#tegan is frustrated that no planning actually gets done when either of them are there

[side-steped]

I headcanon that Marcia finds out Tegan is a villain with some accidental help from Bo’s daughter.  Marcia babysits at the store sometimes, what else is Bo to do when the Boss calls an emergency meeting and there's no time to find a sitter and the ex wifes out of town? Marcia doesn’t mind, Bo’s a nice young man, just helping Tegan out in the warehouse. 

But an oblivious old woman and a curious child is a dangerous combination for anyone trying to keep a secret base. With Marcia distracted on the phone Bo’s daughter (does she have a canon name?) manages to accidently locate the secret entrance to the warehouse thru the back of the store. 

one jumpy villain, 4 bewildered henchmen and one terrified dad all turn in unison at the shrill exclamation of a child that is now in their base. The secret base. Whos security was breached....by a 6 yr old. Enter Marcia shortly after. 

Marcia’s surprisingly cool with it. Even she suspected what went on in the warehouse wasn’t entirely legal (and she gives me has had a husband or two disappeared vibes) so its nothing new to her. 

The crews happy they’ll get food from Marcia now. Marcia’s happy she gets to spend more time with them (shes a little lonely) and Tegan is absolutely seething. Hes gonna reup security measures 10 fold. That's gonna be expensive. Guess its time to get to work. 

[battleofthebits]

What You Are Is Lonely

Day 8 of @softkent‘s Check, Please! fic-a-thon: Single And Bitter! Title from Tegan and Sara because I’m predictable like that. 

As was normally the case, at least to anybody who asked, Shitty started it. The weeks leading up to Valentine’s Day were never a good time to be a Wellie, but this year the literal entire hockey team was going through a dry spell.

“Except for me,” Johnson pointed out when Shits voiced his frustration. “I’ve been dating this girl for two years, now, canonically. ‘Course, that was only ever mentioned in a tweet and there are those who surmise that any add-ons to a work shouldn’t be considered part of the original material—“

“Fuck off, man,” Holster said without much bite. “You’re one of Samwell’s 50 Most Beautiful and you’re practically married, you don’t get in on this pity party.”

Johnson sighed. “I guess you’re right. The author only brought me in for a moderately amusing in-joke because they’re suffering from writer’s block, anyway. I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

“Whatever the hell that meant, anyway,” Ransom said after Johnson sauntered out. “You know what we should do, Holtzy?”

“Can’t throw a kegster, nobody’s gonna show up,” Holster told him.

“I wasn’t thinking kegster, bro, but since you are…”

Jack sighed without looking up from Coming Out Under Fire. “No pointless kegsters in the middle of the season, boys. Can’t believe I have to say it.”

“Pointless? There’s no better reason to get shitfaced than being forever alone in the middle of all this Valentine’s Day bullshit.”

“Yeah, Jack, don’t mock our pain.”

“Hold on,” Shitty said, “didn’t you break up with Camilla a few weeks back? The fuck are you still single for, with an ass like that?”

In the blink of an eye, Jack went from disapproving captain to stammering wreck. “I — well — hockey, and… practice, is a lot, really, and homework.... Uh, hockey…”

“Right,” Holster drawled, “he’s single because whoever put his hat-trick programming in dislodged the Basic Human Conversation drive.”

“Fuck you too, Holster.”

“Excuse you, Jack, I’m just a bro trying to plan a pity party for his best bros, and — wait, is Lardo single again?” Holster asked.

“She and Elena were ‘on a break’ last semester, and then Elena cheated on her and said she wanted an open relationship,” Shitty supplied. “Didn’t you notice all the bleeding-cow-heart paintings? She says her exhibition theme this year is ‘love is dead.’”

“Honestly?” Ransom said. “I thought it was just her normal art goth shit.”

“Great, Lardo’s forever alone too, we can be alone together, now let’s focus on the party, OK?” Holster said. “I have plans for this shit.”

“Brah, no,” Shitty told him. “This isn’t the kind of thing you plan. We don’t need pong or Edward 40 Hands or a hundred strangers in the Haus. What we need is to get everyone wine drunk and cry into Bitty’s pies about how nobody will ever love us.”

“Oh, and let’s do it on the fifteenth!” Ransom said, perking up a little bit. “There’s gonna be a metric fuckton of —”

“Clearance chocolate, shit yeah, bro!” Holster finished for him.

That half-assed plan led to their current predicament. It was all well and good to say you were gonna drown your sorrows in white-chick drinks and clearance chocolate, but it was remarkably hard to get wasted without pong or flip-cup to facilitate mass alcohol consumption. Ransom had googled “drinking games no equipment,” Jack had vetoed strip poker, and here they were.

“Okay,” Holster said, “most likely to have a threesome with Hall and Murray- go!”

Bitty, Lardo, and Holster all pointed at Ransom. Holster and Shitty pointed at Jack.

“Oh, fuck you guys,” Ransom said, taking three swigs of his entire bottle of rosé. Jack pointedly sipped his Gatorade.

“What are you even getting out of this if you aren’t drinking, man?” Shitty asked.

“Hydration is important. Plus, somebody has to make sure this doesn’t get out of hand,” Jack replied.

“Too late,” Lardo said. “Okay, most likely to die in a Nursey-related accident.”

“No point asking when Dex isn’t here,” Bitty pointed out. “Either he’d be closest in proximity or he’d have a coronary screaming at Nursey about it.”

“True though,” Ransom said. “Aight, everybody drink, since Dex isn’t here to do it.”

“You know what we should have done?” Holster said after downing around half a pint of pinot grigio in one go. “We should have just fucking dated each other. Like, Rans, you and I could just take each other to that couples’ fair on the quad, and Shitty could actually get somewhere with Lardo —”

“Fuck off, Holtzy,” Shitty said.

“—and the frogs could work out their sexual tension,” Holster finished as if Shitty hadn’t said anything.

“‘Kay, but that leaves Jack and Bits in the lurch, dude,” Ransom said.

“Well, obvi, Bitty’s in the kitchen baking his ass off to ‘All Things Go’ and Jack’s in his room judging us.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

By next Valentine’s, Jack and Bitty were somewhere in Providence, hiding from the auspices of the Sin Bin. Shitty and Lardo had finally stopped screwing around and started screwing each other. Nursey and Dex were doing whatever it was that the two of them did. But Holster and Ransom totes went to the couples’ fair, albeit in a different way than they’d thought.