#agent stern/barclay/indrid cold/Duck newton | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thiswasinevitableid · 2 years

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Second Chances (OT4)

Prompt for the 17th: Seeing your ex apple picking with their new partner at the same place you introduced them to and always went to together

I am once again asking Hallmark to let me write your horny, fall themed romances.

Duck’s been coming to the Kepler Orchards Fall Fair on and off since he was eight years old. In those days, his goal was picking enough to convince his mom to make Apple Pie or keeping Jane from wandering into the goat pens.

These days, his motives are a little less pure.

“I know you drag me outside on days like this just so I’ll cuddle up.” Indrid links their arms and shoves a hand into Duck’s coat pocket as they walk towards the rows of trees. Kids dart and weave around trunks, crunching up leaves as the clouds move into stay, rather than blowing away like Duck hoped.

“Promise I’ll buy you somethin’ hot from the cafe. And I’ll, uh, warm you up plenty later.”

“Mmmm, I look forward to it. And don’t let me forget, I promised Pigeon we’d put some of these up while we were here.” He pulls a stack of folded fliers for the haunted house volunteer sign-ups.

As they turn towards the red barn housing the cafe, Duck waves to a familiar figure waiting near the door. Indrid notices the same shape and perks up, waving as well.

“Hey Barclay, surprised you got the day off.”

“Mama kinda made me. And I quote ‘soon as October hits you ain’t gonna do anythin but plan holiday menus so and I need you feelin refreshed.’’ Plus I’m trying to show Joseph more of the town; It’s been two weeks since he moved down here and he hasn’t gotten out much. Oh!” he waves someone over, “you guys can finally meet him! Hey babe, this is Indrid and Duck.”

A tall man with black hair steps beside Barclay with a smile and turns to look at them.

Three years ago, Duck fell down an embankment at work. The result was nothing more than some bruises and a bad scratch on his right palm. It was the fall that sucked, the sensation that the world was upending over and over again and he couldn’t right himself no matter how hard he tried.

That’s how he feels the instant he sees Joe’s face.

“This was a great idea” Joe picks two more Granny Smiths and sticks them in the bag Duck holds out for him.

“Glad you think so. I, uh, I” he blushes, “I always worry when I ask you to do corny shit like this with me.”

Joe brushes a strand of hair back into place; he’s been wearing his hair slicked back more and more often and Duck would be lying if he said it wasn’t hot. Besides, it makes it even more fun to mess up when the other man is pinned to the bed.

“Firstly, I grew up in the midwest. This was as much a part of my childhood as it was yours. And second” he slips his hands into Duck’s front pockets, “I love doing things like this with you.”

Duck pecks him on the cheek before they continue to the next tree. This is the second time he’s brought Joe back to Kepler; the first was for his great-grandma’s 95th birthday, where his boyfriend charmed the entirety of the Newton clan in under three hours. He’s pretty sure that if he hadn’t brought him for Thanksgiving there would have been a riot.

At twenty-four he’s not getting the full brunt of the “when are you getting married” brigade, but he can feel them amping up to start it within the next year. He hasn’t gotten there yet; he’s had to do part time to finish his degree and Joe is still knee deep in getting the professional experience he needs to apply to the FBI.

Maybe someday. For now, he takes Joe’s hand and guides him deeper into the trees.

“I was gonna introduce everyone but I’ve got a feeling you two know each other.”

Joe’s fingers look ready to pierce his to-go cup as he says, “Duck and I used to date.”

From one glance at Indrid’s face, he can tell his boyfriend put the pieces together. From a similar glance at Barclays’, it looks like Joe wasn’t nearly so forthcoming about his past.

“More proof that Duck has excellent taste.” Indrid winks at Joe. It’s not suave flirtation so much as Indrid scrambling to change the course of an awkward conversation. When it does nothing to ease the tension he adds, “do you ever have one of those social interactions where you do not know what to do and then you’re in hell?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry” Joe holds out his hand for Indrid to shake, “I just, um, imagine we’re all a bit surprised by this turn of events.”

“Yeah.” Barclay’s eyes dart to Indrid’s hand and he chuckles a little, “uh, anyway, we should probably let you guys get in line before it’s around the building. See you around.”

“Nice meeting you Indrid. And it’s good to see you again, Duck.” Joe’s using his FBI voice, detached and polite, the tone slipping under Duck’s skin so that all he can do is offer a wave as they part ways.

As they take a spot behind a family dressed in matching overalls, Indrid moves from holding Duck’s arm to gently intertwining their fingers.

“Alright, sweet one, what aren’t you telling me?”

“Joe didn’t tell you in a vision just then?”

“There was one future with a longer explanation. But some things I would rather learn the direct way.”

Duck stops pretending to study the menu and looks at Indrid. This close, he can see his eyes behind the red lenses of his glasses. His gaze is completely present, completely patient.

Beneath the din of registers and coffee machines, he tells him the story.

—-----------------------------------------------------

“I’m sorry, Joe. I just…I can’t. I can’t do this with you.”

His hope is cracking into pieces, but Joseph is nothing if not persistent.

“Why?”

Duck leans against the kitchen table, “You really don’t know?”

“I know that I love you. I know that when I’m with you is when I’m happiest. I, I know that we’ve been talking about the future. Our future.”

His boyfriend sighs, looks up at the popcorn ceiling, “Yeah. Yeah we have. But here’s what I know. I know we ain’t fucked in close to four months. I know we ain’t been on a real date in even longer. And I know that I hardly see you, and when I do you’re this, this wilted version of the fella I used to know.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry, I know work has been crazy but once I get promoted I’ll be able to-”

“Stop. Just, stop right there. You said the same thing about gettin’ hired in the first place. Then your first promotion. Maybe you mean it but we both know how you get when you got a goal.”

His hope splinters like a sunken ship, and he flails for a piece to cling to, “What are you saying?”

“That my answer ain’t gonna change. And that I…I got some things I need to think about.”

Duck turns and walks out of the room. Joseph tucks the ring back into his pocket and drowns.

He knew it would happen eventually; Kepler is a small town and Duck had always talked about moving back there to work in the national forest he grew up loving. When Barclay mentioned a friend named Duck, Joseph hoped it was a coincidence while knowing all the while it couldn’t be.

He’s been here less than two weeks. Couldn’t the universe have given him a little time to recover from that major life change before confronting him with one of his biggest regrets?

Barclay is showering, so Joseph allows himself to open Instagram and bring up Duck’s profile. He’d found it a few years ago but forbid himself from looking. After this morning, he can’t bring himself to care.

Duck’s profile is mainly nature photos and pictures of friends. The first selfie he finds is back in June; a round face smiles at the camera as he sports a gray button up shirt patterned with little rainbow-colored bears. The top two buttons are undone and Joseph wants to reach through the screen and unbutton the rest.

He keeps scrolling, stops at a picture of Indrid and Duck together on a porch swing and the Lodge. The angle suggests Duck took it while Indrid napped on his shoulder.

ItsANickname: Happy three year anniversary, mothman.

Indrid is tagged and Joseph clicks through to a page featuring more bug than tree photos. There are many of Duck and of the same fluffy, orange and white cat that was in Duck’s profile. But his finger stops on the one of Indrid, seated behind a yellow and pink cake, dragging Barclay into frame for a hug. Joseph’s impressed; his boyfriend is notoriously camera shy.

Maybe it’s the power of being a former flame?

“He asks for that cake every year.” Barclay sits down next to him, smelling comfortingly of sandalwood, “and every year he’s so fucking happy to get it.”

“I can tell.” He sets the phone on his nightstand.

Barclay grabs one of the blankets from the end of the bed and unfurls it, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I wasn’t completely sure the Duck you kept mentioning was the same person and it still stings a little to talk about it. And, well, the way things ended doesn’t exactly show me in the best light” He takes Barclays’ hand, “I was so smitten with you I didn’t want to scare you off because the old me had a shitty work/life balance.”

The fact Barclay could easily point out Joseph had that same problem until three weeks ago but doesn’t is proof he loves him. And that he believes Joseph when he says he fought for more chances to see him.

Barclay lays down and opens his arms. Once Joseph is in them he whispers, “I get it. When we first met in person I was so afraid you’d spot all my flaws right away and never wanna see me again.” He kisses him, “I know I come across as a romantic, babe, but I’m not in denial about the fact the people I love have fucked up. You don’t have to hide shit from me, okay?”

Joseph holds him a little tighter, remembering where he is, “Okay.”

—--------------------------------------------------------

“Ooooh I have so many ideas.” Indrid drums on his thighs as the other haunted house volunteers find seats. It’s one of the few times when all the weirdos in Kepler come out. In his Cramps tank-top, mothman and bone tattoos on full display and silver hair hanging over his red glasses, Indrid could be their king. He’s also the hottest guy here, but Duck might be biased.

Joe walking in shouldn’t be a surprise; he loves Halloween. Honestly if he and Indrid ever form an alliance Duck’s apartment, the Lodge, and half of Kepler will be covered in meticulously planned yet vaguely chaotic Halloween decorations.

His ex gives them a slightly stiff wave as he settles in a chair on the opposite side of the circle. As Pigeon welcomes everyone and runs through the timeline and theme for this year, Duck can’t keep his eyes from wandering back to Joe. They’ve both aged but Duck never sees the kind of exhaustion in his own face that’s lingering on Joe’s. He’s in a navy button up and blue jeans, though when he adjusts to let someone by Duck spots UFOs on his socks. The fact he’s still wearing his hair slicked back fills Duck’s chest with an ache there must be a word for in German. Or maybe Japanese.

He’s stacking chairs while Indrid and Pigeon talk logistics after the meeting when a voice says, “do you need help?”

“I’m good, city mouse. I mean, uh, fuck.” Ten years apart should have killed that pet name, “No, Joe, but thanks.”

Joe runs a hand over his hair, “Look. I know this is awkward for both of us. I, I was sort of hoping we could get coffee in the next few days and clear the air.”

He could say no and Joe would back down. But he’d prefer to not spend the next several years in low level social hell.

“Log Cabin Coffee tomorrow? I can be there after work, about 5:15.”

Joe nods with noticeable relief, “I’ll see you then.”

—------------------------------------------------------

“So used to havin to wait for ‘Drid’s order.” Duck watches him tip half and half into his coffee cup before following him to a corner table.

“I’ve seen him order it a few times at the Lodge. I’m impressed. And a little worried about his heart.”

“Swear the fella really is part moth.”

“The name of his studio really is genius.”

Mothman Prophecies: Art Studio and Fortune Teller was one of the first places Joseph noticed on his drive back into town. He hadn’t realized then that the proprietor was as intriguing as it’s namesake.

Duck sips his black coffee. He looks how he always does in Kepler; calm, at home, unafraid. But Joseph sees the way his left knee is bouncing.

“Look, Duck, I…I guess I should start by saying I’m sorry. For everything. For choosing my work over you. For” he looks away, “for being so fucking caught up in myself I hurt one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

“I’m sorry, too. For, uh, for some of the things I said towards the end.”

“You were right about all of them.”

“That don’t necessarily make it okay.” Both hands close around his mug, “how the fuck did you end up back here?”

“I’d like to say that, when they told me they’d never, ever let me work the cases I wanted to, I left. That when they said they weren’t wasting all the training and time they put into me on a few missing hikers a year, I quit on the spot. But I didn’t. I stayed another four fucking months before they fired me because I couldn’t take the hint.”

“Christ, that’s fuckin’ bullshit.”

“Barclay offered to let me move in and I accepted. I know it’s a little fast, we’ve only been together a year and it’s been long distance but under the circumstances-”

“You don’t gotta justify stuff that makes you happy, Joe.” Duck’s right hand comes off the enamel, then retreats back, “Besides, I know for a fact you make the big fella so happy Mama was convinced she was gonna lose her best cook to the big city because he was gonna propose.”

“I’m extremely glad he didn’t do any of that. It’s a culture shock, living here, but at least he has a social circle I can cling to. If he’d moved to Cincinnati we’d be up shit creek.” He’s dying to change the subject and so he clears his throat, “enough about my predictable burn-out. How have things been for you?”

Duck leans back in his chair, “Good. Tourism board is listenin to some of my ideas to get the forest to be a bigger draw. ‘Drid moved in about a year ago. Folks passed away, Jane’s off on missions.”

Joseph waits but nothing else comes.

“I, um, saw a few pictures of your cat. She’s very cute.”

Duck smiles, “Yeah. Shelter named her Henny and her sister was Penny. Fitting, since she yowls like the sky is falling if she don’t get her way. Here,” he pulls out his phone, “look at this.”

A video starts, showing Henny meoqing at the camera. When nothing happens, she turns and trots across the floor to a pair of long legs in black pants. Bats at them once, twice, and then jumps halfway up them and begins climbing. Indrid shouts “OWmenace!” as Duck giggles behind the camera.

“Oh, and then two days ago she did this…”

The cat videos lead to a video of Aubrey’s giant rabbit, Dr. Harris Bonkers, followed by a video Duck took of one of her shows, followed by a video of him narrating as he walks through the trees.

“They want to get the forest on Tik-Tok to get more-” Duck looks up from the screen and freezes. Joseph cannot, for the life of him, remember when they got this close.

Before he can speak, Duck tucks his phone away but stays in his space.

“I, uh, I know we can’t exactly start over. But if you’re up for it I, uh, I’d really like to try bein’ friends.”

“I’d like that so much.” Joseph whispers.

Duck smiles his full, crooked, perfect smile, and Joseph pretends the warmth in his chest is from the promise of friendship and nothing more.

—-------------------------------------------------------------

“Joseph? Would you hand me that string of lights? Ah, thank you.” Indrid takes the coiled cord and ducks back behind the plywood. They’re working on a spooky forest scene for one of the transitional hallways of the haunted house. Indrid can make his own hours and Joseph is currently unemployed, which increasingly means the two of them spend whole afternoons planning out animatronic placement or going over make-up ideas. Joseph has some deliciously gory ideas for the zombie pen, if Indrid does say so himself.

“Do you want me to stand here so we can feed them back and forth?”

“Yes, please.” Indrid pops some lights into place, then passes them through, humming as he does. Through the various holes and gaps, he watches Joseph follow directions with eager efficiency.

He knows what Barclay says about him, but Indrid suspects it would not take much to make the other man into an obedient, well-dressed pet.

Indrid may be the only person on earth who knows how Joseph and Barclay actually met. Last winter, after far too many glasses of spiked eggnog, Barclay confessed that one night he’d been dying to put on a certain pair of underwear, but was still too shy to do it of his own accord. A few profile swipes and chats later, he found a special agent who happened to love big men in lacy things. It snowballed from there, a fact for which Indrid is glad, even if it meant Barclay’s occasional visits to his bedroom eventually ended.

“You know” Joseph says from the other side of the wall, “Barclay mentioned that you two were seeing each other before he and I became exclusive.”

“Indeed. Does it bother you?”

“Not at all. I’m mostly surprised Duck was open to it.”

“Them being friends and trusting each other helped a great deal. And I’ve found that as one gets older, one becomes more confident in oneself. Duck included.”

“I think I’m the exception to that rule. Thirty-five years and I feel like I’m holding onto my sense of self by my fingernails.”

Indrid finishes stringing the lights and steps from behind the panel. Joseph is untangling another string of eerie, green lights with the kind of concentration that comes from needing to distract yourself (Indrid knows it well).

“To hear Barclay tell it, there’s still a great deal to admire about you. And to hear him and Duck tell it, there always has been.” He touches Joseph’s arm, “If you ever feel out of place, come talk with me.”

“How did you-”

“I wasn’t always in Kepler. It’s a perfectly nice town but I know how hard it can be to adjust to it after a life in a busy place, even when you have people here you love. Now” he slips his arm through Joseph’s, who relaxes instead of pulling away, “let’s go finish the werewolf den.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What did you see? When you shook Joseph’s hand that first time.” Barclay chops another apple, tosses it into the bowl with the rest.

Indrid sips his white chocolate pumpkin spice latte, “Do you want all the answers, or only the comforting ones?”

Barclay glances at the doors to the dining room; they’re both locked while he does his prep.

“All of them. Starting with the bad ones.”

“There aren’t any. Just…puzzling ones. Or, not puzzling, but surprising.”

Barclay chops two more apples before Indrid adds, “The four of us end up dating.”

“Fuck” he nicks his thumb and pulls it back, Indrid hopping over the counter to clear away the bloody cutting board, “don’t worry, it’s not bad.”

“All the same” Indrid holds out his hand and Barclay dutifully rests his own in it as Indrid fishes a bandage out of the first aid kit. It goes on a bit lopsided as he says, “you’ve thought about it, haven’t you?”

“A couple of times.” He blushes, “after it was just the four of us at game night I just, I thought about how nice it would be to all cuddle up in bed.”

“I have as well.” He touches Barclay’s face, “You know I care for you and want you. Joseph inspires some very similar feelings. And some new ones” That dazzling, wide grin, “he’s convinced he can work out the tricks I use to give accurate palm readings. I wonder how long it will take him to learn there’s only one.”

“If anyone can figure it out, it’s him.” Barclay holds Indrid’s hands, “do we tell them?”

“No. If there’s any outside pressure, even if it’s not really pressure at all, I suspect it will go wrong. So, potential polyamory later ” Indrid tugs Barclay’s apron, “pie now.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

He has no one to blame but himself. Weeks ago, when Indrid said they still needed a vampire and vampire hunter for one room, Duck and Joseph volunteered. At the time they saw it as a chance to spend more evenings catching up. And it is, the two of them hidden in an alcove, whispering between scaring groups of guests. It also means hours pressed close to–and pretending to bite– a body he firmly believes was made to be worshiped.

They did this last night and when he got home he fell asleep to the idea of Duck holding him against the wall and kissing him silly before passing him off to Indrid and Barclay to absolutely ruin. He spent today feeling guilty; he should count himself lucky he still has Barclay. Wanting Indrid, wanting Duck–the last person in the world who wants to entangle their heart with his own–is not only foolish, it’s utterly selfish and greedy. So he’s pulled back, only waved to Indrid when he got here instead of chatting with him and is keeping as much space between Duck and himself as possible.

The haunted house has two sets of admission hours; the late afternoon into early evening is for families. After dinner and into the later night is for adults only and is much bloodier and scarier. He helps Duck get the rig onto his neck that sends blood spurting when Joseph bites him, then steps back against the wall.

“Okay Joe, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been usin’ your professional voice all night and you’re acting like I got cooties.” Duck crosses his arms and Joseph curses whoever thought to put his ex in a long, brown leather jacket that shows off his arms.

“I’m just making sure you feel comfortable with me.”

“Feel com–Joe for fuck’s sake, aw fuck” the light blinks to let them know a group is about to come in.

They take their positions, Duck thrashing and screaming as Joseph pretends to bite his throat and blood splashes unsuspecting guests, distracting them so that Aubrey scaring them from a coffin around the next corner will be extra surprising.

Joseph moves away as soon as they’re clear, “Not everything is about you and me, Duck.”

“Dunno, this really feels like it is!”

“Would you please just drop it?” He hisses.

“Not until you stop avoiding an answer, fuck Joe you know I hate that.”

“I’m sorry but I’m not-”

Duck backs him into the wall, “What’s. Wrong.”

Panic, arousal, and frustration bubble up inside him, and as the light blinks again he does the first thing that comes to mind.

He grabs Duck, and bites down for real.

Duck just manages to sound like he’s in pain, cursing more than usual as the group hurries past. This time, when Joseph tries to move away, the shorter man grabs the edges of his cape and keeps him there.

“That wasn’t very nice, darlin. You know biting is my weakness.”

“I’m, I’m so sorry.” He stops, wipes fake blood from his chin, “actually, fuck that, I’m not sorry at all. I needed you to feel it too, Duck. The reason we can’t keep spending time together. I” he straightens his back, accepting his fate, “I’m falling for you all over again.”

A thumb brushes his jaw, an old, comforting gesture. The sign for “look at me.” So he does.

“I’m in the same goddamn boat, Joe.”

“Even after-”

“I didn’t leave because I stopped lovin you. I left because it wasn’t working. And I scared half outta my mind that it might work now.”

“Me too.”

“So then we face it together instead of tryin to pretend it ain’t happening. We talk with Barclay and ‘Drid and figure out if there’s even anywhere to go from here that’s worth going. But I need you to promise me you won’t leave me alone for that.”

“I promise.”

Duck touches his cheek as the light flashes, “Good boy. And no more biting without permission.”

“I won’t.”

The rest of the night speeds by, and when they finally emerge at closing time, Indrid offers him a hand down the back steps.

“Uh, sugar, me and Joe got somethin to talk with you about. Barclay too.”

Indrid smiles in that knowing way of his, “I see that. And you don’t need to look so worried, either of you. The future looks very bright.”

#OT4: Government Men and Their Cryptid Boyfriends #promptober 2022 #Indruck #sternclay #agent stern/barclay/indrid cold/Duck newton #agent stern/duck newton #inclay

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