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thetomorrowshow · 2 years

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poisoned rats in a pot of grain - ch 12

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here it is folks, final installment of posioned rats but NOT the final installment of the superpowers au! there's still the last chapter of scott's backstory and a multitude of one-shots to be posted :) hope that this provides some main-arc-ending closure tho jskhdfjk

cw: discussion of stockholm syndrome, implied/referenced past abuse

It’s been three months that Jimmy’s lived in the big house in the center of the hero district (AKA, Scott’s house), and while he never feels like he’s getting any better, he also just can’t shake any of the weird feelings he has for Scott.

It’s undeniable. Scott is the best thing that has ever happened to Jimmy. Scott’s offered him safety, security, a place that isn’t a hospital, and he’s given so much more than was in the original deal. Home-cooked meals, a grounding presence, movie nights with popcorn and laughter, hugs, a friend, a confidant. Even on Jimmy’s worst days, he knows that Scott is there for him, will tell him again and again that he’s safe and he’s out of there and he’s never going back. No matter how annoying he is. No matter how many times he asks.

It’s undeniable. Jimmy is in love with Scott. Which is highly unfortunate, because there is no way Scott feels the same way about him.

Scott’s not only perfect and put-together, but he’s untouchable. He’s everything the city stands for, and his reputation as a pinnacle of light can’t be sullied by anything less than what he is and deserves.

Jimmy is . . . well.

So when Scott approaches him one evening, fidgeting with his phone after a long call that Jimmy hadn't heard any of, he knows what he has to do.

“Lizzie’s just gotten her own place, and she wanted to know if you’d like to stay with her,” Scott says, voice uncharacteristically nervous. “She’s still going through the legal process of reclaiming her identity from when she was presumed dead, so I would still have conservatorship for a little while, but I wouldn’t mind at all if you wanted to move in with her. She lives in a more accessible part of the city, she’s actually related to you, you wouldn't have to put up with me anymore . . . you know. We just thought it might be a better option for you.”

As Scott shifts and doesn’t quite make eye contact, Jimmy knows. Scott is uncomfortable with him. Scott doesn’t like him. Scott is through with putting him up. He’d done more than was required, anyway. Jimmy doesn’t blame him for wanting to get rid of him. Only one person in his entire life has wanted to keep him and that person—

“You don’t have to choose now,” adds Scott, eyes still fixed on some point over Jimmy’s shoulder. “I just wanted to let you know that it’s an option.”

There’s not really a choice to be made, though, is there?

“Yeah, I—” Jimmy swallows, “I’d love to stay with Lizzie. That—when?”

Scott’s expression is unreadable. “You can stay as long as you like, but she said the earliest you could come is Wednesday.”

Three days.

When Scott leaves to make dinner, Jimmy stows himself away in the corner beside the guest bed that is no longer his and cries.

Midday on Wednesday, he moves out. He packs a trash bag with his still admittedly few possessions into the back of Lizzie’s Toyota Corolla, waves goodbye to Scott (he doesn’t want to hug him, doesn’t want to make this any harder for himself), and joins Lizzie in the front seat, pulling the hood of his drawstring-less grey hoodie over his face.

She tries to make small talk on the drive. Jimmy can’t find the voice to respond. Eventually, she falls silent.

Her apartment isn’t too far from the hero district, and it’s quite a bit nicer than Jimmy’s old apartment that he’d never gone back to. She shows him his room, smaller than the guest room in Scott’s house but bigger than his cell. She leaves him to make lunch and Jimmy stands in the middle of the room and tries not to cry.

He would know if he succeeded if he could see past the blurriness.

Lizzie seems far more determined than Scott was to get him out of the apartment.

At first it’s small things, things that Jimmy actually agrees to, like getting a membership to the gym down the street since he wants to keep building his strength but Lizzie doesn’t have any of the necessary equipment. She gets one as well, even though he knows that she doesn’t have much in the way of money, and they work out together three times a week in the mornings before she leaves for work.

It’s terrifying, being in a gym, working out, all those people around so many people all seeing when his hoodie rides up a bit and the whipping scars on his back are briefly visible, but if people notice they don’t say anything and neither does Lizzie. It doesn’t get any easier, but it doesn’t get any harder either, which is a win in Jimmy’s book.

But just as soon as he feels like he can handle that, Lizzie’s pushing him to do other things. Go shopping with her. Go to the new ice cream place together. Hang out at the mall. And sometimes he acquiesces, sometimes he goes along because he knows that it’s good for him and Lizzie hasn’t seen him in years, but sometimes he has to put his foot down. The mall is a place ripe with triggers, and it had taken just a glimpse of someone wearing a collar-like choker for Jimmy to instantly dissociate, unresponsive until Lizzie brought him home.

That hadn’t been nice, and Jimmy doesn’t intend on going to the mall again any time soon.

He does try, though, to go places with Lizzie that aren’t just the gym and therapy. She’s meaner than Scott, as he complains to Nora one day, and actually makes him do things that he doesn’t want to do. Nora just tells him that maybe that’s what he needs right now.

He really doesn’t believe that when Lizzie sets him up for a date.

“She’s really nice! She works in administration, I think you would like her!”

It doesn’t matter if he would like her. Jimmy does not want to go on a date with some woman he’s never met! Is it that hard to understand? He’s told her over the past three weeks that he’s fine with her pestering him about going places, but not about meeting people. All it had taken was two men in an alley to send him to hell—who’s to say this woman won’t drug his drink and take him away?

Lizzie understands his anxieties without him expressing them, and maybe that’s just because he hides in his room staring at the wall for hours after she brings it up, but she understands anyway. She promises that she and Joel will be there the entire time, making it a double-date if he wants that.

Jimmy doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it at all.

But he’s got to get over Scott.

Scott calls every night. It’s part of his duties as conservator, probably. He always asks to speak to Jimmy. Jimmy’s throat always closes up before he can manage a single word.

Scott’s visited twice since Jimmy’s been here, once to make sure the living conditions were adequate for his (soon to be Lizzie’s) charge, and once because Lizzie invited him for dinner. Both times Jimmy had felt almost as anxious as he had when Lizzie first came to see him, and both times he found that he couldn’t speak.

Scott seems more tired than usual. He seems stressed. He frowns more often than he smiles. Jimmy just wishes he could make everything better for him, solve all his problems.

Scott doesn’t feel that way about him, though. To Scott, he’s just another responsibility weighing him down.

So Jimmy goes on the date.

And when she’s nice, but gives him weird looks when he has to do breathing exercises, he doesn’t suggest a second one.

The second coworker Lizzie brings in is impatient with him, snaps at him when he doesn’t know how to choose from the plethora of items on the menu, and straight-up leaves when he starts panicking over the sound of the door to the restaurant swinging open. Lizzie’s entirely on his side when he says he doesn’t want to see her ever again.

And the third person Jimmy goes on a date with—a man that Lizzie had once again met at work and who had seemed up for a double date—is Mythics. Jimmy knows it is, even though he’s never seen the man’s face.

Joel knows it is too, judging by the way he spends more time staring wide-eyed at his drink, trying not to laugh. He doesn’t do anything to rescue Jimmy, as many times as Jimmy silently begs him.

And Mythics, surprisingly, is both kind and funny, and while Jimmy certainly doesn’t have a good time (the last time they’d met had been under very bad circumstances, and even seeing him makes his entire body light up in fear), it’s somehow better than his last date. Still a disaster, especially when Jimmy has a flashback when the waiter accidentally spills ice water on him and Mythics panics and just . . . pats his hand awkwardly.

After that, Jimmy tells Lizzie in no uncertain terms that he is not going on another date. She doesn’t argue with him about it.

Somehow, seeing all the romantic opportunities in his life just makes him miss Scott more.

“Jimmy,” Lizzie says, plopping down on the sofa beside him, “go back to him.”

It’s been two months that Jimmy’s lived here, and while Lizzie’s a good roommate and an even better caretaker (when he needs it), Jimmy desperately misses Scott. Scott still calls every evening for some reason, but it’s not the same. It’s not the same walking into the kitchen without him there, it’s not the same without hearing his voice from the guest room and immediately perking up, it’s not the same without those strong arms holding him and lulling him to sleep after a bad flashback.

Still, Jimmy’s rather skilled at schooling his face into unreaction, and he thought he’d been rather subtle about his feelings. So when Lizzie stares at him, waiting for his words, all Jimmy can manage is, “How did you know?”

Lizzie snorts. “Are you kidding? You’ve been moping around the apartment the exact same way you did when Sara Little turned you down for homecoming. Why do you think I set up all those dates, moron?”

Well, she’s not wrong. She’s also not done, though.

“And it’s not like you’ve said anything to Major, so I know you haven’t told him how you feel—you never even talk when he’s on the phone, no matter how many times he calls.”

He still doesn’t, that’s true, but even after all this time when Scott calls and Lizzie puts him on speakerphone, the words once again get stuck in his throat and nothing he does can force them out. It had taken him a while to find his voice around Lizzie in the first place, and losing those words usually means he’s mute for the rest of the night, and it’s so awkward trying to get Lizzie to work out what he wants to say.

(It was always so much easier around Scott.)

With a questioning gaze from her and a nodded permission from him, Lizzie lays her hand on his arm. “Do you really like Scott?”

He thinks for a moment.

None of his relationships have gone far. Aside from Lizzie’s disastrous attempts at getting him a romantic life, he’d had a girlfriend briefly in high school, and since then a couple of short-lived flings when life became too miserably lonely to bear. Nothing’s lasted. He hadn’t wanted anything to last.

If—not that it’s a possibility, not that Scott likes him that way—if he was dating Scott, he would very much want it to last.

“Maybe?” he croaks, rubbing his face. “I don’t—I don’t know. It’s weird, because like . . . he saved me? Is it—” and this is what’s really been holding him back, isn’t it, this dark thought that dwells in his heart— “is it wrong to fall in love with the person who’s taking care of you? Is that like—could it be some sort of Stockholm Syndrome, or something, or—”

“Jimmy,” interrupts Lizzie. “It’s not Stockholm Syndrome.”

“But if—”

“Stockholm Syndrome inherently involves developing positive feelings for an abusive captor,” Lizzie says, putting meaningful stress on the last two words. Jimmy’s face burns; he knows why she said it like that.

“You’re saying I’ve had Stockholm Syndrome before.”

Lizzie shrugs. “Just guessing, based on what your flashbacks have been like. Do your feelings for Scott seem anything like the feelings you had for Xornoth?”

A sharp shudder runs through Jimmy at the name. One hand flies to his hair, ruffling it a bit, the other to his throat, making sure there’s no press of leather.

“No,” he says eventually, thinking of the beatings, the cage, being forced to hold a kneeling position for hours on end, not being allowed to speak unless commanded by his master, the lazy smiles Xornoth had given him when he did well, the scarred words on his skin.

And then those give way to thoughts of Scott helping him back to reality after a bad flashback, running to get him water, asking him his opinion on any sort of decision, joking with him, carrying him to bed after he falls asleep while watching a movie, giving him space when he needs it and willing attention when he doesn’t, engaging him in genuine conversation and getting to know him and asking his preferences and remembering them. . . .

“No,” he affirms, stronger. “No, Scott’s different. He’s—” he tries to put into words some of his thoughts— “he’s so sweet, and he always checks in with me, and he wants my opinion—” and Jimmy’s thoughts turn to a different sort of opinion of his, one to do with abs flexing under a skin-tight suit and dimples in round cheeks and wavy cyan hair and a rough voice in the mornings. . . .

Lizzie’s watching him with a smile that says she knows exactly what he’s thinking about and Jimmy knows his face must be tomato red. “Um,” he squeaks, voice cracking, and she bursts out laughing.

When she’s recovered, and he’s recovered as well, she rubs his upper back in that awkward way of hers that he thinks is meant to be a hug but comes across on just this side of uncomfortable and stares directly into his eyes.

“You should tell him,” she says sincerely. “You’ve been through so much. It can’t be any harder than any of that.”

She’s right, but this is an entirely different category from everything else that’s happened in his life. And sue him if he hadn’t realized that actually confessing to Scott was even an option, Nobel Peace Prize winner and prime protector of the city and all else he entails. Scott’s meant to be untouchable.

Well. That was before Jimmy lived three months in his home.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Lizzie prods.

“He could turn me down.”

“Okay. And then we’ll go out for ice cream and watch sad movies and cry about it and then it’ll be over. No pining after him for months on end.”

And maybe, just maybe, Lizzie has a point.

And with the way she carefully looks away and can’t quite keep a small grin off her face, Jimmy wonders if she knows something he doesn’t.

Lizzie’s waiting in the car. He can go right back if he needs to. Not until he tries.

He’s come a long way in the past half year. Six months ago, he never would have imagined standing in front of Major’s door, about to ask him out, while his sister waits to pick him up after.

The late hour, intended to prevent unwanted observers and to ensure Scott’s at home, reminds Jimmy of another night. Another time, long ago. A time when he had just escaped, bleeding out and staggering deliriously to Major’s door, hoping the hero might rescue him from the demon behind.

He freezes, hand poised to knock—you can’t see stars in the city but he’s seeing them at the edges of his vision, it hurts so terribly but he has to keep going, trip through Major’s front garden to the door, he raises his hand to knock but he doesn’t have the strength, it weakly slides down the door—and he’s back, body aching with phantom pains. There’s no blood on his nice blue sweater, no terrible injuries that make him wobbly and lightheaded. It’s just him and Scott’s door.

Then the door opens, and it’s just him and Scott.

Scott’s wearing his mask, but his face breaks into a grin when he sees Jimmy and he beckons him inside, closing the door behind and slipping off his mask. “I wasn’t expecting you! I told Lizzie you could visit at any time—I already ate, but there’s some tacos if you want—”

“Scott, I—” Jimmy interrupts, but he can’t continue. All his courage flees from him in a moment, and his knees are quivering and stomach flip-flopping and Scott is gorgeous. He’s so very pretty and his eyes are slightly confused and he tilts his head just a little bit to the side and Jimmy’s never been so nervous about something so good.

“You all right?”

It’s bad enough that he looks so perfect—he’s worried about Jimmy, he invites him in when he turns up unannounced and offers him food.

He can’t accept the hospitality before telling him. He has to admit to what he feels and run.

“Scott, Scott, I—” and then it’s all rushing out, too fast to stop— “Scott I really really like you and I ignored it ‘cuz I thought it was Stockholm Syndrome or something but then I talked to Lizzie and she said it sounded like I just have a crush on you, but Scott—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t like you like that, but I do and I can’t—”

“Jimmy—”

“—everything you’ve done to take care of me I sort of assumed it wouldn’t be appropriate, so if you feel uncomfortable I can go back home with Lizzie and you can transfer conservatorship to her and then you never have to see me again—”

“Jimmy!”

He freezes, ducks his head. He wishes he had his hoodie on right about now, but Lizzie had said something about nice first impressions.

There’s silence for a moment, then Scott holds out a hand in a silent question.

Jimmy takes it.

They stand there, the only sound the creaking of the wood floor beneath Scott’s bare feet. He lays his other hand atop Jimmy’s.

“Jimmy,” Scott repeats, more even, and Jimmy looks up to see—

Scott’s smiling.

He’s smiling and that smile sends bursts of light through Jimmy’s chest, and he can’t help but blush because all his brain is saying is he’s really really pretty.

“I’ve been planning to transfer conservatorship over to Lizzie for a while,” Scott tells him, and Jimmy’s heart doesn’t even have time to drop before Scott continues. “Because I really like you, Jimmy, and I wanted to ask you out but I didn’t feel comfortable doing so while I held that power over you. I didn’t—” he lets out an almost-sigh almost-whoop and squeezes Jimmy’s hand, “I didn’t think you actually liked me! That’s why—I thought, when you left to stay with Lizzie—”

Jimmy feels. . . .

Well. He’s not quite sure what’s happening.

His phone buzzes. He lets go of Scott’s hand and fumbles it out of his pocket to check it, wincing at how ridiculously bright the screen is.

“It’s Lizzie,” he manages when Scott raises a brow. “She—she wants to know if I told you yet.”

Scott moves past him, peers out the peephole in the door. “Is she here? She dropped you off, yeah?”

Jimmy doesn’t answer. Did Scott—did Scott say he likes him? Does Scott actually, genuinely, like him?

“You like me?” he finds himself whispering, searching Scott’s face for some sign of a lie. Scott giggles, just the tiniest bit.

“Yeah, Jimmy,” he says. “I like you. Like-like you. Is that okay?”

His head is light. His head is light and he’s not quite sure if he’s standing straight or lying out flat, but the most beautiful man in the world actually likes him. Wants to go on a date with him. Wants to hold his hand and kiss him and more.

“I think I need to sit down.” He stumbles into the nice living room without even kicking off his shoes as he’s supposed to, seeing as the nice living room is for guests and has the best carpet in the house. He sinks into the slightly uncomfortable sofa there (the one in the casual living room is much softer and more lived-in), feels his head flip-flop (like his stomach won’t stop doing) and his grip on reality loosen slightly. That’s not the best.

“Um, I might have a flashback?” Jimmy closes his eyes to try and combat the floatiness, rests his head back on the sofa. “I’m just really overwhelmed at the minute.”

“Okay. I’ll text Lizzie—do you want her to come in?”

“Yes,” Jimmy answers instantly, because even though he knows Scott well at this point and has lived for so long with him, the dynamic has changed in every way he can think of and he needs someone to make sure it doesn’t change any more right now.

Scott sits beside him, and it’s almost a normal night hanging out.

Scott really likes him. He really does.

Lizzie comes in and congratulates them, a smile in her voice that says she had known more than she let on. Jimmy doesn’t ask, just listens as she and Scott agree to call up Joel and Scott goes into the kitchen to warm up tacos for all of them. He doesn’t even open his eyes until Lizzie lifts him up—holy moly she’s strong—and carries him into the actual living room, places him gently on the much comfier sofa there. She tells him how proud she is of him, and sits with him in silence as he allows his brain to wander and secure itself in this space.

When Joel arrives Jimmy rouses himself from the half-sleep he’s managed to slip into. The four of them hang out and eat tacos and watch Wheel of Fortune reruns, Joel laying in Lizzie’s lap as she plays with his hair, Scott pressed close enough to Jimmy that his presence is there and accessible but not too close for comfort.

It’s perfect. It’s a family.

“So, you like me,” Jimmy says quietly while Joel throws popcorn and yells at the player for guessing wrong. Scott smiles at him, nudges his shoulder.

“Yep. And you like me.”

A smile crosses Jimmy’s face. “Why didn’t you kiss me earlier, then? To shut me up while I rambled, like in the movies.”

Scott snorts. “That would have been incredibly inappropriate. Just kissing you, out of the blue, without consent? No.” He holds a hand out.

Jimmy takes it.

“When I kiss you, I want it to be at your pace,” Scott tells him seriously, shifting to face him. “I want you to feel happy and safe. Does that sound okay?”

Jimmy nods, and for a moment, he considers kissing him. He’s surrounded by friends—by family, he’s safe, and he’s happy. He’s so very extraordinarily happy.

And maybe it’s silly, but he doesn’t want a kiss to ruin that feeling. If he doesn’t like it, or he isn’t ready, or it’s overwhelming, he’ll lose the warm feeling in his chest that he gets when he gazes around the room at what his life has become. He could feel sick, scared, or just generally uncomfortable and this wonderful night would end early.

There’s a chance that it would be nice. There’s a chance that it would make everything that much better.

But over the course of his life, Jimmy’s come to understand that he’s never had good luck when it comes to chances. And this moment is so perfect that he can’t quite be convinced that anything would make it better.

So instead, he ever-so-slowly rests his head on Scott’s chest, ever-so-slowly pulls Scott’s arm around him, and ever-so-slowly lets his eyes flutter shut. For once, he isn’t thinking of all the many things that could go wrong. He’s just purely happy, for the first time in years.

Scott sighs contentedly, releases Jimmy for a moment to pull the couch blanket over them cozily.

He’s safe. He’s happy. A lot of things have changed quite suddenly, but nothing else has to right now. He can take this as slowly as he wants—Scott isn’t going anywhere. His family isn’t going anywhere.

And if he has anything to say about it, Jimmy isn’t going anywhere either.

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