he?” The pieces clicked in my head. “...Thomas Wayne...your father...is...Batman.”

This explained much more than I was comfortable with. In fact, it explained everything. Why Batman was so protective over Bruce, how Bruce was able to contact him so easily, where he got all those fancy gadgets from...how did I not see this before? 

“Oz,” Bruce approached me, breaking me from my thoughts, “are you...all right?”

I furrowed my brow in disbelief, pacing around as I tried to process what I’d just learned. “Is this some kinda joke?” I fired back, slightly offended.

“How can your father be...Batman?” I muttered to myself, placing my hands on my hips. “Batman...he’s a hero. A vigilante. I admire him, Bruce. Growing up, I always wanted to be like him. He was one of my biggest inspirations. An idol.”

 I felt my nose crinkle out of anger. “...There’s no way that a man like Thomas Wayne can be Batman. He made a stack of cash and corpses a mile high ruinin’ families like mine. He doesn’t have the integrity to do what Batman does.”

I expected Bruce to admit that he was only pulling my leg, and that this was some sort of ruse to get me all shaken up, but he held his ground. Didn’t back down from what he said for one moment. Then, it really was true, wasn’t it? He wasn’t bullshitting me. His dad was Batman.

“Dad created the identity after my mom was murdered,” Bruce explained. “He wanted to prevent the same thing from happening to any other innocent people--and for twenty years, he kept this secret from me. Now, I’m trusting you to keep it. Can you do that for me, Oz?”

I exhaled heavily, letting my arms drop to my sides. “Of course, I can. But what the hell am I supposed to do with this information? I can’t just sit back and pretend like I never heard it.”

Bruce took the keys to our vehicle out of his pocket. “All I ask...is that you think about it. Whenever you feel the urge to kill my father, just remember what I told you tonight. It might change your mind, it might not. I don’t know. But at least consider it. For my sake.”

He tossed the keys at me before turning around and heading for the park’s exit.

“Oi, wait!” I called after him. “Why’re you givin’ these to me?”

Bruce glanced back at me over his shoulder, biting his lip. “Oh...erm--I’m not going back with you, Oz. I’m...done with the Children of Arkham. And besides, I have to make things right with my dad. I hope you understand.”

I shoved the keys into my jacket with a soft jingle. “Yeah. I do. Loud and clear.”

For a moment, Bruce simply stood there in silence with guilt plastered on his face as he forced himself to walk away, leaving me alone in the park and disappearing in the distance. Without even realizing it, I found myself beginning to follow him, but came to a halt after just one step, my hand hesitantly reaching out. I knew I was never the best at showing it, but the truth was, I needed Bruce. Now, more than ever. And just like everything else in my goddamned life, I had pushed him away because of my stupidity. 

Letting him go, I remained in the park with nothing but the company of my own thoughts as the night carried on, the darkness slowly shifting with the moon. Things were going to be a hell of a lot harder without Bruce’s help, and I couldn’t even imagine how enraged Lady Arkham was gonna be once she heard the news, but I didn’t care about any of that right now. At the moment, all I wanted was to get Bruce back, run away from Gotham, and start over someplace far away. I had the chance when I was a kid. I only wished I had made more use of it.

But, for Bruce’s sake, I decided I was gonna fight through this. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t going to run. No matter how much the idea appealed to me, Gotham was where I needed to be right now, and I’d be damned if I left Bruce to fend for himself. 

[omgnotanothercpblog]

To Infinity...And Beyond

Check, Please! 14 Days of Love, Day 4: Love Spells & Day 5: Soulmates (Read on AO3) 

@softkent

(I am so behind, but I couldn’t think of anything good for Day 4 until I looked at Day 5. I hope to eventually catch up - fingers crossed!)

Spring 2016

Dex and Nursey were walking to the Haus together.

“Why do we need a special meeting for this?” Dex grumbled. “How long does it take to say ‘Yo, dibs’ and shake my– our hands?”

“Or ‘You suck, no dibs for you’,” Nursey added.

“Would they call us in for that?” Dex wondered and Nursey shrugged.

“I don’t think so. We’ll find out soon enough, Poindexter. Ch-“

“Don’t say it.”

“You should though.”

Nursey was right, as much as is irritated Dex to admit it. They were literally one minute away from the Haus – he could wait that long. He just didn’t understand all the fuss.

Dex continued to grumble as they walked. Every so often, Nursey’s shoulder would bump his – Dex was sure it was deliberate, because every time it happened, Nursey would cheerfully say ‘Oops!’ Dex started to bump into him the same way, and by the time they reached the Haus, they were shoving each other playfully. They ended up with Dex holding Nursey in a headlock, although that was more to keep Nursey from falling on his face when he tripped.

When they looked, Ransom and Holster were standing on the porch of the Haus, staring down at them with their arms folded across their chests. Dex fought the urge to stand up straight; they were his team captains, not his parents.

“Frogs,” Holster intoned, ignoring Dex’s muttered “We’re not fucking freshmen.” “We’ve called you here on an important matter. Enter.”

Nursey’s shoulders were shaking as he stumbled up the steps. Dex grabbed the back of his jacket to keep him upright.

“Step into our office,” Ransom said, as solemn as Holster had been. He held out a hand to indicate the living room.

Nursey flung himself down on the green couch, slouching against the arm. Dex sat at the other end.

“Nursey. Dex,” Holster said.

“Derek. Will,” Ransom said with a pointed look at his co-captain.

Neither of them said anything else. Dex was starting to get impatient again. He drummed his fingers on his leg and waited.

“Captains,” Nursey said easily.

Ransom and Holster stood there awkwardly until finally Ransom said, “Okay, so this is about dibs.”

“We’re giving our dibs to you two-“ Holster said.

“But there’s something you have to know before you accept.” Ransom grabbed a small book sitting on the television stand. “Okay, I’m just going to read this.” He opened the book and began to page through it.

“Wow, this is just as awkward as when Cohen and Berger gave us this talk.”

“Is this about the Haus ghosts?” Nursey asked and Dex stifled a groan.

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Ransom said immediately without looking up from the book in his hand. “Okay, so. Magic.”

“What?” Dex asked flatly. Ghosts? Magic? Was this some sort of dibs hazing ritual?

“Disclaimer,” Ransom began, reading from the book. “Residing in this Haus will potentially cause you to meet your soulmate.” He closed the book. “There.”

“You needed the book for that?” Dex asked. He wasn’t going to acknowledge the nonsense that had just come from Ransom’s mouth.

“Soulmate?” Nursey apparently didn’t share Dex’s resolve. “That’s a thing?”

Holster nodded. “We were just as skeptical as you when we heard. So, now that you have informed consent, we can officially offer you dibs.”

“Wait, informed consent?” Dex burst out. “What kind of bullshit are you trying to pull here?”

“Yo, Dex, chill.” Nursey shifted closer and put a hand on Dex’s forearm.

“Don’t tell me to fucking chill, Nurse,” he growled, but his hands unclenched from the fists he hadn’t realized he was making. “I don’t appreciate people trying to make a fool out of me.”

“Just let me handle this,” Nursey told him and turned to Ransom and Holster. “Tell us about the soulmate thing.”

“We’re glad you asked,” Holster said. He pulled over an easel with a large pad of paper on it from the corner of the room. He flipped the cover open. On the first page they had written ‘Magic Shit with Ransom & Holster’. Ransom pulled an extendable pointer out of his pocket, opened it, and tapped the page.

Holster tore the first page off and let it drop to the floor. On it, there was a child’s drawing of a house, labeled Haus and the number 2010 written in big blocky handwriting.

“The time, 2010. The place, here. The Valentine’s Day kegster” As Holster spoke, Ransom tapped each picture. They let the information sink in and then Holster went to the next page.

This one had a cluster of circles on one side – heads, probably, because some of them had stick figure bodies. Next to the cluster were two figures, one a generic stick person labeled Good SMH bro, the other drawn with a triangular lower half and long hair to represent a girl. Another stick figure, labeled douchebro, was drawn horizontally underneath them.

“It was the biggest kegster the Haus had ever seen-“ Holster began.

“Until we arrived,” Ransom interrupted.

Holster nodded. “Unfortunately there were douchebros in attendance. One of them tried to take advantage of a guest who’d had a little too much to drink and our unknown former teammate did what any good member of the Samwell Men’s Hockey team would do.”

“Knocked him the fuck out,” Ransom said and slapped the pointer on the fallen stick person.

Holster went to the next page. “He then called a cab for the young lady.” This page had another cluster of stick figures, apparently carrying the douchebro, with two stick figures off to the side again, this time next to a really badly drawn taxi. “While the rest of the team got rid of the douche and his friends.”

The next page showed a picture of Glinda from The Wizard of Oz. “What nobody knew was that the young lady was in fact-.”

Dex snorted and Nursey smacked his arm with the back of his hand.

“A witch,” Ransom said with a hard look at Dex.

“A good witch,” Holster clarified. “And she said,” Holster pitched his voice as high as he could until he sounded like a demented animated chipmunk, “Blessings upon this house and all who dwell in it. May you all find your heart’s truest companions.”

“Well, something like that,” Ransom said. “Bro had been drinking and he didn’t remember exactly what she said. In fact, the whole night was a bit of a blur for him, so some of the details may be off. But…”

“Ever since then, 99% of Haus residents have met their soulmates.”

With that, Ransom and Holster both looked at Nursey and Dex expectantly.

“Okay.” There was a faint note of skepticism in Nursey’s voice, but mostly he sounded like he was humoring their co-captains.

Dex was just done though. “You expect us to believe any of that? Without any proof?”

“There’s these.” Both Ransom and Holster pulled down the collars of their t-shirts, showing matching infinity symbols just over their hearts.

“Matching tattoos? That’s your proof?”

Holster shook his head and Ransom blew out a frustrated breath. “They’re not- Look, all we’re supposed to do is let you know this shit before you accept dibs. You don’t have to believe us.”

“Thanks for telling us,” Nursey said. “I’d hate to be caught off guard by something like that.” Only Dex seemed to notice his subtle sarcasm. 

Nursey stood up. “If you’re offering up your dibs, I accept.” He held out his hand and Holster shook it.

“They’re yours, man.”

“Dex?” Ransom said, his hand outstretched.

Dex stood up and took it. “I accept, too. Thanks.”

“Time for pie,” Holster crowed. He stashed the easel and the pad of paper in the corner again while Ransom slapped Nursey and Dex on the shoulder.

“C’mon, Bitty baked a bunch of mini pies for us to celebrate.”

Dex and Nursey hung back as Ransom and Holster went to the kitchen.

“What was that all about?” Dex hissed.

“No idea, but who cares? We got dibs.”

“You don’t believe that soulmate bullshit, do you?” Dex didn’t think so, but Nursey always managed to surprise him when he least expected it.

“Course not. Let’s go, roomie. There’s pie.” Nursey nudged him with his elbow and left the room.

Dex shook his head. He wondered what Ransom and Holster had been trying to pull. Soulmates? Really?

~

Valentine’s Day, 2017

Dex dropped out of the top bunk, landing with a thump. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, then bent down to shake Nursey awake. Nursey groaned and turned over to bury his face in his pillow. Dex smacked his butt. “Practice. Let’s go, birthday boy.”

Nursey groaned again and rolled out of bed, somehow ending up on his feet. He straightened and leaned against Dex in a brief hug. “Morning,” he mumbled.

Dex kissed the side of his head, then nudged him in the side. “You can have the shower first.”

Nursey nodded and stumbled away, his eyes still half-closed.

Dex yawned again and scratched his chest, right above the infinity symbol over his heart.

[hipsofsteel]

Dont imagine cute little chubby Al pouting over how fit Jett is, don't imagine his blushes when Jett practically worships him DONT I M A G I N E

I tried to make this fic happy but then I projected all my insecurities on Alfred and I would like to apologize for making him sad. However, Jett is a very good boyfriend, so he doesn’t stay sad.

Jett would also 100% punch anyone who dares to make his boyfriend cry, so Al has that going for him.

It’s hard enough to just exist as a nation, whether or not you’re a major world power or just a few ideas thrown into a human body and given life. Alfred is keenly aware of this.

But honestly, this pudge around his midsection… It is just unfair!

Very few of the nations who manifest as adult males have pudge like he does. There’s a few, he supposes. Finland always seems a smidge soft around the edges, and no one seems to know what Russia looks like under all those layers of sweaters and coats, so he might have one as well, but they don’t get the stigma like he does.

Especially when he has a fucking Greek Adonis for a boyfriend.

They’re having a fun day at the beach, just as a family unit of sorts. Oscar is sulking in the shade umbrella with a new book he grabbed from some little place further up the beach, practically hissing every time he has to move to avoid the sunlight. Alfred is sitting under a second umbrella, giving him his privacy, watching the other two play.

Zoe screeches in delight when Jett picks her up and almost throws her over his shoulder. “Look what I found in the waves!” He grins, lifting the usually serious micronation onto his shoulders and laughing as she tries to pull him over by leaning backwards. “Good luck with that, baby girl!”

Alfred chuckles as he watches Jett and Zoe play in the waves. He doesn’t understand how Jett stays so fit. He’s a father of two, in the sense that nations are parents, but somehow, he manages to maintain a figure of impressive strength. Lightly defined muscles, just enough for you to know they’re present and strong, dark and beautiful skin, the ability to give bear hugs Alfred almost can’t compete with. He eats really great tasting food, yet somehow still eats healthy and just…

It isn’t fucking fair. It really isn’t.

Alfred maintains his cover under the second umbrella, t-shirt and cargo shorts on. He doesn’t just have a muffin top to worry about. He’s also got thighs that would probably look better on a woman than a man. And he’s not about to let them see the light of day.

Finally, after a while, Jett carts Zoe over. “Come on, Zo, time for more sunscreen.” Wy doesn’t protest as she reapplies it, only turning to Jett for help with her back.

Alfred smiles fondly as he watches them interact. Jett is a great dad. No one could ever deny this. When Wy zips off to go collect seashells, he shouts after her. “Remember to stay in sight of one of us at all times! And take a bucket in case you find more than you can carry!”

Alfred smiles as Zoe runs off. “You’re a good dad.”

Jett smiles. “At least to one of them. A certain young man seems to think me quite the annoyance.”

Oscar shouts from his shady spot. “I can hear you talking about me over there.”

“Go take your sister for a walk then! If you go with, she can go further looking for seashells.” Jett shouted, and both were pleasantly surprised to see Oscar stand up and pull on his shoes, setting down his book and glancing around to spot Wy.

But then he spoke.

“I’ll take her out of sight for an hour. Try to have done all the disgustingly cute things you want to do as a couple before we get back.”

“Oscar Michael Kirkland!” Jett shouts, but Hutt River is heading after Wy as fast as he can. Jett groans and leans back, setting his head on Al’s lap. “God, that kid sometimes…”

Alfred snorts. “I’d say he gets it from you.”

“Oh, stuff it!”

They sit there in silence for a few minutes, and Alfred watches Zoe and Oscar disappear out of the corner of his eye. They have cell phones, and Jett gave them each an independent streak a mile wide, so he’s not too worried.

“Alright, come on Yank.” Jett suddenly says, sitting up. “Shirt off. We’re going swimming.”

Alfred almost freezes at that. “No, think I’ll leave the shirt on if you don’t mind.”

Jett stops, raising one big bushy eyebrow. “Alfred, it’s gonna make it harder to move.”

“I am aware.” Alfred replies, standing, and then quickly makes an excuse. “I’m less likely to sunburn, though-”

“Bullshit. This is about England’s comment about you having a muffin top, isn’t it?” Jett says, immediately calling out the fear. Alfred is irritated Jett knows him so well. He supposes it means they have a good relationship, but sometimes you just want to deal with your issues on your own.

But even then, he can’t stop it from slipping out.

“And France’s about my giant thighs.”

It’s a whisper, but he sees Jett’s face grow dark for a moment, anger filling every line of concentration that has appeared. Alfred takes a few steps forward, trying to ignore his brain making him self conscious with every step, but then a pair of arms are wrapping around him, pulling him back towards the shade.

“Oz-” He begins, but then Jett is in front of him, pressing a kiss to his lips.

And when Oz pulls back, he’s serious.

“Listen, Alfred. You are perfect. Muffin top, big thighs. It’s all beautiful. It’s you!”

Alfred feels his face turning scarlet. “But it’s not. I used to be fit…”

“Used to? You’ve always been fit. You aren’t the strongest nation for now reason, Al.” Jett said, concern on his face now.

“I used to be skinny, though. I didn’t have all this pudge. I was-”

Jett stopped him. “You looked like that when you weren’t healthy. I remember the Depression, Al. You were starving. You weren’t to the point of death, but you were sick.”

Alfred glances down at the ground. He and Jett had been dating since 1917. He guesses Jett would recall the last time he was so skinny.

“Listen, healthy and skinny are not equal, nor are beauty and skinny the same. The Depression had you looking skinny, but you were permanently pale around the edges, and you looked like you were going to break at any moment. That isn’t healthy, Al. I wouldn’t have you looking like that again if my life depended on it.”

“But you’re so fit-”

“And so are you! All that ‘weight’ England is always saying you’ve put on is pure muscle mass! How else is your body supposed to manifest that you’re the world’s only superpower?”

“But-”

Jett seems upset with the next sentence. “Lay back down, Alfred.”

Alfred sits down under the umbrella, and Jett sits down next to him, bringing their heads together, green eyes gazing at blue.

“This-” He says, setting his hand on Alfred’s stomach, “-is not ugly. It is beautiful. It is healthy, and it is amazing. That little layer of fat that bothers you so much means that, in a manner of speaking, you are healthier than me. It keeps your skin and cells healthy, keeps internal organs warm. I can go on if you wish about all the various health benefits of your amazing little muffin top.”

Alfred tries to look anywhere besides Jett’s face, not sure if the blush in his face is embarrassment or just a reaction to his boyfriend trying to reassure him.

Then Jett is trying to yank his shirt off.

“Jett!”

“Just take it off!”

Alfred begrudgingly does, and Jett pulls him down so they’re both lying down. Alfred sighs and allows himself to be pulled along into it. Jett props himself up on an elbow so they’re looking at each other with a better view.

“You are beautiful. Every inch of you. From the ends of your hair to the tips of your toes. You are strong and healthy, and you’re the most wonderful human to exist. And just because that salty ass piece of shit and his stupid fucking French boyfriend don’t seem to believe it doesn’t mean that anyone else thinks that way about you.”

Alfred tries not to blush even harder when Jett leans forward, pressing their foreheads together again.

“I love every single inch of you and wouldn’t want you to change it for the world.”

Alfred smiles. “I love you, Jett.”

“I love you too, Alfred.”

It’s a small kiss they share, a hopeful smile, and then Jett is dragging him out into the waves, smiling like it’s Christmas Day.

And when the kids get back, Jett grins. “I think it’s time Oscar took a swim, don’t you?”

Alfred grins as they both grab the protesting teen and drag him into the waves hissing and shouting like an angry cat. Wy laughs from the shore, encouraging them to do it again.

“I thought I said all couple things over in an hour! Ganging up on me is not fair!” He snapped after he had dragged himself out of the surf and began to dry off.

“You said try to stop. We never agreed to.” Jett said with a laugh, tossing another towel towards Oscar. “Besides, cheer up. We could have let Wy decide when you were done taking a swim.”

Zoe shouted from her spot she was sitting in next to Alfred. “You’d still be swimming, brother!”

Later that evening, back in their hotel rooms, Oscar and Zoe in their own, Jett and Alfred smiled at each other as they crawled into bed.

Jett pressed a kiss to Alfred’s face. “You are beautiful.”

Alfred felt himself turn scarlet once more.

***

Jett told Alfred to leave ahead of him at the end of the next world meeting, and Alfred, seeing something angry in those eyes, agreed, grabbing the kids and asking them if they would like to go have dinner with him, stating that Jett ‘has something he needs to do’.

Jett waited for them to emerge, stepping out in front of the couple.

“Australia! What are you doing here so late?” France asked politely. “You aren’t usually the type to stay long after the meeting has finished!”

England seemed more confused, but Jett spoke first.

“It’s about what you said at the last meeting. Both of you.”

His tone was angry, and Francis seemed puzzled. “Jett?”

“Alfred doesn’t deserve to be treated like that, stick legs.” Jett snapped at Francis. “And while he won’t stoop to your level with petty and honestly uncreative insults, I will.”

Dawning realization was coming to both of them rather fast, and England spoke. “Lad, we weren’t trying to make him feel bad-”

“Bullshit, you pommy bastard! That’s exactly what you were trying to do. And if I thought I could get away with it, I would kick your salty little ass all the way back home and tell Scotland and Wales what you said. They don’t exactly have a fondness for you when you make your former colonies upset, if I recall.”

Arthur winced, remembering the verbal abuse thrown at him for even making the little colonies cry when they were children, and Scotland being quite clear that if he ever laid a hand against a child, two would be laid against him.

There’s a long silence that falls between the three of them.

“He’s self conscious, especially when it comes you two. His father and his mentor. And you both know it. I understand that you guys have always antagonized each other and it’s all meant to be playful, but if I hear of one more time you try and criticize him for having pudge, I will be setting my aunt Ireland and uncles Scotland and Wales on you both, because you both know he takes that to heart. Alasdair might be sweet on you, Francis, but Owen and Siobhan won’t give a hoot in hell about you if I come asking them to have their guns blazing.”

There’s another pause and Francis nods. “Perhaps we would do best to apologize to the boy.”

“Perhaps.” Jett said, and turned his gaze towards Arthur.

England looked at the ground.

“Arthur…” Francis said, his tone not amused.

“I don’t often get the self righteous anger turned back on me. You’re right, Jett.” Arthur looked up, meeting Oz’s eyes. “And I’m sorry to you as well.”

“What for?” Oz said, voice sounding dangerous. He didn’t want pity for having to deal with Alfred. The Brit had tried to give it once before.

Jett thought Arthur had looked rather nice with a black eye that day.

“For speaking without thinking and putting him in those situations.” Arthur said. “Just… slips out sometimes… I’ll try to stop it.”

This apology was more genuine, and not out of pity.

“Do more than try, Arthur. Do it.” Jett commands, turning and leaving.

He hears France say something behind him, but doesn’t turn.

“That boy has grown up into a very good man.”

He tries to stifle the swell of pride when he hears England respond.

“No. He’s grown into a great one. Him and Al both.”

***

“Where did you go last night?” Zoe asks the next morning, sitting on the edge of his bed while they pack to head home.

“I had some business to attend to.” He responds.

“Business my ass.” Oscar says.

“I would reprimand you for language in front of your little sister, but I’ve said worse.” Jett said, throwing the suit into the bag without a care in the world for what it looked like when he got home to ‘Straya. Zoe snorted, fussing with some piece of paper she’d been worrying over for the past hour.

“I ain’t gonna yell at you about that note Peter gave you if you’re worried.” Jett said as she pulled it out of her pocket again, and a faint noise of surprise escaped her. “However, you’ve got to promise me that you aren’t going to go running off during meeting breaks without telling me who you’re with, where you’re planning to go, and when you plan to return. That way, I can make sure to go out looking for you if you’re actually in danger.”

Oscar smirked a little.

“Don’t think I wouldn’t give you the same lecture if you did more than sneak into your Bibi Avery’s room to read Tolkien, young man.” Jett said before the two started fighting. New Zealand took the entire works of Tolkien everywhere with them, and since Oscar never seemed to have any interest in anything other than peace and quiet and wealth, finding him hidden in Zea’s room reading was always a good bet.

Wasn’t like Zea had spent much time there anyhow. Not when there was a certain Welsh booty to be chased after.

The final things packed, Jett got his family moving.

They were halfway through the lobby when a familiar voice rang out.

“Jett! Wait up!”

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Let’s go wait by the doors, Zoe. Dad has to say goodbye to his boyfriend.”

Zoe tried to stay behind, but Jett waved her off as Alfred got closer.

“Come to say goodbye?”

“Yes, and also to tell you I had a very surreal apology at breakfast this morning.”

Jett pretended to look surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Alfred continued, looking startled and honestly confused. “Iggy and Fran sat down with me and said they wanted to apologize for implying that I had unhealthy amounts of body fat, and that they thought I was perfectly fit. Which was a little weird…”

“Hmm.” Jett said, internally smirking. He guessed his little threat had worked out alright.

“Anyhow, guess this is the part where I tell you I’m headed for a visit in three weeks, and to be ready for me. I love you, Oz.”

“Love you too.” Jett said, pulling Alfred into his arms in a hug. Alfred spoke at a whisper in his ear.

“Not going to ask what you did, but thank you. They said they would try to never use those insults again.”

Jett chuckled. “Good. I’ll hold them too it. See you in a few weeks, Yank.”

Alfred watched his boyfriend hurry off towards the airport shuttle, and smiled, glancing down at his little muffin top and big thighs.

If he loves this bit of me, I guess I can learn to love it too.

Even you, thunder thighs.

Alfred smiled a little, heading back to his room to pack. He had to leave to catch his flight in about an hour. He would be in this body for a hundred more years, if not longer.

It was time to learn to love it just the way it was.

I want you to know that I had a really hard time not typing Kyle every time I had to write Jett. I have used both names before, but I used Kyle way more often apparently. Thank god for the find and replace function.

Also, apologies again for just dumping all my personal insecurities onto Alfred. I usually have a fairly good body image until my parents are involved, and given that England is basically Al’s dad, well… it just went downhill from there.

This story can also be found on AO3 and Wattpad. It’s titled “Insecurities” 

AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9494879

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/365224491-insecurities

[hysterialevi]

cobblebats fanfic pt. 10

From Oswald’s POV

“You’re getting soft, Oswald,” Lady Arkham scolded, her head shaking in disapproval. “You’ve fallen in love with him...haven’t you?”

I scoffed at the ridiculous suggestion, shoving a hand in my pocket. The two of us were currently standing in Lady Arkham’s office, her back facing towards me and her staff in hand. After Bruce got that call from Alfred at the park and took his leave, I had received a call of my own not too much later from Vicki herself to the Children of Arkham’s HQ for a “discussion.” Apparently, she wanted to talk about my growing relationship with the billionaire. She was concerned that we were becoming a bit too friendly.

“No. ‘Course I don’t love him.” I countered. “Why would I? It’s all just an act. You know what his family did to mine. I’m not about to pass up the opportunity for revenge just because of some pretty boy whilst my mum and dad are still twisting and turning in their graves.” I crossed my arms. “Besides, ain’t this what you wanted me to do?”

In a split second, the end of Lady Arkham’s staff was mere inches away from my face, zapping with a violent, electric glow.

“I told you to gain his trust. To learn his secrets. To point out a weakness.”

The staff crept closer, almost to the point where it was brushing against the tip of my nose. 

“I did not tell you to become his newest slut!”

I waved the staff out of my face, glowering. “C’mon, it ain’t like that--wait, what do you mean newest?”

Lady Arkham laughed mockingly. “Do you honestly believe that a man like Bruce Wayne is capable of genuinely loving someone? He’s a billionaire, Oswald. He has more money than all of Gotham combined. He can have anyone he wants as long as he flashes enough cash in front of them. What makes you think you’re any different to him?”

As much as I hated to admit it, it stung a little when she said that--mainly because I knew it was true. I mean, Bruce was effortlessly making a fortune I could’ve only ever dreamed of achieving, and he was one of the most powerful people in Gotham, second only to the mayor. He had connections with both Hill and Falcone, and there wasn’t a single person in the city who hadn’t been affected by his influence. He was practically a king, sitting on a stolen throne. 

The Cobblepots, on the other hand...we were nothing but ants beneath his boots, a burden, an obstacle in the Waynes’ path to success--and his father threw us away like we were trash. And now, Bruce was thriving because of it. Why would he care about some lowly thug like me? Especially after everything I’ve done to him?

The answer was clear as day. He didn’t.

“Look,” I said, trying to come up with some bullshit excuse, “Bruce was obviously attracted to me in some way, and so I took advantage of it, all right? That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Lady Arkham chortled. “Do you think I’m an idiot, Cobblepot? I see the way you look at him, how flustered you become whenever someone mentions his name. And don’t even think that I don’t know about how you offered to help him save Dent’s broken mind.”

“How...?”

“Surprised? I have eyes and ears everywhere, Oswald. You’re a fool if you don’t know this by now. Nothing happens in Gotham that I don’t know about.” 

I bet you don’t know Bruce is Batman, you bitch.

She rested her hands on the top of her staff. “Though, despite your carelessness, I suppose there could be a bright side to all this...”

Her deathly glare landed on me. “Yes...” she said in thought. “Perhaps, there is no need to look for a weakness. Or perhaps, I’ve simply been searching in the wrong place.” She began sauntering in my direction, her eyes nailed onto me. A sense of worry suddenly began developing inside me. 

“After all, ever since Dent’s been shoved into that horror palace they call an asylum, Bruce has been all alone with no one else but his brooding self, hasn’t he?”

Lady Arkham came to an abrupt stop as she was hit with a pang of realization. 

“Then you came along. An old, childhood friend, here to save the day, and give Bruce the love he’s always wanted--to support him in these tough times, and give him a shoulder to cry on...” she placed both hands on the sides of my arms. “My dear, Oswald--you are his weakness.”

“I am?” I didn’t like where this was going.

“Yes! You are. And the best way to destroy your enemies is to strike them where it hurts the most. Wouldn’t you agree?” Lady Arkham reached behind her and pulled out a single syringe loaded with the vile, blue liquid. There was a hell lot more in there than what she normally dosed her victims with.

“Unfortunately,” she said without empathy, “I’m afraid this is bad news for you.”

Without even meaning to, I started to back away, holding my arms up in defense. “Now, hold on. What are you...”

She chuckled eerily, her low voice echoing throughout the entire room. “Hold still. This might pinch a little.”

Before I could back away any more, I hit a wall, preventing me from escaping. I was cornered. Lady Arkham continued to stalk towards me.

“Vicki,” I pleaded, “wait--”

Her shadow soon blanketed over my entire figure like a ghost, the syringe’s needle ominously glinting in the dim light of her office.

“No. I’m done waiting.”

From Bruce’s POV

“Thanks for your cooperation,” Gordon said as he headed for the front door, Montoya waiting for him outside. “And for the record, I honestly doubted you were really working with that lunatic Penguin.”

“So does this mean you won’t be arresting me?” I double-checked.

The lieutenant lit a cigarette. “Even if we wanted to, we don’t have enough evidence to do it. Some rumor--and an implausible one, at that--isn’t enough to get you behind bars. Besides, as shady as your family’s history is, it just wouldn’t make sense for you to be working with the man who stole your company.”

“If only my board had as much faith in me as you do.”

“Don’t I know the feeling. Don’t get me wrong--the GCPD has more than a few good officers like Renee, but sometimes I can’t help but worry about how all of...” he gestured at nothing, “...this...will affect them. It’s not easy to keep your head high in times like these. Discouragement often becomes a familiar face--something I’m sure you know well.”

I let out a soft laugh. “More than you realize.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Gordon stepped outside. “Stay safe, all right?”

“Yeah. You too, Jim.”

He shut the doors behind him and entered the police car, leaving me alone in the manor. It was still damaged from Harvey’s attack, and it was probably going to stay that way for a while, but as long as I had a roof over my head, it didn’t bother me an incredible amount. Right now, there was something else nagging me.

I checked my phone. No texts from Oz so far. That was odd. Normally, he always bombarded me with multiple messages until I replied. Maybe I could text him first for a change, and see if he wanted to resume our “date.” I began typing, eager to see his response.

I just hoped that whatever he had in mind didn’t involve too much physical activity this time. As much as I loved spending time with him, I was exhausted from waking up so early, and it wasn’t even afternoon yet.

Bruce: Sorry about leaving so abruptly earlier. You’re free to come over now, if you’d like. Gordon just left--without me, thankfully. Maybe we could hang out at the park some more.

I waited a few moments. No reply. Not even the three, little dots that appeared when he was typing. Oh no, he wasn’t annoyed with me for leaving, was he? What if he was irritated that we got interrupted? No, he was more understanding than that--as strange as it sounded. He was probably just busy. He would text me when he was ready. 

I shook the thought out of my head and put the device away, deciding to kill some time by watching the TV.

I strolled my way out of the foyer and to the cozy parlor, letting myself fall into the same, plush chair that Oz had fallen asleep in the other night, pressing the power button on the remote and relaxing into the cushions. Before I even had a chance to get comfortable though, I was already overwhelmed by countless photos of Harvey and Batman on the screen, reporters rambling on about how the mayor was committed to Arkham Asylum, his upcoming trial, and how the mysterious, masked vigilante was responsible for the “noble” deed.

As much as I appreciated the praise from the public, I knew it wasn’t all because of me. If it hadn’t been for Oz’s gift of perfect timing and intervening, Harvey would’ve definitely shot and killed me that night. It was the third time Oz had saved me so far.

I continued watching the news when suddenly, the distant sound of a gunshot erupted from within the manor, causing me to immediately jump out of my seat and whip around in confusion. I left the parlor.

“Alfred?” I called out. Nothing. I headed upstairs.

“Alfred!” I repeated as I ascended the staircase. Still nothing. I started feeling sick due to the anxiety. Oh god, what was happening? Was that really a gunshot? Or was I just hearing things?

I reached the second floor and looked around for a bit, unsure of where to go. That was when a muffled, heavy thud emitted from inside Alfred’s bedroom, like something--or someone--had just toppled over. I sprinted over to the door and twisted the knob. Locked.

“Alfred!” I shouted, aggressively shaking the doorknob. It didn’t budge, and I still wasn’t receiving any sort of response.

“ALFRED!” Silence.

Backing up a few steps, I decided to try a different method and took a deep breath, bracing myself as I planted my foot into the door. The sturdy material refused to break, but I could hear the wood splintering. Attempting it again, I kicked it once more, but with much more force, causing the door to finally slam open and bounce slightly off the adjacent wall as it slowly unveiled the horrifying scene inside.

I froze.

“...Alfred?”