#if you are confused we mean her engine exhaust things that clip onto her back and are also a gun | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jacksonroseroth · 5 years

Text

Welcome To The Neighborhood Chapter 1

A/N: This is the first chapter of mine and @badwolf-in-the-impala ‘s SOA collab! We’ve both written parts of the story, so we will be alternating as we post chapters. Hope you guys like it!

Warnings: Sibling arguments, flirting

Words: 4,099

Moodboard made by @badwolf-in-the-impala , none of the pictures are ours

“Kacey, if we’re gonna make it out of the heat, then you have to push harder!” Harper called from the cab of the truck as they slowly inched their way along the shoulder of the highway. Kacey glared at her sister and stopped pushing, both out of exhaustion and to piss her off. Harper stuck her brown and blonde curls out of the window, looking back at her. “Hey!”

“Listen, it’s your truck! You should push it!” Kacey said, pulling herself up and walking to the driver’s side door. “I told you, you should have just asked him to trade it in before you-”

“Don’t even mention him, Kay!” Harper said, shoving her finger in her sister’s face and climbing out. “I’ll push until we hit the next road marker, then we’re switching.”

Kacey scoffed and looked down the road at the marker that stood only a few feet away. She growled at her sister, but got into the car anyway. “If I end up dying of heat exhaustion cause of all this pushing, I’m haunting your ass!”

Harper snorted and braced her hands on the bumper, giving everything she had, grinding her feet in the gravel to find some sort of traction as they inched their way closer to the marker. Behind her, Harper heard the rumble of a motorcycle and whipped her head around. Kacey also stuck her head out of the window, both sisters waiting and praying it wasn’t what they thought.

As Half-Sack rode down the asphalt, he slowed as he approached the beat up blue pick up, stopping just behind it. Harper and Kacey exchanged glances when they saw the Kutte. They could tell he was just a prospect, but they didn't know what club he was with. Grabbing the small pistol Harper kept in the glovebox, Kacey shoved it into the back of her pants and got out, going to her sister. Half-Sack hung his helmet by the handlebars and got off his bike, going over to the girls.

“Hey. You ladies havin’ some car trouble?” He asked, giving them a charming smile. The sisters exchanged a look then back to him. Harper took a good look at the patches on his Kutte, or rather, lack thereof as the only one present read ‘Prospect’. Neither of them recognized the colors which made Kacey reach a hand back to take the gun from her waistband and slip it into her sister’s.

“No. No, we’re okay.” Harper said. Kacey rolled her eyes and sighed. Half-Sack chuckled and said, “Well, you’re pushing your car.”

With another exchange between the sisters, Half-Sack chuckled and clarified, “I work at Teller-Morrow Auto. I can call one of the guys? Get the tow truck out here.”

Kacey gave a soft chuckle with a shrug and said, “We’ve already tried that. No service.”

“Well, I can help bring you guys back. We’re not too far from town.” He said. Kacey looked at her sister, who studied Half-Sack, worried about his patch. With a nod of her head toward his Kutte, she asked, “Who are you prospecting for?”

Half-Sack glanced down at the patch and chuckled as he said, “Oh, uh, Sons Of Anarchy. They’re the local MC. They actually run Teller-Morrow. Real good mechanics, those guys.”

Kacey sighed as she leaned a little closer to her sister, saying quietly in her ear, “You didn't fucking remember they ran out of Charming?!”

Harper gave her a look and retorted, “I didn't look up local MC’s while I was house hunting. There’s no site for that!”

Half-Sack couldn’t quite make out what was said, but the looks on their unsure faces said enough. “Hey, look, I, uh, I just wanted to help. I mean, it’s hot out here and everything…”

Kacey gave Harper a look, one telling her that when will they get someone else passing by to stop and help, to which Harper nodded and gave the gun back, Kacey hurrying around the car to stash it back in the glove box. Harper turned to Half-Sack and gave him a sweet smile.

“Sorry,” She said. “We’ve...Had a few run-ins with some MC’s so...You know. Just a little wary.”

“It’s all good,” Half-Sack said with a chuckle. “Uh, lemme just stash my bike and we can get going.”

Jax and Opie stood just outside the shop, enjoying a much needed smoke break when they watched an old beat up Ford pickup truck being rolled into the Teller-Morrow lot. Both men exchanging a brief, confused, glance when they realized it was Half-Sack sitting in the driver's seat steering. The unspoken question of who was pushing it soon answered as two dark-haired women bailed out from behind the truck at the first sight of shade.

“I swear. To fucking God, Harper! I’m gonna light that piece of shit on fire one day!” The lighter haired out of the two women swore as she all but collapsed onto the ground; the coolness of the concrete a welcome feeling.

“Would you stop fuckin’ whining already? We got it here, Jesus Christ.” The darker haired woman, Harper, replied as she sat down a few feet away, shoving her sunglasses into her hair.

“Six fucking miles, Harper! Six!” The other woman yelled back. “And I did most of the pushing no thanks to you!”

“The hell is goin’ on?” Jax asked Half-Sack as he hopped out of the truck.

“Yeah, and why the fuck weren’t you the one pushing?” Opie chimed in as he stamped out the last of his cigarette with the toe of his boot. Turning just in time to catch the lighter haired woman take off her boot and chuck it at the other woman -- catching her in the back of the head --who had turned her back in an attempt to ignore her.

Half-Sack was about to start explaining, ‘I tried’, being the only thing he was able to get out as the darker haired woman yelled, catching everyone's attention. “Jesus, Kacey-- what the actual fuck?!”

“That’s for making me push most of the way, you bitch!” Kacey shouted. Harper rolled her eyes and chucked the boot back at her. Half-Sack turned to the guys and pointed at them, saying, “That’s why.”

Jax and Opie chuckled and went over to them, after calling over a few more of the mechanics to steer the truck to the shop. Jax helped Harper up as Opie offered a hand to Kacey as she shoved her boot back on.

“Thanks,” Kacey said, giving Opie a sweet smile and checking him out as she glanced at Harper.

“No problem. You guys got engine trouble?” Opie asked. Kacey snorted and looked at Harper.

“Yes, because someone’s dumbass didn't get the car checked out before we left Oakland,” Kacey said, smiling a little too sweetly at her. Harper kept her calm smile and looked at Kacey.

“Yes. Well, if someone hadn’t gunned it down the fuckin’ highway and blew my fucking gasket, then we wouldn’t be here either.” She said, making Kacey lose her smart ass smile and grumble at her.

“Bitch, if you didn’t drive like our fuckin’ Grandmother, I wouldn’t’ve had to drive!”

“Seriously? What are we, five?!” Harper shot back with an eye roll as her sister stuck her tongue out, earning a chuckle from the guys who were watching with amused grins at the scene that was playing out before them.

“If you would’ve just let me pay for a fuckin’ trailer, we’d have our bikes.” Kacey grit out through clenched teeth. The thought of what could potentially be happening to her bike right this second, pissing her off even worse.

“You mean with the money you lost in that round of poker?” Harper scoffed.

“I was gonna win it back!” Kacey shouted.

“By getting your ass kicked in a fight ring?”

“I don’t fuckin’ lose, if you want me to prove it-” Kacey growled as she took a step towards her sister.

Jax took a step in between the two girls with a smile as he tried to defuse the situation as calmly as possible. “Ok, ladies.” He chuckled lightly. “How about we find you some air conditioning and get your paperwork started?”

“Air conditioning sounds fuckin’ amazing…” Kacey muttered, ignoring the looks she was getting from her sister as she stuck a cigarette between her lips and started fishing for a lighter. Opie offering her a light when she couldn’t find hers.

“Sounds like it’s settled then.” Jax rubbed his hands together with a grin before gesturing back towards the garage and what looked to be an office. “I’m Jax by the way. This is Opie.”

Harper smiled at him as they broke off from Opie and Kacey, heading to the office. “Harper. That’s my sister, Kacey.” She said, taking the hand he offered and shaking it. As Jax and Harper headed up to the office, Opie gestured to the clubhouse and led Kacey inside.

“What brought you to Charming?” Jax asked as he led her inside and offered her a seat, beginning to root around the filing cabinet. Harper took off her sunglasses, folding them up and holding them in her lap as she said, “Just wanted a fresh start. New town, new faces.”

Jax glanced back at her, looking her over. He chuckled and said, “Running from your past?”

Harper gave him a look but smirked nonetheless. “Maybe…” She said. “What makes you say that?”

Jax smirked as he stuffed a bunch of papers under the metal clip of the clipboard and sat down in the chair behind the desk. “Well, the only people in Charming are the people who grew up here. We don’t get too many outsiders looking to move in.” He said, handing over the clipboard and a pen. Harper sighed, with a smirk, and took the clipboard, sitting back and crossing her legs.

“Shit. Are we that obvious?” She teased, ducking down her head to fill out the paperwork. Jax chuckled and checked her out as her pen scritch-scratched away.

“Your sister mentioned bikes?” Jax asked, with a slight turn of his head. Harper glanced up at her from behind her eyelashes and smirked.

“Uh, yeah.” She said, sitting back and tossing her hair over her shoulder. “She did.”

Jax’s smirk grew and he added, “Do you guys ride? Or are we talkin’ bicycles here?”

Harper chuckled and nodded, going back to the clipboard. “Yes. We ride.” She said with a teasing chuckle. Jax chuckled and asked, “What do you girls got?”

“We’ve both got Dyna’s. I ride a Street Bob and Kacey’s got a Super Glide.” Harper said. Jax gave a low whistle, impressed, making Harper glance up at him to give him another smirk before going back to the paperwork.

“Wow. Here I thought you were gonna come back with a dirt bike or some super-sporty model.” Jax teased. She smirked and shook her head.

“Nope. We both kind of got into cruisers from our exes.” Harper said, offhandedly. Jax smirked and sat back as he said, “Ah...That’s why.”

Harper cursed herself in her head as she looked up at him.

“Running from old boyfriends?” He teased. Harper half glanced at him before clearing her throat and shifting in her seat, not giving him an answer. Jax saw her become visibly uncomfortable and shifted as well as he said, “Hey, I-I’m sorry. I didn't mean to pry, darlin’.”

Harper shook her head as she signed the last page and looked up at him with a sweet smile. “It’s fine. We just...Don’t particularly like to think about them is all.”

Before Jax could say anything else, an older woman with black hair and blonde streaks walked in. “Hi, baby.” She said with a sigh, carrying in a small box and setting it on the desk. Jax nodded at her and smiled.

“Hey, Mom. What’s all this?” Jax asked, standing up to inspect the package. She sighed, gesturing at it, and putting a hand on her hip as she said, “Not sure. Somethin’ Clay ordered probably. Got delivered to the house from a Harley-Davidson store.”

As Harper stood and handed Jax the clipboard, the woman turned to her and smiled. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt.” She said. Jax picked up the box and took the clipboard from Harper as he said, “It’s all good. Harper, this is my mom, Gemma. Mom, this is Harper. She’s new in town and had engine trouble on the highway. Half-Sack drove them in.”

“Ah. The One-Nut Wonder to the rescue? He’s pushing for early patching, isn’t he?” She said as Jax passed, kissing her cheek before he went to the side door that connected the office to the garage, offering Harper a soft ‘I’ll be right back’. Gemma set down her purse and took Jax’s empty seat as she fired up the old computer in front of her, slipping on a pair of glasses. “So, you’re new in town? Where are you heading from?”

“Um, Oakland,” Harper said, earning a surprised glance from Gemma.

“What made you pick Charming?” She asked. Harper sat back down, but not before casting a glance back out to Jax who was talking with the mechanics that worked on her car.

“Uh, well, I said we should get out of state, but my sister wanted to stay close to home.” She said. With a quick raise of her eyebrows, Gemma said, “Oh, you’re moving in with your sister? That’s good. Gotta keep family close.”

She smiled at Harper, who gave her a small smile back. Gemma glanced out to the truck that still held all their moving boxes strapped down to the bed. Taking off her glasses and gesturing with them she said, “Where are you moving into? I’m sure we can wrangle a few of the guys to go out there with the van.”

“Oh. No. Thanks, that’s sweet, but we couldn’t impose like that.” Harper said, with a soft chuckle. Gemma smiled and said, “It’s no trouble, sweetheart. If you’re moving in, we take care of our own in Charming.”

Harper blinked, surprised, and gave a small smile. “Well...Thank you, uh, Gemma, right?” She said. Gemma smiled and nodded as Jax walked back in.

“Alright, it looks like it’s just the gasket and you guys seemed to have picked up a nail on the way in. Front right tire is flat.” Jax said. Harper smirked and gave a soft chuckle. Jax smirked and said, “What’s so funny?”

Harper stood and shoved her sunglasses back into her hair and said, “Nothing. Just that now there’s a reason why I can rub it in Kacey’s face that I was pushing the whole way. It got a lot harder once we rolled into town. Now, we know why.”

Jax snickered as Harper went to the door, glancing around the lot at all the bikes and cars. Jax handed the clipboard to Gemma and asked, “Hey, Mom, can you put them into the system?”

“Sure, baby,” Gemma said with a smile, taking the clipboard from him. “Oh, and give those girls a drink, will you? They pushed the whole way here? No help from Half-Sack? Smack him for me.”

Harper looked at Gemma and giggled as Jax nodded with a smirk. “Sure thing, Mom. Already planned on it.” Jax said, kissing her cheek again before going to Harper and gesturing to the clubhouse, mentioning a nice cold beer that made Harper quicken her pace.

Kacey was more than willing to wait at the clubhouse until the car was fixed, Jax and Harper having walked into the clubhouse to find Kacey sitting on Opie’s lap, sipping a beer.

“Well, don’t we look cozy?” Harper teased as she leaned against the bar, Jax slipping onto a bar stool beside her, smirking and snickering at his best friend. Kacey flipped her off as she smirked and took another sip of her beer. She climbed off Opie’s lap and made her way over to the bar, Harper swiping the bottle from her hand.

“Rude,” Kacey said, bumping Harper’s hip with a smirk. “Hey, Half-Sack, can we get two more?”

“Yeah. Sure thing.” He said with a smile, ducking down to feel around in the cooler. Kacey slipped onto the barstool on Harper’s other side and turned to her as she said, “So what’s the damage?”

“Well, you’ll be delighted to know,” Harper said, turning to her with a smirk. “We picked up a nail. Flat tire. That’s why it was harder to push.”

Kacey made a face at her and mimicked her softly as Half-Sack came over to them, opening the bottles and handing one to Jax, then one to Harper once Kacey swiped her bottle back. Jax took a sip of his beer before he said, “You girls shoulda just let Sack push. He’s strong...Enough.”

Opie chuckled as Jax swiped at Half-Sack, catching the back of his head. Half-Sack rubbed his head and gave a small smile. “Hey, man. I told them I could push. I offered to even hook up my bike and try to ride back! They didn't let me.” Half-Sack said. Harper giggled and pointed her bottle at him as it left her lips.

“We didn't let you because we just needed someone to steer. If our cousin had been with us, he’d be steering too.” She said. Kacey chuckled and shook her head as Opie leaned on the bar next to her with a smirk.

“Next time, just be a man and tell them you’re pushing. Don’t bitch out.” Opie said. The group laughed at Half-Sack’s expense, who half-heartedly laughed along with them before going back to sweeping up behind the bar. Jax shifted in his seat and turned to the sisters.

“So, Harper tells me you two ride,” Jax said, taking another drink. Kacey shot a glare at her sister and said, “We used to ride. But we are, as of now, sans bikes…”

Harper gave a small sigh and said, “Listen, bitch...If you didn't gamble every dollar you got, we’d have the bikes and we wouldn’t have my truck in the shop.” Turning to look at her sister as she spoke, pausing for effect, she added, “Do not. Start with me.”

Opie snickered and shook his head, glancing at Jax, who was equally amused.

“And like I said earlier, if you would have just trusted me, I’d have won it all back; plus interest!” Kacey shot back. “I mean come on, Harper, you don’t miss; I don’t lose?” She nudged her with a shoulder. Harper simply rolled her eyes.

“Or you know...if I could’ve grabbed all my tools, I would’ve just fixed that damn truck myself,” Kacey added.

“And who’s fault was that?” Harper replied, shaking her head as Kacey’s hand shot up. Earning a chuckle from the guys.

“And you can bet your ass I’d do it again in a fuckin’ heartbeat,” Kacey added, mumbling the last part more or less to herself. “Bitch fuckin’ deserved it.”

“So, you’re a mechanic then?” Opie asked, opting to change the direction of the conversation in an attempt to ease the tension building again between the two sisters.

“No, not technically.” Kacey chuckled with a soft grin as she pushed a hand through her light brown locks, turning to him. “But I know enough to usually get us by...most of the time.”

“Well, maybe I could show you around the garage sometime. Teach you some stuff?” Opie stated, earning sly grin out of Kacey as she finished off her beer. Opie motioning for Half-Sack to grab another as she set the bottle at the edge of the bar.

“I’d like that.” Kacey gave a genuine smile that time around; Opie was about to offer to show her around now, if they had the time, when Gemma came strolling in through the main entrance. Both woman turning to look at her, hoping for good news of the truck. Only that wasn’t the case.

“You girls want the good news or the bad news?” Gemma addressed Harper as she leaned a hand against the bar; propping the other on her hip. Both Harper and Kacey gave a collective groan as they braced themselves.

“Well, the tire was an easy fix,” Gemma stated. “We have all the necessary parts to fix the blown head gasket…but, you’re radiator is shot. I had to order a new one and it won’t be here till Thursday. Early next week at the latest.”

“Jesus…” Kacey sighed. “Please tell me that wasn’t the good news?”

“No.” Gemma chuckled softly. “Good news, for you girls, is I saw on the paperwork that your address is only a couple doors down from my place.” The girls exchanged a glance before turning back to Gemma, who had turned her attention to her son and Opie. “And you two have the pleasure of giving the other guys a hand loading up their stuff into the van and taking it over.”

“Oh, that’s really not necessary. I mean, I feel like we’ve probably already imposed enough--” Kacey tried to politely decline, stopping when Gemma held up a hand to silence her.

“Nonsense, Sweetheart. Like I told your sister here; you’re movin’ to town, and we take of our own.”

Kacey nodded and gave her a smile before reaching out a hand to introduce herself. “Kacey. And thank you. We really appreciate the hospitality...it’s a pleasant change.” She chuckled.

“Gemma; and anytime. You girls seem like decent people.”

“That could be left open for debate.” Kacey chuckled as she climbed off her barstool and stretched a little before grabbing her beer. Turning her attention to her sister. “Meet you outside?”

“Yeah, Taz. Be there in a sec.” Harper said. “I wanna be able to enjoy my drink?”

Kacey stuck out her tongue at her sister and giggled as Opie escorted her out as they followed Gemma. Harper gave her sister a small smile, it growing a little more when her gaze fell to Jax for a brief minute before she stared down at the bottle in her hand, picking at the label. Jax smirked and called out, “Sack. Go help Kacey and my mom. Don’t make her do it.”

“Right. Yeah.” Half-Sack said, dropping his broom and running out after the trio. Harper sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, slightly, and her smile grew to a smirk. She took a drink then turned to Jax. Jax chuckled and gave her a small smirk.

“So, I guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of you ladies soon.” He teased. Harper chuckled and crossed her legs as she turned in her chair.

“Yup. Looks like it.” She said. Jax’s smirk grew and he chuckled.

“Well. I meant that you’re living next to my mom.” Jax said. Harper nodded and teased, “Right. Forgot about that.”

Jax chuckled as he slid off his barstool and offered her a hand. Harper chuckled and polished off her beer before taking his hand and slipping down. Jax led her out to the lot where they saw Opie directing the van back to the garage, while Kacey chatted up Tig and Juice.

“Hey. Jackie Boy.” Chibs called, as he approached them. “Yeh’re mum’s demandin’ yeh’r assistance. Won’ get off our balls till we get yeh out here.”

Chibs chuckled and slung an arm around Jax’s neck as he accompanied them to the garage.

“Mom. You’re making all of these guys come with us?” Jax asked with a chuckle as Juice opened the van doors and Half-Sack and Tig started transferring the boxes. Gemma turned to him and smiled.

“No. ‘Course not. But these girls have been through a lot today. They can take a break. We’ve got big, strong men just crawling around this place.” Gemma said with a chuckle. Kacey stood at her side and snickered.

“Yes. Yes, you do…” She said, giving Juice a once over as he leaned into the van to hand a box to Half-Sack. She turned down the corners of her lips, before turning back to them. Jax and Gemma chuckled while Harper rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but smirk at her sister.

“Hey, listen, Gemma. We really appreciate all this help. If there’s anything we can ever do? Dinner, lunch...Super Bowl?” Harper offered with a chuckle. Gemma chuckled as well and gave Harper a hug.

“Don’t sweat it, doll. You’ll get used to Charming hospitality.” She said. Harper smiled and stepped closer to her sister to begin whispering about the guys as they packed up the van.

Chapter 2

Hope you guys liked it! Feel free to drop a comment! If you want to be tagged in future fics/chapters, let me know! I’ll add you to the list!

@tephi101 @shieldmaiden25 @staystrongsoa @badwolf-in-the-impala @captstefanbrandt @imgoldielikehawn @grungyblonde @courtrae89 @romanchronicels @crazyanonymous4u

56 notes · View notes

whosxafraid · 4 years

Text

[ x ] @brooklynislandgirl

The box addressed to Luka during mail call is small. Smaller still the one inside it. It can be fitted to a computer usb but includes an adaptor for his phone. Because she thinks of everything. It’s a strange gift. The drive is filled with one video. It starts with her in the morning, sans make up, still in her pyjamas and holding up a cup of coffee. She smiles sleepily into the camera. “Mornin’ Lulu. If ya watchin’ dis, means ya got my Christmas present. I know bein’ ovah-seas can be really hard, especially when ya feel cut off an’ alone from da people ya considah family. So…wi’ dat in mind, dis video gonna be me takin’ ya t'rough a day in da life. One ya can hold onto, one ya can watch whenevah ya missin’ us. Missin’ me.” And she does just that. It cuts off just before she slips into the shower. Resumes when she’s dressed again. They go to morning mass, then she helps serve breakfast to Father Vinnie’s homeless congregation, before passing out blankets and hats, gloves and other winter survival gear. She holds one little girl against her hip ~born to motherhood was Beth~ and the rest of the kids sing carols and thank Luka and his unit for their donations, and helping Santa find them, even though it isn’t Christmas yet.

Lunch at her favourite vegan cafe and she chats about how impressed she was that he even got some of the ship’s crew to pitch in for her church’s children’s programs and that thanks to them all of the kids and most of the adults will have hot meals for weeks. Not to mention a roof over their heads until after the new year. She has never looked so radiantly happy, and promises to show him when he gets home just what it all means to her. The it’s normal errands, picking up Andy’s dry-cleaning, dropping off lunch and donuts for Baz. It’s having a coffee in Central Park, and a stolen moment or two from Jay wishing him the best of holidays and Happy Hanukkah. Closer to sunset and its video of lights and displays and the snow drifting down in multi-coloured showers that melt into her hair.

Eventually she even takes clips and things from the ER, no patients though. She wouldn’t endanger them, or violate patients rights but there’s some quiet moments while working on her charting, and the nurses also send their greetings. She takes pictures of the doctors who no longer treat her like chattel.

The video ends nearly a full 24 hours later as she is exhaustedly dropping into her brother’s chair, and her eyes can barely stay open. “So, dat’s it. A day back at home because ya no can be here. I hope it makes ya feel less lonely. Love you, Lulu. Come home safe to us. Mele Kalikimaka!!!”

Mail call and...he doesn’t really realize the way his head snaps up from his book when his name cuts across the room. Or for that matter how more falls out of his bunk than climbs. His feet struggling to shift him across the space as quickly as possible, while his dips and dodges around the low hanging pipes in the ceiling. All he knows is once his fingers are wrapped around the rather small box, it only takes a second for smile to start forming on his lips. A little less deftly working his way back to his bunk, as he tears into the package.

A small sound of amusement at the shark that ends up in his palm, a check of the box to make sure he hadn’t overlooked everything. But then it all becomes a bit..confused. Brows knitting together. She sent him a usb? That was...odd. Then again his mind almost instantly starts buzzing with all the things that could be on, verses what mostly would be on it, verses what actually was on it. Because Beth? She isn’t your typical...well anyone. She’s her. But just to be safe...he’ll be using that adapter. Doesn’t need any of the lads possibly seeing or hearing something they don’t need to.

So the shark is tucked away in his bunk for safe keeping until a few hours later when the lot of his squad are sleeping off a few contraband food parcels that no body asked where House got them from.

And it’s a bit like single player twister, when he finally hears House kick against the bunk beneath him, their particular not so complicated ‘all clear’ signal. Turning around in a way he can reach where he’d hidden his treasure. Another angle managed that wasn’t natural for his phone and earbuds. And then its simply turning the damn thing on, letting it boot. Getting everything plugged in and opening the file. And...

“Good mornin’, beautiful.”

Mouthed more than said, a warm little grin on his face. One that grows by fractions when she explains what this whole home movie is about. A documentary of Beth’s life when he’s not there? He’ll take it and with lots of than---Okay extra lots of thanks, because damn that view. He wasn’t expecting that. And he’ll never admit to the fact that he rewound it once...okay twice before letting the video play on unhindered. World can judge him if it likes but he’s been gone pushing 19 months now. He misses much more than just her bright personality.

The camera cuts in a slightly shaky manner and then its off to the proverbial races. Mass that makes him feel...alot guilty he lets that slip so much when he’s not home. And he makes a mental note to do better, while simultaneously knowing...he really won’t. Then breakfast for the homeless and handing out much needed supplies.Caroling and the cutest wee lass on Beth’s hip that makes long for other things, but swallows it down because that’s not really his decision. The thanks from the children has him all teeth smiling nose inches away from the screen as he is.

That only grows wider when it all changes up to Beth out to eat at her favorite cafe. (He recognizes the signage in the window.) Chattering on about how grateful she is everyone helped. How far that help is going to get those kids and most of the adults food in their stomachs and somewhere warm to sleep. And even though its only video he can see it can’t he? How happy she is. How she seems to glow with it. And between that and the way she’s framed by the snow lined window behind her--he maybe misses home just a little bit more than he did moments before.

He’ll have to find a way to share this bit with the lads, though artfully removing the last few seconds because they don’t need to be privy to just how Beth might choose to fulfill that promise. Because he knows they’ll be just as happy the ‘chitlins’, as Mason called them, got all the things they needed. And at least some of the things they wanted, because Gorilla had insisted and his kids had jumped all over the quest. Drug their school mates into it. Shown up at Beth’s church per Gorilla’s wife’s email with a Santa sized stash of toys for all the programs kids. Without a dime of the donated funds spent.

Then its a flurry of every day ordinary things. Dry cleaning, dropping off food for the engine gremlin. Coffee in the park with Jay. Where he reads far more into the wink she gives the camera than Beth ever would think too. Things like : Everything is set for Christmas morning. Everyone’s got their jobs. It’ll be perfect or I’ll kill them all. We got you, Jamba.

And from there it’s more...subdued. Clips of her filling out charts. Small breaks with coffee he can taste the Styrofoam cups from here. And maybe now and then a thumb subconsciously traces the lines of her face. Trying to wipe away the exhaustion. Forgetting his own in the wake of it. A small awkward sense in his stomach as a few of the nurses from that first Thanksgiving that had all but attempt to climb him like a tree, offered hellos and happy holidays.

Next came a few paused photos of some of the doctors. A few of which he can tell are smiling for the sake of well...a lot of things. Because he’s far more perceptive than Beth sometimes gives him credit for. So he’d flexed just enough to make it clear, she wasn’t up for dibs. Especially for slime bags like that. And that if they didn’t keep their hands to themselves he’d ruin their medical careers. Which had nothing to do with lawsuits.

A few more sped up clips of her making rounds. Talking with the other nurses. Coffee with one of the janitors that had missed their bus, and Beth had taken it upon her self to spend her break making sure they weren’t standing out in the cold alone. Something that again makes him miss home, miss her more than he had before he’d started this whole thing. So by the time the video is crawling towards its end, Beth curled up in her brother’s chair---there’s an aching want to be there. A need to pick her up and tuck her into bed. Settle up beside her and sleep until who cared in the afternoon. But he can’t. An---

Everything stop. The video. His breathing. His heart for a certifiable few beats. Why? Because had she just? No. No way that couldn’t have been what she said. And he’s backing the video up. Turning up the volume in his ear buds and Sweet Holy Mary...she did. She’d....said........it. And perhaps irrationally his ears burn as he backs it up and plays it again over and over. The blood in his veins heating to levels that might be embarrassing if anyone could notice. The glass like quality his gaze suddenly has and---

That. That right there was the best Christmas present she could have ever given him. The best...anything she could have given him. And he knows right then, middle of no where South which ever ocean sea they’re in now...he’ll never forget what it sounds like, or what it felt like to hear it. Second hand through a video or not. She’d said it and he wasn’t ever going to give it away. Except maybe to return it. But that would have to wait until Sunday. Radio silence as they were for the next few days. And there’s a heavy sigh in the quiet of the bunk space.

Sometimes...he really---disliked the hindrances that came with the responsibility.

#[post via mobile]#tw: holidays #tw: christmas #brooklynislandgirl #He Doesnt Know How Heaven Could Be Better Than Her || Beth and Luka #Traveling Soldier || Military AU [ Closed ]

1 note · View note

stormquill · 5 years

Text

Misconduct, Ch. 11 [Soldier 76/Reader]

You have an extremely inappropriate crush on your commanding officer. Maybe if you work hard enough, you’ll stop having feelings.

[ AO3 Link ]

Author's Notes: Collaboration with @antiloquist. Follow the blog @ http://miss-conduct.tumblr.com/

Chapter Notes: look man it's been a solid year and a half i don't really have anything to say for myself lmao

The dead of night gave you plenty of cover as you kept perched atop your roof, overlooking the harbour.

Several days of recon had pointed to the indication that Amélie would be prepped for transport tonight, smuggled aboard one of the many ships bound for the Atlantic the following morning. However, some last-minute digging had uncovered Amélie herself—safe and sound in suspended animation—hidden away in a repair dock on the opposite side of the harbour.

You and 76 had the upper hand for three simple reasons: first, you were aware of the trap waiting for you at the harbour; second, you knew the real location of your target; and third, they weren’t expecting your Commander to be approaching the situation with backup.

76 was advancing towards the repair docks at that very moment. All you had to do was sit tight and pay attention to their presence at the harbour, in case there were any additional circumstances you hadn’t accounted for.

Surprisingly, getting out was the easy part.

The dropship was already in-range. Your handheld evacuation devices—the ones you’d developed with Winston to make your technology more portable—would transport its wearers to the main evac apparatus, installed safely on-board. One of the major flaws of the new tech was that, like its outdated, bulkier version, all nodes had to be activated at once, and once they were activated, it took several hours for them to recharge.

There were three devices in total—one with you, two with 76—and as soon as he confirmed that he’d affixed one to Amélie, you would activate the devices and transport all three of you onto the dropship.

Wait for 76’s confirmation. Hit a button.

“Easy,” you reassured yourself.

You were so tired.

Maybe it was a good thing, you thought. The unholy mess of stress and exhaustion numbed your fear and steadied the grasp on your rifle. At the same time, however, it dulled your senses, making you feel unreactive, and slow. As much as you didn’t want to dwell on the idea, you couldn’t wait to be rid of this mission.

You didn’t tell him that, of course.

Your Commander had glanced down at you before you parted ways, the glaring light of his visor back to the familiar cherry red that suited him most. When you held his gaze, a sinking feeling dropped heavy in your gut, with the inescapable anxiety of absolutely everything going wrong. You’d completed enough training and gone on enough missions throughout your lifetime to be able to control these last-minute fears, but within that moment, you couldn’t shake them off as easily as normal.

“Nothing reckless,” was all you said, “we promised.”

He nodded.

You felt stupid for thinking it at a moment like this, but you wanted to nestle against him again until your raging nerves ebbed to a crawl, until his scent was all you needed as reassurance that everything would be alright.

A few moments of awkward silence passed before you realized you were holding your breath.

“Good luck out there,” you settled on.

“You, too.”

And that was the last you saw of him.

Sudden noises drew you from the memory.

A box truck pulled into the streets below, near one of the boats docked along the harbour. Once they killed the engine, four men rushed out of the vehicle and rounded towards the back of it, hoisting the rear door and prepping to transport something out.

“Athena,” you whispered, voice still feeling too loud in the chill of the early morning. “How many heat signatures in the back of the truck?”

“Calculating...” The female tone was cool and even in your ear. “Detecting six additional heat signatures in the back of the vehicle.”

Four in sight, six in hiding.

Hissing urgent commands at one another, the four visible agents worked together to ease a massive crate from the truck onto a large metal dolly.

“And how many signatures that crate?” you asked.

“Zero.”

As expected, you thought. The crate was a decoy. They were expecting 76 to muscle his way in—and maybe, if you weren’t here, that’s exactly what he would’ve done, only to be met with an empty container and an ambush.

...you both should’ve been gone by now.

You touched the communication device clipped to your ear. “Commander, do you read me? Do we have an ETA on evac? Over.”

The silence sent your mind racing.

“Athena, can I get a status report on the Commander?”

“Vital signs: stable. Communications online. Evacuation node two is prepared for activation. Evacuation node three is prepared for activation.”

Then why the hell wasn’t he responding?

The answer was obvious—he must have encountered enemy interference, either en route or at site. However, the agents below were still maneuvering the decoy cargo towards their ship docked at the harbour, meaning neither them nor the ambush in hiding had been notified of the compromise.

That meant you could still buy him time.

“Commander,” you started, “assume contingency 32B. If I do not receive orders within five minutes, we abort without payload. Athena?”

“Understood. Initiating contingency 32B.”

A split-second later, several cracks shattered the air like fireworks, as every hidden camera your Commander had planted in the immediate area self-destructed.

Neighborhood dogs began barking. Windows of nearby apartment complexes lit with newly woken civilians. The agents below surrounded the dolly, drawing their own guns in response.

Amidst the sudden confusion, you balanced your rifle along the edge of the rooftop, charged your shot to maximum power, and fired at the ship—another crash echoed through the harbour as you blew a hole in the ship’s main hull. The damage wasn’t enough to sink it, but it was enough to keep it from disembarking—more importantly, it was enough to get their attention.

The hidden agents were already piling out of the back of the box truck, while those guarding the dolly shouted and pointed towards your rooftop. Though the shot had given away your position, you immediately lined up another, this time aiming for the vehicle’s engine. The explosion tore through the air louder than any disruption that had come before it. You ducked for cover just before automatic fire began spraying in your direction.

The self-destructing cameras had woken up half the neighborhood, so French authorities would be on their way. You made yourself out to be someone making a play for the fake cargo, which would buy 76 a few extra minutes. And you’d crippled the agents’ ground transportation, meaning they couldn’t fall back to your Commander’s current position, even if they were called to retreat.

Rifle slung around your shoulder, you fell back. You could already hear the heavy footfalls of enemy agents scrambling up your fire escape; you headed for the opposite side, instead, using your grappling equipment to hook onto the roof’s edge and scale down the side of the building.

Three agents were standing guard at the bottom of the fire escape.

You hit the ground running.

Enemy fire sent your heart rattling inside your chest like a bell in a cage, but you kept focused. You’d studied the layouts of these alleys a hundred times over, and outmaneuvering the enemy was child’s play—but the knowledge of what was behind every corner did nothing to ease the sound of their bullets ricocheting as they missed, blasting off bits of brick and concrete around you.

Behind this dumpster. Through this door. Right turn. Left turn. Right turn. Right.

You couldn’t let yourself get hurt again. Not after last time.

“Payload secured,” came the voice you were waiting for, like music to your ears. “Requesting evac.”

“Copy.”

And you hit the button.

Teleportation felt like being yanked by a set of wires tied to your ribcage—it always left you feeling disoriented and unsteady on your feet, even as you made solid contact with the floor of the dropship.

The sight of the unconscious woman jarred you to your senses. Though she was unarmed and barely out of stasis, you weren’t about to underestimate the lethality of a known Talon agent held in such high regard.

Falling over yourself with urgency, you rushed over to the side of her unmoving form. You lifted her body, bridal-style, to the small holding chamber in the back of the dropship, and sat her upright.

You sealed the door shut, and stumbled backwards with the shock of what you’d just done.

You did it.

You rescued her.

As your adrenaline-fueled haste died down, the electric excitement vibrating within your chest replaced itself with a cold, harrowing realization—that the dropship was far too quiet, far too empty around you.

You knew what was behind you before you bothered turning around.

A spent evacuation node sat on the floor where your Commander should have been standing.

“Athena,” you near-whispered, voice weak, “status report?”

“Vital signs: unstable. Communications offline. Evacuation node two, offline. Evacuation node three, offline.”

You took a deep, shaky breath.

You knew what you had to do.

To say you hadn’t planned for this was a lie.

Of course you’d planned for it—you’d planned every iteration of every possibility of any combination of the three of you becoming compromised. The contingency of this scenario was clear: neither one of you would leave without the other. Surely, he’d know that.

Surely, he knew you were coming.

All three of your evacuation nodes were spent, which meant you would have to get him out the good old-fashioned way. The question gnawing at you remained: what could have happened that necessitated him removing the transportation device from himself? The node was an instant get-out-of-jail-free card, one which hadn’t been damaged or malfunctioning at time of transport, so why would he ever take it off?

You didn’t have much time to wonder.

Athena dropped you off as close as she could to your Commander’s last known coordinates on the dry docks.

If your positions were switched, you had little doubt 76 would’ve come after you, guns blazing, regardless of enemy numbers or positioning, but you couldn’t afford the same bravado. If you were too heavily outnumbered, trying to get him out on your own would be nothing short of suicide. For 76 to have been taken down, you expected to be faced with an army.

But the dry docks were barren when you arrived. Almost serene.

There were no signs of recent activity in the area, let alone of a recent fight. Aside from 76’s signal pinging you from across the docks, Athena confirmed there were no other heat signatures in the immediate area.

Had he been abducted, maybe? Taken to a secondary location without his tech?

You shook your head, doing your best to parse contingency from paranoia. You were approaching the cargo ship where Amélie’s body was being held mere minutes earlier—unfamiliar enemy territory—and you needed to pay attention.

Readying your weapon, you ascended the set of metal stairs along the side of the ship; already, your footsteps sounded far too loud.

The large, open deck of the cargo vessel was crowded with storage units—massive, rectangular metal boxes of identical shapes and sizes stacked on top of each other like multi-coloured building blocks. As you approached 76’s signal, you kept your steps light and your wits about you, checking your corners while keeping your back pressed to solid surfaces. The deck was dark, claustrophobic, terrible grounds for a fight—if it weren’t for Athena’s confirmation there were no other living souls on-board, you wouldn’t have stepped foot in here without backup.

The pinging in your ear grew more rapid as 76’s signal became stronger on your radar.

To your right, an open storage unit containing the now-empty stasis machine, still running, casting an ice-blue light across the deck and illuminating the scene before you.

Several toppled cargo units crowded the area, all of which were heavily damaged with massive dents and bullet holes. The path of destruction led to the rear-most area of the deck.

A splash of blood was illuminated brilliantly against the dark surface of the ship, awash in the stasis machine’s ice-blue glow, as if it were under blacklight. Another spatter, smeared along the side of a storage container. Several drips along the metal flooring, rounding the corner of another open unit nearby...

You checked your corners before checking inside.

Inside the open storage container sat the form of a man in the glow of his own cherry red visor, hunched over with a hand pressed to his thigh, a pool of his own blood seeping beneath him.

“Don’t,” 76 croaked, sounding weaker than you’d ever heard him, “it’s a trap—”

Reflexes kicking in, you raised your weapon and did a swift 180, aim landing on the head of the other man standing behind you.

And you fired.

You thought you missed, at first—your laser burned a hole in the storage unit behind him—but you realized your shot had gone through him, as the man’s entire body morphed into a cloud of black vapour before your charge made contact.

This didn’t make any sense. There wasn’t anyone else alive on this ship.

You’d checked.

“Athena?” you whispered.

“Target possesses no heat signature. Target possesses no pulse.”

The insinuation of her words sent your mind reeling.

You had no contingencies for this.

The swirling cloud solidified into being once more. Hooded and broad-shouldered, the man towered before you, the sharp edges of his bone-white mask glinting in the blue light. His gloved hands—every finger clawed with a sharp silver talon—carried a mammoth pair of black shotguns you could’ve easily mistaken for cinder blocks. He was black leather and red adornments. He was dread and absolute foreboding.

The partner in more ways than one.

The one he cared about finding.

And Gabriel Reyes laughed at you, his voice as ethereal as the rest of him. “You’re late.”

You blurted out the only words that came to mind. “What the fuck?”

“...eloquent.”

As much as you were trembling, you didn’t lower your gun. “You’re here to kill us, then?”

“And if I am?”

“Anything happens to either us, Amélie is dead,” you snapped. Your voice was much steadier than you were. “The dropship is already en route to headquarters—if we don’t both check in within the hour, it’s set to self-destruct.”

“That so?” His claws readjusted their grip on his shotguns. “How were you planning on getting out of here?”

“Dunno.” You swallowed, hard. “Didn’t think that far ahead.”

He made an amused noise, low in his throat. “It’s been a while since you’ve had someone so willing to die for you, Jack.”

...Jack?

Attention faltering, your blood turned to ice beneath your skin. Pieces of the puzzle were jamming themselves into place, violently, all at once, and as the big picture revealed itself to you, you felt more and more like a complete fucking idiot for not having seen it earlier.

As if reading your mind, Gabriel tilted his head to the side.

“Oh my god,” he chuckled, darkly. “You didn’t know.”

You stood there, facing each other—his guns still at his side, yours still pointed at his head. If your Commander was Jack Morrison, that meant the Gabriel Reyes in front of you wasn’t just any Gabriel Reyes—this was the Gabriel Reyes, ex-commander of Blackwatch, public scapegoat for the first fall.

You suddenly found yourself in the company of men who were killed in an explosion nearly a decade ago and you no longer knew what was real.

“Congratulations, Jack,” said Gabriel. “You managed to find the one person on the planet who bought into the world’s worst-kept secret.”

“Leave them out of this,” snarled the voice behind you. “Your fight is with me.”

“Oh, but this is so much bigger than you and I. Why shouldn’t your new lackey come along for the ride?”

Your desire for an explanation outweighed your caution. “I thought you died, Commander Reyes.”

You could tell the use of his name gave him pause.

“He did,” he replied. “It’s ‘Reaper,’ now. Or did he leave that part out, too?”

Your breath caught in your chest. So not only was Gabriel Reyes still alive, but it was the true identity of the infamous terrorist you’d only ever heard rumours of. The ghost of the battlefield, the shadow of death, the one rumoured to steal the very souls of his victims until their bodies were nothing but dried husks—here he was, standing before you, dismantling your worldview one word at a time.

And yet, you didn’t want him to stop talking.

You lowered your rifle by an inch or two, just enough to better meet his gaze. “What did Commander Morrison do to you?”

He sneered beneath his mask. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would.”

Though you continued aiming at him, Reaper still had not yet raised his weapons against you. He seemed to consider you for a moment—your quivering hands, your unblinking gaze, your steadfast positioning in the face of common instinct screaming at you to run. The sounds of your Commander’s laboured breathing seemed to do little to break your resolve.

Were you really so curious?

Reaper took a few steps forward, his footfalls heavy against the ship deck.

“War is a game,” he said. “A game you can’t win if you’re the only side playing by the rules. But Jack was never one to get his hands dirty. That’s where I came in.”

He continued his approach. The closer he came, the less you could move.

“You’ll do what they ask. You’ll do what is needed. Then they’ll orchestrate your downfall, and deny they had anything to do with you.”

He was inches away from you, now.

He smelled like a battlefield—like death and decay, like earth and gunfire.

“There will always be war,” he continued, “and there will always be people they need to do their dirty work. People just like you.”

“I haven’t—”

“You’ve taken Lacroix. You already are.”

Though you managed to keep your rifle raised, your subconscious had already surrendered, knowing full well you posed no semblance of a threat to this anomaly of an undead man who could dissipate at will.

Slowly, carefully, he pushed the aim of your rifle off to the side, as if he were drawing a curtain in his way.

He closed the distance between you by pressing the tip of his shotgun beneath your chin, tilting your head up until you were gazing into the black sockets of his mask.

You hear your Commander’s voice call out one of your names. You can’t tell which one.

“Remember, when you leave this place.” His gravelled voice was low and deliberate. “Every breath you take is air I’ve let you swallow. Your every heartbeat is a gift from me. From this moment on, you are living on time I’ve allowed you to borrow. And I will be back to collect my dues.”

You barely registered the next words that left you. “I’ll be waiting.”

To your surprise, Reaper laughed. “You don’t deserve them, Jack.”

To your surprise, 76 responded. “I know.”

And Reaper was gone, dark plumes of smoke vanishing into thin air.

Once again, you didn’t have time to wonder.

You immediately unslung your rifle and yanked your jacket off, rushing to 76’s side, the floor of the storage unit scraping hard against your knees.

“...Reader.”

You reached for the side of his belt and pulled out the Biotic Field canister yourself, slamming it onto the ground and activating it. Reaper had prevented him from using it, you figured, in order to have 76’s unstable vital readings lure you here faster.

“Reader.”

You bundled your jacket and helped him apply more pressure to his thigh to stop the shotgun wound’s bleeding. The blood loss had made him several shades too pale, you noticed, but the flow already seemed to be easing as the biotic yellow glow knit his insides back together. It wasn’t going to be a complete recovery, but it would be enough to keep him stable until you reached headquarters.

A gloved hand brushed your bangs out of your face and tucked your hair behind your ear.

You looked up to meet the light of his visor.

“Hey,” he offered, sounding almost playful.

“Hi,” you said back, still feeling numb.

“I know asking if you’re okay is a stupid question, but I’m asking it anyway.”

“I’m...compartmentalizing.” You took a sharp breath. “We’re not safe, yet. We need to get out of here.”

“Mm. How are we getting out of here?”

“Dropship’s on standby. Should be here in a few minutes.”

“I thought you said the dropship left.”

“I lied.”

With your jacket soaked through with blood, the fabric as a whole became easier to twist around; you wrapped the wet jacket firmly around his thigh, tying the sleeves into a tight knot to keep the makeshift tourniquet in place. He reacted little to the pain—he must have been exhausted.

“You took off the evac node,” you said, dully. “You took off the evac node to go after Reaper.”

You didn’t need to see the look on his face when his silence already spoke volumes.

“We promised.”

“...I’m sorry.”

“Nothing reckless.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You promised.”

“I know.”

As hard as you willed against it, tears stung the corners of your eyes as you tried to look down to hide them, down at the rapidly blurring vision of your hands covered in his blood. The memory of you turning the corner and finding him sitting here, bleeding to death, rewound and replayed in your mind’s eye. What if he was hurt just a little worse?

What if you got here just a little too late?

“You promised.” Your cracking voice gave your tears away. “But you don’t give a shit about dying, do you?”

“Not until I met you.”

“Don’t give me that.” Your chest felt tight. “Not after what you just pulled. We could’ve gotten killed—Commander, I almost lost you—”

His hands reached for you, moving up to hold the sides of your face, and your words died in your throat. You could feel the blood in his gloves pressing against your cheeks—everything around you smelled like it now, smelled like him now, like regen and blood and leather—but he leaned his forehead to yours, and the warmth of his skin steadied you.

You’d never felt him tremble, before.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he breathed, and the way his voice broke on the words shook you to your core. “I’m sorry.”

The sound of his faltering only made you break worse. Your shoulders shaking, tears still streaming down your face, you held your hands against his, keeping them pressed against you—he was holding onto you as if he needed you to anchor him in place, as if you were the only thing on this earth keeping him tethered to it.

For the briefest of moments, he touches your lips to where his would be.

He passes out against your shoulder before you can register what happened.

And your dropship arrives.

#soldier 76 #soldier 76 x reader #overwatch oc #overwatch fic #misconduct

103 notes · View notes

the-kings-tail-fin · 7 years

Note

How about a short fic where when Cal is a kid and he's being babysat by Lynda and Strip and while they're both asleep,Cal decides to give Strip a new paint job (bright pink) and when they wake up Lynda is laughing and Strip doesn't know why until he sees himself in the mirror. 😂

I’M WHEEZING. THIS ASK IS BRILLIANT, ANON, BRILLIANT. BLESS YOU.

THIS FIC WENT A LITTLE LONG. ENJOY!

Cal’s parents needed some time off from raising the sweet, but rambunctious toddler, so they decided to go out of town for a few days and drive around the countryside. They dropped Cal off with Strip and Lynda, who at the time had nothing better to do. To say that the kid kept them busy would be an understatement.

The first day was spent child-proofing the house. They couldn’t figure out how on earth Cal kept getting into the places he was. He tried to climb Strip’s trophy showcase, nearly knocking it over. He then found his way onto the kitchen table and started pretending it was a circle track. Lynda later found him inside a cabinet chowing down on something he most certainly should not have had in his mouth. If they didn’t keep tabs on him at all times, he would be gone in an instant and up to no good.

“Why can’t you just stay in one place?” Lynda asked him, cleaning up a vase he’d accidentally knocked over while zooming around the living room.

Cal responded in garbled toddler-speak. He flashed her that big, innocent smile that melted her heart. She couldn’t be annoyed with him if she wanted to.

“Cal, come ‘ere.” Strip called from the next room, hoping to get the kid’s attention away from his wife long enough for her to clean up the mess.

Cal immediately whipped into the living room to see what his uncle wanted. Seeing the big, decorated racecar was a treat in and of itself for the kid, even if he had no grasp on why.

“Look at that.” Strip gestured to the TV on the wall across from where he was parked. He had it tuned to RSN to watch the stock truck racing. “You see them? You like racin’, right? Why don’t you park over here next to me and watch this.”

Cal revved his tiny little engine and made vroom noises with his mouth at the same time. He became fixated on the TV, watching the racers go around the track. Strip watched his nephew. Cal would lean to the left every time the pack went around a turn and make noise to supplement it. Strip couldn’t help but smile. Even when the commercials came on, Cal was still in his own little world, making noise like he was out there racing.

Then a Dinoco commercial came on. Strip sighed a little, he didn’t really care to see himself on TV. All Dinoco’s commercials had either clips of him winning races or posing for something. This caught Cal’s attention. He became quiet for the first time all day. Then he reached out with his tire to tap Strip, and pointed towards the TV.

“Ship! Ship!” he repeated enthusiastically. His uncle looked down at him, confused.

“Whatever you’re trying to say, kid, it ain’t makin’ it though the language barrier.” he said, knowing Cal wouldn’t understand him.

“I think he’s tryin’ to say your name.” Lynda interpreted, coming into the room to join them.

Strip looked back down at Cal, who was staring back up at him with wide eyes. Then, the race came back on, and Cal revved his engine, resuming his previous state of pretend-racing. Strip smiled again. If this kid was to become a racer one day, he’d be good. There was no denying it.

“I’m exhausted.” Lynda said, yawning. “It’s only 7:30 and I’m ready for bed.”

“Yeah.” Strip agreed. “Hopefully he will be too, before long.”

An hour later, Lynda tucked Cal in in the guest room across the hall from their bedroom. Cal passed out almost immediately, more worn out than he let on.

“Finally, some quiet.” Strip said as Lynda joined him in their room.

“Enjoy it while it lasts.” she replied. "I’m gonna leave the door open, so we can hear if he tries to get up.”

“You mean so you can hear if he tries to get up.”

“Yeah, yeah… You know, you’d sleep through a hurricane if there was no one to wake you up.”

Not twenty minutes later, the little putter of an engine came through the doorway. Cal wedged himself right in between Strip and Lynda, wiggled around a little bit, and went right back to sleep.

The next day was a little more laid back, as Cal grew tired of exploring the house and climbing on things. Lynda kept him busy doing arts and crafts in the kitchen most of the day. At one point, Strip took him out in the back yard and let him pretend he was a racer, going in circles around the yard. Strip used chalk paint to put a 42 on Cal’s side, absolutely making the kid’s day and boosting his confidence (a little too much). Cal ended up crying, somehow stuck in a bush, and so they came back inside. Cal was content painting pictures for his parents the rest of the evening.

They were starting to get the hang of the whole babysitting thing. Again that night, Cal didn’t want to sleep alone, and joined them at some point after he was supposed to be asleep.

The sunlight came through the window the next morning, waking them up. Lynda was the first to fully awaken. She looked down at Cal, still snoozing away at her side. She saw he had bright pink splatters on his little hood and fenders, and was a bit confused at first. He hadn’t gotten any paint on him yesterday while doing crafts. She looked around the room and saw the can of paint laying open on the floor on the other side of the room. He must have gotten into it last night without her knowing about it, she concluded.

Then she looked over at her husband, and had to bite her lip to keep from busting out in laughter. Strip opened his eyes a little, waking up. Lynda couldn’t contain herself. She started laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. Strip looked at her, confused. Mornings did not typically start out like this for him. Why was she laughing? He looked down at Cal, who was still sleeping like a rock. He blinked a couple times, and Lynda just pointed at him and kept laughing. He rolled forward a little bit and saw the can of paint sitting on the floor. Dread came over him, and he looked in the mirror on the other side of the room.

“Are you kidding me.” he groaned. His entire left side was slathered with messy hot pink paint, from his tires all the way up to his door handle, as high as Cal could reach. Somehow the kid had even got the side of his spoiler and the left half of his hood splattered in the stuff.

Lynda finally gathered herself for a second and took a couple deep breaths. “I can’t take it. I can’t deal with it.” she said, sounding exasperated.

“You’re laughing now, but you’re the one who’s gonna hafta clean it off.” Strip said, slightly annoyed. “How did he even manage to do this? You were supposed to keep an eye on him!”

“Don’t blame me.” she defended herself, starting to laugh again. “You somehow slept through a three year old giving you a paint job. That’s on you. But don’t worry, I think it’s washable.”

“It better be.” Strip grumbled.

Cal was awake by that point, looking around at his aunt and uncle. He slowly, sleepily rolled across the floor towards them. He only seemed to remember what he’d done the night before when he passed the can of paint. He looked at it and giggled, then looked at his uncle and giggled some more. Strip gave him a disappointed look, but Cal came over to him and snuggled up to his side.

“Ship.” Cal said with a big smile.

“Awww.” Lynda was completely under Cal’s spell. “That’s just adorable.”

Strip sighed, looking down at Cal. The kid was instantly forgiven, if but for nothing else than sheer cuteness.

Lynda laughed a little again. “Alright, come on now, Cal. We gotta go clean all this paint off before your mama and daddy come back.”

Cal squealed in excitement and followed her out the door. Strip looked at himself one more time in the mirror, and again, couldn’t help but smile a little. That kid was something else.

#strip weathers #lynda weathers #cal weathers #baby cal

150 notes · View notes