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#john WAS a douchebag who only ever came around to try and fail to play house
adammilligan · 2 years
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when adam says "no, john winchester was some guy who took me to a baseball game once a year. i don't have a dad" like yes SIR get his ass
#i have so many thoughts about adam and kate and their dynamic with john and it's mainly that#obviously anything about john said by the ghoul has to be taken with a whole handful of salt. obviously#because it was actively trying to manipulate sam and dean#but when the ghoul said that younger adam bugged kate 24/7 to call john i believe it. just because it makes sense#he was young! he wanted to know who his dad was. and that's understandable#and the fact that adam HAD to beg 24/7 for kate to call him....i think kate knew something was off about john#i really do. and the fact that john only showed up on adam's birthdays and only ever took him out to baseball games#which are very crowded very PUBLIC places where anything can be observed by bystanders#i think kate set that up as well. without adam's knowledge#but adam eventually grew disillusioned with john as well because from a kid's perspective#who's had to watch his mother work herself to death to support the both of them#john WAS a douchebag who only ever came around to try and fail to play house#he didn't bother trying to raise adam he didn't pay child support he didn't do ANYTHING#he just showed up pretended to act like a father and then left. and adam and kate were left there still#with their bills. with adam still having to raise himself. with kate still working the night shift and breaking her back to support them#it makes me think about how it affects adam in the future. like his behavior#because adam as we've seen has always tried to look at things from different perspectives and hear people out#in 5x18 he was like okay i'll hear you guys out even though i don't like you. give me one good reason#and in 15x08 he advocates for sam and dean even though he doesn't want to. he talks michael#but it's so interesting to me. because the line that's always gotten me about 15x08 is 'you still care about that? after he left you in the#cage?'#and it's like. adam IS genuinely trying to understand where michael's coming from. he DOES understand michael's love for his father#but when concerning the father it's like#he DOES tend to be black and white about it. john was a shitty person so therefore he's not his dad#god is a shitty person who left michael in the cage therefore michael shouldn't care what he thinks. or about him in general#et cetera et cetera#the issue of the father is the one issue that adam is black and white about. and that is to say fuck them we don't need them#it's SOOOO interesting to me. really#kate rambles#adam milligan
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moonfox281 · 4 years
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Can you make a fic about John having his friend Jensen over to his house? Ya know, mobwife! Au? And John being so nervous while Dick and Jason try to embarrass him in front of his friend
“Can I get a friend over?”
John dropped the question right before dinner, right when the table was about to be ready.
“A friend?” Dick asked, then quickly gasped. “A girlfriend?!”
“No, what the fuck? I said friend. Jensen!”
“5 bucks, buddy.” Jason grabbed the swear jar and handed it over to John’s face. Dick’s customized “swear jar”, it was. It used to be just a real jar made off from an old jam jar, but since it was Jason and John living in the house, it soon turned into a whole casserole pot. Dick so far had contributed 12 dollars.
“And you want him over for…”
“Homework, what else can it be? I’ve got buttloads of homework and an exam next week and I’m not letting any douchebag in my class laugh at me again.”
“Just homework, huh?” Jason smirked.
“Ye...yeah? Can you make it sound less gay, or bi, or whatever? I have a thing for boobs and a girl I’ve crushed for over a year? He’s got no boobs and a dick.”
“Yeah, Dickie here used to be surrounded by boobs, and guess where he landed? Me. I have a dick too.”
Dick whacked Jason in the head with the kitchen towel and pushed the plates onto his hands. “Stop messing with him and get the table ready.” And then he slapped Jason’s hand off his butt.
“So can I have him like, over? Just aking, if you guys don’t want to we can go to a coffee-”
“No no no, have him over.” Dick put the clay pot down the middle of the table and suddenly froze. “On second thought, have him over the penthouse.”
“Good idea, have him over the penthouse so he can be the talk of the school the next day.”
“Pop!!!”
Dick whacked Jason in the head again. “Security first, remember?”
“It’s Jensen.”
“And we don’t want anything bad to happen to Jensen, do we?”
 Jason nodded. “You heard him.”
“But he’ll make fun of me!”
“I’ll make sure he gets something else to talk about other than the scale of our house.”
And Dick whacked Jason in the head with his palm, again.
“Okay, that’s it, I’ll just go to his house.”
“Stop worrying, Jason’s only joking. We’re not going to scare him away, he’s your only friend.”
“Yeah...wait, he’s not my only friend.” 
“Jefferson and Hank don’t count. Just because they slipped you into a bar behind my back and play football with you at the park every weekend, doesn’t make them your age-appropriate friends.”
“Dad took me into a bar too.”
“Oh did he?” Dick turned and glared at his husband, who cowardly held the plates and cutleries and ran away. 
_______________________________________________________
When Jensen got a text from John about the address, he thought he was hallucinating. Last time he checked, his best friend was living in Crime Alley, not rolling around on the floor on top of one of Gotham’s biggest skyscrapers penthouse. 
They even got their own elevator, and a hotline number down the reception desk. And that elevator even had a hand scan lock.
And that son of a bitch said he didn’t go to school by a limo!
The elevator music was Death of a Bachelor. Once Jensen got out, there was a lounge with a red velvet couch, glass table, dark wood furniture and Persian carpet. Not even meeting the owners yet and Jensen had already felt like leaving.
There was a door. He came to it, intended to knock when the door opened on its own.
“Hello there.”
It was Richard Grayson.
Oh fucking God. It was Richard Grayson. And Richard Grayson was the loudest pretty face Jensen had ever ever met.
He was so beautiful it felt like he was slapping people in the face with those soft kind eyes. 
“Nice to see you, again.”
Jensen stayed frozen on his feet, because that was what a sensible person did when facing Richard Grayson, right? He looked even more gorgeous up close. But of course, Jensen was more than just sensible, he was the cool action guy that got a lot more up their sleeves than what they flashed outside. He collected himself fast enough and leaned over with his forearm on the frame.
Okay, it looked way cooler in his head, which he kinda accidentally picture Richard Grayson was shorter than him, and in reality, he wasn’t.
“I...um...I’m Jesen, you probably...uh, don’t remember me.”
“Of course I remember you. You’re John’s friend.”
“Really?” Oh god, he was so sweet. And his teeth, they were so...white.
“And you’re the kid that got knocked out by a softball in the middle of PE. I held your head to stop your nosebleed.” 
Okay, Jensen was going home now.
“Dude!” 
John jumped out from behind his father’s back. It was just the start of last year that he was still the scrawny kid with a shady attitude and hid himself in the corner of the classroom like a bat in a cave. Look at him now, a reserve midfielder standing head to head with his dad with his bare arms out in that rolled up Queen tee and a big dick energy. He looked like one of those guys who used to tuck Jesen in the locker room, even though he was now the one scaring off those guys. 
Puberty hit him like a Superman punch. 
“Whatcha doing out there? Get in.”
John’s hot father smiled down at him and left the door. When John came over, he looked like he wanted to punch Jensen in the face.
“Quit it or I punch you in the face.”
He knew his best friend.
“Look, I’ve got enough straight people being bent like an elastic ruler by pop. And I kinda don’t want you on the list behind my dad’s gun...”
“Haha, that’s funny. Relax, he’s your dad.” Even when he was such a DILF.
“Okay. That wasn’t a joke though.”
He really got Jensen with the serious face he put on.
The house looked like it was scraped off from some lousy pages of Fifty Shades.  Shoes off wooden floor, lights everywhere, and a whole lot of windows. Half of the place was literally glass. The living room alone looked bigger than their school cafeteria. 
Great, his best friend turned out to live a Great Gatsby life behind his back and he couldn’t even let Jensen borrow his Xbox. 
“Dude, my room. Come one.”
Jensen quit staring and followed his friend’s feet. “Dude, last time I checked, your house was in Crime Alley.”
“No, it’s not. You checked it wrong.”
“The fuck? So you just round Crime Alley for fun then jump back to Diamond District?”
“No, I go to Crime Alley to sell drugs then fly my way back here with my own chopper parked on top of this building.”
“Really?”
“No, you fucking idiot!”
“I heard that!” John’s father's voice echoed back from somewhere in the house. Literally, this place was so massive Jensen couldn’t remember where he had passed through. There were so many doors, and everywhere was either white or wood cover walls, or full glass windows. And it was a particularly sunny day in Gotham, the lights just hit Jensen right in the face. 
“So, where’s your other dad?”
“He’s out shopping… Why do you care about my dad?”
Okay, if he had to admit to himself, Jensen must say John’s dad left a very striking impression to him the last time they met. 
“I like him.”
John burst out laughing. “Yeah, no shit. You won’t be liking him once you get to know him.” And then he muttered something else under his breath that Jensen couldn’t hear.
“What? He seems cool, but nice.” Way cooler than Jensen’s dad, to be frank. He had nothing against his dad, but his old man didn’t exactly sport a leather jacket and kicked off a Hummer bumper looking like he was cool with running over people and got away with it. 
His own dad was a lawyer and served his time and energy to people that got run over by people like John’s dad, and lost. 
“What’s he buying?”
“Dinner grocery- Okay, that’s it. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Dude, the father of my best friend is Richard Grayson, who secretly married an attractive mysterious man and now you’re living in a penthouse and your grandfather is Bruce Wayne. I may or may not about to fail PE but I'd be dumber than those football jocks to not be curious.”
“Dude, is this why you begged me to come over to my house? For this shit?”
“That’s Richard Grayson!” Jensen shouted back under his breath.
“That’s it. Get in.”
John shoved Jensen into his room and shouted “Don’t fucking get out!” before slamming the door shut. If Jensen wasn’t so distracted by his room, he would have probably shouted back something.
His room was probably bigger than Jensen’s family living room. No, not probably. Definitely. 
Ah, he knew John was the Patriot kind of guy. The number of blue posters in his room. He had a three monitors setup, which had looked so cool until Jensen turned on his feet and caught a bed full of clothes. 
Dude… 
He was no better than Jensen at all.
He was about to go look around, when there was a huffing sound coming from somewhere inside the room. He turned round and round on his feet, trying to work out what the hell was that sound, until he saw something came out from under the bed…
“UAaahhhhhhh!!!”
Jensen rammed headfirst on John’s dad when he zoomed across the hallway.
“Jensen! What’s wrong?”
“There’s a lion inside the house!”
“A what!?”
And just because his luck was shitty, the thing had run after him too. Jensen threw all his pride out of the window and jumped behind John’s father’s back. 
“That!” He pointed his finger on the furry thing.
“That? Oh, there you are.” John’s father laughed and knelt down on his knee, calling the thing over. “Have you slept in John’s room again, my cutie bear?”
The thing rubbed his head over John’s father’s hand. And for crap sake, it was even bigger than him.
“Jensen, this isn't a lion. This is Beast.”
“Beast?”
“Yes, our family’s dog. He’s a Tibetan Mastiff.”
“He doesn’t look like a dog.”
“What are you saying? He’s the cutest thing ever. Aren’t you boy?”
Okay, John’s dad was hotter than a Christmas turkey fresh out of the oven, but there was something seriously wrong with his eyes.
That thing he was petting, was a deadly creature of hell. 
The dog suddenly barked and ran off. Jensen swore a part of his soul had left his body.
“Oh, Jason’s home. Let’s go down.”
They went downstairs after the dog. Halfway down the staircase, Jensen saw him, finally. There was no leather jacket this time, only a long coat. If he had looked like a cool biker last time they met, then this time, he looked more like a businessman. More like someone’s farther. 
“Honey, John. I’m home.” He shouted while setting the grocery bags down the floor to pet the dog. 
He looked even bigger, up close. Jensen hurt his neck trying to take a good look at him. Slicked back hair, black and grey from head to toes, gold watch, and gloves. That was so unfair, not only did he look like an attractive killer, but he also dressed better than two-third of the people in this city.
“Hey, Jay.” John’s father went over and went on his tiptoes to kiss his...well, other father. Okay, now Jensen understood why John addressed his fathers by name sometimes, this got really confusing.
“This is Jensen.”
His father pulled off his gloves and smirked. “Hey, young man. You’re having fun?”
“Ye...yes sir.” Jensen blurted out of nowhere. Okay, he did not mean that! 
Both of them stared at Jensen like he had grown a second head. 
“Okay…” He glanced at his husband and pushed a bag onto his hands. “How about you help me bring this in the kitchen. Straight to the living room then turn right.”
That was a save. The last thing Jensen needed was embarrassing himself even more, so he dashed into the kitchen without looking back.
Surprise surprise, he found John there.
“Dude! I told you to stay in my fucking room!”
“Excuse me, asshead. There’s a fucking lion under your bed! And everyone is OKAY with it! What the hell is wrong with your family?!”
“First of all, Beast is a beauty, don’t you fucking dare insult him. Second, you’re the one that begged to come here. You think I want you drooling over my dad and then soon get a blood and bullet talk from my other dad?”
“Why… just, why do you always have to say it like your dad is a serial killer?! Just because I like your dad doesn't mean you have to act like he’s the fucking Red Hood.”
“Oh ho no, you fucking take that back.”
Outside the living room, Jason and Dick hid behind a wall poking their heads in watching the two boys screaming their necks at each other.
“Are they fighting in the kitchen?”
“They are fighting in the kitchen.”
“I have frozen berries and fishes to put away and they’re screaming and swearing in the kitchen.”
“At this point, the swear jar’s gonna earn John enough for a convertible.”
Dick shrugged. “Or two minivans.”
“Haha, right… You’re not gonna actually buy our son two minivans instead of a convertible, right?”
“It’s money from a swear jar. It’s supposed to be a punishment.”
Jason looked back and gulped. “Babe, the fishes need to go now. Beast is sniffing through the bags.”
“Break them off then.”
“What am I supposed to do? Pretend the house is on fire?”
“We have an automatic fire distinguisher system. That’s not gonna work. Pretend you want to show him your gun collection, also, give him a talk about alcohol and drugs. You know kids this age.”
“Dick, I’m starting to think you want me to play the bad guy. Is it not enough with our alter egos?”
“What are you talking about? The JL loves you.”
Yeah, they loved Jason so bad they sprayed holy water after each step he took inside their facility. The Lanterns called them Hades and Persephone behind their backs, for Christ's sake.
“Honey, I think Beast took one of the fishes out. Beast, buddy, spit that out. Yours are in the freezer.”
“Alright, that’s it.”
Jason walked into the kitchen just in time when the boys had each other’s collar by their fists. Great, boys would be boys, they said. Well, boys would be animals if not educated, he said.
Nobody got to bleed in that kitchen except for Jason.
“Gym room, now.”
Jensen looked over John. “You guys have a gym room?”
“Oh just shut the fuck up.”
Jason pushed the swear jar at John’s face before hushing both of the boys out of the kitchen. On the way, he held Jensen’s head with both his hands just so the boy didn’t see how Dick sweet-talked Beast to give him back the fish in his mouth.
________________________________________
It wasn’t until all three of them stood frozen staring at each other in the gym room that Jason realized he had no idea how to handle this situation. 
Usually Dick was blessed in this category, and Jason’s best impression in loosening the knot was pulling out the gun and turning all attention on him.
“So um… you play anything, Jensen?”
The boy looked over John like he was begging for help before answering. “Overwatch and LOL...”
“He meant sport, dumbass.”
“Oh… not really...”
“Huh, so you’re the bullied kind.”
“Dad!”
“What? I’m just being honest. You looked like the type that gets squeezed in a locker or gets clothes stolen after PE.”
Okay, John wasn’t going to admit it aloud, but both of those had happened to Jensen before.
“Don’t get offended by it, okay? John used to lock himself in the bathroom for 30 minutes before he figured out the door opens the other way.”
“Oh.My.God. Dad!!!”
“What? It’s not even half as embarrassing as the time you got in the washing machine just because you saw 10 bucks in there and the door slammed shut so Dick had to get you out.”
“Okay now you’re doing this on purpose. Pop!!!”
Jason was pretty sure it was Dick John was calling on top of his lungs. And yep, it was Dick running at the door a few seconds later.
“Who died?” was the first thing he said. When nobody seemed to be dying, he put a hand over his chest and waved off them like they had jumped scared him. “God, it’s just you three? You made me think grandfather bought Walmart or something.”
All four of them stared at each other. And the first thing Jensen could think of when he turned over to his best friend, was pity.
“Dude, you’re gonna die a virgin.”
_________________________________________
Lunch was grilled tilapia on lemon, chicken salad, soybean paste soup and cold noodles, with a blueberry New York cheesecake for dessert. Okay, that was what John’s dad said. Jensen didn’t even know what the hell was a tilapia until he tasted it. 
One more thing Jensen learned today, rich people equal healthy home-cooked diets. Honestly, tofu had never tasted that great in his life until now.
“So, um, you’re a stay-at-home dad, Mr. Grayson?”
John’s dad smiled and took a sipped of his white wine. The way he drank oozed refinement of someone who lived on the top of the hierarchy. “It does seem like that, doesn’t it? No, actually I’m not. I’m on the board of advisory for Wayne Foundation.”
Wayne Foundation. Of course he was in Wayne Foundation. 
“Really? That’s so cool. My parents and I have come over the building sometimes. It’s always a change of sight in the urban area.”
“Well, it conveys its positioning even on the visual aspect. I only visit the office every now and then though, I mostly take care of things at home.”
“Wow, that’s so admirable. So, what do you do?” 
John’s other dad coughed a little when the question hit. Jensen wasn’t being rude, was he?
“Don’t choke on your food, honey.” Mr. Grayson gave his husband a smile that raised a little hair down the back of Jensen’s neck.
“Well, how do I explain… I take care of shipments and cargoes, in and out of this city and some others.”
“You mean, like, trade and logistics?”
“Yes, somewhat like that. I’m surprised, not a lot of kids your age know those terms of words.”
“Dad, he’s half Asian. Not knowing something is kinda insulting.”
“Yeah right, who am I kidding. He’s not you, I’m sure iGEM couldn’t be easier than separating red and white in a laundry batch, right?”
John turned beet red in a second. Jensen wasn’t sure how to react to that. But, because he was a good person with a kind heart and the will of a hero, he decided to save his best friend's ass.
“So, what do you take care of mostly?” And they were back on the game.
John’s dad coughed again, this time he relaxed himself by chunking down his glass. “Substance…. Medicines. All good things in life. I help the medical industry a lot. And also...adult...limited... equipment.”
Adult limited equipment? He didn’t mean sex toys, right?
This time it was Mr. Grayson choking in his drink. 
“Aaand also I run a liquor shop. That’s right, I have a liquor shop, a French restaurant, a motel, two garages and a newspaper booth. And also an instruction compan-Ouch!”
What the…
“Nothing. I just...bit on my own tongue...” He glanced over to Mr. Grayson, who calmly ate his food like he wasn’t even interested in the conversation. 
“...I thought you work in trade and logistics.”
“A man can multitask, young man.”
“That much?”
“Hey, nothing is impossible if you know how to dream big and work hard.”
“Wow, that’s so inspiring...Hold on, last time John told me you work in the supply sector.”
“Okay, who’s ready for dessert?”
__________________________________________
Lunch was a disaster. If grandpa suddenly visiting with an out of character announcement and a heart to heart talk was a third-degree disaster, this was a fifth-degree.
Now not only John was gonna die a virgin, he was gonna die a lonely virgin. 
Now that they found peace in John’s room and finally, finally, got to studying, a new problem arose.
Was it John or Jensen was being too cool with everything?
“Jensen,”
“Hold on, I’m wrestling with number 9 on Earth Science.”
“You already got to number 9?”
“Hey, I skipped 5 and 7.”
See, he was acting totally normal. And that got John’s pants all twisted. 
He thought about it, really. If he was Jensen, he would be taking this so easily like this. It was just the other day when he half-joked about wanting to visit one of the Wayne Towers… Well, now he had skipped all the steps and jumped his ass on the penthouse on top of one of those buildings. 
John was still fidgeting for his words when there was a knock on the door.
“Come in.”
Papa came in all dressed up with orange slices, ice creams and juices. “I hope you guys can catch a break.”
“Thank you, Mr. Grayson.”
“Don’t stress too much. John, if there’s anything too difficult, just call Aunt Babs or Uncle Tim, okay?”
“Okay.”
Jensen pulled John over and whispered in his ears. “By Uncle Tim, did he mean Timothy Drake? The ex W.E CEO?”
“Yeah, that’s my uncle.”
Papa went over to ruffle his head. “You and Dad take care of dinner tonight, roger? I forgot some papers at the penthouse so I have to go get them now. After that, I have a meeting at Wayne Tower until 7, so I’d probably be home late.”
“Okay.”
“You two have fun. And Jensen,”
“Yes?”
“You just tell my husband whenever you want to go home. He’ll send someone.”
He shut the door just in time for the two of them to hear him calling after Dad asking if the car had arrived. Next to John, Jensen’s eyes were glowing.
Ah, here they went again.
“He looks like he just walked off a runway.”
Okay, on his defense, Papa was a model every now and then.
“How many penthouses do you guys have?”
“Well, just this one and the one top of the Wayne Foundation buil...Hey, I know whatcha doing!”
“What I’m doing?”
“Yeah, that’s right motherfucker. You’ve been hiding it this whole time, but you’re secretly running through your head right. This and that and oh his dad is so handsome, his dog is so big and his other dad looks like the kind of guy who walks off an exploding car with a smoke in his mouth. Well listen here, you can snip those to Gotham Gazette or those Gotham Knight wannabes or whoever you want, my pop is a goddess and Beast is my boy, and my dad can parallel park his Hummer with his legs. Say whatever you want, I may be Princess Mia and you may be Lily, but you’re my Lily! You stick through this shit till the end, you hear me?”
John literally poured his heart out that his head was spinning a little. 
“Did you just refer us as The Princess Diaries?”
“You- you only got that?”
“Dude, you watch The Princess Diaries!?”
“Shut up! My dad made me!” He didn’t. Sorry, dad.
“Can you calm down first?”
“You calm down. I am calm!”
“Why are you yelling!”
And just when John was about to scream back, his dad stuck his head in by the door.
“I knocked, no one listened. You know I can hear you from across the hall, right?”
“Daaaaad!”
“Okay okay, geez.”
Once his dad left, they immediately forgot what to say. It was a break of flow, and John honestly didn’t know if it was a good thing or bad thing. So when Jensen picked up his Earth Science papers and fixed his throat, John knew they were back on the usual pace.
About an hour or two later, when John was biting his nails for a question, Jesen suddenly broke the silence.
“I don’t care, you know.”
John blinked. He almost thought he had heard it wrong . “What?”
“I don’t care about...well, all of this. I don’t have to come here to know you live a different world than mine. Your dad is a celebrity, J, and your other dad.... Well, whoever or whatever he does. I don’t care. You’re kind to me, and you’ve stayed kind even when you can have gone and become one of those guys at our school. But you didn’t, so if you don’t change, why should I?”
John lost his words. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Jensen, it just that… this was a lot to take in. Not even including the vigilantes part, Papa being who he was, Dad being who he was, and them being together and taking John in and giving him all of...this. It sure felt like the universe coming all at once for him. It still put him at daze thinking this was his life from now on in some sleepless nights. 
So he didn’t expect much from his friend. He couldn’t have. 
Guess he must have thought too little of Jensen.
“By the way, your toilet looks more expensive than my healthcare.”
Okay, John took it back. 
“Does this mean you’re gonna forget about the 20 bucks?”
“Oh hey, you owe me 20 bucks, asshole.”
“Oh come one, you live in a castle on the sky, just forget about it.”
“That’s not even my money. My parents gave me that.”
“Right… Hey,”
“Yeah?”
“Did I ever tell you I went to iGEM last year?”
John snorted.
“What’s an iGEM?”
___________________________________
Jason washed his face and came back with a warm towel. Dick laid spread on the bed, heaving. Just one of those rare nights they went to patrol on peaceful streets and got off early. Well, they better spend the spare energy for some quality time before hitting the bed for real, right?
“Water?”
Dick sat up and leaned over the headboard. “Thank you.”
He drank with eagerness when Jason cleaned him. He had to change the sheet after this. 
“You okay?” 
“Yeah.”
“Still hot?” He swiped Dick’s hair back and checked his forehead.
“Not anymore.” Dick set the bottle down and suddenly grabbed on his arm, pulling him down. The dry towel he set on the table was snatched and flopped on his head. 
Jason knew this cue, so he slipped off the bed, hung Dick’s legs on his shoulders and kissed his thigh as Dick dried his hair. There was a hickey there, just on his calf, what a shame he had to wear pants.
“You slipped today, did you know?”
“Well, gotta give that kid something to think about on the way home.”
“You didn’t have too.” Oh, but the way Dick said it made Jason understand he was smiling mischievously behind his back.
“You know, he’s a very nice kid.”
“I know. The best our punk can have in that school. This is exactly what we wanted for John, you know. Having a nerd friend, crushing over girls, getting bullied and going on fistfights and growing up from all of that. He’s had enough when he was on the street, I wanted him to at least live like a kid for a time. Gotham Academy may sound fancy, but he doesn’t belong there, just like I never did, he’s not gonna get to be a child among those silver spoon licking pricks.”
Dick stopped his hands and touched his cheek, looking down from where he sat on the bed. “I was one of those pricks, you know? The children aren’t...wrong. They just never get to live their ages.”
“I guess being born with a million-dollar last name means you come out of the womb with a speech instead of crying.”
Dick wiggled his toes when he hummed an old Romanian lullaby, the one Jason never knew the name, but remembered every melody. He used to sing this song whenever it rained big enough outside for nightmares to creep in, now? Simply feeling the familiar warmth by his side, did the trick. 
“You know, I never liked the Academy.”
“Really?” That was surprising to know. All the kids at the school never shut up about him.
“Yeah, some kids there were mean, and their parents were even worse. They used to call names behind my back, Circus freak, Gypsy boy, Esmeralda...”
“I’m not even sure if Esmeralda is an insult.”
“You should have seen the Principal’s face when Bruce threatened to cut down financial support if he couldn’t get the situation handled. And things would look worse on papers, right? A billionaire filing a complaint about his son’s study, doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, it’ll be bad for the school. So of course, Bruce was being Bruce, and him doing that only made the situation worse.”
“So what did you do?”
Dick leaned down and kissed his hair. “Nothing. I changed, made friends, became one of them. I survived.” 
Jason took the towel off his shoulder and climbed over his husband. Dick’s stomach was warm, his muscle was decent, but not too hard. Jason’s personal body pillow, very good to heal the soul.
“I won’t let anything like that happen to our John.”
“I know. But when it comes, let it come. I want John to understand how this world works. The sooner he learns, the less painful it will get.”
“It’s like learning Superman is scared of rock.”
“Oh leave Clark out of this. He could be listening.”
“Yeah? Well, I have a better idea.” Jason opened the drawer and took out a condom. “Why don’t we, let’s say, scare him away?”
Dick huffed but he rested his naked leg on Jason’s shoulder. “So young, but that’s a debatable idea.”
The night was still young, just like they were too.
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thewhiterabbit42 · 7 years
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Full Circle: Part 1
Summary:  When a strange occurrence leads you back to Indiana, you find the past becomes resurrected along with a certain archangel.  Unfortunately, you both become caught up in something bigger than you expected.  Takes place between Seasons 5 and 6.  
Pairings: Gabriel x Reader
Warnings/Tags: Winchester sister!reader, angst, maybe a swear or two
Word Count:  4467
Author’s note:  When this story was originally written, it included prompts from January’s Gabriel Monthly Challenge.  They will still be bolded.
Dialogue prompt:  “One day you and I are gonna wake up and be alright. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day. I promise you.”
Special thanks to my wonderfully amazing beta @sumara62 who, coincidentally, was the first person EVER to comment on one of my fics (which happened to be this one).   Also special thanks to @blondecoffeecake whose sunshine, Dick attacks, and super encouraging words keep my soul fed <3 
***Please do not repost or copy my work to any other site without my written permission.  Giving credit does NOT count.  Reblogging is ok.***
Full Circle Masterlist     Part 1      Next Chapter>>     
You cracked open a beer, the sound breaking through a silence that was as deafening as it was empty.  The contents spilled past your lips, the cold brew comforting, and the familiarity that sang softly beneath the taste was as bitter as it was sweet.  It was also addicting, and by the time you lowered it, the bottle was considerably lighter.  
Not that that was anything out of the ordinary; you were a Winchester, after all.  
Your eyes drifted over the old and peeling wallpaper as you tried to shake the weight of the past that pushed persistently against your heart and mind.  You couldn’t help but think things weren’t supposed to turn out this way.  Then again, no one ever wanted to believe most of their friends and family were supposed to have met terrible fates or that they were supposed to likely live the majority of their life alone.  
Hell, you thought being a twin meant never having to be alone.  There was never a moment in your life when Dean wasn’t there, and it had never crossed your mind there could be a time when he wouldn’t.  You knew he felt the same, though he, being the eldest, had actually existed without you once.
“The only five minutes of peace I’ve ever had,” he liked to joke, to which you’d respond, “At least you’ve known what peace is like.”
He had been so much more than just a brother.  He had been your partner in crime, and wherever one of you was, the other was never far behind.  At least, that’s how it started.  It became clear you had never been destined to stay that way.  Fate had pushed against the foundation of your relationship, creating cracks within the weaker points so that when the storm fully hit, it couldn’t help but take on water.  
Surprisingly, your mother’s death was just the the low rumbling of thunder in the distance.  The deluge that forced both your heads beneath an unexpected flood was when you lost your father.  It wasn’t when he physically passed.  His death, in some ways, had mended fences you and Dean hadn’t realized were still broken.  It was when your father lost himself to his grief, when he devoted every moment to his newfound cause, and when he expected Dean to be the one to hold it all together, that your brother began to drift away.
It was a terribly unfair burden, one that forced Dean to grow up faster than he should have.  You and Sam, on the other hand, had some leeway to still be kids, or as much of ones as possible, given the circumstances.  What really solidified the rift was when “The General” began to take Dean on hunts with him, but insisted you stayed behind.
You knew it had nothing to do with whether or not you were ready.  You were just as strong, just as capable, if not more so because you always had to work that much harder to gain half as much of the man’s approval.  What it really came down to was John’s own feelings of failure regarding your mother.
It didn’t matter that you looked more like the Winchester side of the family.  Past bled over into present, blurring vision enough so that when he drank, he never failed to voice how much you reminded him of her.  He resented you for it, and so long as the yellow-eyed demon lived, he would continue to do so.
Where once it had been you and Dean, now you and Sam were side by side, hitting the books for school or research, eating dinner out of a can, and watching movies on the old motel room TVs.  Sam had been the one to pick up the pieces when some boy broke your heart.  He was the one that cheered you up when you were some place long enough for prom to be an option, but no one else actually considered you for it.
He was the only one you could even tell that secret to.  
Then there was the whole matter of when you turned eighteen.  You’d had enough of the drunken rages, the ever closing box, as John grappled to maintain absolute control over you.  Your own anger had blossomed over the years into fiery embers that became stoked with every additional burden placed upon you or your brothers.  You were so ready to be done with it, but you stayed because you didn’t want to leave Sam to deal with things on his own.
The day you looked into John’s eyes and saw your own desperation and anger staring back was the day you decided that you needed to leave.
You waited for the man to drink himself to sleep before packing up your things and slipping out into the night.  Sam, of course, expected it.  He knew you too well for you to be able to hide anything anymore.  Dean, on the other hand, was shocked, furious, betrayal glinting hard in the darks of his eyes, and jaw clenched so tight you might have heard a few of his teeth cracking.
To his credit, he didn’t raise the alarm, but he had been salty enough to ignore your calls for the next few months.    
You weren’t thrilled about it, but you got it.  It would have been easier if you had gone for normal like Sam eventually did, choosing college and a nine-to-five existence over hunting.  They would’ve still been angry, but your reasoning would have been you wanted a different life instead of your own.
You weren’t sure what they expected, however, when their personalities lent themselves to nicknames such as Commander Drunk of dick company and his dutiful second, Captain Asshat.  
Not that you ever dared call John that to his face.
They’d tried to lure you back by asking for help on cases.  Thankfully, you were usually occupied with  your own.  As time passed, however, you found memories and sentiments softened the edge of the toxic trainwreck that the man your mother married had become.  More than anything, you found you missed your brothers’ company and, in rare moments, you even missed your dad.
Then you’d join them on a hunt and would be painfully  reminded why you left in the first place the moment your father opened his mouth.  A few times all he had to do was look at you, and you headed right back out the door, even if you’d just arrived.  
When all was said and done, your relationship with Dean held on, but the one you had with Sam had become stronger.   It wasn’t intended, but destiny hadn’t left you with much of a choice.
Rather, the heavenly choir of divine douchebags hadn’t, and they were lucky you hadn’t started hunting them the moment Lucifer was locked back up.
Not that that would really help.  You couldn’t change where you, Dean, or even Sam had ended up; you could only choose where you were headed.  You could have stayed and tried to make things better, but the thought of trying to bond with Dean because he was all you had left hurt too much to even be an option.  
You thought back to the last words he said to you.  Despite feeling just as broken and beaten as you did, he was doing everything in his power to hold it together, which meant being far more optimistic than you’d ever known him to be.       
“One day you and I are gonna wake up and be alright. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day. I promise you,” he’d told you, and you almost believed it.  Almost.  Just as he knew you well enough to know hope was what you needed, you knew him well enough to realize the kind he offered didn’t come overnight.
For some, it didn’t come at all.
What were you supposed to do in the meantime?  Sit around and watch your brother play house while Sam sat in a cage with what had to be the two most pissed off beings in creation?  Good for Dean if that was what he wanted.  Really.  If anyone deserved to be happy, it was him, but the jury was still out on whether or not that was true of you.  
Deep down, you knew you weren’t ready to give up hunting anymore than you were ready to give up on Sam.  This was your life. This was in your blood, and if there was anything John had taught you, it was that family was everything, even if he was shit at showing it until the end.  
Then there was the matter of you being able to rein in your mouth.  Painful as it was, you had managed to hold in the snark, mostly for Dean’s sake.  However, if you had to go to one more BBQ and hear how hard it was to be normal, you were going to tell Dale Johnson how curious it was that his son looked more and more like Steve Hargrove every day.  
It wasn’t true, but that wouldn’t stop you from reveling in the look on his face or watching their simple little world go up in flames.  
That’s when you decided skipping out in the middle of the night might be best for everyone.  
This time you knew Dean wouldn’t hold it against you.  Goodbyes were about as much his forte as they were yours, and after living the apocalypse like it was one long, extended farewell tour for your family, you were both tired of the entire concept.  
Besides, it wasn’t like you were cutting him out of your life completely.  
You both occasionally texted to check in, but you hadn’t spoken since the night he told you it was going to be ok.  It was easier that way, not just for you.  Besides, you wanted some clear separation between your lives to ensure Dean had a fair chance and making it in his new one.    
Since then, you spent your time jumping from one case to the next, slowing down only long enough to find anything and everything you could on Lucifer’s cage. As weeks turned into months, however, your frustration began to fray, the harried threads weaving back together as desperation when all you found were false leads and dead ends.  Your best resource (and probably only remaining friend) had disappeared the moment he’d seen you and Dean safely to Lisa’s.  
You’d lost track of how many times you’d prayed to Cas only to receive no response.  
When you thought about his silence, anger burned brightly against the backdrop of darker sentiments, threatening to spill over the border into fury at the ever growing sense of betrayal.  Maybe you weren’t as close as you’d thought.  Maybe he’d had better things to do.  Maybe it was because you were the wrong Winchester.  
A more logical, though far less pleasant thought, was that he was simply dead.
You found it much easier to be pissed and indignant rather than try to make room for anymore grief in your life.
You hadn’t given up praying to him, but you learned to limit it in the interest of managing your disappointment.   At the moment, things weren’t great, but they could be far worse.  Perhaps you could afford to risk a little.  
Considering you hadn’t had a case in days and your leads on the cage had just run dry, you were ready to try just about anything if it meant getting out of this day long limbo in which you sat.  You needed to go somewhere.  Anywhere.  Preferably before you went insane.
Dearest Castiel, angel of the lord, and former BFF to us Winchesters.  Why hast thou forsaken me in my time of need?  Whereth doth thy feathered ass roam?  Because I could really use some guidance down here.  Like yesterday.  
Baiting the only divine connection you had probably wasn’t the brightest idea, but there weren’t many who would call you smart these days.  Clever.  Sarcastic.  Infuriating (if one were to believe Dean).  Completely on the wrong side of sane (courtesy of Bobby), and having the smallest sense of self-preservation in existence (that one had been Gabriel’s), but using your intelligence for something other than messing with people or pulling you all back from the brink of sudden and impending doom?  Not as high on your priority list as it should be.
You jumped, nearly falling backward in your chair as static burst through the silence.  Your eyes swung to the TV across the room as it flared to life, faded color inking around the edges of what looked to be a low budget news program.
A local power outage has officials across Randolph County baffled.  Around 7pm this evening, the entire county lost power after an unexplainable surge in the system.  Many are still in the dark, but the power companies have already deployed technicians to fix the problem.  The source of the surge continues to remain a mystery.
You flipped open Sam’s laptop, typing in the county name within the search bar.  Your brows drew together when it only pulled up the town of Randolph.  Another quick search indicated there was no Randolph County anywhere in the state.
And now on to the weather…
Your eyes drifted up to find what looked like a map of the Great Lakes region.  It showed the radar (snow snow snow the weatherman announced in a tone that suggested he had far too few hobbies outside of his profession) before zooming in closer on one state in particular.  
How the hell the local news for Indiana was playing in Massachusetts was beyond you.  Unless…
“Cas, that you?” You asked, eyes scanning the room before drifting upward.  The TV shut off again and the sudden silence left you feeling a little uneasy.  If it was your friend, why wouldn’t he just appear and talk to you?
“Think you can patch me up before sending me back out?”  You continued.  It was more of a test than anything.  You had a few scrapes and bruises leftover from your last case and one hell of a split lip.  Nothing you couldn’t handle, though it was also nothing Cas would’ve batted an eye at if he were only doing one of his drive by interventions.  
You cast a few more glances around the room before turning your attention back to the computer.  As soon as you changed the state to Indiana, up popped a county map in the right hand corner of the screen.  You let out a snort when you found out the Sheriff’s office was located in the town of Winchester.  
There’s a joke in there somewhere you mused.
Your eyes landed on the cheap, plastic alarm clock next to the bed.  It was almost eleven.  If you were lucky, you’d roll into town early enough to catch a nap and be able to drop in on the Sheriff before he went off shift.  
You quickly packed your things, sending a quick thanks sky high, and you felt your spirits lift a little as you found yourself on the road once again.  
***
The world was one thing, and one thing only: pain – pure, potent, rupturing viscerally through your system in a never ending stream of molten magma.   It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced, as if the gossamer threads to your very being were ripping open, siphoning the contents of your soul onto the tangled covers around you, and leaving a white-hot searing sensation in its wake.  You were aware, on some level, that this had to be a dream, but no night vision had ever felt so terrible or so real.  
You weren’t sure how long it lasted, only that you weren’t able to shake free from this nightmare.  It became clear your suffering was in control, and only when the torment began to ease was your mind able to claw its way back from unconsciousness.   
You woke with a start, panic forcing your eyes open wide.  You gasped for air, your chest burning from the lack of it.  Blackness clouded the edge of your vision, and the world gave a dangerous tilt beneath you.
If you didn’t do something quickly, you were going to lose yourself to something different but equally as overwhelming.
You forced yourself to focus on the heavy hammering of your heart against your ribs, latching on to how the sound of it drowned out nearly everything else.  You became aware of the pressure of your grip, the feel of the comforter clutched tightly in your hand.  There was a sharp chill that lingered around the fire in your chest, creating ripples of goosebumps along the exposed flesh of your arms.  Your hands grasped at your stomach, the fiery center of all the torment you’d experienced.  The area itself was ice cold, though the lingering embers of your agony had yet to fully cool.
The more you paid attention to the physical sensations, the more you sank back into your body, and eventually the ground stilled beneath you once more 
Nightmares were a common occurrence.  If you weren’t being ripped apart in your dreams, then you were either watching your loved ones get torn to shreds or revisiting your failures: Sam, Jo, Ellen, random people you and your brothers had been unable to save in time, and, on occasion, even your father (though he was just as likely to be the nightmare rather than just part of it).  
Afterward, something always lingered.  Memories and visions blurred lines with reality in a way that had you throwing yourself into case after case in order to stay tethered to what was real.  This time, however, there was nothing left behind.  Not a single image still flashed before your eyes.  Clips of sound did not continue to chatter in background of your mind.  There were no emotions crowding the edge of awareness.  Nothing, save the echoes of that awful agony, remained.
Something tugged at you, however, but whatever it was came from somewhere much deeper, much more intrinsic.  It pushed its way up from the darkness, bubbling up into your consciousness, and as it forced its way into your mind, you felt the world stand still around you.
“Gabriel,” you breathed, grief seeping into the spaces where the burning once resided.  It was like an echo of him lingered within you, and all you recalled of him, all the sentiments you worked so hard to pack away came leaping to life in response.  How deceptively slight his vessel looked, yet how powerful his presence could be.  The glint of fun-loving chaos ever sparking in those gold splashed green eyes.  The extra glimmer of light the world seemed to have when he appeared, and how everything seemed to have dimmed now that he was gone.
The fact that it was your fault he was gone to begin with.
You had been trying so hard not to think about him.  You had may not have made peace with the deaths you and your family left in their wake, but you had managed to lay your friends to rest one by one.  Gabriel was one of the few who refused to remained buried.  
Though today it felt more like he had come crash landing back into existence.    
Any other day, you’d tell yourself it was just a dream and move on.  Any other day, your weird-o-meter wouldn’t be hitting a solid eleven on a ten point scale.  
You glanced at the clock beside you.  Tiredness clung to already weary eyes, causing the glaring red numbers to grow blurry.  You’d only been asleep an hour, but there was no point in trying to go back to sleep.  You were too on edge, the past pushing too close to the present, and if you didn’t give your mind something else to focus on, you’d simply go back down the path you’d spent so long finding a way out from.
You threw your legs over the side of the bed, pausing to scrub at your face before standing, unaware of the pair of eyes that watched intently from across the room.  
***
You had barely made it through the door at the Sheriff’s office when the receptionist had pegged you for FBI.  When you confirmed, she merely pointed down the hall and told you to wait in the first room on the right.  That had been over a half hour ago.  
There were a number of reasons why the Sheriff needed to get the lead out of his ass.  One, you did not like small spaces.  They made you feel caged and a caged Winchester was not a pretty sight.  Two, your patience was running pretty thin these days, so waiting was not often recognized in your vocabulary.  Three, you’d already spent over twelve hours in the car without much to keep your thoughts grounded and were in desperate need of something onto which they could grasp.  Four, you really really didn’t like small spaces.  
Hurried footsteps sounded down the hall, increasing in volume as they approached.  You knew that stride.  It was all purpose and unless you happened to be bleeding out, you really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of those.  You expected it to be for another room and froze when the door to yours abruptly swung open.  
“I don’t understand the bureau’s damn fascination with the place, but here.  Do what you need to do.  I’ve got other cases that need my attention,” a man informed you, tone clipped as he flopped a file down on the end of the table.   He had what you referred to as the trifecta: he was taller than you, older than you, and most importantly, he didn’t remind you of any of your past failures.  
The rest of the details really didn’t matter.  
“I’m… here about the unusual power surge,” you quirked a brow, unsure what else to do with the unceremonious entrance.  “Unless you’ve noticed anything else strange going on.”
“Other than the FBI showing up over a power surge?”  He raised a brow right back at you in challenge.  You bit back a smile.  You thought the streaks of grey at his temple were an added bonus, but that sass had your curiosity piqued.  
“Look, I’m all for professional courtesy, but you’re the seventh agent in as many months that has come sniffing around for cold spots, things moving on their own, gravitational fluxes…” he spouted, gesturing with his arm as he listed each off, his incredulity growing to a tipping point.  “Gravitational fluxes?  Do you people think just because we’re a small town that we’re all backwater idiots? What are you really after?”
Apparently Winchester, Indiana had a supernatural draw.  You couldn’t help but wonder if this was a punchline to some cosmic joke.  You smirked, though the gesture was short-lived, as you wished you had someone else with you to appreciate the irony.
An ache settled deep within your chest, and you now found yourself doing your best not to frown.  Dean would have had some smartass remark to toss back by now.  Sam would have been trying to smooth things over.   You, well, you would have been sizing up your target so you knew whether to pull out a manipulation, distraction, or a good old-fashioned threat to compliment your brothers’ efforts.     
That lingering whisper beneath your skin continued to tug at your senses, clouding your ability to get an accurate read on him.  All you could tell was that he was too tall.  His hair was too dark.  His eyes were too blue.  
And you were obviously too sober.  
“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” you gave him your best disarming and sympathetic smile as you approached him.  “My name’s Agent Stark.  I know how this all sounds and, I really shouldn’t say anything, but someone, somewhere, is clearly interested in something here and until their curiosity is satisfied?  You might as well put in a desk for us, because every time something the tiniest bit odd happens?  We’ll be here.  Going through your files.  Talking to your men.  Canvassing the county. 
When all else failed, you went with what Dean had dubbed the everything-but-the-kitchen-sink approach and hoped some part of your message was enough to connect.  The man took a moment to consider your words before letting out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face in defeat.  
“The case report is in there.  You have any questions?  Come to me.  My men are busy enough as it is,” he told you before disappearing back out the door.
You bit your lip, chewing thoughtfully.  You weren’t sure what to make of everything.  The area was relatively small and completely off your radar.  Whatever was drawing hunters must have been a more recent phenomenon.  
You pulled out your phone, dialing Bobby’s number.  Maybe he had heard something about this place you and your brothers had missed.  As you idly waited for him to pick up, your free hand reached across the table, dragging the manila folder closer to you.  
“Bout time someone figured out how to return a phone call,” a familiar voice drawled.  Guilt blossomed between your stomach and chest, sheepishness flooding your system.  Your stare unconsciously dropped sideways as if you were face to face with a man who acted more like a father than your own had, and who certainly deserved better than to be ignored for weeks on end.  
Your fingers drummed nervously across the top of the file, drawing your focus to the letter written neatly across the top of it.  The words written in bold, black ink registered for the first time and your fingers froze.  Your eyes widened, the world shifting sideways beneath you again 
No freaking way.
Bobby’s voice crackled on the fringe of your awareness, but he might as well have been speaking another language.  You couldn’t make out what he was saying, but even if you could, you needed to be able to take in air to formulate a response.  That dark cloud from your past once again loomed overhead, this time threatening to bring with it the full storm.  
“I gotta call you back,” you breathed, brain lurching to a stop as you hastily ended the call.  
You opened the file and a swell of emotions found its way to your eyes as the Elysian Fields Hotel stared back at you in black and white.  Your stomach churned, a flood of images rising to the surface.  You flipped past the photographs, your finger trailing down the police report until it stopped on an address.  
You weren’t certain why it was you were called here, but you were determined to figure it out.  
Full Circle Masterlist      Next Chapter>>  
Everything tags:   @girl-next-door-writes @wayward-mirage @fand0maniac @feelmyroarrrr @omgreganlove @jannalionheart @baritonechick, @deaths-maiden @lucifer-in-leather @stone-met   @the-moose-of-baskerville @summer-binging-spn  @blondecoffeecake  @raspberrypuddle @ourloveisforthelovely
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Full Circle Tags: @melodyhiddleston
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countessklair · 7 years
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Dr. Gabriel ‘St. John’ Keller, Director of the Medical Division of the Avengers Initiative
“Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness. I am kind to everyone, but when someone is unkind to me, weak is the last thing you will remember about me.”
Gabriel Keller grew up in inner-city Chicago, raised on his father’s stories of being in the Marines, and after graduating high school became a full-time caregiver for his ailing father. The experience would define him, as Gabe had always wanted to help people, and watching his beloved father die was nothing short of agonizing, but it did give him the desire to become a doctor, to provide health where he could. Gabe joined the Marine Corps when he was twenty-one, a week after burying his father, partly to honor his decision to become a doctor, but also as a way for Gabe to stay close to the man who raised him. Gabe got his medical degree through the Corps in record time and was bounced around for a while, nothing really sticking, until finally he was assigned to be the medic for Captain Maureen Walker’s squad, and after day one knew he had found his place in the Corps. Day one of his relationship with the squad, the XO Dante Johnson, who, in Gabe’s opinion, had eyes way too pretty, took it upon himself to check that the resident doctor was combative ready. One hour and a broken nose later, Gabe earned the nickname ‘St. John’ because, in Dante’s own words, somewhat muffled from the towel holding all the blood in his face, “Ok, so you can break a bone. Let’s see how you do at putting it back together.” Five minutes after that Dante was almost speechless. “I’ve broken this nose four times now, and that was the quickest, and definitely the gentlest any doc’s ever reset it.” Gabe knew he was fucked when Dante looked over his shoulder and smiled brilliantly through the dried blood on his face. ”You got skills of a saint. You’re all right, Gabe.” Gabe found a family in his squad, though from the third time he patched up Dante, after the man inevitably lost his temper with a bigot in a bar, he would look into the other man’s eyes and think ‘I just fucking had to fall in love with a straight man with anger impulse control.’ The summer after their first deployment as a unit, Gabe and the others were invited up to Missouri to spend two weeks with Maureen and her family. They met Maureen’s husband Sean and their daughter Ava on Ava’s fifth birthday, and Gabe fell in love harder than he’d ever fallen before. Gabe had never really been interested in children, and that still stood, but of all the children in the whole wide world, he was glad that Maureen and Sean had had Ava. She was sweet and always laughing, she was the spitting image of her mother and constantly trying to understand every facet of the world around her, she was intelligent and quick to love, especially when it concerned her mother’s squadmates.  Being a doctor and occasional Black Ops agent was incurably emotionally damaging, but every time they came back from a mission and got their mail call, there was, without fail, a drawing for each of them from little Ava. And those did, inevitably, work wonders. When Ava was eight, Rieker and Harvey spent the summer before deployment road-tripping and drinking in the South. Maureen and Sean spent the month before deployment going on a second honeymoon in Scotland visiting extended family, and Gabe and Dante babysat Ava for the duration. That whole month was the pinnacle of Gabe’s happiness in that era of time, Dante and Ava running through actual fields playing tag in the summer sun, the three of them going to the Ozarks and swimming in the lake, the three of them playing endless games and holding nightly campfires. The image of Dante lit by firelight, singing a silly song designed to make Gabe and Ava laugh, his eyes locked onto Gabe’s and a soft smile replacing the usual steely frown, was too much for Gabe to handle at the time. It felt too much like what he wanted with Dante. Even overseas, Gabe felt at home with this squad, even through the hell of warfare. Which is probably why it all fell apart. In May of 2005, two months before Ava’s twelfth birthday and one month before they were set to go home, Gabe was forced to sit back and watch their commander Lt. Colonel Thaddeus Ross send Maureen out into the field on her own, with no explanation beyond a snotty sneer and a thoroughly uncaring, almost hateful look in those grey eyes. Gabe waited, prayed, wished and fucking hoped she would be fine, but thirty-six hours later she came back with no pulse and half her blood gone. Gabe and Harvey and Rieker had to hold Dante back from killing Ross, and Gabe had to hold the four of them together when they went back for the funeral, Gabe holding little Ava’s hand when the coffin was lowered into the ground, while Sean stared in numb silence at the turned over dirt and the freshly carved headstone. Harvey, ever the realist with what to do next, suggested they leave the Marines. It just...wasn’t the same without Maureen. Gabe, Dante, and Harvey left the Corps. Rieker stayed behind, wanting to give the Corps another chance, but he transferred divisions and started training snipers in Arizona. For a few weeks after everything happened, Gabe and the other squad members parted ways. Gabe went back to Chicago, visited his father's grave, put in some time at a few outreach centers, went to see a shrink to pour his heart out, and drove into the middle of nowhere to scream until he couldn’t talk. Everything was at such a low point, Gabe knew that he really didn’t want to even try to attempt civilian life without Harvey or Rieker or Sean or Ava or Dante, God he didn’t want to ever be without Dante in his life. So Gabe called up Harvey and Rieker, and they tracked Dante down to a hole in the wall, abandoned bar in Harlem. They walked in to find Dante looking around, lost and smaller than Gabe had ever seen him. And without a word about why Dante had bought the place, they fixed it up, and fixed up the two floors above the bar area too, with enough bathrooms and bedrooms to house the four of them and three guests. Gabe stuck around with Harvey and Dante while Rieker went back to Arizona, and while Dante set up ‘Sister Margaret’s’ and while Sean investigated Maureen’s death, Gabe and Harvey and Dante and Rieker helped raise Ava. Gabe taught her how to box, it was her fifteenth birthday present, and he taught her how to fight dirty when needed, cause the good Lord knew that girls weren’t safe on the streets. Lucky for them, turning into some kind of mercenaries was good in that regard. It didn’t clean up Harlem, they were magic, but it did keep Ava safe. A year and some change later, Rieker came back to Harlem for good with a sniper in tow, Wade Wilson, who was carrying a dishonorable discharge and downcast eyes, who had the smartest mouth Gabe’d ever heard. Wade Wilson was mouthy as fuck, but he was a good man and Gabe was glad he was around. Gabe knew what happened to most soldiers with a DD, and he didn’t want that for the guy who helped Ava get over her first douchebag boyfriend and who walked with them all in the Pride Parade. Gabe even liked the Weasel guy Dante hired to watch the bar when they went off on ‘excursions’ around the world. Because Gabe knew, had known for years, that wherever Dante went, he’d follow. It wasn’t perfect, the whole of Ava’s puberty was something of a disaster even though the psychologist Gabe had talked to said they had done good by her, but it was damn near close to perfect. Which was probably why it got ruined. Again. Sean dropped Ava off at Sister Margarets the beginning of July, three weeks before her eighteenth birthday, his eyes alight with the promise of answers. Sean had promised to come home within two weeks with everything they had ever wanted to know about Maureen’s death. Two weeks later Dante came into the bar holding an envelope and a folded flag instead of Sean’s duffel, because Sean Walker had been a Marine too, and that’s what people did for the military when they died. They gave them flags because there was nothing fucking left. Gabe again held Ava’s hand and watched another coffin lowered into the ground in the middle of nowhere Missouri, thinking that this couldn’t be all life has to give them. And Ava changed a bit, a harder look in her eyes than before, a certain set of her shoulders that hadn’t been there before, and though she cried and mourned and screamed her hatred of this development into the world, she soldiered on. Gabe was proud of their girl because Lord was she strong. She went to college, went to a fucking Ivy League school, went to fucking Harvard, and aimed for a triple doctorate, at that. Even as proud as they were, and as aware as they were of Ava’s very impressive skills, none of them liked it when Ava took an offered internship at some hush secret spy organization she wouldn’t give a name to. But Ava was happy, and Gabe knew it couldn’t be a coincidence that whenever the four of them were off around the world doing their not so legal work, they always managed to escape the notice and pursual of any federal forces. The only reason Dante wound up in jail was because getting caught beating the shit out of some scumbag for the tenth time in a year got you thrown in jail, no matter how big of a scumbag said scumbag was.  With Johnson in jail and the jobs asked of them getting weirder and weirder, Gabe could only hope they lasted long enough for Gabe to finally kiss Dante under the mistletoe at Christmas because if he was gonna get one last thing out of his life, it was gonna be his romantic comedy moment, God help him.
Faceclaim: Donnell Baylock Jr
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