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fw00shy · 3 years

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What Happens After Summer is Up to You

Harry/Draco | T | 1.6k | post-war summer at hogwarts, a little story about letting things go and not making a big fuss over it, fluff honestly but not too sweet | ao3 link

for @drarrymicrofic: what if he wants ken not barbie. ty @vukovich for the beta 💙

(i)

Draco returned to Hogwarts the year after the war for the same reason that got him into this mess in the first place: because he was told to. "Keep your head down and count yourself lucky," his father had said, and Draco packed his bags the same as he did every year, having learned nothing about making his own decisions.

That would come later.

"Some people need a little more help in life than others," Pansy said with a pitying pat of his bedcovers as she watched him pack.

Pansy more than passed her NEWTs with the help of Polyjuice and a morally compromised Ravenclaw. A two-pm Portkey to Zanzibar waited for her in celebration of her well-deserved accomplishments.

Draco picked up an engraved wooden case and opened it to reveal his father's Snitch, the one from the year Lucius had won the House Cup. Draco packed it with him every year as a good luck charm, but looking at it now brought upon a wave of unease.

"Who else is going?" Draco asked Pansy. She was wearing a bruise-purple miniskirt and black lipstick that drained her complexion as gaunt as a Thestral. Draco noted this with petty satisfaction.

Pansy flopped back on Draco's bed. "I dunno. Everyone, I suppose. Daphne, of course. Blaise. Theo. Greg, maybe? But he says he might not have the money, which I think is for the best really — he's just been so sad, probably wants some time alone, to, you know, process — though Blaise said he'd cover for him…" Pansy sat back up. "Draky baby, you aren't sad about missing out, are you?"

Draco snapped down the lid to the Snitch and stashed it in his trunk. "Don't call me that."

"Don't be like that," Pansy cooed. She got off the bed and flounced toward him, her every step light with barely constrained exuberance. "You know it won't be the same without you. I'll owl you a nice prezzy, alright? Look at me."

Pansy's eyes were black and glittering, her mouth hardened in a crocodile smile. She looked like she was ready to move on with her life, which she might as well go and do. Nobody was stopping her, anyway.

(ii)

Hogwarts held preparatory courses over the summer for Muggleborns, and the newly anointed Headmistress singlehandedly taught them all. There were twelve students in total across the years, and the terms of Draco's probation stated that he was to aid in their education.

"Studying over the summer… bet this is Granger's idea of fun," Draco grumbled under his breath over dinner the first week.

"Mine, actually," Potter said around a mouthful of peas. "She helped write the curriculum, but then she scored an internship at the Ministry."

They were sitting at the teacher's table, which meant Draco could talk to Potter without having to meet his eye. As such, they'd spoken a few times, though primarily for passing the butter and pepper and whatnot. (Their fingers brushed on occasion. Though never on purpose, of course.)

"I'm happy for her," Harry said.

"It's a good curriculum." Draco coughed. Dear Circe, complimenting Granger… did he have no filter?

(iii)

Teaching Quidditch to ten-year-olds was Draco's least favourite part of his sentence. You'd think sharing his joy of flying would be his only solace in a soulless summer cleaning up after children barely coordinated enough to wipe their own arses, and you would be horribly, disgustingly wrong. Turns out most Muggle-raised children had a healthy dose of vertigo that often manifested into projectile vomiting from a metre up.

"I just don't get it," Potter said as he Scourgified puke from Draco's hair for the third time that afternoon. Their students were long gone, taken off to the kitchens after one plummeted to the ground in a cannonball of chunder.

"Of course you don't," Draco huffed. Not just anyone could fly like Harry Potter, the youngest Seeker in a century despite never setting foot on a pitch before Hogwarts. "Like any normal dunce can be Harry Potter. You're stupid to think anyone has it as easy as you."

Potter threw a fist at Draco's eye. Draco returned it to Potter's chest, shoving Potter down to the ground. It felt good to hurt, so good that he nearly whined in disappointment when Potter froze and dropped his fist mid-air.

"That was a compliment," Potter said, his face cracked open with bewilderment. "You — God, Malfoy. You mess me up." He got up from the ground, his knees grass-stained and his face bruised with mud. Draco watched the anger bloom red and splotchy over Potter's cheeks and tried not to cower when Potter drew his wand. Was this what Voldemort saw before he died?

Potter muttered something unintelligible, and Draco felt the pain siphoning away from his body. He was light all over, as though Potter had managed to take away all his wounds, even the ones within him, so that there was nothing to Draco but air.

Draco watched Potter disappear back into the castle before standing. He walked through the halls in a daze until he ran into the Headmistress, who told him to clean up before he set a bad example for the incoming First-Years. It wasn't until he was freshly showered and pulling on his robes again that he realised that his Dark Mark was gone.

(iv)

They started tossing around a Quaffle in the late afternoons after Quidditch class. They were already in their leathers, and saying yes was as easy as lifting off the ground. Throwing around a Quaffle was loads harder than chasing after a Snitch, but neither were practised at it, which helped, as they dove after missed catches with all the vigour of a game-ending Snitch. They flew until the daylight ran out and their breaths with it, sweaty and exhausted and so late into dinner that they were sent to the kitchens to scavenge leftovers.

It was a Sunday afternoon in mid-August when Pansy's promised owl brought Draco a box of chocolates; too many for Draco to eat alone, so it was only sensible for him to share as he would have with Greg or Vince in the past. He walked the long corridor to Potter's door and knocked, chocolates in hand.

It was a terrible mistake. Potter wore only boxers, his glasses askew and his hair still sleep-rumpled (despite it being The Afternoon!). Draco stumbled back as though slapped. Potter honestly had no right being so effortlessly attractive on top of everything else he had going for him. It was like seeing Dumbledore in his sleeping hat, or maybe the first time Draco caught Pansy on the toilet and realised that girls pooped: all wrong, completely wrong, he really ought to go, perhaps another time —

Potter dragged him inside with only the gentlest roll of his eyes.

The inside of Potter's room was as cosy as Mother's cashmere jumper, only uglier (the wrong colours). Potter ate an embarrassing number of chocolates while proclaiming, "I dunno where it all goes, honest; can't gain a stone," and Draco was so disgusted by the utter unfairness of life that he fell asleep over Potter's bed and had to sneak back to his own room in the wee hours of the morning.

(v)

It wasn't meant to be an open invitation. But Potter followed Draco all the way back to his room after dinner the next day, and Draco didn't manage to shut the door on him in time.

Potter looked around, his head swivelling around comically, like an owl. And then his eyes narrowed on Lucius's unopened letters piled high on Draco's desk.

"What's in them?"

"Dunno," Draco said. "Directives, if I had to guess. Rather pointless, considering I'm stuck under McGonagall's iron fist until the summer's out." Potter opened one anyway, and Draco watched anger carve lines between his brows with some bemusement. Was this what it was like to have Harry Potter on his side? It was a bit like hanging around a guard crup, or maybe a guard dragon.

Potter burned the letter. He burned them all before returning to his room.

Draco sat on his bed and stared at the scorched top of his desk. He wasn't sure how he felt about it all being gone. Part of him was relieved, sure, but mostly the loss numbed his chest through.

Then Draco remembered his father's Snitch.

Draco summoned the Snitch to him, and it burst forth from the bottom of his trunk amid a cacophony of torn textbooks and scattered winter cloaks. Draco caught the box in his right hand and tucked it under him before gingerly stepping over the mess to his window, where he took out the Snitch and let it go. And then all that was left of Lucius in Draco's room was Draco himself.

The future unfolded before him, cold and barren to the ends of the earth. What was he supposed to do now?

(vi)

In the last week of summer, Potter told Draco to call him Harry, and then he asked Draco what he was going to do with his life.

Draco said, "I dunno. Get a job at the Ministry. Marry Pansy, I suppose. And you with Ginny, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry said and took Draco's face into his hands and kissed him.

Was this it? Was this what all those miserable years surmounted to? This crystalline moment, the one that Draco waited for his whole life. And now it took him by surprise.

Harry's lips were very chapped, though his mouth held the sweet promise of fresh grass and sunshine. Whatever that meant. Draco kissed him back. And then he said it wasn't fair that Harry was so good at kissing as he was at everything else, honestly — sunshine? Was there anything Harry struggled at? Because he was so bloody perfect that it made Draco want to stomp on his face and throw up all over him.

"You're the only person in the world who thinks I'm perfect," Harry said and kissed him again.

(vi)

What happened after summer is up to you. 💙

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#drarrymicrofic #drarry microfic #drarry #drarry squad #fwoosh writes

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officialgritty · 3 years

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How I Would Humble NHL Players

An essay written by bigboigritty.

I would humble hockey players the only way I know how to, by sending them to Australia. Let’s suppose that they have decided to hold the All Star game over here (forget about it’s usual date) (forget that some players I have listed below might not be invited) (and while you're at it, please forget that Australia’s rinks are Not Good).

I think that they would suffer but in an entertaining way so it’s fine.

First of all, their biggest concern is getting sunburnt. It would effect all of their dumb asses but I’m particularly worried about Pierre-Luc Dubois and Mitch Marner. Boys are practically translucent. Vince Dunn would be fine, he’d probably wear a shirt most of the time which is a very smart decision.

You may wonder why I didn’t mention Nolan Patrick because I am a certified slut for him, well I don't think he would have a problem. He would spend most of the time inside and when he joins the others, I think his Virgo ass would reapply sunscreen. Maybe he would burn slightly but I don't think it'd be enough to make him uncomfortable.

Another thing that I think they will gain from this experience is a higher pain tolerance. Now you’re probably thinking, “Zoe they are NHL players so they can handle pain.” Wrong.

Real pain is running barefoot on cement at theme parks while you race to get to the next ride. Also getting into the car and having to avoid touching every piece of metal to not get branded like a cow. Or better yet, when the heat gets so bad that there’s a black out because everyone has their air conditioning turned on.

Don’t get me wrong, I know that other countries have scary animals but I would pay to see them panic over ours. Crocodiles here can grow up to 5.2 metres / 17 feet. We have a box jellyfish season where it’s advised to avoid swimming or wear wetsuits for coverage. Funnel web spiders can survive underwater for hours by trapping air bubbles around their skin. We have several of the worlds deadliest snakes present across the country.

Listen, I don't want anyone to get injured but the constant fear that they would have when doing anything would be enough to make me happy.

My biggest question is who would survive in the shady areas, who would survive the eshays?

Under no circumstances can you look them in the eyes or cross their path. They are not to be feared individually but in groups caution is advised. I think the players would attempt to assert dominance and that is simply not an option. You are better off to ignore the eshay.

Nolan would have no issues here if im being honest. He is big and I don't think they’d find it worth it to fuck with him. But you know who they would target? Matthew Tkachuk. “Where are you going pretty boy?” “Oi braa did we hurt your feelings ya pussy cunt?” They would make fun of his hair in particular.

Travis Konecny would be an eshay. I don't think I need to make further comment. (So would Louis Tomlinson but I am not a 1D account and I will continue to repeat that until it’s true.)

I would also give them a few iconic tasks to get the true Australian experience. Activities for the ‘vacation’ include triathlon events, beach flags, bush walking and climbing the harbour bridge. They could attend a cricket match but they tend to like golf so unfortunately they would probably enjoy this :(

AFL is an extremely popular sport here and I think they would loose their shit when they learn the rules of this game. No protective equipment is used other than mouthguards, that's it. That’s all you get. And jumping onto other players for leverage is encouraged. I would thoroughly enjoy the fights that would break out because of this.

Another task would be to use a map to make their way to a servo for a slurpee. The catch is that they will be required to pass through multiple alleyways. Also, the season is Spring, it’s swooping season mother fuckers. Let’s see how brave you are when birds chase you down the block. Personally I don’t think any of them would pass this test, maybe McDavid because the birds may not be able to detect a heartbeat.

Australian food would disgust them, I just know it. Things that they would need to try are a Bunnings sausage sanga, fairy bread, lamingtons, baked beans on toast, Milo and Vegemite. Because I’m me I would give them no butter with their Vegemite.

An after thought I had was money so I’m editing this to include it. Everything here is EXPENSIVE so they would need to learn how to budget. Upon doing research, Canadians would be fine but the Americans will be mad.

1000 CAD = 1019 AUD

1000 USD = 1297 AUD

Another after thought was the fact that they won’t be able to drive (or at least drive well) here. We drive on the left and not the right, same goes for walking paths too. I can sense a lot of them bumping into people.

Where I think players would live based on vibes alone:

Carter Hart and Vince Dunn: North Shore Beaches, NSW. Daddy’s money. Carter probably did Nippers whereas Vince was a skater boy.

Travis Konecny: Darwin, NT. Would 100% live there and enjoy it. He would try to conduct crocodile tours but gets assigned to feeding the baby crocs and doing shows for little kids.

Tyson Barrie: Perisher, NSW. One of the only ski resorts we have to offer, major friendly mountain man energy.

Nolan Patrick: Byron Bay, NSW. @antoineroussel enlightened me, steering away from my original thought of Katoomba, NSW. Byron Bay is a magnet for hippies and links rainforest to the ocean. Chris Hemsworth and his family also live there.

William Nylander: Perth, WA. I don’t know much about Perth other than they wouldn’t shut up about partying while the other states had to quarantine. For some reason, I also associate Perth with Tik Tok.

Sidney Crosby and Connor McDavid: Melbourne CBD, VIC. These two would live in the same apartment building in the city, Connor one level above Sidney. It’s the most boring looking block of them all and Crosby would send in complaints to the landlord about McDavid pacing during the night.

Tyler Seguin: Surfers Paradise, QLD. Party central, not many people are actually from this area and he would be sure to tell absolutely everyone that he was. I also think he would get a Meter Maid tattoo, specifically on his leg. Has definitely slept on the beach before because he couldn’t find his way home.

Jamie Benn: Hobart, TAS. Tasmania is usually forgotten about. Another one with mountain man energy except he is more creepy than friendly.

Mitch Marner: Fitzroy, VIC. @antoineroussel is responsible for this one too. Hipster central, makes you question how the hell someone so young can have so much money. Would chug $45 wine and not blink an eye.

(honourable mentions include = Sammy Blais: Hobart, Tas. Once again no comment on Tasmania. TJ Oshie: Cairns, QLD. Would do reef tours. Haydn Fleury: Western Sydney, NSW. Haydn would 100% own a ute or a white holden commodore and you can’t tell me otherwise. Roman Josi: Adelaide, SA. Small town history teacher vibes.)

I have attached a handy map for those who may need it.

In conclusion, the NHL should send their players over here to teach them some manners and while they’re at it, management should bring themselves too. Nolan Patrick could pass as an Australian if he built up a tan. (So does Nylander in this picture but we won’t talk about that.) Come over anytime baby, I’m free.

Glossary

Servo - A service station, also known as a petrol or gas station. Example: 7/11

Theme park - An amusement park. Can be said in reference to both normal parks and water parks and usually means those in QLD. Example: Six Flags

Swooping season - August to October in Australia. When birds attack and chase humans and / or pets for getting close to their babies. Magpies are notoriously bad for this.

Bunnings sausage sanga - A cheap feed / meal found at the front of a hardware and gardening store called Bunnings. Made up of white bread, sausage, onion and your choice of sauce.

Fairy bread - White bread with margarine and topped with 100s and 1000s / sprinkles.

Meter Maids - Women who work along the beach dressed in gold bikinis. They top up parking meters to save tourists from getting fined and will often stop for photos.

Nippers - Surf lifesaving programs carried out for children between 5 and 14.

Ute - A pick up truck.

Eshay - A person who partakes in drug use, graffiti, listens to EDM and targets victims in groups. Below is the typical style of an eshay.

Tagging a few friends so this doesn’t completely flop but feel free to ignore if it isn't your thing. I won’t be offended lmao

@scheifefe @ifiwasshawnmendesidslapmyself @d00dlebob @bowenbyram @kempe @prettyboyroope @quintonsbyfield @travisgermy @pitoftrash @kspitehockey @ballsakic @canadianheaters @bricksatlandyswindow @powerblais @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows @jamiedrysdales

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cdt12345 · 3 years

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We've been friends many years but I've never thought to ask; Top 10 gay OTPs?

1.) Ian & Mickey (Gallavich) - Shameless us

What can I say about these two that we haven’t already said about them?! They are my absolute all-time favorite couple ever! Gay or straight. They perfectly complement each other, they love each other on a level I feel like I’ve never seen before (and I have watched a lot of tv/movies), they’re like a comedy duo, they support each other, understand each other better than anyone else ever will, they fell in love as kids, they bring out the best in each other, and they’re each other's best friend. I’m a sucker for opposites attract, who are also best friends. Gallavich really fits that bill. I wish they didn’t have to struggle so much to get their happiness, but I’m happy they finally got it. When they got married, it felt like the biggest victory ever! We went through those years of struggle with them, rooted for them, mourned for them when John Wells let Noel go after season 5. So much has tried to keep these two apart, even real-life circumstances tried to keep them apart. The chemistry between these two characters and between Cameron and Noel was so powerful, they were brought back to the show. That kind of thing doesn’t happen very often. When an actor leaves a show, they don’t usually come back as a series regular, let alone two actors who have already left the show. It felt like a miracle! I will never forget getting the news that Noel was coming back from you @luckyshazmrsmonaghansblog I was crying with happiness bc we wanted this for so long and I never believed we would get to see both Cameron and Noel back on the show. Or that they would get their happy ending outside of a jail cell. Especially after Cameron left the show in season 9. With their return we got a wedding, an entire season of them as a married couple, we got to see them dance with each other twice, we got them singing together, we got to see them start a lucrative business together, we got to see them free and happier than we’ve ever seen them before, and we got to see Terry get what he deserved after putting them through hell. We are only halfway through season 11, but I already feel so fulfilled with this extra time with gallavich that we were never supposed to have. JW tried to take that away from us. I will never understand why, but he failed. I am not surprised this is the one I wrote the most about. I can go on and on about gallavich!

2.) David and Patrick - Schitt’s Creek

This was everything I ever wanted to see onscreen, where there was zero homophobia. The pansexual character didn’t need to have a big coming out or tell everyone in the town of his sexual orientation, except his best friend. The gay character had a coming out with parents who loved and accepted him for who he is and was only upset that he felt he couldn’t tell them sooner. I dreamt of a day where I could see this kind of representation onscreen. The casual treatment of their sexuality was so refreshing and something I’ve been waiting for. There is no darkness or huge struggle they had to overcome to be together or a sad ending for them. They were allowed to be together without the major conflicts most LGBTQ characters have to go through. Once David made the first move Patrick was comfortable allowing himself to fall for David and start a relationship with him. He was so sure of his feelings for David after that first kiss, he never looked back and I loved that. They had such an adorable love story. Truly one I have been waiting to see for so long between two LGBTQ characters. They made me smile every time they were on screen. They are another of my OTPs that are exact opposites who complement each other perfectly. Patrick was welcomed into David’s family and blended in with them so well, even when he and David had very different upbringings. Patrick serenading David with Tina Turner and then Mariah Carey at their wedding is one of the most romantic things I have ever seen!

3.) Holt and Kevin - Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Captain Holt and Kevin are strange men on their own but together they are the perfect pair. They get each other in a way no one else does. The best part is their adorable fur baby, Cheddar! They seriously make the cutest family! I was so nervous when they went through a rough patch for a while because I didn’t want them to split up. Thankfully, they made it through and are still going strong!

4.) Will and Vince - Will & Grace

On the show's first run, Will and Vince were in a serious relationship and Vince was Will’s longest relationship on the show. They broke up a few times but were together by the series finale. The two reunite during the funeral of Will's father. There was a time jump on the series finale. Though I didn’t love everything about the last episode, I did love the fact that Will and Vince had been together for 20 years and raised a son together, who was conceived through in vitro fertilization with a surrogate. After the time jump, nearly twenty years later, their son goes to college and meets Grace's daughter, whom he would eventually marry. Though I wasn’t happy with the fact that Will and Grace didn’t stay close over the years, it did allow for their kids to one day meet, fall in love, and get married. I did like that outcome out of the finale. My family and I used to watch the original show, but we refused to accept or watch the 2017 revival because they completely changed everything from the original series finale. The second I found out they were changing everything; I knew I couldn’t watch it. They even wiped the existence of their kids from the first series finale. The revival was an attempt to cash in on the reboot craze and I wasn’t happy about that already, but even more so when they were going to break up one of my OTPs for easy money. Bobby Cannavale, who played Vince, has become even more famous since starring in Will & Grace. So, I already figured he wouldn’t be back for the show as a regular, but I know he did guest star. I won’t accept the revival and to me, Will and Vince stayed together, and their son married Grace’s daughter. THE END!

5.) Albert and Armand - The Birdcage

Miss Albert and Armand were the earliest gay couple I remember ever watching onscreen when I was eight years old. I have watched this movie more than I can count over the years. It is a family favorite that we quote often. Their son is planning to marry a girl whose father is in politics and is very conservative. They have to hide the fact that he has two gay fathers for one night, but everything goes awry, and comedy ensues. Nathan Lane and Robin Williams give a wonderful performance without resorting to using the stereotypes that are often used on gay characters, especially back then. It’s a classic!

6.) Stefon and Seth - Saturday Night Live

Okay, hear me out on this one! They’re not the most conventional OTPs on my list, but I really do love them so much! Stefon started doing a correspondent segment on Weekend Update on SNL. The first time Stefon came on, he flirted with Seth Meyers. The second he did I was like ooh they would make a cute couple! Stefon the wild party guy and Seth the serious news anchor. It was a match made in heaven for me. Before Seth Meyers left SNL to do Late Night with Seth Meyers, Bill Hader came back to play Stefon for Seth’s last episode. I didn’t expect what happened next to happen at all! They gave Seth and Stefon the ending that I haven’t even gotten from some actual scripted shows. I never expected Stefon and Seth to have this big ending, but I could not be happier that they did. I’m posting the link to the six-minute skit/ending and I hope it works. It’s worth watching. Though the video says it’s Stefon’s farewell it was really Seth’s farewell episode.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rj-wYWMdWNk

7.) Mr. Simmons and Peter - Hey Arnold!

Anyone who grew up watching this show already knew that Mr. Simmons, Arnold’s teacher, was probably gay. It was hinted at in the Thanksgiving episode. Arnold and Helga visit Mr. Simmons on Thanksgiving at his house and his family and “friend” Peter are there. Mr. Simmons mother says she didn’t know Peter was coming to dinner and Peter responds with the infamous line “There’s a lot of things you don’t know.” When Mr. Simmons mom tries to get him to take a woman friend to the ballet, he says he loves the ballet and Peter gives him a disapproving look and Mr. Simmons immediately declines. Those were enough hints for us fans to decide Peter was his boyfriend. Years later, the show's creator Craig Bartlett finally confirmed Mr. Simmons is gay and had them together in the 2017 Hey Arnold: The Jungle Movie. It was so exciting to finally get the confirmation years later, even though I was already certain of it for many years. I was happy that the cartoon no longer had to settle with vague hints about it.

8.) Callie and Arizona - Grey’s Anatomy

I was very happy to see a lesbian couple on prime time tv and I really liked both characters. I was excited to root for them but sadly as most couples on this show, their relationship took a turn, and I wasn’t thrilled about it. I was disappointed that it came to an end. By then I was already getting tired of watching the show. It was starting to feel like a chore to watch it every week. I tried to stick it out because I don’t like to give up on shows in the middle of it, but I just couldn’t do it anymore. I’m glad I did though because the shocking events with Derek Shepard, is something I’m glad I wasn’t around for. Anyway, I heard things between Callie and Arizona got even worse, so I was even happier I left when I did.

9.) Sherwin and Jonathan - In a Heartbeat

This was one of the cutest things I have ever seen! I wish this got the full-length movie treatment instead of a short film. But it was still a step in the right direction for the LGBTQ community. Gay characters in cartoons always bring me such joy and that was the focus of this short. A boy with a crush on another boy with a cute ending. What is not to love?!

10.) Mitch and Cam - Modern Family

Another show I had to give up on in the middle of the series. The show began to be less funny and more annoying to me. Another reason, that really has nothing to do with the show itself, that used to annoy me was that this show repeatedly beat out Parks and Recreation during award season. Parks and Recreation is a superior show when compared to Modern Family. This show won almost every year for years and it got really annoying especially when the quality of the show started slipping and they kept winning. After a few years, they finally stopped winning all the time. But before all that, I was a fan of Cam and Mitch. They were a great couple who I loved watching on the show. They were the best part of the show most of the time. But sadly, my annoyance of the show no longer being as funny as it used to be, was enough for me to stop watching.

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cookiedoughmeagain · 3 years

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Haven DVD Commentaries; 5.22 - A Matter of Time

Commentary with Joshua Brandon (writer for the last episode), Brain Millikin (writer for this episode) and Colin Ferguson (who plays William and directed 5.20)

BM: This was written really as one big two hour episode with 5.21. We did that a bunch of times this year and I think it does feel that way. In a perfect world they would have maybe aired in a two hour block, because this is the most two-partery episode we’ve done all season long. CF: It does feel that way. And I like how in this episode, in every plot line there is someone who’s stuck. Stuck in the fence, stuck in the cave and stuck to a chair. BM: Yes, well that was an edict going into this episode, we needed this one particularly to be a bottle episode. Which for those who are unaware, that is when you spend as much as possible, if not the entire time shooting the episode, on your stage. We typically do it to save time, maybe save some money. Or you’re just gearing up for a bigger episode down the road. It can be a challenge, because on the one hand you’ve just got a lot of people stuck in a room. But the opportunity is really high for some longer stronger scenes and interactions between the characters. It becomes a bit more like a play than an epiosde of a TV show. CF: And when you’re a guest star coming in, your job as a supporting actor is to support the other actors. Now at this point in the season, 21 episodes in, Lucas is tired, Emily is tired, everyone’s just burnt. So I come in and I have to know my lines, and we ended up shooting all of my coverage for the epiosde in about an hour and a half at the tail end of one day. JB: Wow. CF: Anything in this direction [the camera facing towards William in the cave] we did in about an hour and a half, because we spent so much time the other way, with the thinny when it appears and all the other stuff that’s happening. There’s so much more movement there that took the lion’s share. And then turn around and hose down Colin. BM: That is unbelievable. Because that’s like ten pages of dialogue! CF: It was a lot BM: Oh my gosh.

BM: I can’t go any further without giving props to Steven Wright our costume designer - I love Emily’s coat. Emily has had exceptional coat game over the course of the series.

[As Audrey and Duke discover Hailie stuck in the fence] CF: Wow! That’s disgusting when you see it there BM: You know, that was somethign that we talked about for a long time. Number one, in the bottle episode way that we had to shape this, we knew that although we had all these outdoor scenes that we needed to keep them contained pretty much to one place. So that we could shoot as quickly as possible. But at the same time we had the season laid out and we knew the tent poles of the story that we had to hit. We knew by the end of this episode that Duke needed to kill her and take her Trouble, and it was going to be a big deal that he would be taking a Trouble now sort of willingly, to use it. And that was going to start him on a much darker path for the rest of the season. So we just needed to try and dramatise that as best as possible. And it just made sense, given how we had already set up Hailie’s mom dying in the same way - becuase all Troubles have a down side, and hers gave out on her at the exact time she needed it most, when she was passing through a fence. So we were watching a cut of that episode [about Barbara] and we figured the same thing should happen with Hailie. And it winds up telling a story about repeating what’s happened before. The sins of the father, destiny, all that stuff. CF: And a great performance by Tamara [as Hailie] too. That sort of squeal that she had there was not over done. It was gross. JB: She was great. And right from the beginning when she was cast in 5.15, as soon as they started seeing the dailies come in, we were all thinking that if there was a way to bring her back then we should, because she was really terrific. BM: Yes and she did not have an easy job on this one. She spent an entire day standing in this - I think painful - rig, with that fence going half into her. And she couldn’t move. CF: And the issue with that is you can’t go to the bathroom. Or, you can but it’s a time suck, you know if it takes 20 minutes to get out of the thing and 20 minutes to get back in again. BM: Yeah. But the fence was also sort of a practical thing, in that we needed her to be in a situation where she’s probably going to die, but where we could still talk to her. So she couldn’t be cut in half or something. So the fence was just kind of, logical really. And we had looked into some real life accidents where people have been impaled and this idea that the shock means you don’t really feel it, at least for a little while - and that was important because she needed to be able to have a conversation and not just be screaming in pain. JB: And also knife victims; leaving the knife in can prevent you from bleeding out. CF: By the way that fence was built by production, it was not an existing part of the location.

[Dave about to get hypnotised] BM: So this side of the story was probably the most important one. This was the other big tent pole that we knew coming into this was that this was going to be John [who plays Dave] Dunsworth’s last episode. John is fantastic, but we were losing him to another show already, and we had always intended that as we got towards the end game of the season that we would see some of our characters lose their lives. It just felt that with the stakes as high as they are, it wouldn’t really be realistic that everyone would make it through. So it just made sense given the story we were telling, that it would be Dave. But we had some problems because we knew that he was going to be tied up for the whole episode. Because it’s a bottle episode but also because last time we left him untied up he started killing people. So we needed our other characters to be smart enough to tie him up, but we also needed him to have a story that took him beyond just sitting there. So that’s where this whole ‘mind palace’ experience wound up coming from. And the same thing with what’s happening here [Vince and Dwight realising they’ve lost time]. We’d never really leaned into the lost time of it all, it happened on a couple of occasions, but knowing that we were going to dispatch with it this episode, we figured this should be one where we really kind of go crazy with some lost time stuff. I think it wound up really working well, because it gave Adam and Richard [as Dwight and Vince] a lot to play with. Again, as a bottle episode, just standing in the room.

CF: That wide shot of the cave is amazing; it makes the room look significantly bigger than it actually is. That first shot that started the scene. The room was not that big, it was probably only maybe 20 feet square. BM: Wow. You two were terrific in these scene. I wish we could have done more. But we knew we only had you for two episodes CF: Yes, I was contractually on other things before and after BM: Yeah, so we knew where we were going with Nathan and William throughout. We all really liked William, and sort of understood where he was coming from, in a good way. I think all good Bad Guys, you can kind of relate to how they wound up the way they did CF: And you guys did a great job of that, through and through, of making the reasons why he’s doing it real, and defensible. JB: The original title of this episode, I think, as “A Fool For Love” BM: That’s correct. I was like; I love that title, let’s use it - why do I love it so much? And then realised, it’s the title of an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Which I love that episode, it was the one that was all about Spike, also about their bad guy and getting to know what’s the matter with him. So if I’d had my way, we would have had more of Nathan and William in this cave. I think originally they were going to be stuck in there for a whole act CF: Oh wow BM: You were going to be running around, there was more stuff outside. A lot of that got pushed into about two minutes of episode 5.21

CF: I came up to Halifax for this with my girlfriend and my son, first time I’d gone on location with them. So when I come home at the end of the day I’m handed a baby to take care of. So for me, I had a ton of dialogue to learn JB: That’s a lot CF: Well you’re learning, your’e learning how to do it. It’s just a life thing that you deal with. BM: Well and you had just directed the previous episode a couple days before hand, right? How much time did you have off between directing and then having to sit in a cave for a day? CF: About ten hours. JB: Wow BM: Wow.

BM: It was a bit of a chllange this episode because we had three story lines, or four if you think about Dave in his own mind. And we’re just cutting between them all, they basically each get one scene and act, is how it winds up working out. And each one, they’re still in the same place they were before. So we had been really worried at the script stage, that it was maybe going to feel a little too static. But I’m happy to say that you guys killed it. CF: Well and watching it now, Tamara does such a good job of that kind of Faustian moment, of; I’m going to ignore the consequences/oh no here are the consequences. And it’s so hard to make that likeable, because if you do it badly the audience is just going to be going; Well you knew it was coming, you idiot. But she actually pulls it off JB: She’s amazing BM: Yeah, it was a little bit like what happened with Lisa Hawkins in 5.21. We had set up this, well Matt McGuinness had felt that in season four and some previous seasons, we had ignored the reality of the situation a little bit. So he had wanted where possible to really have people just react the way that you and I would. So we felt that this was another example of that, that Hailie’s going to be pretty pissed off about what’s happened to her. And that if Duke came to her and asked for help, she’s not going to be like; Yeah I’m going to be a hero and do the bigger thing. Real people don’t do that, she would instead probably be pretty mad at him and blame him for what’s happened to her.

JB: I love what they did here with this mind palace stuff. We talked about this a lot when we were conceiving these episodes. And it should be no surprise that Brian and I are Star Trek fans, and there was a DS9 episode right towards the end, it wasn’t a great one, it was called Extreme Measures, and it was O’Brian and Bashir’s last adventure, and they wind up in a sort of a mind palace. And I was reading some behind the scenes stuff that they wanted to treat the set differently and have psychedelic images on the walls and really make it different from - Oh we ran out of time and money so we just re-used these sets. They couldn’t do that there because they had to play on a whole thing of; Oh it might be reality, it might not. We didn’t have that, so that’s why you’ve got the tree and the bike and everything. CF: The tree is the best one because as soon as that goes up you’ve got the iconography of being some place else. JB: Exactly, and we really got to play with that. BM: I would like to be able to say that I got the idea from DS9, but I took it from a Stephen King book, Dreamcatcher, which they made into a movie with Damian Lewis and his character spends a good chunk of the film in his own head. It’s visualised as a sort of library, he’s running around looking for books trying to find the right bit of information. And so like so many things we’ve done in the show, we try to pull from other Stephen King books, or the Stephen King universe, and that was another way we were able to do. I’m kind of surprise that it worked and we were able to sell it through - it was kind of a dicey thing. I think Sherlock helped us a lot too. JB: And John Dunsworth is so good in those scenes BM: Yes, which were not easy because he was just there by himself. He had to spend a day just wandering around the Haven Herald alone, and then the next scene he’s talking to a disembodied voice on a radio. Because we couldn’t yet reveal that Croatoan is William Shatner. CF: And on the day when you’re shooting stuff like that it’s always the script supervisor, way off camera, shouting out the lines, and you have to react like it’s coming from … wherever. It’s always a bit of an exercise. BM: And to make it worse, it was his last day on the show. Five years of work, and the big send off for him is that he gets to work by himself. CF: I was there for the send off, it was a lovely lunch and it was quite emotional. And everyone came down from the office, it was quite a send off. BM: That’s great. He’s been fantastic. JB: I really liked John, he was one of the first actors I got to talk to on the phone (becuase I never went up to Canada) but he was one of the first people I dealt with when I started here and he was just telling jokes and being hilarious. Really sweet guy. BM: Yeah it speaks super highly of him that I was - well I still am a nobody, but I certainly was a nobody when I was doing my first episode back in season two. And I was walking home through the parking lot, everyone else had already gone home, and this car comes peeling out of nowhere and starts doing doughnuts around me. Then he slams his breaks on, rolls down his window - I thought I was going to die, but it was John Dunsworth asking me if I had dinner plans, and we went and had some food. He’s a great guy.

BM: So this was something else that we knew we’d have to do at some point in this episode - 5.21 was Audrey and Duke coming back together again, and this episode was going to have to be a bit of of the shit hitting the fan. And she has to ask him to do the thing that he left town for, and that he doesn’t want to have to do. And she’s right. JB: Yeah and on some level Duke knows that. Because it’s all about destiny and that’s the vision he saw, and he can’t escape it - the worst thing he ever had to do was kill becuase Audrey told him to, and now he has to do it again. BM: It was a tough one. We at this point knew where Duke’s story was going, which also made us sad, for Duke. So all of this episode for him, was just about dealing with inevitability that he’s just kind of stuck between a rock and a hard place.

CF: I can’t believe that Duke and Audrey just left Hailie there on her own again to go and have another conversation BM: We got that note from the studio, and the way that we were able to get away with it, is that this episode takes place in real time. So she’s only there for about 42 minutes in total. Both of these episodes take place over the course of a couple hours; which is crazy when you think about it.

CF: You guys did a great job of making William’s appeals to Nathan logical. I find the biggest problem is when you get a scene where what you’re being asked to do, no one would do. Where there’s really thin logic that doesn’t really work and you’re supposed to pour your heart into it, but you’re just thinking; why would anyone do this? But with this I feel like I’m in the right. JB: Well it’s also not interesting otherwise. And Brian did such a good job with all that because, we do care for William. Even though he’s done these horrible things. And I think this episode is about him redeeming himself; in his own eyes as well as the audience’s. Because he’s been a fool for love, because he’s done things that he probably wouldn’t have done if he hadn’t felt so strongly for Mara. Who didn’t really care as much about him as he did for her. I think we’ve all been there. BM: I’ve been really attached to this idea that we ended up doing at the end of the episode, where Nathan’s wearing one of those rings around his neck, and we’ve spent a long time this season revealing what they were and what they could do for people like William and Mara. And I had really wanted to try to get to a place where Nathan could give one to Williiam. JB: Definitely. BM: That had been our goal - our stretch goal (if we can get there then great) - for the end of this episode. And there was a bit of push back, because Nathan had been wearing that ring around his neck since season two, and it had been his dad’s and Lucy’s and everything else. But I was just like; Nah, he should give it to William. But I think it wound up working, because it actually required William meeting him half way. JB: Yeah and he deserved it; he deserved to go home. I think that great line, I don’t remember exactly, but it’s like; You don’t deserve to die, I don’t know if they want you there, but you don’t deserve to stay here.

JB: In the cave scenes I also love the play on status, that Nathan is the one whose body is breaking down, he’s getting weaker and weaker, but William is the one pinned under the rock. So in theory William is at a disadvantage, but he’s just watching and he can wait it out if necessary. BM: Well that came out of necessity a bit, because originally they were both going to be in the cave but free, so they would fight for a bit and then get to a detente kind of a place. But enough people were like; That will never happen - they will fight until one of them dies. So it was like; OK, what about if one of them is trapped? So if William’s trapped, he’s smart, he’s a little Loki-ish, his biggest power is maybe his voice and he can break Nathan down that way.

[Vince with a gun pointed at Dave’s head] BM: Oh, so sad. JB: It is really sad, and this is what happens when a show goes on and you have to make big decisions, you don’t want to do it. I remember coming home and my wife was watching the show, the first half of the season, and she was saying; It’s getting dark - I don’t like where it’s going. And I couldn’t say anything, but in the back of my head I knew where it was going. But that’s the beauty of telling a story like this, is you get to have real consequences. You’ve got to make some sacrifices if the story is taking these dark turns. BM: I’m super happy that that voice mail bit with Dwight actually worked. It was an 11th hour save, because we were like; How are these guys ever going to figure out what the hell is going on? Because they keep having their memories wiped. I was like; Maybe Dwight gets a voice mail?? And everyone else was like; That’s a great idea! And I was; That’s a great idea???

BM: And we’re coming up on an Oprah Winfrey call back here [with Vince and Dave]. The first of many callbacks. This was just the idea that there’s some sort of untoward relationship or fascination with Oprah Winfrey that Vince and Dave both share. And that seemed like a good idea because we needed a litmus test to prove it was Dave, and a call back always works. JB: We never established what that was though, did we? BM: No. JB: We just know that it’s something between them. Duke knows about it too because he brings it up at the beginning of season four. BM: Exactly. You’d have to ask Gabrielle Stanton about that one. But it was the first of a few call backs that we tried to squeeze into this episode. Heavy shows up later on, and even Maddie Irons, we brought her back. We really start doing that a lot in this episode and the next few. We didn’t know whether this was going to be the end of the series or not, but regardless it was going to be a big season and we wanted to start looking back to the past a little bit. I think we varying degrees of success.

BM: So we knew that Dave was going to die at the end of the episode and that Croatoan was going to leave his body. But nobody wanted Dave to die in vain. We wanted him to have a hero moment. So we decided really early on, that he could do something to take away the lost time power that Croatoan has. Mostly because, as we tried to break what was happening in the following episodes, the fact that Croatoan could erase the memories at any point in time, made it completely impossible. So we realised we needed to get rid of that, and that gave us an opportunity to have Dave do something, which then beget the wall of clocks and his mission to go back into his mind palace here. But then again, if Dave *knew* he was going to die, that makes him less heroic, so we had to kind of do this whole dance were Dave was going to be spared. We had conversation after conversation for weeks about the levels of heroism - like, too heroic? not heroic enough? But you talk about all of that, and then it goes away when you watch John Dunsworth here because he is fantastic. And those two guys, their last two scenes together, all of those concerns just go by the way side.

CF: They got a sunny day for these scenes with Hailie, that’s great. There had been a lot of rain in the weeks before. JB: Yeah you wouldn’t really think this was shot shortly after the scenes with William and Nahtan in the woods. They got really lucky. BM: And we were just so lucky that Tamara was available to play Hailie. When we had here in 15 and 16 on that Duke side story, at that time we had not intended to bring her back. But we really liked her and found an opportunity, and now, I couldn’t imagine it any other way because Duke’s relationship with her in those episodes, that he started her Trouble and that he knew what happened with her mom - it all plays into what’s happening here. So it makes it so much better. And they were great. Unfortunately he has to kill her here - we talked for a long time about how to do it. There was this idea that he could snap her neck, but that felt kind of cruel, and so what we liked what this idea that he could kind of embrace her and pull her, so that he makes her injuries worse and that was what was kill her. But iti was the idea that he could hug her instead of some brutal thing. You know, he could have suffocated her or various things but that just felt too cruel. But they both sold it. JB: Beautifully directed moment too. BM: Yes. And unfortunately for Duke, and for Eric Balfour, he’s had to do a few really harrowing things like this to people over the course of the series. I think it’s because he started out the show as this kind of care-free, fun-loving guy, it just sort of makes sense with the nature of television that you start torturing people for season after season. But he does such a good job with it, that it was just only natural. He is as good at dealing with the dark things he’s had to do as any body.

CF: I’m happy that Emily’s walking better. I mean just standing there was an issue when we were shooting 5.20. BM: Even then you can see, we did start re-writing stuff so that she wouldn’t have to walk around as much. He can walk over to her, there just to be more running around in that story.

CF: By the way when you’re working with foam for days, everyone’s walking around on it, the ground gets completely crushed and pulverised into tiny little pieces, so its … your lungs aren’t happy by the end of it. Becuase it’s foam, it’s not meant to last more than a few days BM: That’s a great shot though. It looks great, worked out really well. CF: Yeah they do a great job as a crew, all the prep and getting the right lenses for that super wide angle - because it makes the scene to give it some scope.

[As Nathan takes a handful of aether] BM: So we always knew we were going to try and get to this point in the episode where Nathan was sort of forced to do waht William wanted him to do. And this moves them into a different tone of what’s going on between them.

JB: The controller crystal there, that was kind of modelled on the kryptonian crystals from the 1978 Superman movie CF: And that aether stains anything it touches. So we had to cover our hands with silicone barrier cream and just take it off immediately afterwards or it would stain permanently. BM: It’s funny there’s a bit of a vestige of previous versions of the script where your foot was stuck rather than your arm. So it was still in the script that William would cup the aether with both hands and then open them up again to reveal the balls spinning. And I realised after we shot it that was impractical now - but you did such a good job selling it. CF: Well we had a long discussion about how much pain I could show. Because if your arm is trapped by a boulder you’re going to be in pain, but if I leaned on that through a whole episode, that gets old. Because also Tamara would be doing something similar with Hailie’s story. So I sort of played that it was more numb, so that I could make the point of the scenes be the dialogue.

BM: For the longest time we didn’t have Heavy back, Robert Maillet, but he was such a good sport, he flew up just for the day. I think we got him on a break from The Strain. Really nice guy.

[William, about Duke and Mara; “I should kill you just for putting that image in my head”] *general agreement this is a great line* JB: We were talking about this section and wondering how William would react [to William learning about Mara using Duke] and I think all of us figured he’d be like; Yeah that sounds about right. As opposed to be upset or angry. CF: I did a few versions of that, some were more jokey but I can see why they didn’t get in because you can’t go too light there or the stakes go away BM: You guys really sold it. The idea of how Nathan gets through to William had always been, not that he would make some great argument and convince him, but that he would sort of challenge William, almost insult him so much that he finally got through to him. That felt the most realistic. CF: Well I take my hat off to you guys as the writers and Eric on the lighting, because when you’re reading a script thinking; Oh ok I’m trapped under fake boulders for an episode, … You’re thinking; This could be bad. But it doesn’t feel take.

[As Duke cuts his hand to let out the Trouble] JB: Can I just say, I’ve seen people do this on television a lot and it looks incredibly painful. CF: Yeah I cringe. If I had to cut myself, I wouldn’t use my palm. I’d use the back. JB: I’d be going for a pinprick, not dragging the knife right across my skind.

BM: So this is the place we wanted to get to where William is not a bad guy, not a good guy, somewhere in between. CF: Well and I like that you didn’t make him all of a sudden all like; *overly happy voice* Golly Gee, I’ve seen the light and I was wrong. You know he still has a bit of swagger where he’s just like; Get out of here JB: Yeah; Before I change my mind. Because I might. CF: Yeah. BM: It felt realistic for him. And in a strange way, I mean it’s a cliche, but him and Nathan wind up having more in common than perhaps either of them would care to admit. They are more similar characters. Nathan could have been William if the circumstances were different. JB: I love this too, this wasn’t quid-pro-quo, it was; “get out of here I’m letting you live” and then Nathan decides to hand over the ring. I really like that they don’t strike a bargain as such; it’s just two independent things that these characters decided to do for each other. CF: I like that moment, because I’m thinking William doesn’t get a lot of gifts. Birthdays, christmas, he’s not getting a lot of presents, so. BM: Yeah. And he’s spent a long time in the void.

BM: It’s funny William’s last words to Nathan there. We had always thought that he’d give us some clue that they could use in the next episodes. But then we shot the episode and coudln’t put the clue back in. He just gets a bit of advice - that it’s going to be bad - but it wasn’t really something we could call back to. Missed opportunity.

[Nathan; Where Hailie] JB: That very obliquely references the scene in 5.21 where Duke tells Nathan to talk to Charlotte, and Nathan says, I can’t, and Duke realises she’s dead. And now Nathan’s realising that Hailie is dead. BM: Wow. JB: You didn’t catch that the first time did you? BM: No. I wrote that, too.

[Vince saying goodbye to Dave] BM: So this was a scene we were looking forward to, in a sad dramatic kind of way. We knew that there needed to be a moment between these two. So we wanted Dwight to sign on to Dave’s plan early on, and then give Vince and Dave a moment, because this is their last scene together. And we just felt like we needed Dave to step up to the plate here. These guys have spent their entire lives protecting Haven and it’s secrets, and they’re in uncharted territory here but it’s like; Who are you really and what are you going to do? And we knew that Dave was going to step up in this episode and then Vince is going to do the same thing, pretty much, two episodes from now. It ends differently for Vince, but even going back to the pilot, these two had all of the secrets. And the idea had always been that eventually the show would catch up to them, and bring them along with it - like they would be swept up with it. CF: I love that idea that everything has a cost. That if you want to be the gatekeeper, or the holder of secrets, you’ve got to pay that bill at a certain point. JB: That’s a really sweet moment; Dave’s “Copy that big brother.” BM: Yeah I think we took that from some of the radio speak that Dave did in Roots, 2.05, when he was talking over the short wave radio. JB: That moment really gets me, where he smiles as he goes under BM: When I wrote this I originally imaged the exact same device as Men In Black, for some reason. But then we looked into it and it turns out that is what some people use for hypnosis, these little hand held strobing devices.

[Dave shouting at Croatoan] BM: John Dunsworth is great here. And again, it’s tough; he had to shoot all this by himself, just shouting at a disembodied voice. But you don’t even think about it, because that’s what John Dunsworth can do. JB: And you wouldn’t get many takes at this, either [Dave smashing up the clocks and the wall] BM: No. You can maybe tell, it might be a bit too obvious, but there’s a late addition to the scene here when Dave writes in his notebook, Because we needed everyone else to know that Croatoan’s plan is to go after Audrey, but there was really no way for them to know that. So we realised it was maybe one little last beat that Dave could do for them, something that he has figured out how to leave a message on himself. And that gave us a cool last beat of the episode. But it was literally added in I think a couple days before we started shooting. CF: John gave a really nice speech that day at lunch when he was retiring from the show. He was quite choked up about how much the show had meant to him. I think he said he didn’t appreciate this coming at this point in his life; having five years on a show and a huge extended family. BM: We got super lucky with both John and Richard. When we were casting the show we knew we were going to be shooting in Chester Nova Scotia, and we needed to cast Vince and Dave as pretty local guys. We didn’t want to have to be flying them in and out, we were hoping to find someone in the area. Those guys both lived a few miles away from where we were shooting, had both done tons of work, and they auditioned and got the job instantly. They were fantastic and everyone could not believe their luck. And they I think had only known each other a little bit, but had this incredible raport. John had lived right in the area forever; his family are like the Kennedy’s of Nova Scotia. CF: Oh yeah they’re everywhere BM: And Richard Donat built his house with his own hands out there in the woods, it’s remarkable, and has been there for decades. They’re both great guys, we were so lucky to have them.

[As Nathan Duke and Audrey discuss the controller crystol] BM: Thiis scene wound up being a bit more important than I think any of us really thought that it would. I thought it was just be funny if they talked about the fact they had no idea how to use this thing they just spent the last two episodes getting, and now they have no idea what to do with it JB: Yeah I think in an earlier draft it was more comedic BM: But this is the last time these three are really together again on the show. And certainly in slightly nicer circumstances. So it really wound up being about them appreciating that. The Three Musketeers together again. So it actually wound up being really moving. And coming right on the heels of what just happened with Dave; it’s pretty sad.

CF: And by the way just so you know, those aren’t the colours of real life. That house is not that yellow. The jeep is not quite that blue. Everything’s racheted up a little bit. I mean just a little; 10, 15%. I guess they were making the fall colours really punch because we’ve never really been in the fall before.

[Croatoan talking to Vince and Dwight via Dave’s body] BM: So this had been part of the plan from way back when; we knew that we would have Croatoan in Haven for the last four episodes of the season, so we knew that the end of this episode would have Croatoan pouring out of Dave. And there was a lot of talk about what that would look like. There were some people pushing for Dave’s body to explode, but that just felt cruel. So I’m so happy that he’s pouring out as this mist. And this made it a bit spookier because the next episode is about what is Croatoan? Because they don’t really know and i’ts not until the end of the next episode that we see that he now looks a lot like William Shatner. And here’s the note [on Dave’s arm] we were talking about that this wasn’t originally in here, and we added it really late. But I’m really happy that we did.

#haven syfy #haven dvd commentaries #5.22 - A Matter of Time

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theawkwardterrier · 4 years

Text

No Place Like

Steggy Week 2k20, day 5 Prompt: Outside POV

Summary: Miss Carter is a regular at the local diner.

AO3 link here. Thanks to @steggyfanevents for organizing!

Ernie thinks he’s been told that he’ll be inheriting the diner since the day he was born, and if it hasn’t been quite that long, it was probably the day after.

For years, the thought was okay with him. When he was little, filling salt shakers and reminding himself to be careful-careful when he got the chance to lift the occasional plate onto a table as tall as he was, it was the only future he could imagine. But now, halfway through being a junior in high school, he sees the sorts of things his classmates are planning, all that they get to do and choose and find out about themselves, and suddenly what he has waiting for him doesn’t seem like enough, even though he knows that it represents two generations of effort and saving and love from his family.

Plus most of his classmates don't have to work the early shift before school starts.

“Thank you for a lovely breakfast,” Miss Carter tells him one morning, thankfully coming over to pay for her meal just in time to rescue him from having to clean up the catsup spill at the corner four-top.

Miss Carter is a regular. He has the feeling that she’s either real busy, or doesn’t have a clue about how to cook, or maybe both - she’s in for either breakfast or dinner more often than not. She’s pretty, polite, always more put together than she needs to be for the job she says she has at the phone company. Sometimes she seems a little sad, gazing into her teacup or sighing to herself without even seeming to realize it, but he’s also seen her confront a kid who’d stolen a tip off one of the tables, looking ready to flip him over her shoulder as she waited for him to put the money down and cough up some extra too.

Ernie likes Miss Carter, but he’d never want to cross her.

“You have a good day, ma’am,” he says, dropping the pair of quarters into the register (and putting her tip into his own pocket). “Hope it’s not too busy for you.”

She laughs. “I’ll hope that for all our sakes. When things become busy for me, it usually indicates more trouble than I think anyone would like.” Picking up her briefcase, she adds, “But as far as I’m aware, it should be quite uneventful: just paperwork on the docket, and then I’ll be back this evening.”

“Enjoy your paperwork, then,” Ernie tries joking shyly. It earns a light laugh, but afterward, as he hangs up his apron and runs water through his hair to get ready for school, he wonders if it was just out of pity.

“Stupid,” he mutters to himself. He never knows what to say around Miss Carter; one of these days he'll learn to keep his mouth shut.

She doesn’t come back for dinner like she said she would. The tables are jam-packed all evening and Ernie’s so run off his feet that he doesn’t even notice.

Just before he falls asleep, he does remember what she said and wonder if this means there’s some big problem that she has to take care of, but then he puts it out of his mind, rolling over.

If the world’s ending, maybe he'll at least get a chance to sleep in.

Miss Carter isn’t there for breakfast either, and this time Ernie’s not the only one who notices. His mama and pops have always said that one of the advantages of owning a “community establishment” like theirs is getting to know and care about people and having them feel the same for you. Ernie’s never quite believed in that - people coming up to loudly tell him that his skin is finally clearing has never felt quite like caring to him - but now he understands just a little. When his sister Luella says that she hopes that everything’s fine over with Miss Carter, he agrees with perhaps too much vehemence.

She finally comes back for dinner, and he’s taking in a breath to shout back for a cup of tea (Miss Carter has a regular breakfast order, but she likes a hot drink while she picks something out on the dinner menu) when he notices that she’s not alone.

Miss Carter has come in with a friend every so often in the past, mostly a tall, beaky sort of man with an accent that matches hers, and a brunette lady who acted fancy, sticking out her pinky and all, but tipped real well. A few times it was with a cheerful redhead who had a different sort of accent, one Ernie didn’t recognize, or a handsome, dark-haired man who used a crutch and watched Miss Carter closely. Once she even came in with Howard Stark, the inventor. Ernie recognized him from the papers and almost went over to say hello or ask for an autograph, but he was too familiar with the signs of hangover to try it; he made sure to be extra quick sending coffee to their table instead.

(Mr. Stark has a great mustache up close, though. If Ernie could grow one, that’s the kind he’d want, but at last glance into the side of the toaster he has barely half a dozen struggling hairs on his upper lip.)

This man isn’t someone Ernie recognizes, and he can tell immediately that he’s not just a friend. His hand is wrapped so tightly around Miss Carter’s that Ernie can only think about the two trees out on his granny’s property which have been growing around each other for so many years they finally fused together. When Miss Carter points out her regular booth, there’s a moment where Ernie thinks she isn’t going to even let the man go to sit facing her. Eventually she does, but they lean over the tabletop so that they’re nearly touching, and her gaze on him is so intense, so full of love and pain that Ernie turns to go make Luella take their order instead.

“Uh-uh!” she whispers and swishes over to go top off coffee cups that she'd just refilled five minutes ago.

Ernie stands up straight, taking out his pad like it's armor. As he walks over, he tries to imagine the least awkward way of clearing his throat.

He doesn’t achieve it one bit (it comes out as an “A-HEM,” like Patty Francona’s dad when he found them standing together talking on the porch after their one and only date) but the two of them are too wrapped up to notice.

“What can I get you folks this evening?” he asks, the automatic patter helping steady him.

“I’m not certain yet, Ernie,” Miss Carter says, finally looking up at him, polite as usual, though her voice is soft as heartbreak. “We might need just another moment to get our bearings.”

“Take your time,” Ernie responds, quick with relief, and hightails it back to the counter.

When the two of them finally pick something, it’s a couple orders of franks and spaghetti, which Ernie’s never known Miss Carter to eat. He’s actually not known very many people to pick that off the menu. It’s like they just put a finger down and decided at random. Luella makes a face when Vince, the short order cook, adds the franks on top.

“Hope they enjoy,” she says dubiously as Ernie goes to take the food out front. Miss Carter and her companion have decided that they’d like it to go. As he rings them up, they both offer him tips at the same time. The looks they give each other are so soft and sappy that Ernie ends up practically shoving the bag of food at them before saying rapid and clipped, “You have a very pleasant evening now!”

“Thank you,” says Miss Carter, nearly sing-song. “I believe we shall.”

And she and her companion stride out arm in arm.

They start calling the man ‘Mr. Carter.’ While they might not know his actual name, he’s a regular now which means that they have to call him something.

Beyond his name and where he came from, there’s a lot of speculation as to what exactly happened between him and Miss Carter.

Vince, thoughtfully cleaning the grill, suggests that maybe their families didn’t approve of them being together. “And he had to wait years and years until his parents died, but as soon as they did he raced back up here to see her.”

“No, he probably married another woman,” proposes Jean, the other evening waitress, looking at her reflection in the side of a napkin dispenser to make sure that her hat’s on straight. “Men are fickle like that, you know. Forget a girl as soon as their eyes are closed. So she’s just been pining away all these years, waiting for him to realize that they belong together, and he finally got divorced and looked her up. But a man like that, he'll be gone in another blink, that's for certain.”

From her place swinging her legs atop the counter, Luella scoffs, “As if she would ever pine. No, I’ll bet they were just about to get married and then he tripped over a sewer grate and hit his head and lost all of his memories and is only just getting them back.” She sighs. “The first thing he remembered about his old life was probably her.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ernie says, giving up on trying to do his homework in the corner of the kitchen and entering the conversation fully. “You might as well say he was MIA from the war and finally came home, that’d be just as realistic.”

“The war was years ago,” Luella says, waving an irritated hand. “If someone suddenly came home now, it’d be a miracle. We’d have heard about it.”

Just to needle her, Ernie says, “Not if they’re spies. They’re probably both government agents and all their business has to be kept completely top secret!”

She just shakes her head, looking put upon, as if just entertaining his notions ages her ten years. “I have no idea where you come up with these things,” she says, and huffs out of the kitchen.

Whatever happened, Mr. and Miss Carter sure do look happy together. They come in for breakfast together more often than not, and dinner several nights a week too - apparently he's no cook either or is just as short on time.

(When Ernie mentions this observation to Vince, he gets a very huffy reminder that some people really do just prefer the food here.)

They laugh a lot across the table, and they're always touching. She'll swat at his shoulder while he gives a mischievous grin. He'll fold a little flower when they've finished with the newspaper and slide it gently behind her ear. They link their little fingers together on the tabletop so often that Ernie, bright red over the top of his notepad, has to pretend not to see it, and eventually he actually stops noticing it altogether.

Mr. Carter sometimes comes in for lunch on his own, but he's not there the Sunday afternoon when the radio starts acting up and people coming in report strange lightning strikes nearby. And Ernie doesn't see him or Miss Carter that evening, either, when there's an earthquake strong enough that the road ripples beneath the cars outside and concrete slides off of the surrounding buildings. In the diner, everyone's food shimmies off the table and splatters all over the floor.

Ernie stands there a minute after the shaking has stopped, staring around at the mess. The building itself is fine, and something in him isn't surprised that the place is still solidly standing.

"Get a move on," Luella urges, practically skating in gravy as she comes to hand him a mop. "All this isn't going to clean itself up!"

The Carters do show up again the next night, listening to the other regulars recounting the shock of what had happened. Considering they've spent the past few weeks practically sharing the same air, it's easy to notice the change between them. They're both perfectly civil to Ernie when he comes over to take their orders and deliver the food, but they speak to each other only occasionally and in undertones that seem taut even from where Ernie is standing.

A while later, he glances into the dining area on the way back to throw out the kitchen trash and notices that they’re no longer at their table. When he opens the outside door, however, he finds where they’ve gone.

“—putting yourself in danger!” Mr. Carter’s voice is low but harsh.

Miss Carter hisses, “As if you can talk,” with so much venom that Ernie almost steps back inside even though it wasn’t directed at him.

“Even if Delacroix had hit me, it wouldn’t have been fatal.” (Mr. Carter should have probably asked for some advice before trying that one, or at least rehearsed so it wouldn’t sound as flimsy.

The alley is dim, but even with the low light Ernie can see how her face twists. “If that’s the metric that we’re using, ‘will this certainly kill me?’ then I don’t—”

“And what about you?!” He hits back defensively. “You knew that Howard had said another minute for the power, and you jumped anyway. If he’d been ten seconds slower—”

“He wasn’t.” She seems to be trying to spit the words with her same vehemence, but it doesn’t quite work. Her arms are tightly crossed over her chest. “And had you been in the same position, you would have made the same decision, Steve, don’t act as if you wouldn’t have.”

“I know,” and with the simple words all the fight seems to go out of him. “I know. I would have. And one of the reasons I love you is that you would make the same choice. But Peggy—” He steps forward, arms held open, and though Ernie thinks he’s nuts for trying it, Miss Carter actually moves toward him too, letting her own arms drop and pressing herself against his chest.

“When I came back, it was because I wanted to get a chance at a life together. A good, long life,” he says, so softly into her hair that Ernie has to strain to hear it. “Which means that we have to, the both of us, take better care to make sure we last that long.”

“I suppose I can prioritize further recruitment of people we trust. With more hands, things might not get quite as...shaky as they did last night.”

Ernie wouldn’t have pegged Miss Carter as a fan of puns, but Mr. Carter just laughs. “I think Jarvis especially would appreciate it. He’s probably going to name his ulcer after us if we keep on like this.”

“You underestimate him,” Miss Carter remarks. “And you underestimate me. I would say I’ve earned the ulcer all on my own. Perhaps I shall grant you the gray hairs, however.”

“Generous of you.”

They’re both laughing together now, turning to come back inside. Ernie hastily hefts the trash bag and steps noisily into the alley.

“Oh!” he says, projecting surprise as hard as he can when he spots them (though the springing eyebrows might be a bit much). “Good evening there.”

“Hullo, Ernie,” says Miss Carter, patting his shoulder as they sail by. “Careful on the stones. Some of them seem to have come a bit loose after last night.”

He watches the way their silhouettes stay framed in the doorway for just a second, little fingers twined together once again, before he shakes his head and turns toward the dumpster.

He’d learned a lot more than he’d expected to tonight: that the Carters weren’t entirely perfect, that Mr. Carter was apparently called Steve, and that Miss Carter, no matter what she said, pretty certainly didn’t just work for the phone company.

Mr. Carter comes in by himself one quiet spring Saturday. (Ernie might know his name now, but in a thousand years, he doesn’t think he could bring himself just to call him by it. The most he might stammer out one day is “Mr. Steve, sir.”) He sits at the counter and asks Ernie for a root beer float, swiveling on the stool a bit and just thinking or drifting as he drinks it down.

“Say, we’ve been asking around,” he says once he’s finished and turned over a full dollar (“Keep the change,” and floats are only sixty cents!). “Do you happen to have old boxes in the back? Maybe crates left over from deliveries that you’re not using anymore?”

Ernie thinks as he takes his four dimes from the register and puts them in his pocket. “Maybe one or two. Do they have to be big?”

“It might make it easier. We’re using them to pack up the apartment, and we have some more stuff than we bargained for,” Mr. Carter explains.

Ernie tips back his hat. “Oh. Did you two get a new place?”

“We did, but not here. We’re moving out of state - Peggy needs to, for her new job. She’s actually at the office now, taking care of some last minute paperwork so the transition goes smoothly.” He’s smiling as he says it, really proud of her, but Ernie’s too distracted to pay much attention.

“I wish I could get out of state,” he says, the words bitterly out before he can stop them. Mr. Carter raises an eyebrow and sits back down on his stool, leaning over the counter.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well.” Ernie shoves his hands into his apron pocket, then rips them out to gesture around. “Look at this place!”

Mr. Carter actually takes him literally, glancing around at the linoleum Ernie’s mama swears she’s going to have replaced soon, the two- and four-tops with the salt and pepper shakers that have been in the diner since the day Ernie’s grandparents opened, the wooden booths which Luella is supposed to polish every week.

(They’re looking a little worn, actually. Maybe Ernie will mention that to his pops, just if it comes up, or if Luella does something annoying.)

“Looks like a pretty nice place to me,” Mr. Carter says, swinging back around. “And I’ve got some good memories from here. So I guess the question is why you don’t.”

Ernie says indignantly, “I do!” before he’s even realized it. His voice pitches up embarrassingly; he brings it down a purposeful octave and says, “I have plenty of good memories, I just don’t know that I want to stay working here forever.” He rubs a hand over his forehead, then rests his elbows on the counter across from Mr. Carter. “And the worst part is, if I had something else I wanted to do instead, my parents would try real hard to help that happen, but I don’t know that I want to do anything else. I just know that I’m not sure I want to do this. And heck, maybe I really do! What if I give up on this place and it turns out that I don’t like whatever else I try?”

Mr. Carter passes a hand over his mouth, considering. “Huh. Well, do you think your parents would let you take a year for yourself? Would they be able to run things without you while you traveled a little, took some classes, worked a couple of jobs, just to see what’s out there?”

“Maybe?” They’ve never talked about anything like that. He’s never even asked, afraid that the answer would be that it’s impossible, the family can’t swing it, can’t make things work without him.

“That’s my advice for now,” Mr. Carter says. “Find out, and if it’s okay with your folks, take a year away, see how you feel. Sometimes you know how you want your life to turn out, and sometimes you need a little time to know, or to realize how much you want something.”

As if he hears something outside, he turns on his stool so he can see through the big front windows. Miss Carter is at the opposite corner walking toward them, glancing quickly back and forth before she crosses to enter the diner.

“The places that are home will still be that when you come back,” says Mr. Carter, turning to look meaningfully at Ernie one last time before he steps over to greet Miss Carter just as she opens the door.

A few years later, Ernie’s running a busy dinner shift. Half the staff is out with a cold, the remaining half can barely keep up with orders while also drying the floor so no one breaks their neck slipping in melting snow, and Ernie’s wondering how it always seems that Luella never has to work on these sorts of nights. It’s why he’d hesitated before agreeing to split managing with his sister when she finishes high school next year. That, and she’s been going on and on about “revolutionizing” the diner with what she’s planning on learning in the business classes she’s going to take at night school. Ernie doesn’t really need a revolution; there’s some charm in the idea that this place doesn’t change much.

The door opens with a gust and Ernie glances over the dining room to see if there’s even a free table. Then he looks back at who it is and decides that he’ll make one if he has to.

The Carters stand there, looking around with smiles on their faces. They’re each holding the hand of what must be a toddler, though it’s hard to tell considering how well-bundled that snowsuit keeps things.

“Welcome back,” Ernie says, trying to be careful not to slip himself as he hurries over to them. “It’s good to see you, Miss Carter, Mr. Carter.”

The words are out before he can stop them and he can feel his face flaming. “I’m sorry,” he manages. “Back then, we didn’t know—It’s just what we all—”

Mr. Carter just laughs. “That’s okay. It’s what I go by officially these days anyway,” and Ernie notices a wedding ring when Mr. Carter puts out his hand to shake.

“I’m glad to see you working tonight, but I’m still wondering: did you get a chance to figure out where home is?” Mr. Carter asks, and Ernie looks around at the linoleum they’ve finally gotten a chance to replace, at the salt and pepper shakers that he filled himself in the late quiet last night, at the booths which Luella keeps proprietarily shiny now that she’s “almost in charge.” He went to plenty of diners during his year away, and many even looked like this one, but none of the others felt like it, at least not to him.

“I did,” Ernie says. “Thank you.” He glances at the wedding ring on Mr. Carter’s hand, at Mrs. Carter, who’s leading the baby over to their old, surprisingly free booth. “I guess you found where home was too.”

Mr. Carter follows his gaze, taking in the scene. “I guess I did,” he says. His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. “I guess we all did.”

(And, Ernie decides, Jean can go suck an egg.)

#steggyweek20 #Steggy #Steggy fic #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #this is later than I'd have liked but it took waaaay longer to finish than I'd expected

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vincess-princess · 4 years

Text

What Is Lost, What Is Found

Chapter 5.

Word count: 4417 Warnings: alcohol consumption, addiction mention

This time Mick stayed late in the store. A bunch of records that arrived that day were damaged, and he spent hours arguing on the phone with the provider demanding to replace the order. He did succeed in it, but when he put the phone down, the sky was already dark-blue and public transport wasn’t working. One more reason to get a car, a gloomy thought crossed his mind. If those problems with the supplies continued to arise, he wouldn’t be able to save up enough to buy a car in the foreseeable future.

Then there was his, well, other problem. As stress was building up in him due to financial difficulties, he found it harder and harder to keep away from the bottle. Even if he managed to keep himself from hiding one more bottle of whiskey in the counter, he inevitably got caught by nearby bars. Every day he passed them on his way to work and on his way home, and often ended up inside with his savings all gone, wasted. The next day there was always shame and self-disgust, and a lot of promises to give up, now for good. All those promises went forgotten once a Friday came about.

This night was a Wednesday night, and Mick already craved a drink. Before, he would just give in to the craving, but now every time he saw Vince’s face in front of him. His relieved expression after Mick lied to him haunted him. You told him you had quit. The only thing you do well is lie. You are so weak.

Mick’s hands were shaking when he was counting money. He dropped a coin, and it rolled under the counter. God fucking damn.

Mick plopped down on his knees and stuck his hand under the counter to get the coin. It was just out if his reach. Now, if he managed to stick his hand a little farther-

The door of the shop opened with a loud bang, and Mick heard steps of three people coming inside. What the hell? He was sure he had put a “closed” plate on the door...

“Anyone in here?” a male voice asked. Mick tried to pull his hand from under the counter, but it stuck.

“A second!” he called, frantically trying to free his hand. Finally, he managed to get it out, grazing the skin on his knuckles in process.

“Yes?” He stood up, and his jaw went slack.

Two policemen stood in the center of the shop, and one of them was holding a boy by the shoulder. The boy’s face seemed familiar, spiky black hair and stubborn crease of the eyebrows, but Mick had to rack his brains to recognize him. He stared mindlessly at the boy for a few awkward seconds until he dug up the face in front of him in his memory.

It was Nikki, Tommy’s and Vince’s friend. Right here, in his shop, accompanied by two cops.

“Uncle Mick!” Nikki exclaimed. Mick blinked in confusion. As far as he knew, he didn’t have any nephews until this very day. “I was just grabbing some hot dogs for us and these co- gentlemen said I broke the curfew.”

“Excuse me?” he murmured, staring at Nikki. The boy stared back, tapping his foot on the floor nervously.

“Sir, this boy claims to be your nephew,” one of the cops spoke. “Is that true?”

Mick looked at the cop, then at Nikki. The boy was making big eyes at him, nodding slightly. Help me, he pronounced with his lips soundlessly. Please.

Should he help him? He was a bad influence on Tommy, didn’t let him come to his store at first and was still reluctant about it now. Vince never talked about him and when asked retreated to one-word answers, which was as far from Vince that Mick knew as possible. Mick could as well tell the cops he didn’t know him - to get rid of him. Maybe without him Tommy would- he and Vince would agree-

Oh well.

“Yeah, sure,” he said. “What, is that so late already? I might have lost the track of time.”

“It is, Mr- what’s your name?”

“Mars,” Mick said on a whim. “Oh, wait, you want my legal name. Deal, it’s Deal.”

“Mr Deal, why did you let the boy out so late? Don’t you know about the existence of a curfew for kids and teenagers?” The police officer said with barely a note of disapproval. He really didn’t care. Well, neither did Mick.

“To grab some snacks. I do, I do; I just didn’t notice it’s already too late for kids to go out. Time flies by, y’know.”

“Well, next time we will have to bring the boy to the police station and file a case. We’re ready to turn a blind eye on it now, since it’s your first offence of a kind, but we’ll have to fine you.” The cop’s face livened up when he said “fine”. Of course, Mick thought with disgust and reached into his pocket with a sigh. Cops were always the same. The boy was lucky Mick hated the police so much – definitely much more than him. He didn’t even hate him to the full meaning of the word, definitely not. Rather, he was irritated by him, which was a completely different thing.

He put three dollar bills on the counter, 50$ each. One cop approached and took them. The second raised his eyebrows, so much greediness on his fat, apathetic face Mick barely managed to hold himself from punching him in that face, just not to see it anymore. Instead, he only nodded and reached for his wallet again. The boy was observing them with interest in his eyes, successfully hiding it for the cops behind his bangs. He didn’t seem to be scared or even mildly uncomfortable at all. More than that, Mick could bet he was enjoying it to the fullest. What a motherfucker.

Mick lined three more dollar bills on the counter, and they immediately disappeared in the second cop’s pocket. Only then they released Nikki and left the shop, smiling smugly.

Mick followed them with his gaze until they were out of sight. Then he turned to Nikki and spoke:

“What the fuck that just was?”

Nikki turned his head away, avoiding Mick’s gaze. The enjoyment he had while Mick was dealing with the cops vanished immediately.

“I need to go,” he said, turning towards the door.

“No way,” Mick stood up. “If you get caught the second time, you’re absolutely gonna end up in a police station.”

“I won’t,” Nikki shook his head, his hand already on a doorknob. Still, he stopped and turned to Mick. “I need to check up on Tommy.”

“Anything wrong with him?” Mick frowned.

“We were heading to Starwood when the cops appeared.” Nikki said unwillingly. “I told Tommy to hide and ran to distract them. I need to check up on him.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Mick cut off. “I’ll go. You tell me where you left him.”

Nikki’s grip on the knob strengthened so much his knuckles went white. “I’m going with you. You don’t know all the places.”

“Listen, you-“ Mick started but had to cut the sentence off short because the kid was right. Mick wasn’t a huge partygoer, and only knew the clubs on Sunset Strip from when he used to play in them – which was pretty long ago. He never went to such places to drink - they were too crowded, chock-full with teenagers. He preferred smaller pubs near his home.

“You don’t know all the places,” Nikki added. He knew exactly what he was doing, and it worked – Mick’s stubbornness was weakening. If only there was someone else who knew Tommy better…

There was no one. Mick sighed.

“Alright. You can go. But if we come across cops, I’m talking, alright?”

Nikki just nodded.

***

“Here is where I left him,” Nikki suddenly said fifteen minutes away from the shop. The place was incredibly unremarkable. “I ran across the street, and Tommy hid behind the corner.” They peered behind the aforementioned corner, both knowing it would be useless and both doing it anyway. Tommy, of course, wasn’t there. Still, they looked at each other with disappointment.

“Why did you decide to attract the cops’ attention?” Mick asked as they were crossing the street.

“To let Tommy get away,” Nikki looked at him like he was an idiot. “Haven’t I already said that?”

Mick sighed. Fucking teenagers. “Yes, I’ve heard that. What I want to know is - why not the other way around?”

“You mean, Tommy runs and I hide?” Nikki clarified in a tone an adult would talk in to a four-year-old.

“Yes.”

“Haven’t he told you about his… situation?” Nikki raised his eyebrows.

“He told me a lot of things.”

“I mean his life situation. How he ended up on streets.”

“Ah, this,” Mick recalled the day the third shoplifter hungry for Deep Purple music appeared in his shop. The memory was accompanied with an unexpected fondness. “He told me that on the very first day, in his first few sentences he addressed to me.”

“Yeah, he does that,” the corners of Nikki’s lips curved into a smile. Mick smiled too. It was physically impossible to think about Tommy and not smile. “A big mouth, he is. Then you should understand why it’s better for me to get caught.”

“He doesn’t want to go back to the orphanage.”

“Exactly,” Nikki said. Mick tried to come up with any other option in such a case, but got nothing.

“But shouldn’t the cops bring you to your parents?” Mick asked, recalling Tommy’s stories about Nikki. There was something wrong with his parents, that’s for sure. Tommy never told him much, probably because Nikki hadn’t told him much as well. So what was that? Abuse? Alcoholism? Single parent family? Neglect?

“Parents?” Nikki grinned, but it looked more like an animal baring its teeth before an attack. “I have no parents.”

“Everyone has parents.”

“Well, I don’t anymore. Physically they are still out there, but for me they’re as good as dead.”

“Okay…” Mick looked at Nikki, but he looked strictly forward. His hair covered a good portion of his face, so his expression in the dim lights of the street was undistinguishable. There was something really fucked up between Nikki and his parents and people are always hungry to learn about fucked up things, Mick was no exception. Still, he knew for sure he wasn’t going to get an answer – Mick and Nikki weren’t on exactly friendly terms with each other, and winning Nikki’s trust would be way harder than Tommy’s or even Vince’s.

“Where are we going now?” he asked after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. Nikki kept glancing at him, thinking Mick didn’t notice. He was probably wondering why Mick would go through all the trouble. Mick was wondering about it himself. Still, he kept walking.

“I think we should check the clubs on the Strip first. The security knows us and could let him in.”

“Is it really that easy for a minor to enter an adult-oriented place?”

Nikki chuckled. “Well, not for other minors. But for us – yes.”

“What’s so unique about you three?”

“Everybody knows us,” came the short answer. One of the clubs was right across the street, and Nikki pointed at it. “Here, that’s Starwood. Are you going in with me?”

***

Upon entering the place they met a security guard who looked over Mick with suspicion and nodded to Nikki. As a “responsible adult”, Mick should probably be condemning such violations of the law. But he was never on good terms with the law in general and the government in particular, and, to be honest, hadn’t he done exactly the same when he was fifteen?

Once they were inside, Nikki headed directly towards the bar. The club was stuffy, full of people dancing, kissing and drinking, with some garage band performing on the background. Mick tried to listen, but quickly realized that the guitarist was probably holding the guitar for the first time in his short life, and lost interest.

The bar was a way more interesting place. Mick strained his eyes, trying to find Tommy in the crowd, but to no avail. He turned to Nikki to ask whether he could recognize him in the crowd and discovered that he was already sitting on a bar stool sipping a beer.

Mick sat down on a bar stool next to Nikki. “Weren’t we looking for Tommy?” he murmured indignantly, trying to fix his gaze on Nikki’s face instead of the glass of amazingly cold beer in his hands. How could the kid tease him like that? Of course, he didn’t know Mick had been trying to quit. But it didn’t justify it!

“We are,” Nikki waved to the bartender. “Hey, Tony!” he shouted as the bartender approached them. “Have you seen Tommy over here in the last hour or two?”

“No,” Tony shook his head. “Is your, hm, friend ordering anything?”

“No, no, I’m not,” Mick shook his head.

“You sure?” the bartender raised his eyebrow. “People don’t go to clubs just because.”

“I’m still surprised I’m here,” Mick muttered, sending Nikki a murderous gaze. Nikki kept drinking his beer as though he didn’t notice it, though Mick was pretty sure he did. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be Nikki.

Once Nikki finished his beer Mick touched him by the shoulder. “So, are we going to search for Tommy, or you’d rather have fun here?”

“Oh, come on,” Nikki rolled his eyes. “It’s just one glass. I was thirsty.”

Mick only shook his head and got up. He had no power over Nikki, and it wasn’t his job to better him. He was just disappointed. He thought better of him. In Tommy’s stories he was always a hero. But Tommy was so blinded by Nikki’s lone wolf appeal that he couldn’t see his friend’s negative sides.

Nikki watched him getting up and moving the chair back under the counter with an unreadable expression. For a second, Mick thought he would stay. But then Nikki got up as well.

“Okay, okay, let’s go,” Nikki put money on the counter and headed towards the door.

The next club they went to Nikki decided not to go in, to Mick’s relief. He just shook hands with the security guard at the door and asked him something. Mick knew the guard would shake his head even before he actually did it. Mick’s anxiety for Tommy kept growing. What if the kid had been arrested and was now at the police station? How were they going to get him out, especially now that he had no legal guardian? Mick could pretend to be his uncle in front of only two not very meticulous cops in his own shop, but at the police station he would have to prove it.

“Nothing?” he asked when Nikki returned. The kid just shook his head.

The next club, apparently, had some relatively famous band playing tonight: the line of mostly teenagers stretched out across the street.

“We’re not going to stay in this line, are we?” Mick asked Nikki, dreading the answer. If they had to stay in the line they would lose too much time. More than that, Mick didn’t feel confident surrounded by so many teenagers. It was their place and their time: Mick didn’t belong in it.

“Nah,” Nikki shook his head. “I’m just gonna go ask the guard. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“I hope so,” Mick murmured, following Nikki with his gaze as the kid found his way through the line, eliciting a few angry calls from the teenagers. Mick leaned against the wall a little away from them, feeling uncomfortable under the gazes of so many teenagers. Someone in the line laughed, and Mick flinched. They weren’t laughing at him, were they?..

Well, that was just stupid, he berated himself. He had as much right to stay here as any of the kids in the line. And since when did he care about what some dumb kids think of him?..

When Nikki returned, he shook his head again silently. Mick sighed. The hope to find Tommy was getting thinner and thinner. And if they wouldn’t find him, how was he going to sleep at night knowing Tommy was in danger?

“They have London playing over there,” Nikki suddenly said as they headed to the next club. It was a little farther away, adding a few minutes of walking. “I used to be their bassist.”

“Got kicked out?”

“Sorta. I got my bass stolen, and didn’t have enough money to buy a new one.”

“It’s a pretty expensive instrument. How did you get it in the first place?”

“Stole it,” Nikki giggled. “Went into a shop with an empty guitar case, and as the shop assistant was searching in the back, I just took the guitar, put it in the case and left.”

Mick glanced at him quickly. “It’s karma. You had stolen the bass and then someone stole it from you too. What else did you expect?”

“Bullshit,” Nikki waved his hand. “I just hope someone steals my bass from that jerk as well.”

Mick smiled. Nikki was more of a kid than he and Nikki himself imagined. And it was reassuring, in a way. Nikki could act like he’s all grown up, but underneath this façade he was still a kid.

The rest of the way they walked in silence. As they neared the last bar – Whiskey, Mick recalled, he used to play there from time to time, - Nikki pointed at it.

“You sure you don’t want to have a drink? Here they’re making good Bloody Marys.

“I’m not drinking,” Mick refused almost confidently. Almost. “Haven’t Vince told you yet? I quit.”

“We don’t speak much now,” Nikki said, frowning. “He’s always at his boyfriend’s, and I don’t like him.”

“Vince or boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend, of course,” Nikki curved his lips in disgust. “Vince’s always picking older guys, and as for me, they’re just using him for sex. But he doesn’t want to listen to me. And his boyfriends always hate me, I don’t know why.”

Mick just nodded. As for him, it was perfectly reasonable why. A mere mention of Vince’s boyfriends got Nikki so agitated it was clear it wasn’t just a nuisance for him. But Mick sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Nikki about that.

Of course, there was no Tommy in Whiskey. Nikki didn’t have to tell Mick: just seeing him in the doorframe, alone, was enough. They both turned around and headed back without a word. Mick kept glancing at Nikki, waiting for “well, I gotta go”, but Nikki was silent. He was silent as they crossed the street and approached Mick’s store. He was silent as Mick opened the door.

“Would you like to, um, stay the night?” Mick finally gained enough courage to ask, tired of the heavy silence between them. He was more nervous now than he was asking his first girlfriend out.

“Okay,” Nikki shrugged. Mick felt his knees weakening. Okay? That was it?! “Not that I have any other place to go.”

Mick inhaled slowly. All the “paranoid junkie” bullshit Tommy was talking about (or, rather, the conclusions Mick drew from his words) made him think Nikki would never agree to come to his shop in person, let alone ask for help and stay the night. Maybe Tommy exaggerated a little. Nikki was wary, yes, but not outright hostile.

“And where were you going to sleep this night then?” Mick finally asked, recalling the “no place to go” part.

“I haven’t thought of it yet. I prefer to focus on the present.”

“I have only one sofa, by the way.” Mick told him, smiling at the confidence the kid said it with. “Someone is gonna have to sleep on the floor.”

“No problem,” Nikki shook his head. “I had it worse. Do you have something to eat, by the way? I’m starving.”

“Say no more,” Mick found a bag of chips in the counter and handed it to Nikki. “As a responsible adult I’ve got to warn you that it’s not healthy and nutritious,” he then fished a half-finished bottle of coke out of the counter and immediately closed the door so that Nikki wouldn’t see all the empty whiskey and vodka bottles lying in it.

“Enjoy,” Mick turned the key in the lock, making sure it was closed. With a person such as Nikki, one could expect anything. Not that he didn’t trust the boy, not really. But money is money.

“Thamks,” Nikki slurred, his mouth already full. “I don’t like your responsible adult mode,” he said once he swallowed and could speak clearly. “Don’t you want to just have some fun sometimes? Go to a bar, get shitfaced, get laid? What do you even do for fun, count your taxes?”

“That was rude,” Mick commented, actually trying not to laugh. He also once had that sex, drugs and rock’n’roll mindset. Until he ran out of money. “Be careful with accident hook-ups, kid, or you will end up like me.”

“What, an independent business owner in the center of LA?” Nikki raised an eyebrow. “Sounds alright to me.”

Mick laughed. “Up to your ears in alimony!”

“Oh,” Nikki said thoughtfully and reached for more chips. “I didn’t know you have kids.”

“We’re talking for the first time since the day I caught you,” Mick reminded. Nikki winced at these words. “I would be more surprised if you did. But, knowing Tommy…”

“Yeah, he tells me everything,” Nikki nodded. “And I’ve heard nothing about them from him. How old are they?”

“Eight and five. They live with their mother.”

“Do you see them often?”

Mick sighed. “No. Can we drop the topic?”

“Sure,” Nikki just put a handful of chips in his mouth and the phrase sounded muffled. “But it’s a pity, really,” he added when his mouth was empty again.

“It is,” Mick murmured. He needed to put an end to this conversation immediately. “Now, isn’t it bedtime?”

“Oh, come on,” Nikki waved his hand. “Turn off that responsible adult mode. Do you maybe by any chance have some whiskey?”

“Bed,” Mick pointed at the backroom and frowned, more for a laugh.

“Okay, mom,” Nikki rolled his eyes, but got up and headed to the backroom. “I can sleep on the floor, but I get a blanket then, alright?”

“Sure, it’s fair,” Mick agreed. The perspective of sleeping on the sofa without a blanket wasn’t very attractive, but sleeping on the floor would fuck up his spine for a long time coming. He checked the lock on the door and followed Nikki to the backroom. It wasn’t the first time he stayed the night at work, but it was the first time he had a roommate. He only hoped Nikki wouldn’t snore.

Meanwhile, Nikki had already put the blanket on the floor and settled on it.

“Good night,” Mick told him as he lay down on the sofa.

Nikki looked surprised. “Good night, I guess. And… thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Nikki fell asleep quickly, but Mick stayed awake for a long time, tormented by the pain in his back. It obviously didn’t like his midnight walk around the city. He checked up on Nikki every now and then, amazed at how peaceful he looked while sleeping. It was like all his concerns that left their trace on his face during the day disappeared during the night. A kid of his age shouldn’t have so many concerns, Mick thought. Teenagehood is a time for bad marks, hanging out with friends till sunrise, first crushes, and definitely not a time of thinking where to spend a night and how to survive the next day. Anger washed over Mick, making him clench his fists as he kept looking at Nikki peacefully snoring, clutching his backpack even in his sleep. Whoever did this to Nikki didn’t deserve to have kids at all, let alone take care of them. Nikki deserved better.

Mick couldn’t fall asleep for a long time, recalling the day again and again, every move, every word. He was pretty sure this wasn’t the first time Nikki broke the law. Staying in a police station for a night would have been just another nuisance for him, not a life-changing situation. So after all Mick had heard from Tommy about Nikki he least of all expected Nikki to need help – his help, of all people. They’d never even talked before. Why did he do it then? It was weird, and from the image Mick had in his head based on Tommy’s stories and what he saw today, not at all Nikki-like.

On the other hand, he didn’t know Nikki all that well. Who knew what was going on in that head of his?

There was one thing, however, that Mick was sure about. Nikki would come back. One day or another, but he would. Not after what happened today.

***

Mick woke up from energetic banging on the door. He looked at the clock. Well, no doubt he overslept – it was almost an hour after he was supposed to open the shop. Still, what kind of customer would actually bang on the door of a closed shop?

Of course it weren’t customers. It were Tommy and Vince.

When Mick saw them, he wanted to both hug and kill them. Now it was clear that Tommy went over to sleep at Vince’s. What’s more, it was perfectly logical. Why didn’t they even think about it yesterday?

“Hey, Mick! …why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m gonna murder you one day,” Nikki promised solemnly from behind Mick’s back. He had probably also been woken up by the banging.

“I love you too,” Tommy grinned. “Can I know why?”

“Where the fuck did you go last night? We walked round the entire neighborhood!”

“We?..” Tommy looked at Mick questioningly.

“I’m not ready for this,” Mick waved his hand and stepped to the side. “Nikki, you tell them.”

“Oh, I will,” Nikki promised gravely. Mick retreated to the backroom, sprawled on the couch and closed his eyes, listening to indistinguishable voices from the store.

As though a weight had been lifted off Mick’s shoulders when he saw Tommy alive and well. Why did he even care so much?

#motley crue #motley crue fanfiction #nikki sixx #mick mars #tommy lee #vince neil (honorary mention)#phew this chapter turned out waaay longer than i planned #but the more the better amirite?#im not very satisfied with this #i could do better #but im completely braindead at the moment #so have this #what is lost what is found

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gothpanda · 4 years

Text

A Little Bit of Attitude Ch.22: Some Visitors

WORD COUNT: 5.6K

A/N: The flashback is for my own pleasure as i just found out Motley played at my small ass town in ‘83

TAGS: @madamsixx

WARNINGS: none

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April 12, 1984

Laredo, Texas

The sound of Ozzy could be heard throughout the west side of Laredo. The Bordertown getting a taste of rock music for once from its usual Mexican bands. It was already warm like summer down in this part of Texas, making Sammi feel at home. The warm air pleased all the guys, breaking out of the winter clothes finally. Laredo's venue was the most different from all of them, seeing a high school right next to the Civic Center and two different types of buildings. One being an auditorium for ballet, and the other just open space for the guys. In the stone courtyard in the middle of everything, Sammi sat on the fountain, hearing the water cascade down while smoking her first cigarette of the night. She could see the small crowd of kids her age at the gate of the civic center, hoping for a chance to either meet someone or listen to music. Sammi felt a light hand push her head down, turning to see Nikki smirk down at her.

“May I sit?” asked Nikki, Sammi nodded silently. He sat next to her, staying silent as he pulled out a cigarette for himself, flattered to see a light already waiting for him to take. They stayed silent for a while until Nikki began coughing uncontrollably.

“You okay there, Nik?” asked Sammi, patting Nikki on the back to help him in some way.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m good,” answered Nikki, clearing his throat. “Just getting smokers lungs faster than I thought. I thought I had a good two years left! Cruel world!” Nikki yelled out into the night sky, shaking his fist in the air and proud to hear Sammi giggle. She playfully shoved Nikki’s bare shoulder, shaking her head at him. “Idiot,” mumbled Sammi, stepping on the small cigarette bud.

“Hey, it takes one to know one. Have you met Tommy and Vince? Don’t get how you and Mick don’t want to hurt us,” said Nikki.

“Oh I know I do, but I don’t feel like getting yelled at by my parents. Or get arrested for domestic violence,” joked Sammi, smiled right at Nikki, her pinky lightly grazing Nikki’s. Nikki felt his body become stiff for a moment, looking away at the girl.

“I would pay to see that fight between you and blondie. Might help you,” uttered Nikki, finishing his cigarette for the night.

“Of course you’d be up for that. It’s not like he’s your friend or anything,” provoked Sammi, poking Nikki’s cheek.

“He’s barely even my singer. I only tolerate him because of you fucking Bass siblings,” said Nikki, shoving away Sammi’s hand.

“Why don’t you like him?” asked Sammi.

Nikki raised an eyebrow to Sammi. “You really wanna know?” Sammi nodded. “Maybe because the son of a bitch got something I wanted, but I could just take it from him if I tried hard enough,” answered Nikki, lowering his face right to Sammi, seeing her eyes change from teasing to nervous.

“Nikki… don’t,” begged Sammi, slowly moving away from him.

“And why not Princess? There’s a nice difference between us. I stay with a girl I like,” said Nikki, tucking a piece of hair behind Sammi’s ear. “And Vince has wandering eyes if you haven’t noticed yet,”

Sammi swallowed hard, “I trust him. Please just leave it alone for now,”

“Alright I will, but you’ll always know where to find me,” said Nikki, kissing Sammi on her forehead before disappearing back into the sound of Ozzy. Sammi bit the nail of her thumb, thoughts running at a rapid pace. She didn’t even feel Vince slide right next to her, making Sammi jump when feeling his hands.

“There’s my girl. Are you okay? You look like you have a lot on your mind?” asked Vince. Sammi nodded, kissing Vince before he can think of any further questions.

"Of course I am. Let's just stay here," whispered Sammi, pulling Vince for another kiss, this time harder to make him truly forget any questions.

July 1st, 1985

On the nightstand by the bed, a clock reading 7:45 rang out in the spacious white bedroom. Sammi tossed onto her side, slamming the clock to stop beeping while letting out a morning groan. Sammi rubbed away the sleep from her eyes, aiming to not fall back into a deep sleep. When Sammi started to feel more awake, it dawned on her the silence in the room. No one was snoring in her ear. Rising slowly, Sammi turned to find an empty spot next to her. The duvet looked almost done as if Nikki made the bed before he left. A note from a torn notebook paper laid on the pillow, messy handwriting in black pen yet still blurry for Sammi to read. Sammi put on her glasses, bringing the piece of paper close to her face.

‘Sorry I had to leave, Princess. Didn’t want to wake your pretty face up. Thanks for the special attention. Call you later- Nikki”

Sammi scuffed at the note, a tiny smile crawling on her lips. She tossed it by her lamp, rubbing her face slowly to stay awake. “At least he left a note this time,” muttered Sammi, ripping off the heavy blue blanket, jumping off the bed to seize the day. Sammi looked at the black mini pencil skirt and purple blouse that hung on the closet door, happy with her professional wardrobe. Cascading down the small apartment hallway, Sammi entered her bathroom to head straight to the shower, the water running cold as Sammi liked it. She carried on with her morning routine of applying light makeup and curling her hair, halting as the phone in the bedroom rang out. Sammi ran into the room, jumping on the bed to quickly pick up the telephone, holding it up against her ear as she deeply scrunched her eyebrows.

“Hello?” responded Sammi, sitting on her bed.

“Good morning, Sammi. It’s Doc, how are you doing?” said Doc on the line.

“Oh, I’m doing good, just getting ready for work. What’s going on?” asked Sammi, checking her clock as reassurance she wasn’t wasting time.

“I just wanted to quickly let you know, we are going to Elektra for a meeting. I don’t know if Mr. Harrison told you,” Sammi closed her eyes tight for a second, trying to not mess up her done hair. Sammi knew Mr. Harrison told her last Friday about some meetings, but she completely blocked it out after drinking the night away. She didn’t feel the need to ask that day. Now Sammi wished she could take a sick day.

“Uh yes. Yes he did Doc. I’m one of his secretaries, remember?” said Sammi with sarcasm, smiling a small bit with nerves setting in. Nikki was beginning to rub off on her in his mannerisms. Sammi questioned if this was a good thing for her.

“Right. Of course. I only wanted to give you a heads up about Vince before your day started. Since it could be very difficult to see him in person after a while,” said Doc. Sammi smiled to herself, lucky to still have Doc care for her.

“I really appreciate it, Doc. Thank you for looking out for me,” sincerely said Sammi, “So, I should probably give you a heads up so you don’t go in blind to the meeting,”

“Harrison still worried about the boys?” asked Doc.

“It’s more him being worried about his money going down the toilet than anything else. You really need to be prepared to get your ass chewed or get a cold man,” said Sammi, pressing her lips tight together. She saw the time begin to creep up again, eyes shooting wide. “Doc, I really have to be getting ready. I’ll see you at the meeting,”

“Okay, thanks Sammi. See you soon,” said Doc, cutting the line before Sammi could. Sammi shut the phone, dropping back onto the bed, smothering herself with a pillow as she groaned out loud. Her nerves became setting in more while thinking about seeing Vince for the first time. Sammi began thinking of excuses to not participate in this meeting, rushing to the kitchen for some breakfast. Her mind was turning almost empty, going into autopilot as she got ready for the rest of her day.

Sammi looked out the car window, eyes following Sabrina walk out of her apartment building, coming straight to the passenger door. Sammi smiled in a blink second at Sabrina, driving off into the busy morning traffic. Silence filled the car ride, unusual for the two on their carpool rides. Sabrina eyed Sammi for a moment, changing the radio station to get a reaction for the music. Nothing. Sabrina narrowed her eyes at Sammi, seeing her only focused on the freeway.

“You good? Did Nikki piss you off this morning?” asked Sabrina, relaxing in the passenger seat.

“What? No, we’re fine. why?” replied Sammi, glancing at Sabrina quickly.

“Well, you just seem quiet for a morning. Did you get into an argument with Athena?” said Sabrina.

“No, we’re fine. She hasn't done anything to annoy me for a while,” replied Sammi.

“And she’s not asking Emma 100 questions?” asked Sabrina again.

“No, Emma is doing a pretty good job at hiding which I feel kind of bad for,” muttered Sammi, tucking a hair behind her ear.

“Yeah but Athena doesn’t need to know about Nikki if it’s not serious business. Emma can handle holding a little truth to Athena. She would’ve spilled already if she couldn’t,”

“Oh, by the way, we are gonna have some visitors at work,” mumbled Sammi, staring up at a traffic light. Sabrina raised an eyebrow to Sammi, “Motley’s coming for a meeting with Mr. H,” added Sammi with a glare.

“Oh shit. That’s gonna be fucking awkward,” muttered Sabrina.

“Thanks, S! You know how to lift my spirits in times of need!” sarcastically barked Sammi with a fake smile.

“I’m sorry, but come on you know how bad everyone is towards each other. It’s not like Motley is a happy family band that don’t piss people off especially not each other,”

“Yes I know, but you couldn’t be optimistic as we’re pulling up to work?” asked Sammi.

“You really want me to give you extremely fake hope?” Sabrina uttered blandly, almost hurting to say words.

“Yep!”

“Fine! Things could be completely great and Mr. H won’t chew their asses. It is all good!” shouted Sabrina as Sammi pulled into an empty parking lot space of the office building. Sammi rolled her eyes, glaring at Sabrina who didn’t want to sugarcoat things so early on this Monday morning. Turning off the ignition and opening the door, Sammi left Sabrina hanging but hearing her catch up behind. Sabrina’s long legs made it easier to speed walk right by Sammi in comparison to her short stature. “Okay, maybe the meeting won’t be the worst thing ever. Do you know what they’re gonna be discussing?” asked Sabrina, opening the glass door for Sammi as they entered the building. The girls did their routine of polite smiles to anyone that passed by them, heading to the elevators. Sammi smashed the up button, leaning against the wall. “I have no idea, Mr. Harrison really doesn’t explain in great detail to anyone,” uttered Sammi. Sabrina was about to speak until more people gathered around the two girls, entering the elevator with them. Sammi and Sabrina glanced at each other, stuffed into the cramped elevator with unknown people.

In a short time, the girls were finally alone again, walking out to their respected work areas. “I just don’t want them to make a fucking scene to anyone. I’m expecting the worst reactions when Mr. Harrison orders them around,” muttered Sammi to Sabrina. The girls came to a halt in the middle of cubicles when suddenly, a young intern came walking fast, holding a notepad against her chest. “Hi, Sabrina! Hi, Sammi!” said the intern with enthusiasm.

“Hi, Jessica…” the girls said in unison, almost groaning at the sight of her. Jessica smiled happily, Sammi not understanding how someone could be so cheerful this early in the day.

“How’s your guys morning going? It’s such a beautiful summer day!” exclaimed Jessica, having a pep in her step.

“Great. What do you want?” asked bluntly Sammi, crossing her arms as Sabrina withheld a smirk.

“I came to tell Sabrina something. We’re needed in the conference room right now to set stuff up for a meeting. Apparently, all of Motley Crue is coming!” excited Jessica was, only making Sammi sulk more, infuriated.

“Why me? I’m not gonna be an intern anymore after next week,” asked Sabrina. Scowling at Jessica.

“But you’re still an intern… come on if we finish early maybe we can catch Motley walking in,” said Jessica, bouncing on the balls of her feet with a smile.

“A little too excited to see a band, aren’t we Jessica? It’s not like you haven’t seen one walk around here before” teased Sammi, giving a smile that made Jessica scared of the girls. Sabrina biting down on her index finger, not caring if Sammi hurts someone’s feelings today. It was fun to see sometimes.

“Well, they are a cool band. Plus they aren’t bad to look at, especially Nikki. That’s all,” mumbled Jessica, feeling small to Sammi even when being the same height.

“Sorry to burst your bubble Jess, but I don’t think you’re very much Nikki’s type. Trust me, we’re pretty close,” said Sammi, patting Jessica on the arm, hearing Sabrina chuckle at them. Jessica pressed her lips tightly, shoulders falling a bit.

“Besides I already get to see Motley on a normal basis anyway. They’re not that rare to see after a while,” added Sabrina.

“I’m gonna head to my desk. Have fun arranging water bottles,” Sammi told Sabrina, walking from the two without caring of Jessica’s feelings. Jessica looked up at Sabrina with big eyes only getting a shrug from the taller girl.

“You really should’ve seen that one coming, Jessica,” said Sabrina walking past the redhead to her desk. Jessica only followed the girls' footsteps, ready to work.

Sammi knocked on the heavy wooden doors, MR. HARRISON displayed on a gold plaque.

“Come in,” Mr. Harrison announced, Sammi pushing the door open. “Oh good morning, Samantha, how are we doing on this Monday?” asked Mr. Harrison, peeking above his leather notebook while sitting behind his expensive glass desk.

“Pretty good. I’m just happy to start another week, and be with my favorite boss,” said Sammi, smiling as she stood right in front of Mr. Harrison with perfect posture.

“Oh you flatter me, Samantha, but that please save it for when you’re trying to leave early on Fridays. I hope you remembered the meeting I told you on Friday. You’ll need to write down everything I say because I have a feeling I’ll be too busy talking my head off,” said Mr. Harrison, shutting his notebook tight to hand over to Sammi. Sammi took the notebook in her hands but began thinking for a moment.

“I’m sorry sir, but don’t you think it could be more beneficial to have an intern write your notes. Take Jessica for example who can get more practice since she just started,” explained Sammi, still putting on a generous smile for more convincing.

Mr. Harrison frowned hard at Sammi, his forehead wrinkles becoming deep crevasses. “Are you sure you aren’t just coming up with excuses to avoid this meeting with a certain band?” asked Mr. Harrison.

“Of course not, sir,” uttered Sammi.

“Well while I appreciate your care for the interns, you are going to be at the meeting right next to me rather you like it or not,” ordered Mr. Harrison, making Sammi drop her shoulders for a moment. She nodded, beginning to head to the doors until Mr. Harrison interrupted her walk. “I do have a question, Samantha. What are you going to do now that you have a degree?” asked Mr. Harrison. Sammi walked back slowly as she thought of an answer.

“I really don’t know. I’m just going to be working until I feel I should go back to school,” answered Sammi.

Mr. Harrison nodded slowly, “Well if you need any help, I do have connections with people in different medical branches. All you need to do is ask,”

“Thank you, Mr. Harrison, I appreciate it,” said Sammi, turning around as a gentle knock came from outside of her bosses office. Jessica peeked her head behind the heavy door, shuffling into the office.

“Sorry to interrupt but Motley Crue is here Mr. Harrison,” said Jessica in a small soft voice.

“Huh, they’re on time for once. Thank you, Jessica. Come along, Samantha,” said Mr. Harrison, fixing his blazer as he stepped to the door, smiling at the two young girls. Sammi rolled her eyes, grabbing a pen from the desk to act as an employee with no connections to this band. Jessica stood by the doorframe, eyes following Sammi get closer to her. Sammi scowled at Jessica staring at her, halting in front of her.

“Can I help you with something? Or are you just gonna keep staring?” barked Sammi, walking away from the nervous young girl.

Mr. Harrison marched down the halls of the office floor, Sammi being his shadow all the way to the conference room. Sammi straightened her posture, balancing perfectly in her work heels while entering the vast boardroom. She almost held her breath from seeing the band seated down, quickly noticing her designated seat being occupied by Tommy. Doc, Vince, and Nikki all sat to the left of Mr. Harrison, not seeing Sammi walk. Samm couldn’t help but give small glances to the blonde man when he wasn’t looking. Mick and Tommy smiled shortly at the young girl, Sammi flicking Tommy’s ear to make him move down a chair. They give each other a kiss on the cheek as Sammi sat down finally, her sight carried out across Nikki who looked almost asleep behind his dark sunglasses. She stayed clear of making eye contact with Vince, feeling the stare once again.

“Okay let's get this meeting on its way,” announced Mr. Harrison, sitting at the head of the table like always. “I’d first like to tell the boys congratulations on the album, even after the many many delays, people love it. You’ve managed to fix one thing,” said Mr. Harrison with firmly pressed lips, giving a cold stare to everyone. The silence could be cut with a knife, Doc already thinking of what to say to make things civil. “Because of the new album, you must now go on tour for promotion. Also because it is written on the contracts, and you must all still follow it,” ordered Mr. Harrison.

“I believe this would be great for the boys to hit the road again. They’ve had plenty of rest for a good long tour,” said Doc, nodded along, eyeing Sammi from across the table, writing everything down at lighting speed.

“I’m not so sure rest is the right word for their break of touring. I’m also not sure about a long tour for these men,” said Mr. Harrison. Sammi stopped writing for a moment, switching glances between her boss and the boys. Nikki would clear his throat every so often to drink water, while only Vince seemed to be paying attention. Their eyes catching each other for a split second before Sammi looked down at her notes. “We will only make North American dates ranging from the beginning of August to the third week of November, pretty easy for you rockstars,”

“Mr. Harrison with all due respect, I do believe these boys can do more than just North America. These men can go to Europe or Asia right after November,” said Doc. “The album has been doing great for the first week. You said it yourself,”

Mr. Harrison leaned back into the desk chair, crossing his arms as he glared right at Doc. “Doc. You really think Motley Crue can tour by themselves for more than four months without messing something up?” asked Mr. Harrison, only seeing Doc slowly retreat.

“They’ve had their moments, but yes. I do think we can just pick up after Thanksgiving,” uttered Doc.

“By moments you mean the multiple things that have been brought to my attention that raise concern. Tabloids with pictures of Nikki & Tommy intoxicated at almost every single day on my desk. The incident happening in one of the recording studios. A singer who has a bigger record than all my other talent. Do you know I’ve never had to deal with any of these things in my lifetime in this industry?”

Vince, Tommy, Mick, and even Nikki all turned their eyes on Sammi, Sammi looking only at her notes or boss. Sammi only gave the proper secretary to look for everyone to display. Mr. Harrison snapped his fingers, gaining the attention back to him from everyone. “Do not look at Samantha. She’s not your friend. She’s not your sister. She’s doing her job right now. You all pay attention to me. You are all lucky I’m even allowing a headlining tour. If you all don’t lose me money, I’ll allow a European extension at the beginning of the year,” said Mr. Harrison. Sammi stays quiet, looking back at Nikki having trouble keeping his head up. “We will go as I said starting in August. Any further questions or interruptions?”

“I have my court date the second week in September,” said Vince, speaking up for the first time. Everyone became silent again, switching glances between Harrison and Vince. Sammi gave a sympathetic look to Vince for once in a long time.

“We will make sure there is a week off in September for you to come back, Vince. Anything else?” asked Mr. Harrison.

“Everything will run smoothly, Mr. Harrison. I reassure you on that,” said Doc.

Mr. Harrison scuffs at Doc. “I’ll believe it when I see my money back in my wallet,” Mr. Harrison stood up from his seat, buttoning the middle of his blazer once again. “Samantha, there are documents in the back of that notebook. Please give it to Peterson in legal. Meeting dismissed,” ordered Mr. Harrison to Sammi as he left the boardroom. The weight in the room soon lifted, Doc dragging a hand down his face. Sammi relaxed her back, slumping in the office chair as she sighed loudly. Doc rose from his seat, reaching over Vince to smack Nikki in the head to wake him up. Nikki only groaned, resting his head in the palm of his hand.

“You all better listen to everything your boss just said,” said Doc, standing up to grab a bottle of water.

“Don’t worry I barely listen to everything my boss says,” muttered Sammi getting a chuckle from Tommy and Mick, Vince withholding a smile.

“Everything is gonna be fine,” slurred Nikki, yawning out loud. Sammi couldn’t help but keep an eye on Nikki from his demeanor.

“Yeah, I fucking doubt that,” mumbled Vince.

“Things would be fine if you all just acted like adults for once,” remarked Sammi, glaring at Nikki and Tommy who didn’t care.

“We got it covered. We can pretend to be responsible for a good while,” said Tommy, patting Sammi on the head.

“If only we had Sammi tour with us again to keep us in shape,” croaked Mick, readjusting his sunglasses. “We could really use you, little girl,”

“Yeah fuck that. I’d be unemployed and broke then be on a bus with my ex for a long time,” added Sammi, flipping her hair to one side. Everyone from Doc to Mick switched glances between Sammi and Vince, seeing Vince’s discomfort. Sammi raised an eyebrow at every, curling her lip. “What? Someone had to fucking say it. He’s here at my work bothering me,” grumbled Sammi, pointing a sharp finger at Vince. Vince shook his head, pulling on his earlobe.

“So you’re not even gonna say my name anymore?” barked Vince, crossing his arms. Sammi rolled her eyes, not caring if she looked rude to Vince. “I thought at least here you’d give me something, and not keep ignoring me,”

“My god you’re so dramatic,” Sammi mumbled under her breath. “Alright, here's something! Can you kindly shut the fuck up, Vince? Last time I checked I told you I wanted to be away from you,” bossed Sammi, staring coldly at Vince. Vince flared his nostrils, knocking his knuckles against the hard wooden table.

“Enough you two. Boys you’re free to go. I don’t want to hold Sammi from her job any further,” said Doc, grabbing his briefcase and stepping into the hallway. Vince was the first to jump out of his seat, not caring to say goodbye to anyone from his band. Mick squeezed Sammi’s shoulder before he left, showing his usual form of compassion. Tommy stood up, stretching out to feel his long spine crack seeing Nikki just stay quiet.

“Hey Sixxter, I’m gonna hit the restroom. Wait for me in the lobby,” said Tommy, getting a groan in response. “See you later Sammi,” Tommy kissed Sammi on the forehead before disappearing in the hallway. Sammi waved Tommy a goodbye, keeping her eyes on Nikki’s silence. She could hear him begin to lightly snore, making her finally walk over and take the empty seat right of him.

Sammi shook his shoulder roughly, hearing more groans in return. Nikki slowly turned his head to Sammi, staying hidden behind his dark sunglasses.

“What?” croaked Nikki, slumping in his seat and crossing his arms.

“What?” mimicked Sammi, raising an eyebrow to him. “What’s going on with you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Everything’s-” Sammi interrupted Nikki, pushing his sunglasses above his head. Immediately Sammi could see something was entirely right. Nikki’s eyes looked dull and dark. Dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in years, the whites of his eyes almost turning pink all around. Sammi frowned at Nikki, Nikki pushing her hand away to hide behind his glasses again.

“You’re not fine. Seriously Nikki what’s going on with you?” asked Sammi again, softened her expression with compassionate eyes.

“I haven’t been feeling the best lately,” uttered Nikki, taking his glasses off to rub his eyes. “I haven’t been able to sleep… for some reason,” lied Nikki. He knew exactly why he couldn’t sleep at night anymore. Unlike coke, heroin made him awake at all hours even when he didn’t shoot up after a while.

“How long have you been like this?” asked Sammi, putting her hand on top of Nikki’s. Nikki could help but feel a little ping in his chest from the small act of affection. Nikki knew he had to make up a lie fast to not lose the small affection he likes from Sammi.

“Going on a week? That’s why I left last night. I didn’t want to wake you up by accident especially when you have work,” said Nikki, shooting a lopsided grin to Sammi. Nikki silently prayed Sammi bought his lie, lying to himself it was going to be the last lie. Sammi pursed her lips, looking between Nikki and the desk for some room to think.

“Alright, I guess that makes sense,” cautioned Sammi. “Thanks for leaving a note by the way. The princess appreciates it,” smiled happily Sammi, making Nikki’s frown turn upside down for a moment. Nikki lightly snaked his hand behind Sammi’s neck, pulling her in for a surprise kiss. Sammi’s eyes went wide, pushing Nikki away to look back at the open door. “You really like to get to the edge of getting caught don’t you?” smirked Sammi.

Nikki smirked at Sammi, “Admit it. It’s pretty fun. Especially when you’re looking sexy in this outfit,” Nikki’s hand crept up Sammi’s thigh, bringing her chair closer to him with his foot. Sammi’s heart began to race, feeling Nikki’s hand feature between her legs. She gripped his wrist tight, stopping Nikki from any further moves. Sammi looked deep into his eyes, trying her hardest to resist kissing away the smirk on Nikki’s lips.

“I’m at work. And you should get some sleep,” said Sammi, pushing herself away from Nikki. Nikki shrugged his shoulders, putting on his glasses as he rose from the seat. “Oh, I’m gonna go out with some guys tonight. Don’t be surprised if I come knocking on your door. Maybe then I’ll sleep,” said Nikki, kissing Sammi on the cheek. Sammi shook her head, smiling slightly to herself, looking over her shoulder to Nikki leaving. Sammi fell back against the chair, huffing loudly. She could feel the nerves in her body calm down, noticing her palms were becoming sweaty. Being in complete silence made her process the sight of Vince, being right in front of her. Was she being too hard on him? Should she talk to Vince finally after months of this? The questions that always played in Sammi’s head, played louder than ever today. Sammi only took a deep breath in and stood up to be a grown-up like she’s supposed to be.

July 5, 1985

“Sammi, I don’t think I can keep lying to Athena,” said Emma, pouring three glasses of white wine from Sammi’s collection. Sabrina and Sammi each placed a bowl of food on the small glass dining table, sitting down for their Friday dinners together. Sammi took a sip of her wine before even thinking of what to say in this conversation. “I get it. I’m your best friend, but Athena is also my girlfriend,” pleaded Emma, serving herself a portion of cold pasta salad.

“What is she even asking you, Em? I doubt Sammi’s making it obvious,” said Sabrina, grabbing a piece of chicken with her salad.

“I know she’s not, but Athena can’t help but keep her nose out of Sammi’s life. Almost every single time I say we went out, she asks if you got with someone,” shared Emma, eating with a touch of annoyance.

“Well tell her to stay out of it. I already told Athena I didn’t want her or Tommy anywhere near my love life,” spat Sammi.

“It’s a love life between you and Nikki?” asked Sabrina, smirking at Sammi with a quizzical expression. Sammi shot a glare at Sabrina, making her giggle amongst herself. “Maybe you have to remind your sister again, Sam. Say it isn’t nice to be badgering her girlfriend because you two are friends,”

“I’m glad we keep you around. You solve all our problems at record speed,” joked Emma, raising her glass to cheer with Sabrina. Sabrina gladly clanked her wine glass with Emma’s, Sammi playfully shaking her head. “I second this reminder. You’d also be helping out me and yourself,”

“I would love to, but Athena never learned to listen if you haven’t already figured it out,” mumbled Sammi, drinking the chilled wine.

“That’s probably the one thing I don’t like about her, but in this case, it comes from a place of love. Please still try though,” told Emma to Sammi, giving her a lopsided grin.

“What really is the worst thing if at least Athena knew about Nikki and you?” asked Sabrina.

“Athena would tell Tommy, Tommy would tell Vince, and Vince would yell at my ass. And a mad Vince is the last thing I want in my life,” informed Sammi, refilling for a second glass of wine.

“You really care what Vince thinks or you just don’t want to deal with his shit?” added Emma, scrunching her eyebrows at Sammi. Sammi thought about it for a moment, not knowing if she just never wanted to hear from Vince ever again.

“It’s more of I’ve been a bitch to him for 6 months, so I don’t want him to think I’m two-faced. Because I know his mind will run wild like it always has with Nikki,” admitted Sammi, shrugging her shoulders.

“You can’t be two-faced if all you did was have sex when you were single. You chose Vince and he fucked up. He still needs to know that and be reminded from time to time. Like at the meeting,” said Sabrina.

“The one moment I wished I worked at that fucking office,” utter Emma, gulping her last bit of wine. “Since we are on the topic of Vince, have you ever thought about talking to him? You don’t think you deserve some answers?”

“I have but I don’t know how to talk to him without sounding like a bitch anymore. It’s almost as if he made me get an attitude and Nikki made it worse,” pondered Sammi, pushing the last of her around with a fork.

“Like that poor poor Jessica girl you read to filth?” joked Emma, giggling louder at Sammi scowl to her. Emma shrugged her shoulder with a playful smile.

“Maybe you could write down everything you want to know? It could help you keep your thoughts in order instead of going off from your emotions,” suggested Sabrina, wiping the corner of her mouth as she finished her food.

“Emma’s right, you do solve our problems at record speed,” answered Sammi with a soft smile. “I guess that would be a good starting point, and talk before he leaves again… But it’s so nice being mean to him!” whined Sammi, pouting at Sabrina like a little girl. Sabrina shot a look at Sammi that made her quit the pouting and straight her shoulders, almost like a mother. “Fine, I’ll try my hardest to be civil and demand answers with kindness,”

“Atta girl,” encouraged Sabrina, lightly punching Sammi's shoulder. “It could bring you some great closure,”

Sammi smiled to herself, beginning to clear out the dining table with Emma’s help. “Or maybe it’ll just make me sadder than ever,” shouted Sammi, dropping the dirty dishes in the sink to wash later as she drank her wine.

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

Interrogation, Part One

Also known as Jake and The Real Bad Week, Part One. Directly follows Come Back. I’ll alternate these with Chris, so you get an idea of what’s happening to both at about the same time.

CW: Violent beating, electric shock, references to past noncon to another person, institutional brutality, pet whump setting, box boy setting, referenced past domestic abuse

Tagging @finder-of-rings, @burtlederp (@stxck-fxck, it won’t let me tag you!)

“You know,” Jake says, feeling blood thick on his tongue, “usually for something to be considered interrogating, you have to ask a fucking question.” He spits off to the side, trying not to think about the copper taste, the pinkish saliva on the floor.

“Thanks for telling me how to do my job,” The guy says. He’s older, has a blocky face with a rough-cut jawline, looks like the kind of guy you call the muscle in a movie. His hair is a light sandy blond, graying with age. Could be late forties, early fifties. Could be younger and just lived kind of a shitty life.

“Well, you haven’t done it so far, so I figured, maybe you just need the help.” Jake keeps his voice low, almost calm, although anger boils in his veins, alongside worry. This is what his mother always told him would happen, if he kept getting deeper into the movement. If you stick your neck out for somebody, Jake, sooner or later someone else is going to come cut your head off.

Fuck if he cares. Somebody has to stick their necks out for the rescues.

Jake thinks of Chris the night he came, the shivering boy with his hair plastered to his head in the rain, silent and with his hands always in tight fists, held perfectly still, at his side. Wide green eyes, rainwater running down his face like tears. Wrapped in a blanket and wearing nothing but a loose pair of nearly-sheer pants that rain had made stick to his legs. Nat, speaking in hurried half-whispers with Vince, who had picked the boy up from some woman he knew and brought him here in the dead hours of the night.

He doesn’t know why he’s here. He doesn’t know anything. His captor called him Baldur.

Jake thought of taking one look at the delicately wrought, beautiful face and thinking, there’s no fucking way you were eighteen when they found you.

The guy cracks his knuckles. Jake doesn’t flinch.

“I’ve asked you enough questions,” The guy says, kicking out a chair like he’s going to sit, but he doesn’t. “Jakob Collins Stanton-… Collins is a weird middle name.”

“Mother’s maiden name,” Jake shrugs, as best he can. “Mom’s from the South, they do that down there.”

“Hm. My people are Southern, too.”

“Must be where you get all this fuckin’ hospitality.”

The guy’s fist cracks across his cheekbone and Jake groans, but feels a weird sense of victory, anyway. Pissed you off, nyah nyah, sing-songs a bratty little voice somewhere inside his had.

“So,” The guy says, like nothing happened. “Jakob Stanton, Junior at the university, but you’re, what, mid-twenties?”

“Non-traditional.”

“Can’t blame you. College is a fucking money-sink these days. Better off going into a business like mine.”

“What, law enforcement?”

There’s a pause. Then, “Yes,” The guy says. Jake raises his eyebrows. “Anyway. You’ve been working at this shelter for… let’s see here… two years. How’d you meet Natalie Yoder, anyway? She’s a known dangerous entity.”

Nat, wild-haired in her housecoat and pajamas, screaming obscenities at the cops to make sure the sounds were loud enough to cover the sound of Jake getting Chris safely hidden in the false-backed closet. The sound of someone slapping her, and the way it didn’t even slow her down.

The red marks on her face when they’d loaded her into the back of one squad car and Jake into the back of the other.

The relief on her face when no one came out of the house with Chris. The way Jake’s pounding heart had leapt, seeing the officers empty-handed, knowing that it meant Chris had understood, had stayed hidden, silent, safe.

Jake closes his eyes, hoping, praying someone will find him and help him. Chris can’t be on his own, not yet, he doesn’t have any of the skills. They hadn’t had time to work on adult life skillsets, yet, just getting him settled, letting him remember what it was like to live in his own skin again.

Please, please don’t leave the house. Please be safe there. Please, please, please, Chris. I’m coming back for you. They can’t hold me forever.

Please. You deserve someone who keeps their promises, please let me keep my promise to you.

Please let me be able to.

“Yeah, lady who runs a homeless shelter and volunteers at a fucking soup kitchen, she’s a real menace to society,” Jake says dryly.

“You know damn well I’m not talking about her volunteer work. She’s been on our radar for… oh, ten, fifteen years?”

“Whose?”

The guy stills, then. “What?”

Jake stares into the guy’s flat gray eyes. “Whose radar, man? Whose radar is Nat on? Whose radar picked me up?”

The guy looks at him for another long moment, then looks down at the papers littered across the table. There’s one of those mirrors along the wall, where people on the other side can see you but you can’t see them, but Jake doesn’t think anyone is watching. They’ll want plausible deniability, they’ll want no one to have seen him getting the shit kicked out of him by some asshole on a low-level power trip.

“I asked you a question.”

“I don’t give a fuck. You don’t ask the questions here.” The guy slides a slim manila folder out from underneath the other scattered papers. Jake’s eyes scan the front, where someone has handwritten 223499. The number means nothing to him, beyond a simple certainty that there’s a Box Boy or Box Babe in that folder.

Antoni? Leila? Krista? Chris? Kauri? Could be any of them. Could be one of the others that’ve moved on or moved out. Transitioned back into the lives they deserve, not the cages they’d been locked up in, so WRU could convince them they signed up to suffer.

“‘You don’t ask the questions here’,” Jake mocks him, knowing he’s treading a delicate line, but his palms are starting to sweat and his face hurts and he’s fucking had it with this. “What is this, a movie? Jesus, do they feed you lines to learn at the Academy, or…?”

The guy laughs, a dry, mirthless chuckle. He keeps his fingertips on the folder, then straightens his spine and stands back straight, looking at Jake. “Does it matter? It’s true, cliché or not.”

“Look. I get that you’re enjoying yourself, but I’m more than a little bit over this. Just let me leave, you don’t have shit.” Jake’s been here for hours, and he’s fucking exhausted running on the like three and a half hours of sleep he’d gotten before the raid. He’s got class on Tuesday, he needs someone to take notes since apparently he’s going to be in fucking jail.

Well, unless they have nothing, the way he thinks they do.

“How do you know if we have something on you or not?” The guy asks, his voice low, but genuinely curious. The silence stretches out between them.

Something is off about this.

“What are you charging me with?” Jake asks, watching cautiously as the older man shifts back, steps casually around the table. Jake’s eyes follow his movements. His hands are zip-tied behind him, and he keeps feeling the hard edge of the plastic rubbing against his wrists. It’s starting to hurt, and he’s sure that’s the whole idea of leaving him like this.

Well, his wrists can join the parade of everything else that already hurts, it’s a club now, and his throbbing, burgeoning black eye is the current reigning president.

“Whatever we want,” The guy replies, and Jake snorts, then winces as that aggravates whatever happened to his nose on the last punch. It’s not broken, but it’s definitely pissed, and probably his nose is as responsible for the taste of blood in his mouth as biting his tongue is. He can feel something running down the back of his throat, making him clear his throat and cough. Could b blood.

“Well, that tells me something,” Jake says, sitting slowly back in the seat, looking up at the guy. “You’re not a fucking cop, are you?”

It’s a shot in the dark. Just a hunch, something that itches between his shoulder blades. Something about the way the guy moves, the way his uniform doesn’t look quite the same as the other cops, like it’s old-fashioned or something.

Something about the way the cop looks at him, not like a cop looking at a suspect, more like a butcher looking at a cow and figuring how much he’s going to pay to cut it up.

The guy goes still, before he laughs that dry little rumbling cackle again, and it’s all the answer Jake needs and definitely not the answer he wants. Because if he’s not a cop…

“I know what you are.” Jake’s voice goes nearly breathless, something not quite like panic. Deeper than that is the anger.

Finally, I get to see one of you fuckers face to face.

“And what,” The guy asks, rolling his sleeves up, a carefully practiced gesture of intimidation that makes Jake wonder if he does this in the mirror every morning just to be impressed with himself. “… is that?”

“You’re one of them.”

“Them?” The guy’s gray eyes, flat and lifeless, are on his again. Jake smiles, blood smeared wet across his teeth. Got you.

“You’re WRU.” Jake laughs, then coughs a little and spits more blood from his tongue onto the floor. “You’re fucking Facility assholes. Fucking handler. What, you paid the cops off to raid a fucking halfway house for homeless kids? Jesus, does no one actually sign up willingly? Is this how you get ‘em, you fucks with your goddamn bullshit about changing your life circumst-”

The backhand slams into the side of his face and Jake’s head snaps to the side, his body moving with it, and without his hands he can’t stop himself and he crashes to the ground on his side, head bouncing off the floor with a sickening crack, the chair he was sitting in clattering down after him.

But he’s still kind of laughing, through pain and the air that’s been knocked out of his lungs. What are the fucking odds, huh? He’s been training for cops, for law enforcement helping prop up a shitty system because the government makes the laws and we follow the laws, but that’s the thing, sometimes the laws are bullshit and leave hurting, fucked up, terrified people scattered around in their wake.

And sometimes people like Jake can see it happening.

Stick out your neck, Jake, and the cops’ll find out and cut your head off. This isn’t your fight.

Well, it sure as fuck is now, isn’t it?

He can’t stop laughing, now, because they made him practice how to talk to cops, but nobody ever figured he’d have to deal with a goddamn handler, assholes brainwashing kids like cult leaders into losing their memories, their lives, their independence, their personalities, burying it all under a wall of pain and drugs and fear.

Why didn’t he train for handlers?

Jake laughs, and spits more blood on the floor. Then he laughs some more.

“Shut up. Just keep your fucking mouth shut,” The guy growls at him, and Jake’s head pounds alongside all the other pieces of him, the pain that stitches him together. He’s a puzzle made of aches, and that has him laughing, too. What doesn’t make him laugh, right now? What doesn’t?

The kick of a steel-toed boot to his stomach definitely cuts the sound off, at least, and Jake lets out a low grunt of pain, curling in on himself trying to protect the soft parts, but the guy isn’t interested in kicking his organs, at least not now. He rights the chair and drags Jake back up into it. A fist slams into his face, and then it happens again, and again.

Jake’s head hangs low, and he’s barely going to be able to see out of one of his eyes tomorrow, but he’s getting the feeling that’s the least of his problems.

“You’re right,” The guy says, and takes a seat across the table, calm as can be. He slides the manila folder across, spins it around so it’ll be right side up when Jake looks at it. Jake stares down, then slowly raises his eyes back up. The guy’s a bit blurred, now, and the pain is a constant of agony through his body.

Vince has some fake teeth, from what Kauri’s owner did to him when they were kids. Jake wonders idly if Vince will pay for Jake to get some teeth replaced, since this guy’s going to knock some of them out if he keeps this up much longer.

“I’m not with the cops. They’re going to charge you with resisting arrest-”

“Oh, fuck that bullshit,” Jake says, and his lower lip is swelling, the words are slurred more than he likes between that and his bitten tongue. “I didn’t resist shit.”

“They had to throw you into a wall,” The guy says, calmly.

“You did that!”

“Not on the paperwork, I didn’t, and you sure as fuck can’t prove otherwise. Oh no, you kicked up a fuss, as they say. That’s gonna get you a nice hefty fine.”

Jake thinks of Vince and Nat arguing, some nights, when the movie star stops by to be a fucking nuisance. I don’t do the rescuing, Nat, I just write the goddamn checks.

It’d be nice if Jake had that kind of money. Then again, he wouldn’t want to survive what Vince survived to get there - all the child actor grossness, the predatory producers and directors, Owen Grant drugging him and making him lie about what happened to save his career-

“Hey.” Fingers snap under his nose, and Jake flinches back. The guy grins. “That’s better. I like them flinchy. I told you to take a good look and see if this is anyone you recognize. This is who I’m here to recover.”

Jake’s eyes drop to the open folder laid out in front of him.

Chris looks back at him, standing with his shoulders hunched, staring with empty, blank green eyes in the white t-shirt and black shorts Jake has seen in other photos, before, snuck out by the informants who work in WRU. The flash of the black shock collar around his throat makes Jake’s teeth grind together hard enough to add that ache to the list of pains he’s already feeling.

His hair’s the same, he’s maybe a little thinner, but it’s the empty look in his eyes that gets Jake’s blood running cold, like it always does when he sees them like this. All sense of themselves shoved aside, pushed under the surface, drowning in conditioned responses in place of identity.

And he’s just a kid.

“You know who this is, don’t you?” The guy asks, and Jake stares into Chris’s eyes. Blank.

The boy’s hands are motionless fists like stones at the ends of his arms. Still as a statue, not moving at all. No blur of happiness, no taps on the walls, no cold feet pressed against Jake’s legs, no spiderlegs movement into his bed when the night scares him too much to get through alone.

“I’ve never seen this boy in my life,” Jake says, lips numb, and it’s the truth.

Jake only knows Chris.

This photo isn’t of Chris. It’s of an empty slate, ready to be filled with whatever they want to put there, ready to serve, to be an active participant, ready to tilt his head just so to the side and put on a smile that never reaches his eyes and say in a breathy voice, I want this. I want you.

Just like they all do.

Because if they don’t get it just right, they’re tortured until they do.

“You’re lying to me,” The guy says, tapping his finger on the photo again. He moves the paper aside, and there’s another photo underneath. The same boy, a metal collar around his neck hooked to a chain on the wall. There’s an IV in his arm, and a bag just off to the side. His hands are tied behind his back, and there are deep, deep shadows under the boy’s eyes, wide with tears and pain and fear.

“I’m telling you, I’ve never seen this kid.” Jake’s voice is a little less confident, then. But he doesn’t know this one, either, because this is whoever Chris was, before he was a number, before he was a teenage slave, before he was destroyed and rebuilt.

“Oh, really? I’ve got one more photo I think will change your mind.”

Don’t show me what I think you’re going to show me. Don’t do it. Don’t don’t don’t don’t-

The next photo is of Chris, too.

He’s crying in it.

Jake has barely allowed his brain to comprehend what exactly is happening to Chris in the final photo - and he will not allow himself to remember it, not ever, never again - before he’s moving, pushing himself to his feet and then crouching to get his shoulder under the table that isn’t bolted into the floor, but it should be.

“Go to fucking hell, you piece of shit,” Jake growls, and pushes the table over with his shoulder.

It falls nearly on top of the asshole in his chair, knocking him back with a low yelp and scattering photos everywhere, paperwork slipping across the floor like stones skimming the surface of a lake. By the time the guy has started to stand back up, Jake is kicking the table at him, all of it happening in some deep slow motion of misery in his mind.

Chris deserved better. Chris deserved a family. Chris deserved to be safe. They all deserve to be safe. They all deserve something other than this.

The guy gets back to his feet, baring his teeth at Jake in a snarl. They stand, staring at each other, as the guy pulls a slim back baton off his belt, hits a button, and there’s the distinct crackle of electricity.

Jake’s eyes widen, panting still with the exertion that came with pushing the table over, his leg muscles stretched and protesting. “I know what that is,” He says, his tongue a leaden weight in his mouth. His heart drops to his knees.

They hurt us all the fucking time with their sticks, Kauri whispers in his mind. Again and again and again, until we’re not bad any longer.

“Struck a nerve,” The guy says, and wipes at his mouth with the back of one hand. Jake doesn’t take his eyes off the baton. “You do know who that is, don’t you? We’re in the market to get him back where he belongs.”

Jake slowly looks up to meet the guy’s flat gray eyes.

He’s already hurting so fucking much. What’s a little more pain, when there’s someone else’s life on the line?

It’s not your fight, Jake. If you stick your neck out-

I’m making it my fight, Mom. Let them cut my fucking head off.

I was tired of having to stand and watch and not be able to help when I was ten and the bruises were on you, I sure as fuck don’t have to stand and watch when the pain is in him.

I can help now.

Try and stop me.

“I have no clue who that is,” Jake sneers, tightening his hands into fists behind his back. This is going to hurt. This is going to hurt and hurt and hurt, and it’s not going to stop, not until he’s not bad anymore, and Jake has no intention of being good. “But I know you’re the fucking pervert in the photo with him. You got a name so I can get you turned in to the real cops?”

The guy snorts, trying on a sneering smile, but Jake’s move with the table threw him off his smug little rhythm, and the smile isn’t real. “You can call me Mr. Everly. Or Sir.”

My Sir used to lock me outside when it stormed when I was bad

There were hooks in the wall for me in Sir’s bedroom

I had to stay in the basement sometimes so no one would see me

Jake swallows, hard. How far can anger carry you, against pain? He’s about to find out. His mother’s going to be ashamed of him, when she finds out he did this. But sometimes people are ashamed of you when you do the right thing. And right now there’s a boy waiting somewhere for Jake to keep his promise.

“All right, then, Everly. My name is Jake Stanton. I’m a junior in college. I’m twenty-five years old and I work in a homeless shelter for at-risk young adults and Nat Yoder’s been my boss for two years and I’ve never seen that kid before in my fucking life.”

“I don’t believe you.” The guy advances on him, and Jake backs up, right into a wall. It’s just the two of them, in here, and he’s sure that the camera in the corner near the ceiling is turned off. He’s going to walk out of here, but he might not be walking when he does it. He might not be crawling, either.

But he’s not going to give this guy a single piece of information he can use to ruin a life so fragile, so recently built.

Wait for me, Chris.

“I don’t give a shit if you believe me, it’s the truth.”

The guy raises the baton, brings it down, and Jake collapses to the ground, screaming at the pain that runs through every muscle as they lock up, nerves sparking with electricity. It comes down again, and again, and again, and everything is pain, and Jake’s eyes close tight and he doesn’t try to be strong, to hold out. He screams, and cries, and he holds green eyes in his mind, he holds backflips and yoga, and swinging from the high bars to the low bars, landing on his feet.

A bright and sunny smile as Chris lands on his feet, arms in the air, and immediately asks if Jake will watch him do it again.

Don’t leave, don’t run, don’t go somewhere you’re not safe, we’re coming back for you.

The baton turns into fists, into the ends of those steel-toed boots, into bruises that blossom and the sounds Jake is making are barely human as he curls up on the ground. When he’s hauled up into the chair again, the guy asks him more questions.

Jake stares at him, body singing with pain, and says nothing at all.

“You’re going to be annoying,” The guy says. “I can tell.”

Jake grins at him, bitterly, and spits a little more blood on the floor.

“I sure fuckin’ hope so. I want my goddamn phone call.”

“Thought you said I wasn’t a cop.”

“You’re not. But I want my phone call, anyway.” Jake stares at him, bleary and blurry thanks to the blood running into his eyes. “And I know you want to listen to it.”

The guy pauses, is quiet for a second. Jake doesn’t breathe.

“Fine.”

I’m coming back for you, Chris, I promise, but first I’m going to send someone who can help. If she can find you.

Please, please be waiting where she can find you.

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breaniebree · 4 years

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Sneak Peak Chapter 250 ASC

Sorry about the delay. It’s been a hectic week, plus this weekend is our Thanksgiving holiday for us Canucks 🇨🇦. Due to the holiday and my busy work schedule, the chapter will probably not go up before Wednesday. Thanks in advance.

Here’s your sneak peek!

The two Slytherin girls hadn’t been as much trouble as she anticipated. They were very much into fashion, hair, makeup, and accessories and they surprisingly had some great ideas which they put into the Herald. But when it came to associating with her, they tended to be a little on the snarky side. She knew part of it was because she was a Gryffindor, but a large part was because she was a Weasley and a blood traitor. Sadly, it was something she was used to.

She had some advice pages for them to look over, but had been putting it off. Daphne was nice enough most of the time when she asked, but Pansy always had some snide remark to make. Ginny usually felt like it wasn’t worth her time to respond to those remarks.

Last week, Pansy had commented on the fraying hem of her robes, asking why she seemed to think frumpy and poor was in fashion. The week before she’d wanted to know if it was true that she had red hair and no soul because her mother had shagged a Dementor. Ginny usually ignored it, but sometimes it was hard to bite her tongue.

“Do you two have a minute?” Ginny called out.

Daphne nodded and headed over to sit in the chair across from Ginny, her long shimmering blonde hair falling over her shoulders. “If it’s about fashion, we have tons of minutes!”

“Hair and fashion,” Ginny said. “This one is from ‘Desperate for Curls.’ The writer wants to know what the secret is as her charm work never seems to last for more than an hour or so.”

Daphne nodded. “Oooh, that’s because she’s not performing it properly. Tell her she has to do it when her hair is wet and curl it section by section with a drying charm. The trick is to pattern it. Curl, dry, set. If you try to do your whole head at once, the charm sort of wilts. Here, I’ll write it down.”

“Thanks,” Ginny said. “I have one more, from 'Fashionably Clueless.’ They have a first date coming up and want to look fantastic, but can’t decide whether to wear a short skirt or a dress and want to know what the difference between the two is? The question is: How do I know what the right fashion choice is?”

Pansy tucked her short black hair behind her ear, looking her upturned-nose down upon Ginny. “Well, some girls like to look sexy instead of frumpy.”

“Pansy,” Daphne began, but Ginny held her hand up.

“No need, Daphne. You can let Pansy speak.”

Pansy sneered at her. “You have so much potential, Weasley. A tapered waist, nice legs, great tits… yet you’re always in Quidditch shirts or jeans. You looked peng at the Halloween party where you usually just look frumpy in old clothes. Dating Potter should get you a better wardrobe.”

Ginny cocked an eyebrow. “And why would dating Harry get me a better wardrobe?”

“Because he’s loaded,” Pansy said simply. “And as his girlfriend, he should be spending that gold on you.”

“I’m not with Harry because of his money,” Ginny said, her eyes flashing in anger.

“Potter’s sexy, I’ll admit that,” Pansy said. “He could be better if he lost the glasses and tamed that hair, but he has a great arse and a nice smile. He’s good looking and he’s rich, it’s a two for one prize, Ginny. When a bloke has gold like that, you take advantage of it. Get yourself a new wardrobe, throw around some of that gold, make yourself look like you belong with him. Maybe some of that riff-raff Weasley grime will wash off if you wore more diamonds. You can get those awful brown spots removed too.”

“You mean my freckles?”

“Yes, you should really talk to a healer about those, the way they cluster in strange places, it’s very unseemly. It looks like you’re covered in dirt patches. Haven’t you ever tried to charm them off?”

“No, too worried I’d get stuck with your nose if I messed it up.”

Pansy’s eyes flashed. “I could buy you and your hovel ten times over! But I don’t want to risk getting a disease.”

“Like freckles? You’re right, I don’t think you could pull them off either. But we all can’t be blessed with my skin tone and tits.”

Pansy’s lips curled. “Why you little —”

Daphne stood between them. “Pansy!”

“Did you hear what that bitch said to me?”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Anyway, as to the letter that Ginny has graciously asked our assistance with, I suggest that you write back and tell them to wear something that makes them comfortable. A dress is great, but if this date is at The Three Broomsticks, a skirt might be more presentable. It’s about atmosphere, being both comfortably and appropriately dressed for that environment. Wear something that makes them feel good about themselves and it will show.”

“I like that,” Ginny admitted. “It’s not about the clothing so much. Thanks, Daphne.”

“Oh, I never said that,” Daphne interrupted. “A fashion faux pas should never occur. It could destroy the date. A fashion faux pas would be an absolute disaster!”

Ginny tried not to roll her eyes. She hardly thought the clothing choice would destroy the date, but she knew better than to get caught up in that conversation. “I think I can handle it from here.”

Ginny went back down to her writing, ignoring their bickering and wrote a quick response to Fashionably Clueless. She responded to another asking for advice on how to balance studying with healthy breaks, another on how to deal with nightmares (which she felt particularly skilled with), and one more asking about the best places to go in Hogsmeade. She made a few more notes on Murray before she decided to head back to Gryffindor Tower. A glance at the clock told her that Harry should have returned from his meeting with Dumbledore by now which meant she needed to come up with another task for him as her personal servant. Since Astronomy had been cancelled that evening because of rain, she’d used the extra time to get some of her writing done, but now she wanted to meet up with Harry. She just hoped he was free.

Pansy and Daphne were on the other side of the Herald huddled over their fashion board and whispering. Ginny heard snippets of the conversation as she packed up her things, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“But it’s Greg!”

“He’s generous and it’s not like you two haven’t fooled around before.”

“That’s not the point! Agnes has already written to me. She wants us to be friends.”

“Would that be so bad?”

Pansy looked down at the desk. “She’s sided with my father. It’s basically a done deal! It’s Greg or Vince.”

“Does Greg know?”

“That it’s a done deal? I don’t know. I’m trying not to think about it. Beatrice has written as well. She hopes to be expecting soon.”

“Since Gareth and Giselle are expecting, Daddy says I’ve been spared, but I don’t know for how long,” Daphne admitted.

Pansy nodded. “I want my shop. He’ll cut me off. Greg could potentially provide the gold for that.”

“You still have time to figure it out.”

When Ginny let the door close behind her, she couldn’t help but wonder what it was that Pansy had to figure out. Nor could she stop the little bubble of guilt from rising up and telling her that Pansy Parkinson didn’t have the perfect life she imagined. What was Daphne being spared from? Who was Agnes? And why did Pansy have to choose between Greg and Vince?

Ginny wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answers to any of her questions, but she did wonder what it was that made Pansy sound so desperate.

#a second chance #chapter sneak peak #harry potter fanfiction

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hockey-fics · 4 years

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Just Once ~ Vince Dunn (Part Four)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three |

Summary: Your history with Vince resurfaces when you both end up back in your hometown over the summer.

Word Count: ~ 2,000

Warnings: Nothing in this part.

A/N: What was it, six months since I posted the last update? I’m sure nobody cares anymore, but here’s more of the story I had written over the summer but was too unsure of to post.

Sitting at the patio table out back you listen only half-engaged to a story your cousin had been telling for at least twenty minutes about a bunch of money he had made in stocks. Nodding occasionally to indicate you hadn’t entirely zoned out was the only input you were providing.

“Y/N.” Your mom calling your name brings a breath of relief at the disruption in the story. Turning around you look over at her, watching her motion for you to come to the back door.

“Sorry, I’ll have to hear the rest of the story later,” you say to your cousin, already up from the picnic table and on your way towards the house. Walking up to the door you give your mom a curious look.

“Vince is here,” she tells you with a mixture of amusement and concern, like she wasn’t sure how she should react to it. She wasn’t the only one though, you weren’t sure how to react either.

“What?” You ask, stepping by her and heading into the house. “Why?”

Your mom laughs lightheartedly. “I don’t think I’m the one to be asking,” she tells you, stepping back outside and closing the door behind her, leaving you alone.

Walking through the house you find Vince standing in the entryway of your house, eyes locked on his phone. “What are you doing here?” you ask, stopping a couple feet away from him.

Vince looks up, sliding his phone into his pocket. “You really don’t want me to meet your family, hey?” he jokes.

“You’ve met my family, Vince,” you state harshly. “I was serious yesterday. I need this whole thing to cool down. I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clear enough yesterday.”

Vince steps closer to you, hand landing on your hip as he pushes you back against the wall. “I don’t want this to cool down and I don’t think you really do either.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” you whisper, placing your hand on his chest to keep some distance between you and him. “I’m just being realistic, I can’t keep my feelings out of this anymore so I can’t keep doing this.”

“Then let’s just make is official,” Vince says quietly. “Be my girlfriend.” Hearing those words sends a wave of surprise through you, a sentence you would never have imagined hearing him say in these circumstances. Your eyes search his, trying to figure out if he was truly asking you that, to determine how serious he was. There isn’t a hint of disingenuity in his eyes and your heart begins to race in your chest.

Speechlessly you shake your head, gazing up into his eyes. “I can’t,” you whisper. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, your body not wanting to go along with the words that were leaving your mouth. “You know we can’t, you’re leaving.” You can’t even bring yourself to look at him as you say it, worried you wouldn’t be able to remain composed if you did.

Vince reaches over, placing his hand on the side of your face, his thumb under your jaw as he tips your head back, taking away the option to not look at him. “People do it all the time.”

“Long distance?” you question skeptically.

“Yeah,” Vince mutters, not sounding all that convinced that even he was sure about the prospect of a long distance relationship.

You let the idea process for a minute, standing in silence as Vince seems to grow antsier with each passing second. “It would never work.”

Vince nods in response, not arguing for it. Like he knew it was the truth, that there was no point in arguing for something you didn’t fully believe in.

“You should probably go now,” you tell him, your voice so quiet you’re not sure he would be able to hear you if he hadn’t been standing almost pressed completely against you. Your fingers loosen on the fabric of his shirt, fingers still resting against his shoulder.

“Should I text you later?” Vince asks, his thumb brushing against your jawline.

You feel your eyes prickling with the threat of tears. “No,” you whisper, bringing your hand up and cupping over his, gently pulling it away from your face. “Please don’t.”

Vince hesitates for a second and you can almost see the wheels spinning in his brain. A moment later a look you’re not quite able to read crosses his face. “You’re really ending this right now?”

“I’m sure we didn’t have much time left anyway. You haven’t told me anything about when you’re planning to go, but I’m sure it’s soon.” You have to blink at a rate quicker than normal in order to cover up the tears forming in your eyes. “Right?”

“A week,” he tells you. You feel a couple tears escape from your eyes, past the wall you were trying so hard to hold up, and you quickly reach up to wipe them away even though you knew it was too late for Vince not to notice. “I had a good time this summer, I’m glad you were here, that I got to spend this summer with you.”

The sincerity in his comment threatens to break you down even further. As his lips part to say something more you cut him off. “Vince,” you say shakily. “Please don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”

Vince nods, leaning down and pressing his lips to your forehead. It’s so gentle and you have to fight against your physical urge to pull him back as he steps away. Perhaps he’s at a loss for words, or perhaps he realizes that there’s nothing left to say, but he doesn’t say anything else. You watch Vince pull back slowly, turning around and walking back to the front door. As he gets to the door your breath catches in your throat. You hadn’t expected him to look back. So when he does, when his eyes meet yours from where he was standing in the doorway, you’re convinced you can physically feel the pain of him leaving. Once the door is shut you rest your head against the wall behind you, forcing deep breaths of air into your lungs. You knew this was going to happen. It had never been a matter of if, it had always been when. But you hadn’t spent any time preparing for it. Hadn’t realized how upset the end of what was supposed to be a casual relationship would leave you. But it was inevitable. It had to happen. It just didn’t make it any easier.

“Mom said Vince was here,” your brother says loudly as he rounds the corner.

Quickly you run your fingers over your cheeks, wiping away the tears you had let slip from your eyes thinking you would have a few minutes alone. “He, um, he left. Sorry, I didn’t realize you wanted to say hi to him,” you tell your brother, not looking at him in hopes that he would miss the fact that you were crying.

You can sense without looking over that your brother hadn’t left when you said that, instead walking down the hallway until he was standing in front of you. “What’s going on? Why are you crying?”

Sniffling you cross your arms over your chest defensively, wanting to curl into yourself and disappear from this moment entirely. “It’s nothing, I’m fine. I just need a minute.”

“Did that asshole do something to you?” your brother asks, voice dripping with anger.

You let out a half-strangled breath of laughter. How quickly he went from coming in to say hi to Vince to looking ready to track him down and kill him was almost comical. “No,” you tell your brother. “It’s complicated.”

“You’re clearly upset, I’m not just going to let this go. Tell me what he did.”

“He didn’t do anything,” you insist, your tone rising in frustration. “I ended it with him.”

Your brother furrows his eyebrows. “I thought you two weren’t together.”

“We weren’t,” you mumble. “I told you, it’s complicated. Was. It was complicated.”

“Why did he come over here?” your brother asks, clearly not believing your story.

Fixing your eyes on the ground you try to come up with the answer to that. “I’m not totally sure,” you admit sheepishly. “But it doesn’t really matter because I’m not seeing him again.”

“Ever?”

Shaking your head you bring your hands up, quickly wiping away another round of tears that you couldn’t stop.

“Right,” your brother comments sarcastically. You watch him press his back into the wall, sliding down to sit on the hallway across from you. “Remember when we used to talk?”

Watching him sink to the ground, sitting like a child on the floor with his legs sprawled in front of him. “What do you mean? We talk.”

Your brother chuckles, his head resting on the wall behind him as he looks up at you. “Hardly. I had to find out you were seeing Vince again from mom.”

“Because I wasn’t actually seeing him. If things were serious I would have told you.” Crouching down you lower yourself onto the hardwood floor, sitting across the hall from him.

“You’re crying over him. It had to have been more serious than you’re making it seem.”

Sighing you pull your knees to your chest, arms folded over your knees as you rest your head on them. “Well it was never supposed to be serious.”

“What happened then?”

You sit in silence for a minute, trying to figure out the answer to that question. “I guess it’s just hard to keep things casual with someone you like so much,” you say as another round of tears fill your eyes. You keep your eyes fixed on a scuff on the floor a few feet in front of you, hoping your brother wouldn’t notice the way your eyes were glossed over again.

“Do you love him?”

The question catches you off guard. “No,” you reply easily despite the unexpectedness of the question. Sighing you lean back into the wall, head back as you stare up towards the ceiling. “It was, what, a month?”

Your brother chuckles. “Sure, a month, this time. But it’s not like you met him a month ago. How long were you together the first time?”

Shrugging you chew on the inside of your lip in contemplation. “A couple years, but it was on and off.”

“Even if you weren’t together for half that time that’s still a year,” your brother points out. “So it’s not that crazy to think you might have fallen back in love with him in a month.”

“Well I don’t. I don’t love him,” you state defensively. Your voice drops quieter as you continue, filled with less hostility. “I think I probably would have though, if we had more time, if I wasn’t trying so hard not to.” Your eyes remain locked on the wall ahead of you, though you can’t see much of anything through the blurry wall of tears in your eyes.

You feel your brother’s foot hit your ankle, drawing your attention to him. Blinking quickly you wipe your eyes yet again, not willing to full on cry, even though it was only your brother. “Hey, at least you’ve got experience getting over him,” your brother jokes.

Quiet laughter emerges from your lips. Not because it was actually funny. But because you were relieved that he was at least trying to lighten the mood. “Gotta find the silver lining somewhere, I guess.”

But no matter how much experience you had getting over him you were pretty sure there was no way to make it easier.

#vince dunn #vince dunn imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fic #hockey imagines #hockey fic #vince dunn fanfic #vince dunn fanfiction #nhl fanfic #nhl one shot #hockey one shot #st louis blues imagine #st louis blues fanfiction

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fromtheringapron · 3 years

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WWE WrestleMania XXVI

Date: March 28, 2010.

Location: University of Phoenix Stadium in Glendale, Arizona.

Attendance: 72,219.

Commentary: Michael Cole, Jerry Lawler, and Matt Striker.

Results:

1. WWE Unified Tag Team Championship Match: ShoMiz (The Miz and Big Show) (champions) defeated R-Truth and John Morrison

2. Triple Threat Match: Randy Orton defeated Cody Rhodes and Ted DiBiase Jr.

3. Money in the Bank Ladder Match: Jack Swagger defeated Christian, Drew McIntyre, Dolph Ziggler, Evan Bourne, Kofi Kingston, Kane, Montel Vontavious Porter, Matt Hardy, and Shelton Benjamin.

4. Triple H defeated Sheamus.

5. Rey Mysterio defeated CM Punk (with Serena and Luke Gallows).

6. No Holds Barred Lumberjack Match: Bret Hart defeated Vince McMahon. Bruce Hart was the special guest referee.

7. WWE World Heavyweight Championship Match: Chris Jericho (champion) defeated Edge.

8. Layla, Alicia Fox, Maryse, Michelle McCool, and Vickie Guerrero defeated Kelly Kelly, Beth Phoenix, Mickie James, Gail Kim, and Eve Torres.

9. WWE Championship Match: John Cena defeated Batista (champion) to win the title.

10. No Disqualification Career vs. Streak Match: The Undertaker defeated Shawn Michaels. Per stipulation, Michaels retired.

My Review

WreslteMania XXVI is a difficult show to sum up. It’s a pretty good WrestleMania, but also one that happens to be all over the place in tone and focus. Perhaps its reflective of how indeterminate the future of the WWE felt at the start of the 2010s. The roster was such a mishmash of eras that you’d be forgiven of not having a clue where the hell the company was going. John Cena, Batista, and Randy Orton were at the top of the card after their rise to superstardom in the 2000s, but the spotlight was still shared guys who rose to stardom in the ‘90s like Triple H and The Undertaker. Then there was a new generation of talent—The Miz, Sheamus, Drew McIntyre, etc. — bubbling in the undercard who seemed poised to rocket into the top at any moment. But wait! Time was also given to . . . the 13-year-old feud between Bret Hart and Vince McMahon?!? Suffice to say, with the show splintering off in so many different directions, it’s not surprising it has some misfires.

Let’s start with the good stuff, though. The main event between Undertaker and Shawn Michaels is fantastic and I’m gonna throw it out there that I like it more than their match from the previous year. The stakes feel higher, the suspense level feels higher, and there’s more of a story here than just Shawn needing to beat Taker. He puts his entire career is on the line here, for heaven’s sake! And speaking of his career, like many at the time, I didn’t have a clue this would be Shawn’s last match. Most on-screen wrestling retirements are never legit, so there was plenty of basis to believe this one would be no different. But alas, this one was different, and we get about as good a sendoff as we could’ve gotten for someone who’s been dubbed Mr. WrestleMania.

On another show, the WWE title match between John Cena and Batista would’ve been the main event. Their match here is great fun. It’s actually an end of an era for the two men who were crowned as the leaders of the next generation at WrestleMania five years earlier. Batista would move on to Hollywood shortly after this and, while certainly not his last WWE run, it would mark the end of his career as a full-timer. Interestingly enough, Batista was really coming into his own as a heel at the time of his departure, even winning over fans who previously couldn’t stand him. He would resurrect his heel run in 2014 and 2019, again only for a short spell. A shame we haven’t been able to spend much time with arrogant heel ‘Tista and his impeccable designer fashion, but then I guess that’s what makes it so special.

As for what doesn’t work, I probably don’t need to go into much detail about the Bret/McMahon clash. The basics of the story are solid — Bret gets his long-awaited revenge on McMahon, with his family right by his side. It’s just not super fun to watch in execution, however well-meaning it may be. They match is dragged out much longer than it should and it takes the crowd completely out of it. Another misfire is the Money in the Bank match. This would be the final iteration of the match at WrestleMania before it becomes its own pay-per-view. It’s clear the concept needs some rejuvenation by this point as it’s now a lazy, bloated affair where everyone gets in their allotted number of spots and there are way too many participants. To cap it all off, the ill-advised decision is made to push Jack Swagger into the main event scene, an idea which would run out of gas in a matter of months.

The show seems to have some weird pacing issues as well. In the era of the Network, I’ve grown so accustom to Manias being stretched to the point of exhaustion, so it’s always little odd to go back and watch one that feels like it doesn’t have enough time. It’s almost like it’s struggling to figure out how spread out time across a card so stacked. The tag opener and Rey Mysterio vs. CM Punk feel like abridged versions of the matches we would’ve otherwise gotten, while Bret vs. McMahon gets more time than either combined. Even Money in the Bank feels somewhat rushed. I’m definitely not a huge fan of WrestleMania becoming a seven-hour event, and WWE has proven they struggle with time management on longer Manias, but this is one show where it seems an extra hour absolutely would’ve been to its benefit.

At its best, WrestleMania XXVI is a nice sampler plate of eras, even if struggles to give you equal portions for all of them. The multi-generational makeup of the card ensures there’s a little something for everyone and even closes the books on a couple of legendary careers. You’re bound to dislike some it but for better or worse, and this is a cheeseball thing to say, it definitely puts the “showcase” in the Showcase of the Immortals.

My Random Notes

No joke, I really did not think this would be it for HBK and even seriously thought Taker’s streak was in jeopardy. Am I a fool for thinking that? Maybe, but I like that wrestling conned into believing it in a way it hardly ever does anymore.

I feel like the temple entrance set is something that should’ve been more impressive than it is in actuality. They just stacked LED screens on top of each other and just rolled with it. It looks like something from Minecraft.

Ah, this show reinvigorates my fond feelings for Matt Striker. Such a handsome chap! Not surprising at all he would appear on a Bachelor ripoff a whole decade later.

I chuckled at Bruce Hart being the special guest referee for Bret vs. McMahon. You just know he huffed and puffed his way into that one, much to Bret’s annoyance.

I also chuckled at Diana Hart-Smith walking down to the ring with her best “evil, vindictive femme fatale on the cover of a pulp novel” look. God bless her. She needs to write another book.

I know Rey singing Happy Birthday to his daughter is meant to be a heart-warming thing but if I were a kid in the same situation, I would be traumatized. Just think of how uncomfortable it is when a room full of people is signing at you and then think of enduring that in an arena filled with thousands of people. CM Punk did her a huge favor by crashing the moment, as far as I’m concerned.

Not saying anything new here, but the whole Spear thing with Edge is cringe as hell and it’s for the best that it’s been forgotten in the annals of his career.

I know some people like to mock Vickie Guerrero doing Eddie’s frog splash, but I personally thought it was a sweet moment while staying true to comedically heel Vickie.

The official theme song to this Mania is “I Made It” by Kevin Rudolf. A time-period appropriate choice, I must say. I feel like the dawn of the 2010s is the only time a Kevin Rudolf could be a success.

I identify myself as someone who will always be more embarrassed by John Cena haters than Cena himself and I gotta say him posing next to the guys in the front row hating his guts is fucking hilarious. Cena is funny sometimes when he just straight-up trolls.

On the Legacy fallout: The storytelling for this was weird as hell. Am I the only who remembers that one time on Raw where they teased Ted turning face and the crowd was actually kinda into it? Then they completely abandoned it for whatever reason and just had Randy be the breakout face (as if he needed it) and dunk on both Cody and Ted at WrestleMania. I feel like Cody’s AEW origin story more or less began here.

Awwwwe, this show has little baby Drew McIntyre. It’s so interesting watching this with the benefit of hindsight. I remember a lot of people Not Feeling It when he was anointed as the Chose One, and truthfully I wasn’t feeling it at the time either, but watching it back really makes you appreciate how much hard work he put in to get to where he’d be a decade later. A lot of folks were dreading the inevitable Drew world title run in 2010. The title run did happen, but it was much later and much more welcome than anyone back than anyone could’ve imagined.

#wrestlemania #wwe network #the undertaker #john cena

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livingmybestfictionallife · 4 years

Text

Live Wire --The Dirt--12

Summary: Wren Ledden, Tommy’s best friend from high school, has had a rough life, and she intends to keep the nitty gritty details of her suffrage to herself until the day she dies. Only Tommy has gotten her to open up about a small portion of her troubles, and it’s only Tommy who she trusts with her life. That is until her life gets turned around sneaking into a concert one night…the same night Motley Crue is born.

A/N: I’m going to try and update this more so I can work on some requests I have. As always, feedback is appreciated and I’m always down to talk the Crue with anyone :)

Previous Chapters: Masterlist

Adrenaline coursed through Nikki’s veins as he and Mick strummed the final chords of their set and gazed out into the audience. As the crowd roared their applause for the four misfits on stage, Wren turned to the man beside her with a slightly arrogant smirk resting on her face. She didn’t know how soon she should have approached him, but after using up all of her available resources of finding dive bars for the band to play in, and Nikki continually begging his boss to let Mötley Crüe play at the Whisky again and again, Wren figured now was as good of a time as ever.

“They’re good,” he stated. The salt and pepper of the man’s hair was different from how Wren the image she had of her grandfather’s brother from years ago, but his eyes were just as piercing and weary as she could recall. “Your mother would hate that you’re here. You know that, right?” Wren folded her arms over her chest and held her breath at the mere mention of her parents.

“They hate a lot of the things I like, and much of what I’ve done, but I’m not here to talk about my mother, Uncle Elmer. Grandpa taught me everything I know about the industry, and the one thing he said more than anything else was—”

“Talent is important, but knowing someone important will allow the world to experience that talent,” the tall, rather puffy faced man said as he recalled the nugget of wisdom his brother frequently spouted to anyone who was listening, but most frequently to young Wren in particular.

“You don’t have to vouch for them if you don’t think they have what it takes to make it. I can keep finding dive bars, sleazy clubs, anything it takes to get them the face time with audiences they need before booking the bigger venues, but you’re someone important, and me knowing you could allow the world to see all that these guys have to offer.” Wren didn’t smile or smirk; her face was firm and confident in her assessment of Mötley Crüe, and she only hoped her great-uncle would see what she saw in them. Sure, they were still new to the scene, and even though it felt as if they had only been together for a matter of months, they were encroaching on the year anniversary of forming the band.

Once again, the man’s eyes surveyed the crowd as teenagers and young adults jumped up and down, threw their fists into the air and chanted the band’s name in hopes they’d perform one last song before stepping off stage. Tommy’s eyes searched for Wren, but he gave up when he realized fighting against the blinding spotlights focused on him was bringing on a headache.

“They’re certainly something you don’t see every day,” Elmer commented as he trailed over each of the men standing on stage. “And keep selling out each time they play here at the Whisky.” With a sigh, Elmer Valentine shoved his hands into his pockets and pulled out a pen. “Call this number and I’ll make sure your band gets a back-to-back, two-night performance at The Roxy,” he said as he scribbled down a telephone number under the words ‘Roxy Theatre’. “I’ll also put a few calls in to some colleagues and friends about having them perform at other venues.”“Other venues?” Wren asked as she took the napkin her great-uncle had written on and slid it into her back pocket.

“The Troubadour, The Starwood, maybe even Gazzarri’s and the Santa Monica Civic Center,” he said nonchalantly with a smirk on his face as he watched Wren’s face beam excitement.

“You’re the best, Uncle Elmer,” Wren said with a wide smile as she peered up at the first person in her family, aside from her grandfather, to believe in her. “Thank you so much!”

“Don’t mention it, kiddo,” he said before reaching out to envelope Wren in a quick hug. “Just keep us being relatives under wraps. Connections are one thing, but nepotism is another.” With a quick nod of understanding between the pair, Wren shook her great-uncle’s hand one more time before she began to push her way past the crowd and towards the green room as she heard Vince call into the microphone, “Once again, we are Mötley Crüe. Don’t forget you can buy t-shirts and shit at the bar! Good night Los Angeles!”

Backstage, a few employees of The Whisky began to pack up Tommy’s drums and carry the instruments and amplifiers to the beat-up van the band had been using to transport their belongings between the house and shows. The guys were hurrying to scrub the makeup they had on their faces off with wet washcloths, and buzzed from the electricity in their bones from the performance they just gave.

“This is amazing!” Tommy bellowed as he tossed the rag he used to clean his face towards the travel bag of makeup Wren had brought along. “They love us!”

“Three performances here isn’t enough to get us on the map,” Nikki reminded him solemnly. “We just have to hope we made some money off t-shirt and cassette sales to book a pat-to-play gig or something.”

“Do you really have that little faith in your manager?” Wren questioned as she entered the green room to see Vince beginning to strip himself out of his stage costume in order to change into his normal clothes. Confidently, Wren walked to where Mick and Nikki sat and held a crisp check over her beaming smile. “You guys made three-hundred dollars in sales,” she said as she passed the check to Mick, who then showed it to the rest of the band.

“No way!” Tommy gasped as he ran towards Mick to stare at the proof of their profit.

“We’re going to celebrate! Tonight!” Vince stated. ��I already told some fans to come to the house for an after party, so you can’t say no!” Excitement spread through every fiber of Tommy’s being and Nikki became almost as excited as Tommy.

“Well, if you’re going to celebrate something, it’s not going to be making a few hundred bucks,” Wren said as she leaned her back against one of the vanities positioned against the wall. As Mick noticed an all-knowing smirk on her face, he spoke first.

“Alright, I’ll bite. Do you have something you’re not telling us, Ledden?” Her smirk seemed to transfer to his lips and she bit her lip before spilling her small secret.

“Certain connections and scouting have led to Mötley Crüe getting a two-night performance at the Roxy.” Before Wren could finish her sentence, Tommy had her hanging in the air like a rag-doll between his arms as he swung her around in circles.

“How in the hell were you able to pull that off?” Vince questioned with a large smile on his face.

“Grandpa’s old radio station friends?” Tommy guessed as he placed Wren back on the ground and began to twirl his drumsticks as a way to channel the energy surging through him.

“Something like that,” Wren commented. “And that’s not all. There’s talk of securing places like the Troubadour and some pretty big venues too.”

“Damn,” Nikki sighed as he came over to thank Wren for not only believing in the band, but getting shit done to promote them. “What would we do without you?”

“Crash and burn,” she smirked with a light chuckle as Nikki draped an arm across her shoulders and squeezed before he quickly let go. It was short, sweet, and friendly, but that didn’t keep Mick, Tommy, or even Vince from scrutinizing every millisecond of the interaction.

*** *** *** ***

The clock on the wall read half past two in the morning, but no one seemed to notice the time. The small, cramped apartment felt even smaller and more cramped with each passing moment as more people seemed to filter into and out of the Mötley home through whatever crevasse they could find. Like roaches, people who had attended the band’s performance crawled into and through their home, except in some cases, Wren definitely preferred the roaches. She and Mick lingered on the outside of the chaos that seemed to be unfolding in ever square inch of her home, and each did their best to distract themselves with burning liquids.

“Not one for parties?” Mick questioned as the pair leaned against the window sill and looked out across the sea of sweaty people.

“Not one for people,” she responded as she pulled a plastic cup to her lips and tasted the sweet, burning concoction of Dr. Pepper and Amaretto.

“Don’t like them?” Mick asked without taking his eyes off the scene before the pair.

“Don’t trust them. Everyone has a secret agenda or bullshit selfish endeavors,” she huffed her blanket statement into existence. The man beside her nodded in solidarity and the pair tried once again to relax and blend into the wall, but having Tommy rush to Wren’s side only began to draw attention to the two loaners.

“Wren, look!” Tommy gasped as he let out a puff of smoke in the shape of a ring. The distinctively sweet and earthy flavor tickled her nose as she caught a whiff of the smoke coming from Tommy’s mouth. “It’s just like band camp!” he gasped before handing the remainder of a joint off to her and disappearing into the crowd. Without hesitation, Wren placed her lips to the rolled-up paper she held delicately between her index and middle fingers and inhaled. Upon seeing Mick’s down-turned eyes, Wren let go of the breath she was holding and coughed once before she attempted to defend herself.

“It’s an occasional vice,” she tried to explain before he cut her off.

“I’m not your pops; you don’t owe me anything. You’re a smart woman.” With a nod and a smile in his direction, Wren took another, much shorter puff before letting her arm hang down.

“I’m really glad you’re here. This is probably going to be commonplace and it’s nice to not be the only person lingering in the background,” Wren admitted as she and Mick peeled themselves off the wall to make their way towards Tommy who was frantically waving his arms in their direction. In their walk over, Wren took a few more hits from the joint before it was gone and then disposed of it in an ashtray.

“Don’t mention it,” Mick huffed as he sat down across from Tommy and Wren placed herself between the two. Nikki sat across from her, his head ducked and his forehead placed against one of Tommy’s cymbals. The fuzzy feeling in her head and the chill that was taking over her from her core initially distracted her from the scene that was unfolding before her. There was a heavy inhaling sound before Nikki pulled his head up, widened his eyes, and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his leather jacket. Wren closed her eyes and blinked rapidly to clear any conclusion jumping from her mind, but when Tommy mimicked Nikki’s actions and her eyes caught sight of the white powder, her pounding heart turned to lead and the chills caused her to begin to shake.

“What the hell?” she asked as her now bloodshot eyes darted from Tommy to the drugs before her.

“Did you want some?” he asked only to have Wren slap him in the back of the head.

“No, I didn’t ‘want some,’” she sneered as she despairingly mocked him. “You two are going to fuck things up for Mötley Crüe before you ever make it out of LA!” Wren’s accusing tone caused Tommy to mentally shut down. Only once before had he she ever been truly angry with him, and it was something he vowed to avoid at all costs; however, Nikki scoffed as he reached for the cymbal to do another line. In a wave of anger, Wren grabbed the instrument and turned sharply on her heel towards the bathroom.

“Wren!” Nikki called as he rushed after her. “Wren what are you doing?” Without thinking to knock, Wren threw open the door and turned on the sink before placing the cymbal under it and rinsing the remainder of cocaine down the drain. “What the fuck, Wren?” Nikki grumbled as he placed his hands on her waist and spun her around to face him. Now completely freezing from the weed-chills, Wren’s fingers were unable to sustain their grip on the cymbal and the loud crash it made as it fell to the ground sent a painfully long ringing through both her and Nikki’s ears.

“What the hell is going on out there?” a voice behind the shower curtain called out. Before Wren could turn her head, the curtain flew open to reveal Vince and Lovey, each topless, sitting in the bathtub with a syringe plunged into their arms.

“It’s just your bassist trying to fuck the band’s original groupie,” Lovey commented in an aloof and airy tone with a laugh in her voice, however, unlike her usual insults, which were met with fierce, deadly glares, she was unable to hold eye contact with Wren for longer than a few seconds.

“Find a different room, Nikki. We’re using this one,” Vince muttered in the same incoherent tone as his girlfriend.

“Are you fucking shooting up?” Nikki grumbled as he threw the rest of the shower curtain open and glared down at Vince. “You’re chewing my ass out when blondie is fucking injecting,” Nikki groaned as he turned back to face Wren.

“You’re both fucking pathetic for using coke in the first place!” Wren shouted in response as she tried to contain herself from shaking too violently.

“Says the woman who’s high—”

“Half a joint is different from fucking cocaine!” Wren quickly retaliated.

“What’s the big deal? All the greats do it,” Vince returned with a goofy grin over his face.

“The big deal is that you guys are still, essentially, nobodies! You have a f-few good shows and a do-it-yourself, demo tape and y-you think you’re hot shit! You d-dumbasses are going to throw everything if you don’t grow up!” Frustrated and angry at a solid seventy-five percent of Mötley Crüe, Wren left the mess she had made in the bathroom—cymbal on the floor, water running, Nikki fuming, and Vince floating through the air—and to return to the only sound mind in the band besides her. “You’re both useless,” she said on her way out as she angrily slammed the door behind her.

“Someone isn’t getting laid tonight,” Lovey sneered at Nikki who glared at the woman before throwing the door open and then closed again to follow Wren in an attempt to make things right. As he tried to hurry after her in his inebriated state, he could feel himself growing angrier and angrier as a drunk, male party-goer continued to place himself in front of Wren, therefore blocking her from going anywhere.

“Back off,” Nikki could hear her defiant voice command before he watched as Tommy stood and staggered his way towards his best friend.

“Dude, leave her alone,” Tommy slurred.

“You haven’t spent more than a minute with her tonight, so I know she’s not your girl. If anything, the old grump has more to say than you,” the man commented as he jutted his head towards Mick.

“She’s not the person you want to fuck with, dude,” Mick commented as he followed Tommy towards the commotion.

“Come on, you’ve been warned three times now,” Nikki commented as he pushed himself between the man and Wren, “show some respect or get the fuck out!” As Nikki lengthened his spine to use his height over this man to his favor, the shorter, much stockier man’s chest had puffed out and his voice deepened as he threatened Nikki.

“Make me motherfucker,” he panted in an angry and determined tone as he dug his fingers into Nikki’s collarbones and shoved him backwards until he toppled over into Tommy. In a rage at the man for cornering her, at Nikki and Tommy for snorting coke, and at Vince for shooting up, Wren sent her leg flying up into the man’s groin. As he doubled over in pain, she shoved her fist across his face in a swift motion, sending the man to the ground in a moaning pile of drunk trash.

“I’m going to bed,” she announced angrily as she stepped over the crumpled and agonizing body on the floor and threw the door open to her room. “Get the fuck out!” she shouted at the two or three couples thinking they were about to get it on in her room before they went scurrying away like rats through a storm drain. Nikki swore he could hear the lock click on her door over the noise and chaos unfolding in the rest of their apartment, but he was too angry and embarrassed to do anything other than watch as Tommy and another party-goer threw the man outside of the house.

A moment ago, he wanted to apologize, to make a deal with her, to promise he wouldn’t do anything to compromise what he knows she’s been busting her ass for him to achieve, but now? Now he felt small, weak, even emasculated by the fact that a girl just laid out the guy he was trying to protect her from. Who fucking does that? He thought as he shrunk away from the party and out, into the night and onto the front porch. A man defends a woman. It’s that simple. She made you look weak, even dependent. As the thoughts circulated in his mind, Nikki glanced at the two lawn chairs that over looked the street below. The softness in his heart he felt towards her that morning had begun to fade, and the more he thought about how embarrassed he felt in that moment that seemed to hang, frozen in time, the higher the walls he was constructing became. Nikki pursed his lips and clenched his jaw as he sharply inhaled the night air. With anger in his heart and a ferocious grimace on his face, he pushed past the partiers until he too had sunken into the dark, stillness of his room.

Tags: @prettyyoungandbored, @hot-young-runningfree, @crue-sixx, @oskea93, @dancergirl5527, @thatonemoviefan, @casualcomputerarbiter-blog, @motleymachinegun, @motleycrueee, @motley-queen, @american-satanxx

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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Fifty-Five

A/N: I'm dedicating this chapter to @xpoisonousrosesx , HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY, BEAUTIFUL!! I hope it was a good day, and I pray this is your best year yet. I love you!!💕💕

Words: 3.8k

Warning(s): explicit language, mentions of drug abuse

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I smooth the hair dye through Nikki's roots, wiping my forehead with my forearm as he chatters on and on about the album.

"Tommy's fixed on making a song about strippers, and Mick's giving pretty good riff ideas, but Vince is too busy frying in the fucking sun to give a shit. As usual." He complains and I lick my lips and keep quiet. "Don't even get me started on how I showed him 'Veins' and he outright said he wasn't singing that 'shit'. If he doesn't like the fucking lyrics he can get his ass off the fucking beach or pull his cock out of cheap-bitch pussy and write a fucking song himself. Lazy fucking bastard. Then he wants to groan about how hard he works. Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't aware standing in front of a microphone and giving half-assed vocals is so fucking exhausting--which counting how much energy he spends talking back to me or Mick or Tommy, he probably is exhausted by the time he's done laying vocals and blowing load after load down a line of groupies' throats while Sharise is at home taking care of their fucking child. Fucking asshole."

"Vince has always been that way. I don't know why you're just now realizing this." I mumble, sectioning off another piece of his hair before glopping dye onto it.

"No, no. He had an attitude to begin with but it was the perfect amount for the band. Now he's getting singer syndrome and I'm not dealing with his prima-donna bullshit."

"He's not perfect, Nikki, maybe he's just going through something and he'll get better once whatever it is passes."

"He's not going through anything, he's just drinking again." He states and I raise my brows.

"Nikki, he's not drinking again."

"Yes, he is."

"How do you know?"

"I know what beer smells like. He reeks of it anytime he's in the studio."

At least it's not crack.

"So, this song about strippers..." I change the subject, starting on another section of his hair.

"Tommy just has the main tagline of the chorus in his head and we're working on lyrics and music for it, now. I think it'll be a good single."

"What's the main tagline for the chorus?"

"I can't tell you, it's a surprise." He grins when I step out from behind him to look down at him. "But you'll like it."

"Whatever you say." I sigh, finishing his hair, taking the gloves up. "Alright, leave it in for twenty minutes then we'll go rinse it out." I tell him, turning my back to go throw the box dye supplies and empty bottle away.

"Hey, does this stuff stain the floor?" He calls while I'm in the kitchen.

"...Yeah." I reply before it hits me why he's asking.

I rush back into the dining room to see him swiping the towel that was once over his shoulders, being wiped back and forth against the floor by his boot, probably trying to soak up what dye he got on the floor.

"Nikki!" I exclaim.

"I'm getting it up." He reassures me, laughing me off.

"It's getting on your shirt now!"

"You know how to get it out in the wash, though, so it's fine." He shrugs, smirking at me and I have to keep myself from screaming at him, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Okay. Okay." I say to myself, aloud, feeling his hands hold at my waist and I open my eyes, looking up at his dye soaked hair that's dripping down his shirt now that he doesn't have his towel on his shoulders to protect him. "You wouldn't take your shirt off before I started dyeing your hair, you wouldn't keep your towel over your shoulders and now you have dye on your shirt and I'm gonna have to scrub at it with vinegar and soap. You are a child. I am married to a man-child."

"You can spank me if you want to." He raises his brows and I have to keep myself from cracking up, holding back my smile.

"It's not funny." I tell him.

"It is." He argues.

"No it's not."

"It kind is."

"No, it's no--ahh!" I squeal, jerking away from him as he tickles me.

He stops in a split second, his eyes focused on something over my shoulder.

I turn my head to see Vanity standing at doorway, and I can practically feel the anger rolling off of her as she grinds her teeth.

She doesn't look as sweet as usual.

"Where the hell were you last night?!" She asks him, and I feel him tense up like a cat with it's fur standing up due to being threatened.

"With my wife."

It seems like she twitches at the word "wife" before she rolls her jaw.

"That's the third time you've bailed on plans made with me, Nikki. I'm really starting to get the impression you don't wanna be friends anymore."

"I've been working on music and trying to take a step back from the drugs, Vanity. When I feel like going down hill again, I'll give you a call." He states to her and she glares daggers at him before looking at me.

"You should be very proud of him, Vivian, I mean, really." She sarcastically let's out. "He really takes his marriage so serious."

"Vanity, you're stoned. Get lost." Nikki orders her and that seems to make it worse.

"Get lost?! I'm trying to figure out what's wrong, Nikki, and why you don't want to see me, so I can fix it!"

"And I'm telling you I'm busy working on the album, trying get sober, and, oh, yeah, spending time with Vivian because my life doesn't revolve around my friends. I have other priorities and you're not on that list anymore."

Her brown eyes shift to me, her jaw tightening and loosening the more she focuses on me.

"He only wants you around because you're sober. Just like he only wanted me around because I know how to have a good time."

"Vanity, I'm sure he'd be willing to hang out with you if you weren't constantly on something." I politely interject. "I was the one that suggested he manage his time spent with his friends that were involved in the things he was trying to get clean from." I add. "And we've been together for six years. I don't think he wants me around just for my personal preference of sobriety."

Her and Nikki seem to be having an entire conversation with just their eyes before she's letting out one last breath.

"Fine. Just call me up when you're desperate for an escape, again." She tells him before turning on her heel, stomping out of the house.

"What the hell was that about?" I ask him and he just shakes his head.

"Don't worry about it, Viv. She's fucking crazy." He mumbles, giving the direction she walked out in, one last glance before going to rinse his hair out in the shower.

When he gets out, I've got big, velcro rollers in my hair and I'm putting on makeup.

"Where you going tonight?" He asks me and I finish my mascara before giving a small shrug.

"Duff and I are gonna go try to see about finding him another place to move. They're starting on the album and when he starts getting money from it, he wants to get a nicer place." I explain.

"That's what you said last night, Viv. And the two nights before that." He adds, fixing his towel around his waist.

"Feel free to come with us, Nikki, I'm sure he'd love the company of another guy." I offer, not even realizing what he's getting at.

"Well, maybe I was gonna take you out." He tells me and I look at him for a moment.

"Nikki leaving me in a club while you go shoot up in the bathroom isn't 'taking me out'. It's using me as a coverup." I sigh.

"I'm off smack, Viv." He states, finishing smearing shaving cream over his jaw, picking his razor up.

"Is that why you were hanging out with Robbin last night?"

The thud of his razor hitting the sink has me jumping slightly, and I glance at him from the corner of my eye to see him staring at me, obviously pissed.

"Nikki, don't look at me like that. I'm being honest."

"For once." He scoffs out and I stop what I'm doing and focus on him.

"What's that suppose to mean?" I ask.

"I've just heard stuff, Viv, that's all." He informs me and I raise a brow.

"Heard what from who?"

"Vanity said she's seen you out with Duff more times that you've failed to mention to me." He throws.

"Oh, Vanity. The same woman you discredit because she's 'fucking crazy'?"

"She's not lying about that, Vivian, because she has no reason to. It's all in the fucking papers, anyway."

"What are you talking about?" I snap and he raises his brows before stepping out of the bathroom, coming back with a stack of cheap news papers...I'm on the cover of every one, with Duff.

I'm wearing church dresses in a few of them.

Shit.

"I didn't wanna say anything because I get that you're your own person and can do whatever, but you can kinda see why I scratch my head when my wife tells me church service ran late and then shows up on a magazine with another guy.

"Nikki, there's nothing going on." I reassure him, finishing my makeup.

"Then why the fuck have you been lying about it?"

"To avoid this!" I motion between us before grabbing the papers from him and throwing them towards the garbage can in the bathroom.

"If I was spending every sunday afternoon on a fucking date with some chick and lying to you about it, it'd be the end of the fucking world, Vivian."

"Duff isn't just some random person, Nikki. You know him. You're friends with him. Why the hell would anything happen? Do you really think I would do that to you--that he would do that to you, knowing that all you'd have to do is call him out for it publicly, once, and ruin his shot at music?" I ask harshly and he licks his lips.

"Next time you two hangout without telling me about it, I'll do just that. Don't fucking try me, Sixx. You're lucky I'm not kicking you to the curb for this shit." He states, his voice graveling.

"It would make sense for you to do that to me, Nikki, it really would. I stay with you after you treat me like shit, shoot me, ignore me, laugh at my fear for your life and safety and the second you think I'm spending a little too much time with my best friend--completely your paranoid opinion, by the way--I'm an embarrassing whore and you're wanting to kick me out of the house. I swear to God, I have no idea how someone can go from thinking they're God, to being an insecure little bitch."

"I don't care if you hang out with him but fucking tell me the truth about it!"

"Like you tell me the truth about Vanity?! How much time is she really spending at our house, Nikki, because almost every fucking time I go out and come back home, I'm getting whiffs of her perfume and freebase. And I know you aren't just around her to talk. When she's around, so is the crack."

"I'm not listening to this shit." He gives one last swipe of his razor over his skin before he's finished, getting the left over shaving cream off before grabbing his hair dryer.

"Yeah, you love putting the things I do under a microscope but the second Nikki's in the hotseat, it's an invasion of his privacy, right?!" I call after him as he slams the bathroom door behind him when he leaves.

I knew he was bound to find out I was lying to him, but when he did, I expected him to be angrier or make more of a show patronizing me for it. I didn't realize he didn't give much of a fight because he already had the sick gears in his mind turning.

I pull my dress and heels on, stepping through the house to find Nikki.

He's in Karen's room, probably venting to her about me, when I walk in to see him pacing back and forth in front of her bed while she patiently listens.

"Can I talk to you?" I ask him and he just looks me up and down before rolling his eyes, trudging toward me, shutting Karen's door behind him. "You're not an insecure little bitch. You have a reason to be upset with me and I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth about the Duff thing. But you overreact when it comes to me, Nikki, you really do. It's like you can have all the girls around you that you want, and I don't know who the hell they are, but the second a guy even glances at me, you're on the defense. Do you not trust me?"

"You lied to me about it, Vivian."

"To try to protect you."

"From what? There's nothing wrong with you and him hanging out!" He tells me, losing patience. "...Is there?"

"No, there's not, Nikki."

"Okay, then. I don't care. Apology accepted. Go have fun." He carelessly waves his hand to the door, but I know he does care, he doesn't accept my apology, and "go have fun" means "just fuck off and leave me alone."

So I do.

"Alright, bye."

"Bye."

He shuts himself back into Karen's room and I head to my car.

"You're All I Need" was written that night while I was out with Duff and once it was written, Nikki found trouble.

I unlock my car as Duff and I finish leaving the Franklin Plaza after just looking at one of the suites.

"I'm sold." He tells me.

"Really?"

"Yeah, why not." He shrugs and I chuckle.

"Okay, so now what?"

"We wait for a check, and then pack my shit--which consists of three t-shirts and two pairs of pants--and then move in." He says.

"Sounds good." I agree.

"Now, to celebrate..." He starts, thinking for a second. "...food, and then find the guys on the strip."

"Deal." I reply, heading to Denny's.

Once we're done eating, we decide to just walk down the strip in search of at least one of the other four members of Guns N' Roses.

Seeing Duff's car, that Steven borrowed, parked on the side of the street, we find a place to park.

"Rebel Yell" blares through the speakers of the Cathouse once we get inside, and we automatically look in the direction of the bar.

Like we expected, we see Slash, Steven and Izzy, all down drinks.

I pluck Izzy's hat off his head and turn it backwards before tugging at the end of Stevie's hair.

They snap around, and Izzy's lightly hitting my arm in retaliation while Steven's pulling me to him.

"The hell have you been?" He asks me over the music and I brush some of his blonde bangs from his eyes.

"I could ask you the same thing." I tell him, poking at the end of his nose and he kisses my cheek, squeezing me to him for a second.

"I've missed you." He states as Duff and Slash have a brief side conversation.

"Izzy." I acknowledge him and he nods a single time.

"Viv." He replies, taking a sip of his drink.

"Where's Axl?" I ask Stevie, glancing around.

"He's meditating in the bathroom." Steven in forms me and I furrow my brows.

"He's what?"

The blonde looks at me, takes his arm from around me, holds his hands out and touches the tip of his pointer finger to his thumb, closing his eyes for a second, imitating meditation.

"He's meditating." He repeats, obviously finding humor, chuckling when Izzy holds back a smile and knocks him in the arm.

"Better than doing smack in the bathroom I guess." I shrug.

"Oh, speaking of which." Izzy blows smoke past his lips, looking at me. "Nikki and a friend of his is in V.I.P. he came by and said, 'hey' to us and invited us over." He states.

"Why'd you say 'friend' like that?"

"'Cause she was hot." Steven states. "That Vanity chick." He adds.

"Are they still here?" I ask them and Izzy shrugs.

"Hell if I know. She's fucking coo-coo for cocoa puffs, though." Izzy says. "And she's touchy-feely. A little too much."

Izzy didn't like Vanity because he could tell from first glance Nikki and her were fucking around.

The reason he didn't join Nikki in V.I.P that night was because he told Nikki I was more of a man than he ever would be with the shit he was pulling with Vanity.

That pissed Nikki off.

"I'll be right back." I say to them, heading to V.I.P.

I get in, seeing Vanity giving a near strip tease, completely absent from her mind while Nikki completely disregards her, staring off, looking like he just had a hit of junk.

I feel like I'm spying on him, being nosy, and turn to go back to the guys to avoid pissing Nikki off.

"You find him?" Steven asks me and I nod.

"Yeah."

"You find her?" Izzy asks next.

"Yeah. She's really not that bad, Iz."

His eyes nearly bug out of his head as he snaps his attention to me, scoffing out: "what?" in disbelief.

It occurs to him that I'm friends with her and his expression shifts to a sort of sadness before he's finishing his drink and quickly brushing off his demeanor.

He started to slowly distance himself from Nikki after that...that was a low even he wouldn't try to swing to.

Izzy never told me about Nikki and Vanity, not to protect Nikki, but to protect me.

I couldn't be angry at him when I found out he had known, because I knew without a doubt he would have told me had he thought I would have been able to handle it.

The rest of the night ends with me trying to keep a drunk Steven, Slash and Duff out of trouble with Izzy and Axl encouraging their foolery.

When it gets time for them to start going home or either finding chicks to go home with, all seem to disappear...except for Duff.

I'm walking him back up to their apartment, laughing as he almost face plants, stumbling over himself, giving out a sound that sounds almost like Goofy's laugh from Mickey Mouse, only making me laugh harder.

"Sorry." He tells me, grasping at my hand to steady himself so he can get the key for the apartment out of his jacket pocket.

"It's fine." I say when I calm down.

I watch him struggle to get the key into the doorknob.

"That's weird, I usually always can get it in the hole." He says as a joke, and my face turns red as he laughs at himself. "That was a pretty good one."

"Yeah, it was."

"Here, you do it." He hands me the key after struggling some more and I easily unlock the door, causing him to stare at me.

I just smile a little and make my way into the apartment.

"You need help with anything else or you got it?" I ask him as he steps in behind me, taking his jacket off and leaving it in the floor, going to the kitchen.

I pick his jacket up and place it on the couch, going to the kitchen to see him pull a bottle of vodka out.

"No, no." I calmly stop him, gently plucking the bottle from his hands. "You've had plenty for tonight. You're gonna be sick tomorrow." I explain.

"Oh, yeah." He doesn't argue and I put it back where he got it as he leans against the counter.

"Get some sleep. I'll see you later." I order after a second of him just looking me up and down.

"Wait, wait." He stops me, his hand enveloping mine.

"What is it?" I ask him.

"Can we talk about something?"

I feel a lump form in my throat and I blink at him.

"It's really important."

"O-Okay." I nod.

"Viv, I love you." He says. Relief fills me, not even giving a thought to him meaning it differently, and I grin up at him.

"I love you, too, Duff." I say and he scrunches his face up in frustration.

"No, I, like, love you." He repeats, and I raise my brows.

"I-I love you, too."

"That's not what I'm trying to say." He argues, rubbing his face.

"Well, what are you trying to say?" I ask and he groans.

"I love you."

"Duff, I know you do. I said--"

"--That's not what I'm trying to say, Vivian." He starts getting flustered.

"Well, what are you trying to say, Du--" I'm cut off with his lips on mine, despite his sudden move, it's a sweet kiss that doesn't last but a few seconds, not even giving me time to react, once he pulls away.

"I love you." He repeats and it clicks in my mind what he means.

I just slowly blink up at him, the breath taken out of my body as my mind races.

"Duff," I say, catching my breath. "I love Nikki that way."

"I know. And you don't have to feel that way for me, I just needed to tell you, Viv." He says.

"Thank you, but you can't do that again." I tell him. "I'm married. To Nikki. Your friend."

"I only hangout with him because he's married to you."

"Duff."

"I'm just saying. He's a fucking asshole. He doesn't deserve you."

I don't take what he's saying seriously, he's drunk and tired.

My hands hold at his face, making him look me in the eyes.

"Get some sleep. I love you. Goodnight."

I played it off but I was terrified. I drove home that night a sobbing mess. Not because I was confused and didn't know whether to choose Duff or Nikki, I knew not having Nikki wasn't ever an option for me. I didn't want anyone else. But I was upset because I wished Nikki would have been more like Duff.

Once our affair ended, I realized Nikki was like my heroin.

And Duff was my krokodil, which is what some addicts, that are desperate enough, resort to shooting if heroin is unavailable.

It gives the body a bigger high, but does so much more damage than heroin...even if it doesn't feel like it.

#nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx x oc #gateway drug

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