#someone find Van and drag him to a piercing shop please

[theeleventhhour]

Remember that the other day we were discussing what piercings and jewerly would suit Van?

I present to you a dream: the lip ring 🥵

[lu-undy]

(This is my second time requesting after you opened your askbox, but you wouldn't know that :)) Lu and Medic play a violin and piano duet together (or Demo plays the piano and Lu sings) and Mundy kinda has a bruh moment wherein he realizes he loves Lucien

Hey there! Glad to see you come back :D !! Here it is, Spy sings like a God, hope you enjoy!

"So, what did you prepare for tonight, fancypants?" 

"Scout, ask me one more time and what you will need to prepare for tonight is your will." 

"Alright, alright…" Scout sighed. "You party pooper…" He mumbled to himself.

Sniper smothered his chuckle. Around the dinner table, the mercenaries were enjoying their dinner, their dessert to be more precise.

"Pardon?" Spy asked menacingly in his native tongue. 

"N-nothing…" Scout hid behind his yogurt, scared. 

"So, tonight is Spy's turn, right?" Engie asked, to brighten things up.

"Oui. I asked Demo for some help."

"You yelled at me for the entire week, mate. Please, Engie, never let him rehearse his stuff with me, send anyone else but me!" Demo took a swig of his beloved scrumpy. 

"I only pushed you to give your best for our performance tonight." Spy simply answered and he saw Sniper roll his eyes with a smile. 

"Alrighty then, if we're finished with dinner, you guys go and get ready, we'll come in about half an hour."

"Very well. Demoman, I will not wait for you." 

[Très bien.]

"Someone please save me from him…" Demo exaggerated his plea.

"C'mon, mate, how hard can it be?" Sniper said to comfort him. 

"Well, very hard! Next time, you go and work with him!" 

Sniper blushed as Demo and Spy left the room. 

It was a habit now. Every couple of nights, one mercenary would prepare something to entertain his colleagues. It could be a movie, a game of whatever to play or watch all together, anything. They had put that in place in order to spend less dull evenings in that harsh winter. Being the only building for miles around in the blizzard meant that they were stuck for the entire winter there. 

Pyro and Scout finished washing the dishes while people slowly gathered in the training room. It had been turned into a second living room with seats and a TV screen, if one could forget the boxing ring and other sports accessories and installations. 

"Right, I think we're all here. Sniper, the lights, please?" 

Sniper nodded and flipped the switch before taking a seat at the back of course, given how tall he was. The main light turned off and Pyro switched on a spotlight. 

Silence fell for a moment and then, footsteps. Spy appeared, better dressed than usual, which Sniper thought was barely even possible. He was wearing a black tuxedo and black and white polished leather shoes. His eyes shone beautifully under the spotlight. 

Suddenly, a few piano notes. A second light switched on and showed Demo on the piano behind Spy. The latter propped himself up to sit on the piano and grabbed the nearby microphone to start singing as the piano carried his voice. 

{To the reader: the song is "Windmills of your mind" as sung by Noel Harrison}

"Round, like a circle in a spiral,

Like a wheel within a wheel,

Never ending or beginning

On an ever-spinning reel."

Sniper's eyes snapped wide. Spy was speaking more than he was singing and it was so pleasant to hear… His accent helped to make it more true somehow, more mellow.

The notes on the piano accompanied the Frenchman's voice beautifully, coming and going again, in an endless and cyclic arpeggio…

Spy was saying the words like he would declaim a poem, his voice ever so slightly flowing on the notes, the syllables stressed as they should be, the rhythm impeccably followed. His brow would furrow at times, and relax at others, and if at first he started with open eyes, by now, his eyes were shut and he was drinking the meaning of the words he was saying as if it was the air he needed to breathe.

Suddenly he elegantly dropped down from the piano and stood proud in front of his audience. He held the microphone a bit further from his lips and opened his arms, revealing a vest that Sniper had never seen him wear before. Black with satin cashmere motifs that glimmered under the spotlight...

"Keys that jingle in your pocket,

Words that jangle in your head."

Spy's voice was slightly more powerful, it was only a small difference in volume, but Sniper felt his ribcage and his knees tremble. He shook his head to shoo those feelings away and took a deep breath.

"Why did summer go so quickly?

Was it something that you said?

Lovers walk along the shore 

And leave their footprints in the sand. 

Is the sound of distant drumming

Just the fingers of your hand?

Pictures hanging in a hallway,

And the fragment of a song,

Half remembered names and faces,

But to whom do they belong?"

Spy opened his eyes and Sniper's snapped wide open. His long, dark eyelashes seemed different, were they wet? His light blue, almost grey irises were glistening…

"When I knew that it was over,

I was suddenly aware

That the autumn leaves were turning

To the color 

Of his hair."

Spy's keen eyes never left Sniper's half mesmerised and three quarters thrilled ones. The poor Aussie felt as if he was the only person in the audience to a concert that suddenly became very private. His heart was pumping fast, unlike Spy's rhythm which slowed down. He was back to whispering, a gloved hand on his heart, and said, much more slowly this time:

"The autumn leaves were turning 

To the colour

Of his hair."

Demo concluded with a few bars on the piano and then came to a halt. Spy nodded to him and new chords rolled in the air. The rhythm was a samba's, much more lively and light-hearted. Spy snapped his fingers in rhythm.

{To the reader: the song is "So Nice" I recommend the version by Sangah Noona}

"Someone to hold me tight,

That would be very nice,

Someone to love me right,

That would be very nice.

Someone to understand 

Each little dream in me,

Someone to take my hand,

To be a team with me.

So nice,

Life would be so nice, 

If one day I find

Someone who would take my hand and samba through life with me." 

Soldier started rocking left and right on his seat, dragging Engie with him. Medic joined them and Spy, seeing that his rhythmic song was dragging everyone in a good mood, started smiling. Not only did his lips purse up but his eyes were expressing genuine delight somehow. 

Sniper was smiling too, a dreamy grin as he rested his chin on his hand and his elbow on his armrest, slowly melting on his chair. 

"What the hell…." He mumbled to himself as he straightened his back on his chair and tried to resume a more normal posture.

The music accelerated as Medic dragged Heavy to swinging on his chair too. 

"Someone to cling to me

stay with me right or wrong,"

The Aussie couldn't believe it. Spy was dancing. The man with a sense of humor as big as a green pea was dancing. And God those hips! He was swinging them almost seductively and Sniper's heart skipped a beat… How come the Frenchman was so flexible with his hips?! 

Sniper opened the first button of his polo shirt as a sweat started breaking on his brow.

"Someone to sing to me

Some little samba song!

Someone to take my heart and give his heart to me,

Someone who's ready to give love a start with me!"

Spy winked at Sniper who blushed and looked left and right to see if it was for someone else.

"Oh yes, 

That would be so nice."

Sniper now breathed heavily, the room was hot, way too hot.

"Should it be you and me?

I could see it would be nice!"

He removed his hat and carded his hair, feeling some fresh air flow through it to cool down his scalp. Sniper was blushing way beyond his ears. He looked down for a second, as Demo improvised on the piano and when he raised his head up again, Spy had disappeared from the improvised stage. The rest of the mercenaries had stood up and were dancing to Demo playing. 

Sniper was panting. The image of Spy, his piercing eyes riveted on him, dancing slowly, swinging his hips was carved on his eyes as if it was marble. And that wink...

He shook his head again as he started to realise why he was sweating like that, why he had enjoyed every second of Spy staring at him even though he would never admit so...

A whistle caught his attention. 

Sniper turned his head. It had come from the door. He barely saw a silhouette slip away. Without thinking, he stood up and followed it. He pushed the door and exited the training room. The sound of the music and dancing was deafened by the closed door now and Sniper focused on knowing where that shadow went. 

The corridor was very dark. He reached for a switch but didn't flip it. Something told him that it was better that way. 

The whistle again. 

Sniper went to find its source but as he came to find it, he heard the base's main door shut. He went there and exited himself. 

The night was pitch dark and the wind was howling. Sniper looked around him and saw nothing. But he heard the slam of a metallic door that he instantly recognised. Whoever he was following, they had entered his van. Sniper followed suit and found himself inside in no time. 

It was pitch dark inside but there was a tiny orange glimmering light and the smell of a menthol cigarette soon found his nose.

"I see you enjoyed the show." The voice with the French accent said. 

The orange light came from the end of Spy's cigarette. 

"Yeah, well, it was pretty good."

"Good enough for you to follow a shadow all the way here…"

"Yeah, it was decent."

"...without this." Spy finished his sentence and Sniper felt something land on his head. His pupils shrank as he realised he had forgotten his very hat.

"Y-yeah well… I had to make sure it was one of us and not… an intruder or something."

Spy spotted the bad lie as he would an elephant in a porcelain shop.

"How would anyone come to the base through this blizzard? Even the Mann Co. supplies have stopped coming. The roads are blocked, airdrop is impossible. No intruders can come here, by no means."

"Y-you never know." Sniper answered. 

"Non, but you did." 

"What?" 

"You knew it was me you were following. You didn't know where I was going and why I kept whistling at you for you to follow me, but you did and here we are: in that ridiculous dwelling of yours that you dare call a home."

"Oi, my van's the perfect place." 

"For what?"

Sniper felt Spy get closer to him. They were face to face in the dark and Sniper saw Spy's eyes reflect the faint lights coming from the base.

"You tell me." Spy answered with a smirk that Sniper heard somehow. 

"What d'you want?" Sniper asked. 

"An honest answer." 

"What's your question?"

"Why do you think I chose those songs to sing to you?" 

Sniper felt hot as he was put on the spot. 

"What d'you mean?" 

"I sang for you, that, you have noticed. But why those songs in particular? What was their message?"

Sniper sighed. He moved to sit on his worn out couch. 

"I-I don't know, okay? And that's a lot of questions. J-just go and leave me here." 

Spy sat next to him. 

"Let me ask you something else then, how did you find my suit tonight?" 

Sniper's eyes snapped wide when he felt Spy's hand on his forearm. It soothed him as much as it made him anxious. 

"Elegant, beautiful, classy." 

"Thank you." Spy said with a smile. "I did try to make an effort."

"Y-yeah, I noticed." 

"Did you notice my mask?" 

"N-no, I mean… It's the same one as usual." 

"Not exactly." Spy answered. "Switch on the light, you will see it better."

Sniper stood up and flipped the switch. When he turned again to face the Frenchman, he choked on his saliva and coughed multiple times. He put a hand on his eyes and another on his chest to ease his cough while Spy chuckled. 

"Mon pauvre ami… I half apologise for this."

[My poor friend]

"Oh, Lord, Spook…" Sniper said between two fits of cough as he still hid his eyes behind his hand.

Spy giggled. 

"You did have your mask back there, right? I didn't just imagine it?"

"I did have it. I removed it as I entered your van. You may look if you want." 

"B-but, isn't that against your rules or something?"

"My rules?" Spy repeated, amused. 

"Yeah, I don't know, whatever rules or codes or whatever you Spooks have."

Spy chuckled. 

"There are no such things, Sniper. If I hide my face, it is because I would rather people not see me and recognise me. It is better that way." 

"Then why show me your face?" Sniper asked his hand still hiding his eyes to not see his friend.

"Because I am still a free man and I do what I want."

"And you want to show me your face?" 

"Why not?" 

"Spook, I swear… You're a whole new level of complicated."

Spy put his hand on Sniper's and pulled it away, slowly. Sniper couldn't help but stare. It seemed as though he was discovering a whole new person. It wasn't Spy, it was… well, someone else. 

"Do I have something on my face for you to stare like this?" Spy teased.

"Well," Sniper felt himself sweating again, "I'd say you're missin' something on your face, but eh, who am I to say?"

Spy chuckled. 

"Would you rather I put the mask back?" He cheekily asked. 

"No - I mean, if you're more comfy with it, put it on but…"

"But?" Spy pushed his luck. 

Sniper was staring at his hair. It was mostly black but there was a front grey tuft and the temples too betrayed Spy's age.

"But I-I don't know… Thanks, I guess." 

"For what?" Spy asked. 

"For feeling like you can show me your face. I guess that means you think you can trust me - oh."

Spy had taken Sniper's hand off his face but he wasn't letting go of it. Non, instead he laced his fingers through it. 

"And now?" Spy asked. 

"And now what?" 

"Now, do you know why I chose to sing these songs for you?" 

Sniper blushed. 

"I-I don't know… I'm not sure. Can't you just say it? It'd be a lot easier for the both of us!"

"For you, oui, for me however, it would be quite difficult." 

Sniper rolled his eyes. 

"How hard can it be?" He asked. 

"Almost as hard as what I'm about to do is foolish…" Spy closed the gap between the two of them and pushed his lips against Sniper's. 

Sniper froze. His muscles froze, his blood froze, his heart stopped sharp, like a watch stops at the time of death, Sniper's body burst alive all at once. His hands flew forward to hold Spy closer, his eyes rolled and closed, and his eyebrows slowly rose and relaxed. Spy's naked hands slid up to Sniper's cheeks and he stayed there, hanging from Sniper's lips with his own.

Eventually, they broke the kiss. 

"Woah… Spook, I didn't know you, uh…"

Spy raised his light blue, almost grey eyes to Sniper.

"Did you even realise that you held those feelings for me too?" 

"M-maybe." 

"Sniper…?" 

"Right, yeah, I realised it when you sang today. I-I just felt weird and I knew…"

Spy smiled sweetly, as he brushed Sniper's cheek with his long and slim fingers. 

"I'm glad you feel the same." Spy said. 

"As if you were surprised… You look gorgeous with that suit on and now, without the mask, you're just…" Sniper's eyes darted to every detail of Spy's face. 

He bit his lip and suddenly pulled Spy's head to him again. He kissed Spy with such force and passion that Spy lost his legs. Thank God he was sitting down and Sniper was holding him, or he would have flowed down to the floor like a liquid. 

[master-sass-blast]

Salt of the Earth

Well. Hello. Welcome to my salt.

So, this is a fic that definitely fits into the series and everything, but it is also a direct byproduct of my salt at Netflix cancelling “The Punisher.”

It’ll make sense once you read the fic.

Rated T for: Multiple injuries, car accident (singular), kidnapping, mentions of child abuse, and just angst in general.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader (and kinda sorta Frank Castle x Karen Page; it’s not outright stated, but it’s very strongly implied that they like each other).

Song lyrics are from “Zombie” by Bad Wolves; bible verse is Matt. 5:13.

@marvel-is-perfection

“It’s the same o-ld thing/ in 2018/ In your head/ in your head/ they are dying…”

You sing along with the music blaring through the store speakers under your breath as you glare at the stack of sketchbooks sitting on the shelf in front of you. You’re at an art store in the small town area Piotr likes going to for outings –the very same place the two of you had your first date, in fact—and you’re trying to pick out a good birthday gift for your dearly beloved boyfriend.

 Because Piotr is, without a doubt, the world’s most fantastic boyfriend, and you are not about to be shown up by your own partner.

 You know, not to mention the fact that you want to get him something good. Something he’ll like.

 So, first step. Art store. Always a good place to start, considering that Piotr is an artist and loves getting any art related gifts.

 And, bonus! You can get there legally, without Piotr’s help, because you have a driver’s license! One hundred percent legally obtained! Go you!

 The money in your bank account that will be used to buy the gift/gifts isn’t legally obtained, because it’s a mix of funds from Wade and your uncle, but the cashier isn’t going to know that and you know Piotr isn’t going to berate you for it because he understands that your situation’s a little –a lot—fucked up to begin with.

 Anyway. Back to the point

 You’ve made it to the art store. You are currently in the art store. You are exactly where you need to be –which, if it wasn’t clear, is the art store.

 Unfortunately, there are no steps after “get to the art store” because you have no idea what you’re doing.

 Yes, you do art; you’re not on Piotr’s level, but you hold your own –and, dare you say it, but you’re improving!

 But Piotr’s always handled the ‘supply buying,’ as it were, and now that you’re staring down what seems like thousands of options, you’re completely lost at sea.

 Okay, you tell yourself. Think. What does he need replaced?

 Pens. He’s always burning through pens –and erasers, come to think of it—with how regularly he uses them.

 You smile to yourself as you dart over to the proper aisle. I’m gonna own the fuck out of this.

Once you get your footing, you nail the shopping session. You’re gonna have to hide the receipt from Piotr because you definitely went a little nuts, but he deserves and you have more than enough money so why not?

You hum happily along to the pop song of the moment as you drive back to the mansion, gifts safely tucked in the shotgun seat of your car. You’re flying down the highway –not literally, in the sense that you can actually fly or the sense that you’d be speeding—and—

 There’s not a single other car in sight.

 And that’s… a little weird. It’s early afternoon on a weekend. You’d think you’d see more travelers on the road.

 Before you have too much time to overthink it, a massive black SUV comes up on your tail out of nowhere.

 You yelp and lay on the horn when it rams into your bumper. “What the fuck, asshole?” You wrench the wheel, trying to stay on the road, and press the gas pedal down harder.

 The SUV keeps pace with you, barely keeping off your back bumper as it tails you down the empty road.

 You honk again and shift into the other lane before slowing down.

 The SUV simply speeds ahead –and spins so that it’s sitting across both lanes of the highway, right in your path.

 You shriek as you stomp on the brakes, but it’s too little, too late.

 Your car slams into the side of the SUV, and everything goes dark.

The first thing you register is pain. So much of it, everywhere. Your head feels like it’s been put in a vice until it cracked, and your ribs ache with every breath you take.

The second thing you register is that you’re laying on your side in some sort of cramped, stuffy compartment. You can’t sit up, can’t really even move without bumping into a barrier of some sort.

 The third thing you register is that whatever you’re in is moving.

 Oh, dear sweet Cthulhu have mercy, I’m in the trunk of a car. You groan as you check your pockets for your phone and swear when you come up empty handed. “Shit! Okay, taillight. Find one of the taillights.”

It takes forever, between the pain you’re in and the cramped quarters, but you manage to find one of the taillights. You rip the carpet covering it away, then use your powers to punch it out.

You’re in a city, which is better then being on some backroad in the middle of the woods. City means people, which means phones, which means you’ve got a shot at calling someone and getting back to the X-Mansion. You suck in the fresh night air –you’ve been out for a while, which isn’t good—and try to formulate some sort of a plan. Maybe they’ll hit a light soon, and then I can break the hood open and get out—

The sound of tires screeching fills the air, followed by a heavy burst of gunfire.

You suck air through your teeth –part in surprise, part in pain—as the car comes to an abrupt stop.

“The fuck was that?” one of your abductor’s voices shouts from the cabin of the car, muffled but extremely pissed off.

You know about as much as they do, it would seem, and while you’re not fond of getting out of the car while there’s active gunfire, you know you’re not gonna get a better chance.

You slam the hood of the car open, sending it flying into the air, and bolt for the nearest alley before your kidnappers can react. You barely make it two feet into the shadows before you collapse against a wall, head spinning with blinding pain. Fuck. I think some of my ribs are broken. You pant and gasp through the waves of agony, trying to keep from vomiting.

“Where’d she go?”

“She won’t have gotten far. Find her!”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuckfuckuckfuck—

You grit your teeth and fly up to the nearest roof top. You do actually vomit –and almost pass out in it—once your feet hit the flat, paved surface. You collapse to your knees, arms shaking, and groan as you force yourself to your feet. Push through it. Come on. You need to find a way to call Piotr.

You manage to run across the roof top, away from the sounds of your kidnappers’ voices, tears stinging your eyes at every jolt your body takes. You round a corner, hoping to find some sort of door inside—

You run into a black clad figure –literally, full body contact and everything—and scream as the two of you go down together. Adrenaline surges through your system, and you lash out at the person wildly.

“Woah –woah! Hey!”

You stop with a gasp when you see Frank Castle’s face –a little bruised and bloody, but not too much worse for wear considering his line of work—staring down at you. You groan and go limp. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

“The fuck happened to you?” he grunts as he scans your various injuries.

“Car crash. Kidnapped.” You wince. “You know, the usual.” You flinch when you hear the voices of your abductors shouting –they’re getting closer—and shoot Frank a desperate look. “I need help. Please. I lost my phone, I can’t call anyone for help—”

He pulls you to your feet and hooks one of your arms over his shoulders so he can support some of your weight. “I’ve got a van in an alley nearby. Let’s go.”

You do your best to keep pace with him and look over your shoulder jerkily when you hear more gunfire. “The fuck is that?”

“I made some friends,” he grunts as he guides you across the dark rooftop. “Left.”

“Sure sounds like it.” Gunfire pierces the air again –closer, you’re both being closed in on—and you shift your arm so that it’s around his waist and squeeze him against you as much as you can. “Which way’s the alley?”

“West, two blocks –Christ!”

If you were feeling better, you’d smirk at Frank’s exclamation when you launch the two of you into the air. As it is, you grimace and focus on not crashing into anything or dropping your only ticket out of here –here being Hell’s Kitchen, apparently.

You manage to find said alley and van –both of which could be charitably described as ‘creepy looking.’ You and Frank tumble to the cracked pavement, and then you’re retching against the dirty asphalt like a cat trying to hock up the biggest hairball of its life.

Frank gets you up on your feet an into the passenger side of the van in a matter of seconds. He mumbles an apology as he buckles you in, then gets into the driver’s side equally as fast and starts the engine.

“I’m gonna apologize in advance,” you gasp. “In case I throw up in your van.”

Frank makes the grunt equivalent of a shrug as he peels out of the alleyway. “Not the worst thing it’s seen.” 

He stops behind a massive apartment building about fifteen minutes later, cutting the engine as he unbuckles himself and opens the door. 

“What’re we doing?” you mumble. Now that you’re sitting down and not actively working on getting away from your kidnappers, exhaustion’s setting in. Fast.

“Can’t use my car to get’cha where you need to go,” Frank explains as he unbuckles you and half-drags, half-scoops you out of your seat. “We’ll need to borrow a ride. That, and you need some first aid for your head faster than you need a ride home.”

You frown as you touch your head, then blink when your hand comes away red and sticky. “Oh. Party.”

Frank chuckles as helps you stagger towards the fire escape. “Always is.”

“Wait, you’re gonna make me fucking climb all that?”

“Guy like me can’t exactly use the front door.”

“How high up are we going?”

“Floor fourteen.”

You give him a flat look. “I hate you.”

He chuckles again. “That how you thank all your rescuers?”

“It is if they make me climb up fourteen floors after going through a car accident.”

“Suppose that’s fair.”

You wince as you hook your arm around his waist again. “You’re gonna have to count; I need to focus on not dropping us.”

You manage to get up to the correct floor without dropping Frank once. He does, though, have to practically drag you to the right window. You whimper as he sets you down and taps on the glass pane.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Hang in there.”

You can hear movement inside the apartment, and then the window opens.

A slim woman with shoulder-length blonde hair and wide blue eyes gives the two of you a horrified look. “Frank –what the fuck?”

He jerks his head at you. “She needs help.”

You stick out your hand –it’s not like you’ve got any better options. “I’m Y/N.”

Karen shakes your hand before backing away from the window so Frank can lift you inside. “I’m Karen Page. Let me grab my first aid kit.”

“I’ve got it,” Frank says as he shuts the window. “She needs a phone to call her boyfriend.”

“I lost mine in the car crash.”

It says something about Karen that she doesn’t even blink at your comment. Instead, she digs her phone out of her purse, unlocks it, and hands it you. “Here.”

“Sorry if I bleed on it,” you mumble as you dial Piotr’s number –you mentally thank your uncle for making you memorize phone numbers from an early age on—and try to avoid smearing Karen’s phone with blood as you lift the speaker end to your ear.

“It’s fine.” Karen nods in the direction that Frank went. “I guarantee you he’s done worse.”

The phone rings a few times before Piotr picks up. “Ya sluchu vas.”

You start crying; after the day you’ve had, hearing his voice is the best damn thing in the world. “Piotr?”

His reaction is immediate, relief so evident in his voice you can practically see the expression on his face. “Y/N, where are you? I have been trying to reach you all day—”

“I got in a car crash; some chickenshits tried to run me off the road, and then they threw me in the trunk of a car, and—”

“What? Slow down. Wait, are you safe? Where are you?”

You groan as Frank and Karen help you sit on her couch, then laugh when you realize how fucking ridiculous the story you’re about to tell is gonna sound. “Yeah. You’re not gonna believe who I ran into.”

Frank takes over the phone once you’ve recapped everything for Piotr and reassured your darling boyfriend that, yes, you’re as okay as you can be and you’re in a safe place; he works out the details of how you’re getting back to the mansion while Karen works on getting you relatively cleaned and patched up. 

And Karen, to her credit, doesn’t seem all that alarmed by your –or Frank’s, for that matter—injuries. Concerned, yes, and maybe a little strained, but not scared.

She smiles weakly when you remark as much. “Yeah, well, you can’t really let all this freak you out to much if you associate with him.” She nods at Frank again.

“I didn’t think the Punisher had associates,” you mumble as she applies another bandage to what seemed to be a nasty cut on your forehead, if Frank’s and Karen’s reactions were anything to go by.

She huffs out a laugh at that. “I didn’t either, until I realized that I was one of them.”

“Yeah… yeah. No, we’ll get ‘er to you. Probably safer that way… nah, I’m sure. We’ll finish getting ‘er stable, and then I’ll drive her out. See you in a bit, Rasputin.”

You peer up at Frank as he ends the call and hands the phone back to Karen. “How’re we getting out of here?”

“I’ll drive you back once you’re patched up.”

Karen snorts and gives him an incredulous look. “I don’t remember saying you could ‘borrow’ my car. Again.”

“I’ve got a ride—”

“What, your murder van?”

You giggle; it’s an apt description, really.

The corner of Frank’s mouth turns up –and holy shit the Punisher is actually smiling. “What’s wrong with it? It’s got four wheels, it drives, it brakes, it steers. What more do you want?”

“Upholstery that doesn’t have bloodstains on them?”

“Aw, c’mon. It adds character.”

And, even with your probable concussion, you can tell that Frank and Karen are flirting. Hardcore flirting, even.

And that’s… interesting. You knew that Karen had to be someone that Frank trusted to even go to her in the first place, but you hadn’t banked on him liking her, too.

“Frank, you won’t be in Hell’s Kitchen. If you drive Y/N to the X-Mansion in your murder van, people are going to call the police. We’ll take my car.”

“‘We?’”

Karen shoots him a defiant look. “You aren’t ‘borrowing’ my car again, Frank.” She moves out of the way so he can take over your ‘patching up’ and disappear somewhere out of your field of vision.

Frank crouches in front of the couch, still grinning as he rifles through Karen’s first aid kit. He pauses for a minute –and you recognize the look on his face as the ‘I’m about to be a little shit’ expression, which you’ve learned to identify from spending so much time with Wade—then says “Technically, I didn’t borrow it the first time.”

“Not helping your argument, Castle.”

You bite back a smirk as Frank huffs out something that, on another person, might be a chuckle. Very interesting.

Once Frank declares that you’re unlikely to bleed on the interior of Karen’s car, she and Frank help you down to the parking garage of her apartment building. Frank crawls into the back with you –to make sure you don’t fall asleep, given your probable concussion and whatnot—while Karen gets into the driver’s seat and turns the car on. 

You wince as you try to sit in a way that doesn’t hurt, then give up on it and settle for letting your head rest against the car door. 

You’re tired. Now that you’re not running for your life or in the warm glow of Karen’s apartment, all you can process –feel—is your exhaustion. You haven’t eaten since breakfast, you’re uncomfortable, and every single tiny move you make hurts.

You are, however, wearing one of Frank’s hoodies; Karen had produced it from somewhere in her apartment –add that to the list of interesting details about whatever dynamic Frank Castle and Karen Page have going on—and wrapped you in it to hide the worst of your injuries from any passersby. It’s ridiculously soft, funnily enough, and is only adding to the exhaustion weighing down on you. You nestle yourself in as much as you can to the back seat of Karen’s car and make to close your eyes.

“Hey. Hey, hey! Do not fall asleep right now!” Frank grabs your hand and squeezes hard enough to be uncomfortable. “Keep your eyes open, you hear me?”

“Fuck you, I’m tired,” you whine. You open your eyes anyway.

“How’d you end up running into Frank?” Karen asks from the front seat as she carefully navigates out of Hell’s Kitchen. “You said something about crashing your car?”

“I didn’t crash my car,” you grouse. “Some assholes pulled out in front of me on a highway and stopped.”

“And no one called the police? Or an ambulance?”

“I’m pretty sure it was all planned ahead of time. The highway was dead empty just before it happened.”

The car goes silent for a moment, and then Karen says in a voice that’s just a little too steady “I knew working with the X-Men could be dangerous, but I didn’t think things were that crazy.”

“I don’t think it had anything to do with them,” you admit. “I’m not really an X-Man, either.”

“But you live at the mansion. And you’re a mutant.”

“I am, but being at the mansion is more for my own safety,” you say with a bitter laugh. “I, uh, grew up in an anti-mutant home. Left once I figured out there was a place that would accept me.”

“You think it had something to do with your parents?” Frank asks.

“I mean, they’ve sent bounty hunters after me before,” you grumble. “It’s not like it’d be the first time.”

Frank tenses next to you. “Who are you parents, ‘xactly?”

You don’t have to guess about why he’s suddenly so uptight. This is the man that spends his life gunning down gangs and crime families and other scums of the Earth; if you were him, you’d be worried about what sort of shit the person you randomly helped save might drag into your life—

Or the life of someone like Karen Page.

If there’s really something going on there, you muse, he’s gonna be protective of her. “They’re no one. Just a couple of assholes who didn’t want their kid when she was growing up, but now that’s she gone they’ve figured out they don’t want anyone else having her either, much less for her to have a life where she’s happy.” Tears start stinging your eyes, and then they’re trickling down your cheeks as you start crying. “They used to lock me in my room –my dad would beat with a belt when I had trouble controlling my mutation—” You choke back a sob, then pain racks through your body from the movement jarring your ribs.

There’s the click of a seatbelt unbuckling, and then Frank’s sliding over so he’s next to you, holding your shoulders steady so you don’t jerk yourself around unnecessarily. “Hey, hey. Deep breaths. Easy.”

“I can’t ‘breathe deep,’ asshole,” you say with a choked laugh. “Ow.”

“Is abuse really all that common towards mutants?” Karen asks from the front seat. “Not that I don’t believe you or believe it happens, it’s just… disheartening to think about.”

“Unfortunately, it is,” you say as Frank slides back to his seat and buckles himself in; you’ve calmed down again, which means you don’t need to be restrained. “There’s obviously the good families, but we’re kind of scum to society. Freakish abominations.”

“But there’s nothing wrong with you,” Karen insists. “You’re just people.”

You let out a dark laugh. “Tell that to the founders of Harmony.”

Frank’s eyes are on you again. “What?”

“An anti-mutant settlement about an hour from Xavier’s. They actively kill any mutants they can get their hands on; they’ve got a compound out in the middle of the woods where they do it.” You go quiet for a moment. “They would’ve killed Piotr, if we hadn’t rescued him.”

“I didn’t realize things were that bad,” Karen says softly after a moment. “How are people even getting away with that shit?”

“How do people get away with committing atrocities anywhere? They think they have a right to hurt people, and others agree with them. Unfortunately for us, the ‘others’ who agree with them happen to be the people in power.”

The car goes silent again, and something tells you that the wheels in Karen’s head are turning. You don’t know her that well –don’t know her at all, really—but something tells you that the woman that Frank Castle is –seemingly—interested in isn’t the type to roll over all that easy.

Then, Karen clears her throat. “Who’s Piotr?”

You smile softly. “He’s my boyfriend. He’s the one I called at your apartment. I was actually out getting him some presents for his birthday today.”

“That’s sweet. What were you getting him?”

“Art supplies. He’s an artist, so I like to help keep him stocked up.” You blink owlishly when you realize that the bags with everything you’d bought are probably still in the wreckage formerly known as you car. “I’m gonna have to rerun that errand. Right after I get a new ride.”

“It’ll all work out,” Karen reassures you. “How long have the two of you been together?”

“Uh…” You try to figure it out, even going as far as to count it out on your fingers—

“She’s concussed, Karen. Maybe don’t make her do math,” Frank says with a chuckle.

“It’s been longer than a year,” you add. “Definitely longer than a year.” You think for a moment, then let out a soft laugh. “Y’know, I never thought I’d find anyone. I grew up thinking I was unlovable.”

“Anyone can be loved,” Karen says.

If it were any other situation, you’d write it off as a supportive statement.

But Karen’s voice is just a little too pointed, a little too intentional, and Frank suddenly gets very interested in staring at his shoes.

Probable concussion or not, you know you’re not seeing things. But, there’s nothing you can do or say now that won’t make things awkward, so you tuck it all away for later, for when you can dish it all out to Ellie, Wade, and Yukio to get their opinions on it all –which, to be clear, you’ll only do because you know they’d never blab about it.

But yeah, later. Right now, all you want to do is get back home to Piotr.

Karen keeps you talking for the rest of the ride, asking questions about Piotr and your new life at Xavier’s until she pulls up the gravel drive of Xavier’s Institute for Gifted Youngsters.

The front door opens before Karen even puts the car into park and then Piotr’s sprinting out towards you, followed by a couple of healers.

Frank gets out and directs him to the side where you’re sat—

And then the door’s opening, and Piotr’s there next to you, and you’re both crying.

A couple that cries together, stays together. Isn’t that how the saying goes?

Frank helps Piotr unbuckle and get you out of the car, and then you’re being made to lay down on a stretcher by one very blue, very furry Dr. Hank McCoy.

“Hey, doc,” you manage. “How bad do I look?” 

“I’ve seen worse,” he says with a small smile. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

You can breathe without your ribs hurting.

It’s the small things in life, really.

Lucky for you, aside from the fractured ribs –and the concussion; you did, in fact, have a concussion—there weren’t any other major injuries. The healers fix you up, Hank checks you over, and then you’re being discharged with a meager amount of painkillers to help with the stiffness and soreness that’ll linger for the next few days.

It could’ve been worse. It could’ve been so much worse.

Piotr sticks by your side for all of it; he holds your hand, lets you squeeze his when you need to, and offers encouragement when he can.

Hank leaves so Piotr can help you get dressed in clean clothes, and you start crying as soon as the door closes.

Piotr’s by your side in an instant –not that he had wandered far from it in the first place. “Moya lyubov’, what is it? What’s wrong? Are you hurting?”

You mash your face against his shoulder and sob. “I’m sorry –I’m sorry that I didn’t call, and that I worried you, and that—”

He’s quick to shush you, gentle and loving as he rubs soothing circles on your back with his hands. “Nyet, nyet, nyet. This was not your fault, myshka.” He kisses the top of your head. “Let’s get you dressed, and then let’s get you food. Da?”

You sniff loudly and nod. “Yeah, okay.”

He kisses each of your eyelids. “What sounds good?”

“I want a burger. With fries.”

He chuckles and kisses the bridge of your nose. “Khorosho.”

“A lot of fries. Like, a metric ton of fries.”

He laughs again and helps you start changing out of your shirt. “We’ll see what we can do.”

Karen and Frank, surprisingly enough, are still around when Piotr walks you over to the main side of the Institute. Karen’s talking to Professor Xavier while taking notes in a little notebook, while Frank just generally looks uncomfortable and seems to be set on finding the best places to stand that’ll draw the least amount of attention to him. 

He also looks a lot better, too, which means the healers must’ve gotten a hold of him.

Good.

Karen looks shocked when she sees you. “Oh, wow. I didn’t think you’d be walking at all.”

“I’ve always bounced back quick,” you say with a shrug. “But having healers that can literally make your wounds close themselves by touching you doesn’t hurt things either.”

She nods. “Yeah, I bet they don’t.”

Frank rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth lifts in a grin anyway.

You manage to make eye contact with him –no small feat, since he seems hellbent on memorizing the grain of the wood flooring—and nod in greeting. “Thanks for helping me out.”

He nods back. “Any time.”

“You guys alright? You need anything to eat?” You point in the direction of the kitchen. “I’m gonna have a burger—”

“Actually, we should probably head out,” Karen says. “I’ve got work tomorrow, and I still have an article that I need to wrap up before morning hits.”

The relief on Frank’s face at being given an out is palpable, so you drop it. “Alright. It was nice to meet you. Thanks for letting me bleed on your couch.”

Karen laughs and nods. “No problem. It’s definitely not the worst thing that couch has ever seen. Hopefully, if we run into each other again, it’ll be under better circumstances with less blood involved.”

“We can always hope.” As you watch them leave, an old memory flashes into your mind’s eye:

“You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt has become tasteless, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled under foot by men.”

Normally, any memories from your childhood are liable to send you reeling –especially any that connect to the countless times you were dragged into your town’s church and told, over and over, how you were a perversion of God’s creation.

But now, instead of panicking, you can’t help but regard Frank and Karen in quiet contemplation as they walk out the front door of Xavier’s; the two people that, without really knowing you or having any investment in your wellbeing past the general goodwill that decent humans possessed, had spent the past couple of hours helping you get to safety.

After a life of being beaten down –specifically by non-mutants—it’s an interesting turnabout.

You smile to yourself, just a little, as you watch Frank open the door for Karen and usher her out into the night. Salt of the earth indeed.

You wind up on the couch, nestled against Piotr’s side, happily munching on your burger while the two of you watch old Mythbusters reruns. 

(You did, in fact, get a small mountain of fries –and decent servings of fruit and vegetables, because Piotr made your plate for you.)

“How are you feeling?” he asks, voice soft as he kisses the top of your head.

“Sore. Tired. Hungry.” You set your burger down. “I’m gonna need a new phone. I lost mine in the crash.”

He rubs a hand up and down your back. “We’ll get it figured out.”

“I’m gonna need a new car, too. And to replace everything in my purse.”

He wraps his arms around you as you start shaking and presses his lips against your shoulder. “Breathe, myshka. Everything will be taken care of.”

Your lower lip trembles and you squeeze your eyes shut. “I had presents for your birthday picked out and everything. I lost those, too.”

He kisses your temple, then your forehead. “I would rather have you than presents.”

“Yeah, I get it, I just—” You sniffle and rub your hands over your face. “I’m just upset about it. I get it’s not even that big a deal in the grand scheme of things, but I still just—”

He gently settles you in his lap when you start crying and rocks you back and forth. “It is okay to be upset. You had upsetting day.”

“I was just really happy with what I picked out, and now I’m not gonna be able to leave the mansion again until we figure out who went after me and why, and I really just want to be able to buy you a birthday gift, dammit.”

“I am very flattered, myshka, but trust me when I say it does not matter to me. I will not be hurt if you cannot get me gifts.”

“I know, but it matters to me.”

He goes quiet at that, opting to just hold you and rock you back and forth while you cry.

It’s been a shit day. Your car was totaled, you were kidnapped after being forced into an accident, you had to spend over an hour in the medical bay at the mansion to get your ribs patched up, and now you’re down a phone, an ID and debit card, a car, and your gifts for Piotr.

You know that you’re lucky. That things could be much, much worse. That if you hadn’t run into Frank on that rooftop, you’d probably be in the trunk of another car right now.

You’re alive, you’re healed, and you’re back with Piotr. You’ve got a lot to be grateful for.

And, in the morning, you will be grateful for it.

But it’s been a shit day, and right now all you want to do is cry over the fact that you can’t buy your boyfriend a damn replacement birthday present.

So that’s what you do. You’ve earned it.

Crying’s healthy, anyway.

[all-hail-the-witcher]

questionable government spies: chapter 5

AH YES FINALLLLLLLY like im actually so excited this is the last chapter before we get to the good stuff eeeee

as always previous parts can be found under spy boys

__________

ship: eventual space, platonic ralbert, platonic jackcrutchie

warnings: uh, I think not, Albert is tired and jacks an idiot

word count: 2066

editing: uhhh actually yes

__________

Two nights after he had moved in with Crutchie, jack was awoken sometime in the early hours of the morning by an ear piercing scream.

He bolted upright and was out of bed in a second, only pausing to grab one of his sneakers off the floor. Suddenly, he was thankful for the strange training drills Race and Albert had put him through, specifically the one they had called What To Do If Someone Breaks Into Your House With A Gun And You Only Have A Rubber Band. They had claimed that it was based off of real events, but jack suspected they just wanted him to do stupid things and make him look like a fool for future blackmail. But then again, it was Race and Albert, you could never be too sure with them.

Jack ran down the hall and slid into the kitchen in his Cookie Monster socks, wielding his shoe above his head ready to take on whatever intruder had dared enter their apartment. But all he saw when he entered the kitchen was Crutchie staring transfixed at his laptop, grinning like a maniac.

“Jack! Oh my god I did it!” Crutchie squealed in delight. “I cra- wait a second.” He looked up, taking in his friends lackluster fight stance and his lame weapon. “What are you doing?”

Jack sheepishly lowered his shoe. “You screamed. I thought there was an intruder.”

Crutchie stared at Jack for a solid 5 seconds before he burst out laughing. “You thought - so you - a shoe?” He couldn’t seem to get the words out.

“Shoes, I’ll have you know, are very useful weapons,” jack said proudly. “Albert knows 15 different ways to kill someone with a sneaker.” He bragged about it all the time. It was the reason why he only owned sneakers.

Crutchie finally regained his composure. “And has he taught you any of those ways?”

“Well….no.” Jack stared at his feet.

“Then why the heck would you come out here with a shoe to face an intruder?”

Crutchie did have a point. “I’m not sure…?”

“Don’t those guys teach you anything?” Crutchie continued clacking away at the keys on his computer.

“Race taught me how to get out of bed in less than 3 seconds, how to properly stash weapons in a ball gown, and fall off a roof without dying. And Albert taught me how to store 17 knives in a leather jacket, how to safely ingest several kinds of poison and how to ignore Race’s commentary.” Jack supplied quietly as he looked at his feet.

“My point exactly.” Crutchie said.

Jack dropped his shoe on the ground dejectedly. “So, why were you screaming if there isn’t an intruder?”

“Oh, right!” Crutchie perked up, turning his computer around to face jack. He could get distracted very easily. “I cracked the code!” A smile spread across his face.

“Really?!” Jack felt his own face explode into a grin. “That’s fantastic, crutch! What does it say?”

“Well it's a little confusing,” Crutchie began. “But I think it could be a real breakthrough in the case.”

“Read it to me.” For the past two days Jack, along with Race and Albert had been looking for leads on the case with no luck whatsoever. If this note gave them something to go off of then they could finally get started.

“Okay here’s what it says,” Crutchie began to read off of his laptop. “My best friend is in Ymony and he wants out. Leaving punishable by death or imprisonment. Name is conlon. Will give you information and help you bring them down in exchange for freedom. Please help.”

Jack was silent for a minute. This was exactly what they needed. “I’m going to call Race and Albert, this is huge.”

•••

It was 2:12 am when race stormed into Crutchie and Jacks apartment, dragging a half asleep Albert behind him. “Jack Francis Kelly this better be good.”

Luckily, Crutchie spoke up almost immediately. “I cracked the code!”

Albert took his head off of Race’s shoulder and opened his eyes. “Do we have a name?”

“A last name, we think,” jack supplied.

“Make me some coffee,” race announced, cracking his knuckles and looking already more awake than he had 2 minutes ago. “We’re not leaving until we find this sucker.”

•••

Turned out, Race was very serious when he said they weren’t leaving until they found the suspect. It was now close to 4 and race was on his 4th cup of coffee as he sat on the couch, clacking away at his laptop, searching through tax records from the previous year. At the counter, Crutchie was sifting through police records and Jack was hunting through social security numbers and birth certificates.

“Are we done yet, race?” Albert mumbled. His eyes were closed and he had his head on race’s shoulder, but jack knew he wasn’t asleep because he chimed in with information every few minutes.

“Not yet.” Race responded, pausing to flick his blonde hair out of his eyes and take a sip of coffee. “You can go to sleep, you know. I know you’re tired.”

“Can’t.” Albert cracked open an eye to peer at Races computer screen. “You looked at this page already.”

“Ugh, you’re right,” race groaned, clicking onto the next page. “How did you even know that?”

“M smart,” Albert yawned, closing his eyes again.

“Yeah yeah, you keep telling yourself that,” race paused to copy down a name that he would research later, “if you were really smart, you’d be helping me instead of sleeping.”

“Nah,” Albert muttered. “You’re smarter, that’s why I’m letting you do it.”

Race snorted. “Why thank you, Albert. You’re very endearing when you’re half asleep,” he said sarcastically, not taking his eyes off the screen.

Jack paused his work to watch the two of them banter. He’d missed having Albert around the last week. He’d actually missed him way more than he would like to admit. The last year he’d spent with race and Albert had been the best year of his life. The two of them had welcomed him into their little family with open arms. They had done pretty much the same thing he had done: ran away from home and joined the FBI at a young age. Well, at least race had, he knew Albert still had some family that he kept in contact with. Jack had no one. For the longest time it had been him and Crutchie and whatever foster home they’d been placed in (the two of them had met on the street when they were 5 and pretended to be siblings so they wouldn’t be separated). With race and Albert, jack felt like for the first time he had a stable place to go home to. They were like the older brothers he had never had, constantly looking out for him and taking care of him and teaching him little tricks here and there. The first night he had spent back with Crutchie at his apartment had actually been strange, jack was not used to living anywhere without either race or Albert.

When race had gotten the call last week that Albert was dead, he took the call quietly. Jack could still remember exactly what they had been doing. They had gotten home from the mission two hours before, and dumped their gear on the entryway floor to be cleaned later. Albert hadn’t been with them, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary, he’d usually join them a few hours later. Jack had just showered and was sitting in the couch watching an episode of Psych and race was in the kitchen, hair still damp, wearing an oversized blue sweatshirt making pasta. The phone had rang. Not Races cell phone, the apartment one that was reserved for important calls from the FBI. Jack had paused the tv as race answered. Race had answered the call with a quiet hello and the call had consisted mainly of many yes sirs and no sirs. Jack had sat silently on the couch for what felt like an eternity while Race has been on the phone, a pit growing in his stomach. Finally, race had come over and sat down next to him, quietly telling him that Albert wouldn’t be coming back from the mission.

Jack hadn’t known what to feel, he’d never lost anyone that close to him before that he had been old enough to remember. He had stared at Race in silence for several seconds before tears began to flow. Race had enveloped him in a tight hug and they cried silently together. That night, jack had been unable to sleep and ended up in race’s bed with him, hiccuping softly as the older boy helped try to coax him to rest. The next few days jack had snuck out and lived in his van - he couldn’t stand to be in the apartment or see race without Albert - and didn’t return until the day of the funeral.

But now, Albert was here, and he was alive and in one piece and all of the previous weeks events felt like a bad dream. He was a little nervous at how out of it Albert still seemed - usually he’d be up along with race pulling an all nighter to figure out leads and research suspects instead of almost being asleep - but when he’d asked Race about it, he brushed off his concerns saying Albert just needed time to rest and recuperate after his stunt. In the meantime, jack was just happy to have his brother back.

“Wait,” he was pulled out of his thoughts by Races voice. “I think I found him.”

“Name?” Crutchie called from the counter.

“Sean Patrick Conlon. 24. Lives in Brooklyn.”

Crutchie typed a string of letters into his computer. “Currently lives with Elmer Kasprzak, part time EMT, and co owner of a tattoo shop.” He scrolled and typed a little more. “Parents are dead. Has a sister.” Scrolled some more. “Oh, here we go, only criminal record is getting caught pickpocketing three years ago on the subway. But-” he typed in another string of code. “That file was edited two years ago.”

“Sounds like our guy,” Albert said, still leaning against race. “Does he have an address? Phone number?”

Jack typed for a minute. “Yes, but didn’t the note say “my best friend”? Like it wasn’t written by Sean?” Race and Crutchie nodded and Albert let out a soft snore before jolting awake suddenly and gripping Races hand. “Well, I found an Instagram account for Elmer who posted a picture of him and Sean - except he calls him spot - and the caption refers to him as his “best friend,” maybe we should try him first?”

“And Crutchie said Elmer lives with him, it has to be him who delivered the note. Great idea, Jackie” race nodded in approval, shutting his laptop. “Find Elmer’s number and give him a call right now.” He placed the laptop on the floor and pulled Albert into his lap, calmly running his fingers up and down his back, trying to coax him to sleep.

“Found it,” Crutchie called a minute later. He pulled out the standard issue FBI house phone that was non traceable. “What should I tell him?”

“Tell him that well meet Sean tomorrow at that coffee shop on 8th Avenue up by Central Park, say 3pm. Tell him to come alone and not to bring weapons,” Albert mumbled into Races shoulder, clearly avoiding all of his friends attempts to make him sleep.

Crutchie dialed and relayed the information when someone, Elmer, he supposed, picked up. After a few minutes of chatter he hung up. “Done.”

“Perfect.” Race let go of Albert long enough to stash his laptop back into his bag and shouldered it before standing up, Albert in tow. “If you’ll excuse us, I need to get Albie back home, he needs to sleep. Jack-” he said, and jack looked up. “Meet us at our place tomorrow at 1 so we can go over the plan, and don’t be late.”

Jack nodded and watched race and Albert go, door closing softly behind them.

“I can see why you’ve become so attached to them,” Crutchie said, putting away his computer. “They seem nice and caring, and they’ve adopted you into their family.”

Jack smiled. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah they have.”

__________

ooooooo we got a little look at jack isn't he the cutest thing and crutchie well, he isn't in it much but I love him too

and look at that cute platonic ralbert race is such a caring boi awwww

the next chapter is my favorite hehehe

feedback is always appreciated hmu to be on the tag list

tag list

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@well-the-kids-do-too

@racetrackcook

@bouncyscreamingnewsboys

@ughwaitwhat

@aw-jus-let-em-try

@ben-cook-can-cook

@the-woild-is-my-what-now

@elmer-s-s0cks

@voice-foundshoe-lost

@galaxy-trees13

@stopthe-presses

@ridin-in-style

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@spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn

[unkindnessofone]

5SOS. Park That Car

This is a series of Daphne one shots. I can’t believe it’s done. I loved writing it. There is the slightest amount of smut in one them, but that’s it. It’s like so very little. Please enjoy. I love hearing your feedback. It would be cool to hear which one was your favorite if any. Also dedicating this one to @fivesauceblurbs . They've always been supportive and it does not go unnoticed. The title is based off this song . To me, it could be Daphne’s theme and it’s by one of my favorite bands.

ONE

Some days Daphne Hood didn’t like anything about herself. Sometimes, she could rattle off a list of a hundred different things about herself that were ‘bad’, 'ugly’, or 'stupid’. Even though she didn’t think she was one of the strongest dancers in her classes, it was generally when she was extending her limbs and throwing her body into music that she felt of all the villainous voices in her head. However, she didn’t take dance every day. There were two days out of the week where she had to stay behind at school and work with a tutor in order to pass. It was on those days that she was particularly hard on herself. So instead of dance class, she had to find an alternative happy place. She didn’t have March’s arms anymore, so Daphne started to feel her best when she was behind the wheel of her car. It was one of the only things she felt came very naturally to her. She was, simply put, a very good driver. Molly Irwin was the brain with long legs and strong morals, but she was an absolute menace on the road. She always felt like a complete waste of cells standing next to Molly Irwin who was always the smartest girl in the room so Daphne was quite pleased that she was a better driver. It was petty, but sometimes it was the smallest things that meant the most.

As much as she would have rather been in a dance studio somewhere either taking a class or working on her own technique by herself in front a mirror that taunted her, Daphne knew how important it was to her parents that she pulled up her grades. They had arranged the after school and lunch hour tutoring for her and she had seen tears almost fall from her very cool mom’s eyes when she once brought home a B on a pop quiz in geography. Glad to be finished and heading home, Daphne tossed her book bag carelessly in the passenger seat of her car as she climbed behind the wheel. Most of the teachers were gone at this point, leaving her little purple car as one of four in the parking lot. She put on a slow song that she had fallen in love with after breaking up with March. She dreamed of choreographing something heartbreaking in the most beautiful sense of the word, but so far only a few foot movements came to mind.

Daphne stopped right behind the sign, watching the one other car on the road in front of her private school as it rushed by. She checked around her before merging onto the road and heading straight. She had done the drive countless times whether being driven by a parent, a parent’s friend, or herself. Happily, she swam her head through the air ever so gently along with the melody. It was relaxing until her instincts kicked in and slammed on the brakes before her eyes and brain even had time to register what just happened. Out of nowhere, there was a person in front of her in the middle of Princess Street, just a few blocks away from her school. Daphne’s mane threw itself forward and she stared, shocked and winded, at March Hemmings staring back at her right in front of her windshield. He wasn’t just staring, he was looking through her with cold, but soulful eyes. She didn’t think she hit him. She hoped she hadn’t hit him. She was confident there wasn’t an innocent way to almost hitting your ex boyfriend with your car. Right away, she put the car into park and rushed out to where he was standing, reaching down for the skateboard that had slipped out from under him.

“Are you okay? Did I hit you?” Brushing her hair frantically behind her ears pierced with pink clay lotus flowers, Daphne asked, coming so close to him that he moved himself back one step.

“I’m fine.” Embarrassed, March refused to look at her. He felt like a moron in front of someone he was always trying to look good in front of.

She noticed his black uniform tie on the ground between them, the one he always wore undone and swept it up from the ground before offering it out in her open palm, “I didn’t see you. I’m sorry. I don’t even know where you came from.” Daphne started to look around to try and figure out his point of origin before her attention was brought back by his fingers fidgeting in her palm to take back his uniform piece. He had lost it enough times before for the principal to write to his parents about it.

“I didn’t see your car.” Poking his tongue into his cheek, March focused on the cut in his gums from biting down when he realized a car was coming. It wasn’t just any car, too. It was a car that still smelled like him it was so full of memories that he had a hand in creating.

“Do you want a ride home?” Daphne didn’t really want to risk any more awkward or confrontational moments with March, but her heart was still pounding in her chest and she wasn’t thinking straight.

“I’m fine.” Again, he told her, putting his board down and playing with it with just one foot. “I got to go.” Vague and cool as a gentle breeze above palm trees, he played. Daphne watched him skate away slowly after checking for other cars and then went back to her car, letting out an exhale to calm herself down before getting behind the wheel. She had just put her car back in drive when a loud and quick knock on her passenger window made her let out an honest one second scream. She put the car in park again as soon as she realized it was March, his face framed in the window. She looked at her car door panel to find the right button to roll it down, but before she could, he had the door open and was sitting inside. Daphne didn’t know whether she should drive or not, so she just put on her signals and idled.

“Can you, just,” Abruptly, the way he was doing everything these days, March put his board between his knees and confronted her. “answer a question for me?” He asked with a hand rubbing his messy hair underneath his beloved black beanie.

“I’ll try.” Daphne felt more nervous than she ever had before a math test or dance recital.

“Are you seeing someone?” The question nearly choked him on the way out. It had occurred to him that he might not want to know the answer. They had only been broken up for two and a half months though and it hurt him to wonder about. Daphne was completely stunned, giving him time to adjust his curiosity, “No. Are you seeing Ryan Vogel?” She was about to answer, but March’s mouth was open and he couldn’t close it even if he used both his hands to push his lips together. “He’s a St John’s guy, you know?” It was an all-boys school, one with a stupid rivalry with their school’s soccer team. “None of them are cool.” He was about to say bad-looking, but he knew that wasn’t a strong point to lead with.

“Iden goes to St John’s.” Blinking as rapidly as she was trying to think, Daphne finally managed to get a word in.

“Yeah, I know. They play soccer together. He told me he’s a spaz.”

“I guess I have a type then.” Daphne said without thinking and then bit down on her formerly glossy lips. She had surprised herself with her own burst of sassiness. She had never been very witty or good at giving someone their due shit. “Why are you asking me this, March? You made out with Raquel in the corner of the cafeteria, right in my view, and I’ve heard you’ve liked hooked up with the a couple freshman. I’m not confronting you about it.”

“Are you with him?”

“No!” Not that it was any of his business, but Daphne really didn’t want to drag this conversation out much longer. She longed for the days when they were children and he was shoving her as hard as he could into puddles. These days it seemed like he would rather die than have a pleasant exchange with her. She didn’t think she would be able to pick Ryan Vogel out in a crowd, but she wasn’t about to give March the satisfaction of knowing that.

“Well, he’s into you. He told Iden that he heard you were single and he was trying to figure out if you were girlfriend material or the splash and dash kind.” He rattled off, warning her in the harshest way possible.

“He sounds awful then.”

“Yeah, he is. I thought you should know. Spaz!”

“Thank you?” Daphne threw her arms down at either side of her, shrugging her shoulders. Her car was small, it just comfortably fit four people, but felt completely lost inside it at the moment.

“You’re welcome.” He threw open the car door, nearly hitting a van that was going around them. “And your hair looks great today!” As if it was an insult, he told her in a sour tone that could use a lozenge. March took his board and skated away from her again, slamming the door behind him. He left Daphne feeling boggled. In fact, she had to turn off the radio and drive silently the whole way home in order to clear her busy mind.

TWO

“I’m trying to put together something for Grace and I, a little getaway…” Michael explained while Calum drove them through Sunset Boulevard. It was a beautiful day, but he only let the windows down and kept the top of the blue convertible up. He had forgotten two year old Daphne’s sun hat back at the house they were renting and he also didn’t want to invite any unnecessary attention to the three of them as they went around running errands. He had a bass guitar to pick up from the shop among other things. Both he and Michael had decided to pick up fancy take out for their little families. “I don’t know when our schedule allows time.” Michael shook his head at his own words while drumming his hand on the outside of the car to the beat of the classic rock song on, arm slightly out the window.

“Lucky for you, your parents will probably take Iden and Emme at a moment’s notice.” Calum said while stopping at a red light. To call them doting grandparents would have been an understatement. They put Annemarie Irwin to shame with the way she spoiled her grand babies with lipstick kisses alone. Calum took the pause to check in his mirror at Daphne in her car seat. She was wearing her hair in a half pony, jetting out of the top of her head. She had fished out her Minnie Mouse sunglasses with red bows on the corner of the frames from between the car seats and put them on herself. His smile almost stretched off of his face at the sight of how cute she looked. He waved in the mirror and, much to his surprise, she waved back eagerly, her hand moving as quick as windshield wipers on a stormy midnight drive.

“Yeah.” Michael agreed, forever grateful to his parents for their help. “We just need it.” He said even though everyone and their dog knew that. “I’m thinking i’ll surprise her and we can go back to Bora Bora. Redo the honeymoon.”

“Well, it’s not like you guys really saw outside your resort room then anyway.” Smirking, he teased his best friend. Calum didn’t have to be on their honeymoon with them to know they spent almost all of it in the infinity pool having sex, in their bed having sex, in their oversized shower having sex, and in an elevator having sex.

“I wouldn’t mind it being like last time.” Grace was currently freezing him out. She was angry with him for not going over any of the tour dates with her as well as expecting her to go to every kid’s doctor’s appointment by herself while he was in rehearsals in Los Angeles.

“You two always work it out.” Calum told Michael as he was sure he had many times before. Sometimes, for fun, he and his other friends made bets at how long The Cliffords would go before making amends. So far, Calum had made two thousand dollars due to knowing Grace and Michael better than anyone else. It was always the same. She lost her temper due to something to do with Michael’s job, he rolled his eyes or didn’t understand why she was hurt, and then they were livid with one another.

As Michael started to explain that he was looking for a couple’s counselor before they went away, the sound of tires screeching and metal folding forcefully together took over and then all there was was smoke, the radio, and terrified tears from Daphne in her car seat. Behind them, a kitchen appliance delivery truck had smoked the rear of the convertible. The impact was felt through the entire car, but Daphne had been the human most affected.

“Fuck!” Ignoring the rule about swearing in front of his daughter, Calum pierced his curse through the air.

“It’s okay.” Michael was looking out the broken back window, glass everywhere in the back seat and covering Daphne’s little elastic blue jeans, but he reached his hand back out of reflex to offer her comfort.”Oh, Daffy. It’s going to be okay.”

“What the fuck?” Calum was out of the car, shouting over the hood at the driver of the delivery truck. He was just a teenager behind the wheel, wiping at his forehead in a panic and staring at the same mess Michael was.

“I’m real sorry, dude.” Outside the window, the driver barely popped his head out. He didn’t want to actually leave the safety of his car. Calum looked like he could punch right through the door with the veins beginning to show in his knuckles that were curled. “I don’t know, I just…I’m sorry.” He wasn’t about to admit to the man who looked ready to murder him that he had been texting when he crashed into their car.

“You’re sorry?” Calum pushed his front seat forward, listening to cars honk around him that only egged Daphne’s tears on, and then reached in to unbuckle her from the mess of glass she was sitting in. He had no idea if she was okay, her Minnie Mouse glasses still covering her face. Michael was out of the car by now, assessing the damage with his hands in his hair while a collection of people gathered around. “Well, I got a kid covered in glass, fucking terrified, you could have killed her, a crushed car, and you’re just sorry?” Calum roared while holding his daughter against his chest in both arms. He noticed only then that she was shaking. He didn’t know how to calm down and keep her calm, so he just began to bounce her up and down like he would when she was a baby, soothing her right before bed. She always just fell asleep in his arms when he did that, holding her against his bare chest and singing softly to her some song or another.

“Um, I can give you my info. Please don’t tell my boss.” The teenage driver could feel pimples forming beneath his skin. He had never experienced such stress in his life.

“Your company getting a bad Yelp review is the least of your problems, buddy.” Michael shook his head as he came closer to the truck, looking to act as a mediator in the moment. “Cal, hey. Go make sure she doesn’t have glass on her or anything. I’ll handle it.” He figured he would exchange information with the driver, call a tow truck or Grace or Luke, but he wasn’t going to let Calum kill the teenager with so many witnesses around. Not to mention that Daphne was still howling in his arms. Michael had never seen the usually very docile little girl use her lungs like this before. Her mouth was open and she was not showing any signs of lowering her voice.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” With one hand on the back of Daphne’s head, still bouncing her in his arms diligently, Cal pointed his middle finger through the truck’s front window and started to walk off the road, heading into the TGIFriday’s they were almost in front of. Their bathroom would have to do for shaking any pieces of glass out of Daphne’s hair or off her beige Roots hoodie. “I know, Daffy, I know.” He cooed into her ear while his hot red face tried to keep from exploding into his own fit of screams. She was physically in his hands and he could feel her life being held there with all it’s weight. Calum felt guilty despite having done nothing wrong. He wasn’t even trying to figure out how he was going to check if there were any shards of glass in her eyes. He was just trying to keep her close and calm.

THREE

Even though she hadn’t been invited, Daphne still felt like she was finally a cool girl as she rolled up in front of the Great Southern Hotel. Someone Emmeline knew knew someone was was throwing a Halloween party there. She knew that even though she had just turned sixteen that there was no way her parents would let her go so she didn’t even bother asking. She stayed home, texted March, and hung out in her bedroom instead of going to the basement to watch horror movies with her mom and Aunt Cher who was visiting for a week before going to investigate other parts of Australia (and its divinely sexy locals.) Instead, Daphne played designated driver. Penelope’s dad didn’t like her driving his custom cars and Emmeline partied too hard to get behind the wheel. 

Costumed people were spilling out of the front of the building, not at all blending in with the other patrons who opted for regular wear and seemed annoyed by the party-goers. Daphne parked on the other side of the street and texted Penelope. It was almost midnight which meant it was close to Penny’s curfew. She knew Emmeline would want to stay out all night, so she came early unless Penny needed help getting her into the vehicle.

“I’ll just call him.” Crossing the road with limp feet in high heels, Emmeline slurred loudly. She was hanging her whole body onto Penny’s, the tall blond practically carrying her across the road to Daphne’s car. Penelope had on black jeans and a long sleeves black crew neck. If it wasn’t for the black ears on her head and lack of whiskers drawn on her cheeks, Daphne wouldn’t have realized she was dressed up as the world’s most underwhelming black bear. In fact, she sort of thought she was supposed to be her dad, Luke, back when he wore his hair long. 

Emmeline, on the other hand, was ringing in Halloween the way a lingerie catalog might. She was inspired by pineapple. One of her most favorite fruits, but if she hadn’t had a flashy bejeweled headband on with a leaf growing from the top, she would have just looked like Marilyn Monroe is a bright banana yellow cut out bathing suit and cheap glittery heels. 

“You’re not calling my Dad. I already took his number out of your phone.” Penelope grumbled as she carried the dead weight to the car. This was not her first rodeo with a drunk Emmeline. She was probably the most fun girl to go out with until she became work at the end of the night. 

“I’ll call him and say you’re staying with me!” Emmeline continued to push. It was an age old lie cherished by lying teenagers everywhere. Emme could never figure out why Penelope wouldn’t go with it. She forgot that most people weren’t raised by the iron fists of Cagney and Luke Hemmings, where rules were strict and followed. “Penny, please! Why not?” She whined. She wanted to go back and flirt with the man dressed as Karl Lagerfeld. 

“Because you’re too drunk to sound convincing, my mom will check with your mom, and I told you that I couldn’t say out tonight.” Penelope explained while struggling to keep Emmeline up right. They were steps away from the car so Daphne reached behind herself and fiddled to open up the backseat door. “I have brunch with the whole family in the morning.” She couldn’t remember which of her dad’s brothers was celebrating what, but regardless, Penelope loved brunch and she wasn’t missing a chance to gorge on mangoes, waffles, and whipped cream. With ease from practice, Penelope peeled Emmeline’s arm from around her neck and rested her in a reclined position in Daphne’s backseat before closing the door on her. From there, Daphne jumped up on her knees and reached back as Emmeline was sitting up to help buckle her in safely.

“Thanks for picking us up, Daff.” Penny chimed while hopping into the passenger seat just as Daphne was hooking Emmeline in.

“Daphne, call Uncle Luke. Tell him this -” Closing her eyes as it felt like too much work to keep them awake, Emmy began before letting out a hiccup.

“We are not calling my Dad!” Penny turned back and shut down Emmeline. It was close to shouting as anyone had ever heard from the surfer. 

“You’re a bear, right?” Starting her car up, Daphne asked Penelope as she pulled out of the parking job she was particularly proud of. 

“Yeah.” Penny pulled off her ears and hooked them around her right knee. “I wanted to be a polar bear, but wearing white around a drunk Emmeline���" 

"I hear you.” Daphne laughed. 

“Oh my god, I spilled wine on you like once.” Leaning into the window behind Penny, Emmeline grumbled. 

“Twice.” Pen chimed in, checking on her friend through the mirror.

“I was the one that it only happened once too.” Daphne added. 

“What are we listening to? Daphne, are you planning a funeral?” Emmeline hiccuped her way through asking while also finding humour in her teasing question. 

“This is very depressing.” Penelope had to agree about the ballad playing through the car. It was very different then the loud rap remixes they had just been inundated with at the hotel party. 

“It’s how I come up with ideas for dance class.” Feeling more than embarrassed, Daphne explained timidly and then reached around with one hand for her cell phone in a cup holder. She gave it to Penelope to change the song playing through Blue Tooth. 

“Ah, call your dad!” Forever relentless, Emme saw the phone in a blur and shouted. 

Penelope just ignored her and had an eighties playlist on in a matter of seconds, starting them off with Your Love by The Outfield, one of her favorites. No one knew why, but Penny loved music from the cocaine and spandex decade. She had been left alone with her Dad’s intense vinyl collection as a kid and found herself falling in love with her first crush, Sting, and then she became obsessed. 

“I’m dropping you off first.” Even though it made more sense to drop Penelope off second since they lived close to one another, Daphne didn’t want to risk Penelope getting in trouble by coming in after midnight.

“Thanks. Will you be able to handle the rowdy pineapple on your own?” Penny joked, reaching behind her chair to hold Emme’s hand. Drunk or not drunk, they were as close as sisters. Penny always felt like they were real soulmates and boys were just side projects almost like hobbies. 

“Yeah. I don’t know where to take her though.” Daphne admitted as she slowed down at the first sight of a yellow light. 

They had used the guest house at the Irwin’s place before. It had been Connor’s idea because he knew his parents never used it except to store backyard accessories and family friends they didn’t really like. He had smoked his first joint in there and lost his virginity last year on its couch which Penelope found repulsive since she had sat on that couch since unknowingly. Still, the Irwin’s might have been the most relaxed parents, but it was also the most work to sneak onto their property and Daphne didn’t know if she could do it by herself. She knew just dropping Emmeline off at her house was an option. She could just leave the drunk girl alone to deal with her own mess, but that didn’t seem like something a good friend would do. It left the Hood home or Penelope’s place, but Daphne knew she couldn’t use Penny’s since they had a busy family-centric morning ahead of them. She figured she would just take her home with her then. Daphne didn’t think her mom or dad would care. They would probably just be glad Emme was safe and, if they were upset, Daphne would have to handle it. She figured she would let Emmeline sleep it off on her canopy bed and drive her home before her morning jazz dance class. 

“My house?” Daphne checked in with Penelope before pulling onto the street where the Hemmings family typically resided. It was three minutes to midnight which made Daphne feel very successful. If she had hit one more red light, she would have been screwed. 

“Water, Advil, and keep her on her side.” Penny checked her pockets for her house key and clamped her hand around the door handle, ready to rush out. For a girl who snuck out all the time, curfew really stressed her out. The Bangles playing so loudly from the vehicle that it called for Luke to come to the front door, opening it as Penelope charged out of the car before it fully stopped. She waved goodbye to both friends, but only Daphne waved back as Emmeline was out like a burnt bulb. 

FOUR

There was enough hairspray in Daphne’s hair to make her a fire hazard as she sat in the passenger seat of her mother’s SUV. She had her favorite Roots sweatpants on from the last visit to her grandparents who lived in Canada and her basic black dance leotard with the shorter sleeves on as they made their way together to dance competition that was two hours West of Sydney. She made herself comfortable with her legs folded in a circle a shape on the seat, singing along to the radio. It was only with Skye that Daphne felt like she could one hundred percent be herself. She would rather eat her own foot before she sang in front of anyone. With her mom, she felt she was at her most fun. 

“Are you upset at March?” Turning down the volume from the steering wheel’s control, Skye asked as she noticed Daphne texting eagerly. 

“For not coming?” Daphne checked, throwing her hair back and feeling confused that none of her hair was falling around her. “No. I understand.” His parents had said 'no’ due to some family related commitment and Daphne wasn’t the type to push. 

“It’s nice to just get away us girls anyway." 

"Like old days.” Daphne recalled with a half smile as she returned to texting March. He had only just woken up as it was just about eight in the morning. If she knew him as well as she felt she did, Daphne assumed he would be going back to sleep soon enough. 

Back when she was small doing ballet and jazz exclusively, Daphne and her mother would be treks everywhere together to recitals, competitions, and showcases. Growing up, Calum was always away and sometimes Skye had to join him leaving her grandparents to drive her to lessons. The majority of time though, it was just her and her mum on the road. As much as Daphne would have liked her boyfriend to be there, it would meant more if her Dad had some way to be there. She knew he couldn’t control his schedule all the time and if he had to be in Germany, he had to be in Germany. As used to things as she was, it didn’t make them suck any less. 

“I wanted to talk to you about March anyway and it’s probably better than we are alone for it." 

Daphne’s already saucer sized eyes widen deeper. She and her mom could talk about anything, they always had. It was the worst when her mom was in British Columbia visiting family when Daphne first got her period at ten and was alone in a Starbucks with her Dad, Ashton, and Connor. Still, Daphne did try to keep some things to herself like the chocolate stash she kept in her bedside table and her sex life. 

Daphne put her phone down on the car seat through the space between her legs. Very slowly, she turned to give her mom her attention, watching as Skye cleared her throat with a splash of now cold coffee.

"Are you guys using condoms?" 

Skye was not stupid. She had known March since he was born and he was a teenage boy who had always been obsessed with the female form. With the way the two of them snuck around in the beginning, Skye figured they were probably rubbing one another down in a very intimate way. She didn’t like it and Calum really didn’t like it, but all Skye could do was make sure Daphne was informed and protected.

Daphne stayed quiet. She didn’t know how to freak her mom out and say 'no’.

"Is he saying he doesn’t want to wear them?” She investigated further, watching Daphne’s very done up face blush harder than the bright pink she currently was wearing on the apples of her cheeks. 

“No, Mom, March would wear anything I asked him to.” Well except for the colour orange, but that was a different conversation entirely. 

“Great, so condoms." 

"Mom, I’m already on the pill." 

It was Skye’s turn to bulge out her eyes. She hadn’t expected that response and not as bluntly as Daphne said it. 

"Oh? Okay, that’s good.” Turning off the freeway at the first opportunity, Skye hummed and nodded. “It’s really great you’re taking the pill, but um, can I ask how you got it?” Daphne was a sophomore. She was sure that her doctor would have checked with Skye first. 

“I went to the women’s clinic downtown." 

"Oh, okay. Well, I’m glad you were proactive." 

"Mum, I’ve been taking the pill for a while. Like…about a year, maybe.” It seemed as good a time as any to tell Skye that even if it made her grow as quiet as she had made the radio. 

“So, March is…” Skye didn’t want to make any assumptions. “Is he your…?" 

"Second.” It wasn’t a label that had to do with sentimental value or even March’s skill set, it was just the truth. “I’m his first though.” Daphne knew that it wasn’t important to her mum, but it was a fact she really liked. It felt special to be someone else’s first time. 

“You know that the pill doesn’t protect against infections, right?” She moved some flying dark hairs out of her view and checked.

“But he is my first and I’ve been tested.” Daphne hated school and she wasn’t particularly good at it, but she did pay attention in their health course. 

“Maybe, he’s had blow jobs or had oral sex with someone else.” Skye could not believe how clinical she was being. “Daphne, you should really insist on condoms in case your pills ever failed or if one of you…" 

"What?" 

"Strayed. People cheat.” Skye should know as she was the one Calum cheated on with many moons ago. 

“March wouldn’t do that.” Shaking her head, Daphne insisted what she felt was true. She even squished her eyes together in disbelief that someone would suggest otherwise. Truthfully, she saw the boy through rose-tinted glasses.

“Trust me, Daffy, its better to be safe. You can’t know what a person would do in every situation. I’m glad you trust him, of course, but you have to look out for yourself and if you can’t, you shouldn’t be having sex with anyone." 

"Have you been cheated on?” After two minutes of hurt silence, Daphne asked quietly.

“Not that I know of.” Until Calum, none of relationships lasted long enough for someone to be unfaithful. “A good friend of mine in college was cheated on. The guy gave her herpes.” Instinctively, Daphne wiggles her nose upward in a repulsed manner. “Yeah, that’s for life. It was really awful and she used to say he would never cheat on her.”

“I don’t think anyone in our grade has herpes.” Even though Daphne had traveled from coast to coast, her world was still just her school and neighborhood.

“It’s not the kind of thing you exchange at the lockers.” Then again, it had been a long time since Skye had been in high school and, even after earning her own citizenship, Australia sometimes proved to be very different than her native homeland. 

“Well, I don’t think March is going to give me herpes.” Mostly to herself, Daphne mumbled and picked up her phone. Without reading his response from before, she sent him an all caps message that simply read “NO HERPES PLS!” with a sad emoji at the end.

As Skye pulled in, she sighed,  "I don’t think he will either, but wouldn’t it be nice to be sure?“ 

Daphne didn’t look up from her phone though. She was anxiously awaiting her boyfriend’s answer.

"Daphne, I bought you condoms. They’re under your bed.” She came right out and said it. “If you’re going to have sex, use them.” She knew it wasn’t a matter of if though. 

Daphne was silent. She didn’t know how to move out of their sex conversation and into anything else. It felt strange for her to start talking about the pending dance competition where she was competing with her contemporary class and by herself which she didn’t usually do due to a lack of confidence. All she was thinking about now was how her mum was thinking about her and March Hemmings going down to bonetown. 

She started straightening herself out in her seat as her Mom searched through the concert hall’s parking lot for an empty space. 

“Weird. There’s a different 1970 Chevelle here.” Daphne would recognize the classic black car anywhere. Before she was born, it was what meant the most to her Dad. Well, one of the things. He had seen him physically flinch when she ran around it as a little kid, pretending to be a peacock or a bunny rabbit. “Its black and everything.” She pressed her hands against the window and looked behind her at the car that she had only ever seen in her own garage. 

“Weird.” Skye shrugged as she pulled into a tight spot. Daphne jumped out of the car and instantly stretched her arms high above her head before touching her toes as well. She needed to be limber for the rest of the day and she felt sore from sitting in the car for so long. She wandered around to the back of the car, lifting up the trunk door with some struggle. Daphne opened up her large dance duffel bag and glanced through it before tossing her phone and water bottle from the front seat inside. 

“That bag is the size of you!” Behind her, she heard a most familiar voice, but it wasn’t her mother’s at all. It was a kind scoff and sounded like it belonged to someone who spent a lot of time leaning and slouching. With a healthy dose of fear, the way she did almost everything, Daphne checked over her shoulder and spotted March standing right next to her Dad,  both of them wearing very proud smiles. 

“We gotcha!” Calum pointed at his girl as she came charging at him, jumping into a hug and squeezing his neck tightly. She knew how busy he was, so the fact that he had come to see her dance meant so much to the teenager. 

“I didn’t think you could come.” She sighed in his ear as she took weight off her toes and rested onto the soles of sneakers. 

“I drove up with March.” Her dad informed her as she side stepped away from him to hug her boyfriend, kissing him sneakily on the cheek. 

“Hey gorgeous.” March smiled into her ear. He wasn’t used to her hair looking so flat and sticky. He didn’t know what to make of it, but he had seen his brother’s hair before a swim meet. “Your dad said he would create a new way to murder me that no one’s ever thought of before if I hurt you. Can I drive back with you and your mum?” In as low a whisper as his voice could manage, March told her quickly. 

“My mum said you might give me herpes.” Daphne informed him back quietly before they both exchanged looks of confusion and fear in the parking lot. 

FIVE

He was punching out a text slowly, squinting at his phone as he did. Luke really never enjoyed football games and often wondered how on Earth he wound up with a son as athletically driven as Miles was. His knee knocked against Cagney, her eyes completely on the game even though Miles wasn’t even on the field yet, and he waved his screen at her.

“Penelope made this.” On his phone were three different photos of pie crusts. His daughter had messaged the photos to her Grandma Liz who had, in turn, sent them to her Dad. She explained that they were different crusts even though to Luke and Cagney they all looked identical, more alike than their two sons had at birth.

“Well, great. She is going to make our entire Christmas meal then.” Smiling, Cagney summed up and put her attention right back on the game after looking away for two seconds. Every year, either Cagney’s mother or mother-in-law made the feast with Cagney only being asked to make a Greek or tossed salad. One year, she was asked to bring a veggie platter from the store. She always asked Luke if they could do a meal with just their family, he always said 'yes’, and it never quite came together. This year she was going to get it even if it was her young daughter who would be working the stove and stuffing the turkey.

“Or at least the pie crusts.” He joked and put his phone back into the pocket of his leather jacket. It was important to Luke that he always looked like the coolest parent at these games. He wanted them to know that he was, or at least thought he was, a very cool dad.

As they watched the game, they stretched out on the bleachers. The two women in front of them vacated their seats giving both Hemmings parents room to rest their feet. Cagney found herself stretching her neck and as she did, she spotted Daphne in the parking lot many meters away from the field. She was carrying books against her chest in a hugging fashion and standing right behind her beloved purple car.

“Oh, look, it’s Daphne.” She nudged her husband in the arm, surprising him, and pointed across the field to where she had spotted the girl who had up until recently been a staple at their house. They had watched Daphne grow up just as they had their own troublesome trio.

“This is the longest I think we’ve gone without seeing her.” Luke mused and went back to watching the game, Miles finally on the field and running at light speed to defend the ball.

“Skye says she’s very quiet again.” Cagney informed Luke, not sure if it mattered to him. Even if March and Daphne separated, Cagney still worried about the young girl.

“She was never loud.” Luke frowned his whole face at the comment. It sounded absurd.

“No, but I think March brought out a little something in her. She softened him and he…”

“He snuck her into our house.” Luke laughed, amused with his own commentary. She didn’t have to say so, he knew that his wife thought he was hilarious.

“Should we talk to her?”

“Should we?” Luke had thought about it. He and Calum were practically brothers, but they didn’t talk like Skye and Cagney did. Calum wanted things to remain unchanged between them, so they avoided talking about their families since Daphne and March split up. They kept their conversations about everyone else around them or business. Luke wanted to tell Calum that March was struggling and he wanted to ask if Daphne was happy, but Calum made it clear that it wasn’t theirs to be involved in. At least not yet.

“I want her to still feel welcomed at our home even if Penny isn’t there or March is.”

“I don’t think March would like that.” Luke thought about how he would feel if his mom had invited his ex girlfriends or the girls who rejected him home for Sunday roast.

“You know what I mean…” Cagney tried again. “I want her to know we still love her. She probably thinks we hate her.” She wasn’t really about to invite Daphne over without talking to her baby boy first.

“Well we are Team March.” It was a recent draft for Luke who always fancied Daphne Hood to good for his boy, but he felt good about his position now especially with the bonding he had been trying to do with his youngest son.

“Come on.” Cagney jagged him again, this time lighter, and started to stand up to step down off the bleachers, excusing herself to the parents next to her the entire way to the ground.

Simply, Luke followed suit with his fist pressed as deep as they could go into the pockets of his jacket.

When they finally were close enough to Daphne that they could make out the tartan pattern of her school kilt and that one of her knee socks had sunk down to her ankles, Luke and Cagney plastered smiles on their face. Luke whistled out to her as he always had with the kids when they were small and she whipped around, her hair acting like a lasso in the strong wind. At first, Luke noticed her giant eyes as he always did, but Cagney spotted something amiss. Her smile vanished and was replaced with absolute horror.

“Who did that?!” She gasped at Daphne as she approached the back window of the purple car Calum had gifted his daughter with. “Tell me. I will call the principal now.” Having three children at Bishop Strachan Academy at once, Cagney had the number of a lot of different staff in her cell phone. It helped for when she needed someone else to drive Miles to his games or when March was facing suspension.

“I don’t know.” Looking down at the tips of her shiny black shoes with hurt and embarrassment, Daphne admitted in a hush.

In spray paint, huge black letters, it read 'FAT’ on the back window of her car. Daphne planned to pretend she was unaffected. She even had figured out what to tell her parents when they asked, thinking she would say that she never noticed, but internally and all over her face, it hurt like Hell. Luke and Cagney hadn’t even noticed that the windshield read, 'DUMB BITCH’ in wonky uppercase letters. Luke felt his heart sink low in his chest and he reached out instinctively to rub at her back. He knew that March cared too ardently for Daphne to do such a thing. At least, he hoped March was in charge of his emotions enough to not be cruel.

“Has this ever happened before?” Luke inquired. When Daphne was little and struggled with reading, Calum kept the challenge to himself. He was always private and proud. Luke would not have been surprised if Calum never mentioned Daphne being bullied before.

“No.” Daphne had been teased all her life, but nothing of hers had been vandalized. “I mean, I know when I was with March, you thought a lot of friends, but I don’t.” Biting down on her glossy bottom lip, Daphne told them. Cagney wasn’t surprised. Skye had confided in her about how shy her daughter was and how much she appreciated Penelope looking out for her and inviting her out. Luke, on the other hand, couldn’t believe someone not wanting to be around Daphne. She was the perfect companion in his mind. She was quiet and short, ideal for travel.

“You know what, Luke is going to take your car to the wash.” Cagney whipped out her phone, considering texting her youngest son who was currently at home and asking him to join his Dad. “I’ll drive you home, I’ll talk to your parents. I don’t want you in that car.” She didn’t want Daphne to have to look at those labels any longer.

“Aunt Keg, it’s fine.” Waving her hand through the air, Daphne lied. She was trying so hard not to cry that the four words burnt on their way up her throat.

“No.” Cagney gripped Daphne’s shoulders as Luke continued to rub her back lightly. “Daphne,” She drew the full moon eyes they all adored so much into her blue stare. “You and March might have broken up, but we did not. You are still as mine as Penelope is. We love you like our own. These people,” She motioned to the car beside them. “They are nothing. They are mean. You are good.” She poked Daphne in the shoulder to confirm what she was saying. “You have always been good.”

“Fuck those fuckers.” Frowning at the car, Luke proudly stated in her ears.

Cagney slid her eyes away from Daphne long enough to give her husband a crooked, but amused smile.

“What he said.” Standing up straight, Cagney pulled Daphne into a tight hug and held the back of her head. “I love you.” She promised as Luke wrapped his arm around Daphne’s shoulder and murmured the same affection to her.

“You’re going to watch the rest of the game with me. Give Luke your keys.” Cagney instructed. She was used to taking charge as she had a thrill-seeking daughter, two twin boys, and used to be in charge of four rock star’s hair. Just as she been improving Luke’s life every day since she started trimming his messy bedhead, she was going to try to make Daphne’s bad day better.

SIX

“Slow…” Daphne breathed out once March’s mouth left hers in place of the skin exposed from her open school blouse. He had waited around the parking lot for Daphne to finish writing her makeup test from a math test that she had failed at the beginning of the week. The sun was just slipping down when they left the building and, to celebrate, they found a mostly wooded area in a private park. Daphne parked her car between two trees and raced March into the backseat. She knew it wouldn’t be comfortable, but neither of them cared in the slightest. “Yeah. Like that.” He had been sucking on her skin like a vacuum hose before, but now he had her shirt open wider and was kindly kissing around her nipple like he might kiss her lips.

His almost clammy hand was racing up her leg, trying to find her lacy thong under her kilt, while the other hand fiddled with the button of his school trousers that he absolutely detested.

“I don’t want to be slow, Daphne.” There was nothing patient about the boy. “I’ve wanted you all damn day.” Pretty much from the moment she picked him and Penny up for school. He saw her smiling behind the wheel with her bright painted pink lips and her hair tamed into two dutch braids and he was aroused. He had missed every word Mrs. Kilty said in his first period because he was too busy trying to suppress his half massed penis under his desk. His mind was still guessing the color of Daphne’s bra. He had been wrong. It was beige and not a satin salmon pink.

Passionately, he gripped at both her thighs and growled before leaning in to try and unbutton the rest of her blouse with his mouth. It was nowhere near as easy as guys in movies made it look. Grinning, Daphne reached down and acted as an assistant before taking a leap from her last button to the zipper of his pants, reaching in and massaging the lump that had formed from the second they first kissed in the backseat. Shivering, March groaned at the first touch, his eyes focused on watching her as she reached into his tight navy boxer briefs. He hit his head on the roof of her car as he leaned his head back out of reflex to how good it felt when she stroked him, just the tip, into her mouth. It was a warmth he had only ever felt in a sauna before, but enclosed in the one important area. Daphne was laying down with her large breasts spilling from the cups of her most basic bra, inches away from her chin as she pulled him in with just her lips and tongue. Her hands found a place on either side of his hips, moving him closer and bringing him in deeper.

“God, you’re perfect.” His eyes fluttered shut and the corners of his smile met the bottom of his ears. He didn’t care that his phone was vibrating nonstop in the front seat. It might as well have been the humming noise that Daphne made when she went down on him. They harmonized perfectly and whoever it was, they could wait. He never wanted to leave her purple car.

SEVEN

It hadn’t gone as plan. Honestly, nothing in their relationship had to be honest. Calum Hood and Skye Pierre were not about to complain though. Finally, after failed IVF tries, fallen through adoptions, six miscarriages, and screaming tears on the shower floor, they had a little person to call their own. Daphne Amalie Hood came into the world underweight, premature, and with fluid in her lungs, but came into the world she did. It hadn’t at all been as they planned when Skye was put on bed rest while they were visiting her family in British Columbia. Daphne decided she had enough time inside the warmest place she would ever call home and began to arrive early resulting in her being in an incubator and having to have assistance breathing for two weeks. Calum and Skye were used to things refusing to go their way, but it didn’t change how much their bodies ached when they went back to her parent’s house without their daughter night after night.

Finally, after being stuck in Canada for two weeks, they were having the moment that Calum had dreamed about. It had been a blip in Skye’s plans, she knew they would have to bring home their child at some point, but Calum had really fantasized about carrying the chair up to their front door, bringing their little thing through, and showing them the place. He found a silver lining in their dramatic debacle. He was going to get to do the part he was most excited for twice. Once in the guest room of his in-laws place where they had kindly set up a bassinet and then again when they flew back to Sydney where her room that Michael and Calum had pulled an all-nighter painting powder blue awaited her decorated with little rabbit, mouse, and duck trinkets that Skye had collected during the brief moments when let herself believe that this pregnancy would be successful.

Thankfully, Skye’s parents gracefully understood the delicate situation. They allowed Calum to cover a room for them at a five star hotel so that the new Pierre-Hood family could have a real first day together. They even sent out a mass email to all their relatives asking for privacy and to hold back on stopping by or calling. After they stocked their fridge with premade meals and Perrier water, they took off and left the house empty for their daughter, her beloved boyfriend, and new granddaughter to use.

Calum had never driven so cautiously in his life and not just because he was using his mother-in-law’s old hatchback. He had the tiniest baby he had ever laid eyes on, let alone held, in the backseat with Skye. Daphne was all hair and eyes. She earned her thick locks from her mother and large soul searching eyes from her pop. As he pulled into the driveway of the bungalow that Skye had lived in throughout high school and college, he carefully checked in his rear view mirror before shutting off the car. They weren’t inside yet, but so far, everyone was still in one piece. There were yet to be any tears of any kind.

“We’re home.” In a whisper-shout, Calum tenderly exclaimed just like he had been dreaming about doing. “Well, a little bit. We’re at your grandparents house.” He chuckled to himself and Skye. It wasn’t quite as fun to say, but it made for good practice for when they headed home. If it was up to his family, they would already be there.

“She’s still sleeping.” Due to the hectic nature of her birth and past pregnancy ordeals, Skye kept putting her palm softly on Daphne’s chest, making sure she was breathing. She thought babies were supposed to fuss more, but Daphne was quiet. The doctors explained that in the beginning their miracle child was in enormous amounts of pain,  but she never made a peep. Her face was wrinkled and red, but Skye and Calum thought all the babies they met looked like that. At first glance, Connor Irwin appeared like a nightmare based demon until the fifth hour of his life.

“Let’s get going.” He had his hand curled around the door handle, ready and eager to head inside. He couldn’t wait for their new world to start spinning. Calum had convinced himself everything would change when they walked through the front door, but he noticed through the mirror that Skye wasn’t moving. She kept her seatbelt on and her attention on their slumbering daughter. “You coming?” He asked, watching her as she held her deep inhale.

“I can’t believe this is real.” She had said it so many times since Daphne was born. Reality had set in,  but she still felt too blessed for everything to actually be happening. They had waited for so long. They had hurt so much. Even though she was raised without religion, Skye had spent so many afternoons on the floor praying for some power to allow her the experience of motherhood that so many others had and did not care for. She was scared to move and lose everything again just as she had so many other times before. They had been so close so many times that she didn’t feel home free just yet like Calum did.

“She’s all ours.” Calum turned halfway on his seat and reached around to offer his hand to Skye. He wasn’t surprised when she hesitated removing her touch from Daphne to link her fingers between his. “We’re going to be this happy forever.” In that moment, Calum meant it. His eyes promised her that his words were true as they spoke into hers, his mouth loosened it’s smile to relax her own jaw muscles, and his hand squeezed hers tighter like it always did when she needed it most.

She hoped he was right even if just for now.