#every year calls it his ‘dad-iversary’
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omg i’m not sure if you have a fic on this yet but what about the very first time megumi calls reader mom? does he freak out? does reader try to keep it cool but is actually dying inside? is there angst? what do you think??
it’s well known that megumi does call you mom… just not to your face (and then he freaks out).
but then, even after that, it takes him a while to feel comfortable referring to you with a title that he doesn’t fully understand. megumi doesn’t know what a mom is, what he’s supposed to feel for his so called mother…
unlike tsumiki, of course, who, almost exactly two years into living with you and satoru, was fully on board with the title.
you’d been tucking her in one night, smiling at her nonsensical ramblings about school and some girl she met at the store earlier in the day, when she’d just asked.
“can i call you mom?”
you paused your fluffing of her pillows. “what?”
“it’s okay if you don’t want me to,” tsumiki had answered back, hurriedly, her sweet voice true. “i just wanted to ask.”
and… it took a moment to regain any composure after that.
i mean, sure. you knew—truly—that the little girl and boy you would protect with your life were yours. they might’ve been someone else’s—a lifetime ago, when the world was better and reality was more genuine.
but in your world, they were yours.
(and satoru’s sometimes. but very rarely).
you’d been referring to them in kind for… almost two years. it only took a week of knowing the two of them—tsumiki with her genuine heart and show stopping smiles, and megumi with his brooding and paying far too much attention—for you to think as such. they were your children a month in.
but still, you knew that to them, you weren’t… the ideal. you weren’t a nurturer, not a babysitter or an aunt, not a friend but never anything less.
you were just there.
and really, that’s all you wanted to be for them. you didn’t need a title, didn’t need some overrated birthright. you just wanted to see the two of them at the dinner table, laughing at each other and picking at their food.
you weren’t going to ask for anything more.
but being their mom?
you looked down to tsumiki, unable to keep the ache out of your heart, the twinge out of your eyes. “miki,” you answered softly. “are you sure?”
the two of you had talked at length about moms. yours, who took the time you had together for granted, and tsumiki’s mom, who had their time stolen from her.
and you knew how much a mother meant to tsumiki. megumi had no recollection of their parents, but tsumiki couldn’t manage to forget.
“only if it’s okay with you,” the girl whispered, large, beautiful brown eyes looking into yours.
and, honestly, how are you supposed to say no to that?
“of course,” you’d answered back, a magical grin growing on your face. “you can call me whatever you want.”
“okay,” tsumiki met your grin with one of her own.
and when you closed the door that night, it was to the sound of a soft “goodnight, mom,” and the never ending glowing of your heart—just for your little girl.
when you left her room, wandering aimlessly through the house, falling face first on the couch and laying there until your bones ached, satoru couldn’t get anything out of you.
he’d tried rolling you over, irritating you with some bland remark, pulling on your hair… all to no avail.
but when you finally sat up, after about a half an hour, your grin was still so blinding that satoru was concerned for your health. waving a hand in front of your face just to see if you would still react.
you kept your conversation to yourself, knowing you’d probably only be able to hoard it for the night. but that was enough.
but megumi… he’s never been as easy as tsumiki. never as trusting.
so there isn’t a ground breaking conversation. he doesn’t tell you that he’s grateful for you, or that he feels lucky to have you in his life, or that your family is the best thing the little boy could imagine.
no, he’d never say any of that.
when megumi calls you mom for the first time (to your face) it’s in some boring, nonchalant moment.
you’re sitting on the couch, attempting to braid satoru’s stupid hair, when his little voice comes in from down the hallway, almost whining.
“hey mom?” he calls, head peeking around the corner.
“yeah?”
“did i give you my library book?”
“nope,” you pop, meeting his eyes. “did you lose it?”
megumi looks away, back towards his room. “no…” he says, suspiciously, walking back down the hall.
oh, well. at least if it’s gone satoru will be the one paying for it. really, you need to set a limit on the number of books he checks out at once.
you shake your head but focus back in on the object at hand. why is his hair all different lengths? it doesn’t even make any sense.
but satoru’s got his head tilted back, already smiling at you like he knows something you don’t.
“what?” you ask, frowning. you nudge his head but he doesn’t move. you sigh. “did you hide his book?”
satoru doesn’t answer that—probably because he did—he only blinks at you, eyes alight with something you’ll probably never understand.
“what?” you repeat, bothered.
satoru’s grin grows wider. “nothing.”
“then look forward. im busy.”
he chooses, in that moment, to let you deal with it yourself. so he only tucks back his smile, looking towards the mantle once again.
and when you’ve got his hair back in your hands, parting it on the side, he just says, “you’re really terrible at this, you know?”
you gasp. “is that a grey hair, satoru?” you pull at a strand. “you must be working too hard.”
he pulls away, trying aimlessly to look up at his own head. “where!?” he demands, and you only laugh at him.
it’s not until later that night, when satoru’s hands are in your hair this time, brushing through it, and all of the lights are off that you realize it.
“did megumi call me mom?” you ask, into the dark. your voice is mindless, dazed.
“i was wondering when you’d notice.”
and if there’s a slight prick to your eyes, it’s got nothing to do with that, okay? it’s just a title.
if you shed a tear it’s only because satoru accidentally pulls on a knot in your hair and he’s a bastard. really.
(when megumi does it again the next day you have to lean against the counter and try not to tackle the boy where he stands).
#don’t even ask me about the kids calling satoru dad#he probably throws a party just for the occasion#every year calls it his ‘dad-iversary’#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo x you#a typical family#satoru x reader
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Investigated (1)
Pair: Miles Morales & Reader (you)
Summary: Y/n’s newspaper has gotten her fame even outside of her little school. Her articles on Spider-Man are usually well received, well until someone not exactly fond of the masked hero gets a hold of one of them. Now Spider-Man, who is actually the reporter’s boyfriend, Miles Morales, must find a way to save her before it’s too late.
[This is a short series that I’ve written. The “prequel” to this is called Investigator and can be found on my masterlist, but it isn’t needed to read this although it does give a lot more insight on the main character’s personality]
Warning: It gets pretty dark. If you can watch crime shows you should be good with this.
Dust and debris covered the surrounding area of the prison. Somehow someone managed to carry in multiple bombs that led to a huge hole in the wall that was supposed to keep the biggest crime lord in New York inside of. Guards held back the weaker and less dangerous prisoners, but that meant that they had failed to keep the worst at bay. Wilson Fisk was free and hungry for revenge on the person that started it all: Spider-Man.
The news stations went wild on Monday when it happened, but by Thursday only a few kept a note on the escape. And on Thursday a small newspaper from a Brooklyn school fell into the hands of a hiding escapee. Spider-Man saves the day once again! This particular article included quotes from the masked vigilante and extremely detailed descriptions of the fight between him and Hydro-Man. Fisk looked at the author of the article, Y/n L/n. “This girl can’t be him, but she knows who he is,” he concluded to his group of henchpeople. If he really wanted to get Spider-Man, then he’d have to fight ugly and that’s exactly what he planned on doing.
~~~
Miles held Y/n’s soft hair in his hands as she leaned against him in his dorm. “Do you think I could write about the best boyfriend in the world for the front page next week? Maybe how our six month-iversary is tomorrow?” She laughed, kissing him on the cheek. It was Friday now and about half a year ever since Miles became Spider-Man, but he knew that telling Y/n about it wouldn’t be good for her safety. Peter had said to him that he needs to keep the ones he loves safe so that he would still have the will to get back up again.
“You should probably stick to the opening of Slate tomorrow. Maybe you should practice your speech again.” Miles knew how important tomorrow was for her, with the opening of the project she had been working on for almost six months. S.L.A.T.E was an acronym for Students learning academics with technology and entertainment. The building was basically a place where students from anywhere in New York City could go and study, get tutoring, and use all different types of computers and other devices all for free. Tomorrow was the ceremony where it would be opened to the public and she’d been told that along with the mayor, she had to present a speech about it in front of a large crowd of reporters.
Y/n knew that this could be the biggest moment in her life and the first time she’ll actually get noticed by the big name news outlets. “I’ve practiced it enough, I just wish you could be there with me,” she looked at him somberly, slipping her hand into his own. He squeezed her hand slightly, kissing her on the top of her head.
“I know, but my mom isn’t gonna let me back out of babysitting my cousin no matter what I say,” Miles adored his mother, but there were times that she wouldn’t reason with him whatsoever. His mother and aunt were going down to New Jersey for the weekend to visit someone while he and his dad were stuck watching his aunt’s six-year-old. “At least my dad will be there on duty, but you’re coming over for dinner afterward and I’ll be watching on tv.” He always found a way to be there for Y/n and she couldn’t have asked for anyone greater than him.
A small smile grew on her face. Y/n checked her phone and the smile left, “my ride’s here so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” They kissed, this time for real, and Y/n left the dorm room with her suitcase. Weekends were annoying for the both of them since they lived on the opposite sides of Brooklyn and didn’t have a lot of time to see each other.
Y/n woke up the morning excited, yet at the same time completely filled with anxiety. Now, she stood in her school uniform, just as she had been told, next to the mayor of New York City behind a makeshift stage. Her speech was in her hands as she trembled slightly. Someone put her hand on her shoulder, “Don’t worry, kid. Everything’s gonna go smoothly,” she realized that it was the mayor, whose name she completely forgot at the moment, but it did help her a little bit.
They walked on the stage together, the crowd getting quieter. Y/n looked at everyone, from the men and women in uniform surrounding the crowd and the crowd itself, she felt herself getting nervous. There were men in suits on the stage behind them and she assumes that they were just for the protection of the mayor. She stood next to the mayor as he introduced everyone and the concept of s.l.a.t.e, it would only be seconds now until she had to start talking.
“It is with great respect that I introduce the student that was involved in the project from start to finish, Y/n L/n,” he stepped back as everyone clapped for her. There was a small stool behind the podium that she used to appear taller and actually be able to see above it. Y/n make eye contact with Miles’ dad, who was smiling back at her. He was the most excited when they started dating and whenever she would come over since she made his son so incredibly happy.
“Hi everyone! I’m not that great at public speaking, so try and bear with me for this one,” she stifled a giggle and looked down at the paper containing the speech, “People have always said how important is it for children and teens to be educated, yet many of those students don’t have the access to materials that give them the best education that they could possibly receive. Every student has the potential to be the next Tony Stark or Bruce Banner, but when they can’t explore that part of themselves, then the student that finds the cure for cancer in the future will never have the chance to make a difference. Without everything that my own school provides me, I may not have even discovered how much I adore journalism.”
It was hot out and Y/n felt herself overheating slightly, but she knew that she only had to talk for a paragraph. “That is exactly why I fought so hard to get this project in the eyes of people that can get things done. The future of America depends on the students that are forced to use technology from the past and this can be a little difference. I hope that-” she was almost finished when her speech was interrupted by a gunshot. The officers starting pointing their guns around at whoever had fired, while Y/n looked to her right to see the mayor holding his abdomen and falling to his knees. She hopped down from the podium and knelt down next to the mayor. “Oh my god. Are you okay?” she asked in a panic, knowing that she couldn’t really help him at all.
Y/n felt an arm wrap around her waist and was roughly pulled off the ground away from him. The person holding her covered her mouth with some fabric, with what she assumed was chloroform on it. She kicked him and tried holding her breath as much as she could, but she felt herself losing it and eventually passed out.
The crowd was chaotic. The police had apprehended the man that fired the gun and the mayor was being rushed to the nearest hospital to hopefully remove the bullet. Reporters were all turned towards their specific cameras and describing everything live as it happened. Nobody could find Y/n, but at least everything was recorded by the news outlets.
Miles started to panic as he watched everything go down in his own living room. The six-year-old with him didn’t understand what was going on and tried to get him to continue playing ponies with her by pulling on his pant leg while he tried calling her cell. The call went to voicemail, which he almost expected considering what he saw on the tv. He sat down on the couch, contemplating whether or not to call Y/n’s parents and tell them about what had happened.
He looked over to his suitcase, which held his suit. He couldn’t just leave this kid alone without getting a talking to by his parents, but at the same time, he couldn’t just do nothing when his girlfriend and just been abducted. He was Spider-Man and keeping the citizens of Brooklyn safe was his duty. Miles grabbed his suit and changed in his room, throwing sweatpants and a jacket over it. He picked his cousin up and ran over to the neighbor’s apartment to drop her off.
He quickly swung out of the building and headed towards the scene of the attack. Most of the civilians had scurried away, leaving the police and forensics teams to search the area. Miles walked carefully by the podium and caught his breath once he saw the handwriting of Y/n on the paper that held her speech. She was supposed to finish this. He folded it and slid it in his pocket before swinging away, afraid of being caught by his father that should’ve been there.
#miles morales#miles morales x reader#Spider-man#into the spider verse#spiderman#spiderman: into the spiderverse#spider-man x reader#marvel x reader#miles morales angst
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On the Verge of a Heartbreak - Chapter 24
Are you ready? Are you sure you’re ready?? It’s a long one, so you better strap in for it! I’m going to let you all know, this is the scene/chapter that started this whole fic, and I am so pleased and happy to finally get here. <3
Pairings: Moxiety
Words: 3501
Warnings: Kissing. Anything else, please let me know!
Summary: We’re here. We’re finally here.
The park was mostly deserted, only a few young children and their parents were over by the children’s play park and the grass just in front of it. That left the rest of the grass open for the two boys to use. Both of them silently made their way to the furthest point away from the play park and sat themselves down, ready to relax in the afternoon sun.
Virgil’s mind and pulse were still racing. He knew he needed to get a hold of them right this second, or else his plan would be utterly ruined. As he took measures to calm himself down, he looked over his best friend and watched him.
Patton was sat with his legs stretched out in front of him, his arms holding up the weight of his torso as he leant back. His gorgeous eyes were closed as the light, cool breeze and warmth of the sun hit him so perfectly, making Virgil see him as something ethereal. It was almost as if Patton were some kind of angelic being that had fallen into his life just when he needed him most. Seeing him here, so calm and relaxed in this moment, only strengthened Virgil’s resolve to go through with his plan.
His hand brushed against the well-used guitar case that Patton had decorated for him, hesitating. The voice in the back of his head was shaking, it was so worried that this was going to be a mistake that Virgil would regret for the rest of his life, a mistake that could lose him his best friend in the whole world. The other voices drowned it out, however. They told him that if he didn’t do this, that would be the biggest regret of Virgil’s life. An opportunity like this wouldn’t come around for a very long time. He should take the plunge and just do it.
As Virgil debated in his head, he was far too preoccupied to notice that Patton had turned to look at him. It was only the soft tap on his shoulder that managed to pull him out of it.
Virgil whirled around as fast as he could, “Huh? What?”
Patton merely giggled, “You were lost in thought, huh, Virgie?” The soft flushing of the other’s cheeks answered Patton’s question, making him giggle harder, “It’s okay, you didn’t miss anything. I just wanted to tell you something!”
“Wh-what did you wanna say?” Virgil felt his stomach churning. There was no way that Patton had the same idea, right? His head was spinning, but he focused on his best friend as best he could.
“Happy Best Friend-iversary!” Patton shouted, throwing his arms around Virgil, hugging him tightly. “Did you know it’s been 12 years since we became best friends?”
Virgil felt himself calm a little before laughing softly and returning the hug lightly, “I didn’t know that, but it’s kinda cute that you remembered.”
Patton let go and stuck his tongue out at Virgil, “How could you not remember?! It’s only the most important day of our whole friendship!” He playfully pouted and crossed his arms.
Virgil rolled his eyes and began to pull out his precious guitar, “How about I make it up to you with a song? Call it a present for the best friend-iversary.”
Patton gasped loudly, “Yes, yes, yes! I love it when you play! Please, pretty please!” Patton excitedly tucked his legs under his body and faced Virgil fully, eyes shining with excitement. There was no way Virgil could say no to that face.
“Pat, I already said I would… but this is a special song, that I wrote… for you.” Virgil felt his heart-rate pick up once again. He swallowed hard to try and quell some of the nerves that were threatening to close his throat up.
Patton’s eyes couldn’t have gone wider if he’d tried, “You wrote me a song…?” He whispered reverently.
Virgil shuffled, a little awkward, “Uh, yeah… it’s nothing big, but um, I hope you like it…”
“You know I’ll love it, Virgie!” Patton squealed, shuffling closer.
“Okay, but um… just, don’t say anything, until it’s over, okay? It’s really important that you, uh… just listen. It’s a super important song.” Virgil rambled. Patton nodded silently and Virgil took that as his cue to begin.
He strummed the beginning chords, repeating them once over as he felt his confidence waning a little. Virgil rode the waves of adrenaline as if he was surfing on them. He just needed to commit to one of them in order to be able to begin.
“We're far apart, in every way
But you're the best part of my day
And sure as I breath the air
I know we are the perfect pear”
Virgil felt his confidence grow as he continued to sing. Finally, after all this time, he was singing this song for the boy he’d fallen for. They’d been close for years and years, they’d gone through so much crap as friends and would have gone through so much more had they been dating, but that part of their life was over. He kept his head down, his eyes shut as he put all of his heart into the lyrics.
“On a prickly path that goes on for miles
But it's worth it just to see you smile
And I cannot be pulled apart from the hold you have on my heart
And even if the world tells us it's wrong,
you're in my head like a catchy song”
Virgil continued to strum but raised his head to look at his friend who sat in silence in front of him. He saw the beautiful sunshine grin gracing the boy’s stunning face, saw the shining eyes that seemed to be full of unwept tears. Virgil had to know something, “So, do you like it?”
Patton choked out a laugh, the tears slowly rolling down his cheeks, “It’s so amazing, I love it, Virgil. This is the best present you could have ever given me!”
“It’s not over yet, just… let me finish this.” Virgil let his head fall once again, focusing hard on the lyrics once more.
“The seasons change, and leaves may fall
But I'll be with you through them all
And rain or shine
You'll always be mine
On a prickly path that goes on for miles
You're the only one who makes it all worthwhile
And you should not blame me too
If I can't help fallin' in love with you”
Virgil stopped strumming immediately, his hand flying up to cover his mouth. That wasn’t entirely planned. Sure, he’d written it as one end, but it wasn’t what he’d planned to say. He stared at his friend, awaiting their reaction.
Patton was also still, clearly shocked by the sudden confession. He searched Virgil’s panicked expression before smiling playfully, “Hey, that’s no fair! I wanted to be the first one to say it!” He pushed Virgil’s shoulder lightly, pretending to scold him.
Virgil quickly scoffed and smiled, “Well, too bad, you took too long.”
Patton shrugged, “I guess so! But my idea was so perfect!” He whined, faking a small tantrum, “and now it’s all ruined, but I guess I’ll show you later…” He looked back at his friend with a grin.
Virgil shook his head and started to put his guitar away, “I mean, if that’s what you want to do, sure.”
“Hey Virge…?”
Patton’s voice held a note of vulnerability that Virgil hadn’t heard in a long time. It reminded him of the time in his bedroom, where his dad had interrupted.
“Yeah, Patton?”
His friend looked uncharacteristically nervous. He was holding himself tightly and not making eye contact. Virgil’s worry spiked once more as he waited for Patton to speak again.
“Did… did you mean it?”
Virgil nodded, but then realised that Patton wasn’t looking at him, “Yeah… I did.”
Only then did Patton look up at him through his eyelashes, “So, does that mean… you’ll go out with me, like… dating?”
Virgil couldn’t help the soft snort laugh that left him as relief flooded his body. He reached out and hugged Patton tightly, whispering softly, “Of course, Patton. I want to date you, if you want to date me.”
Patton immediately grasped a hold of Virgil, holding him so tightly. It was almost as if Patton felt like Virgil would disappear if he even gave him the slightest chance to move. Silent sobs wracked his body as all the worry and fear about this whole thing came crashing down on top of him. Virgil said nothing, just let the young boy cry it out in his arms. Patton was so thankful to have Virgil in his life, the boy who’d been his rock, the one who’d been truly with him this whole time, through all the awful stuff with his brother, and now finally they’d confessed.
Suddenly, Patton’s sobs turning to what could be mistaken for hysterical laughter. He pulled away from Virgil, wiping his eyes. His frie- no, his boyfriend’s hands remained on his shoulders, they were only resting there but it was utterly comforting. Patton looked up at Virgil, eyes puffy and red. There was a new-found fondness in the other boy’s eyes that made Patton feel all fuzzy and warm. Without too much thought, he threw himself towards Virgil, pressing kisses all over his face.
Virgil squirmed and laughed. He didn’t try to push Patton away or stop him, it was actually somewhat enjoyable to have the lovable boy pecking kisses all over his face. Eventually, Patton seemed to have his fill and stopped, grinning happily up at Virgil.
He acted without too much thought. Virgil moved his hand to hold Patton’s chin lightly, giving him all the time in the world to push his hand away. He lent in slowly and watched with curiosity as Patton’s eyes slid closed. The nerves inside of him were causing his internal voice to screech, but Virgil ignored it and pressed the gentlest of kisses to Patton’s lips.
While it wasn’t their first kiss because of that spin the bottle game from the sleepover, it was their first kiss after finally voicing their feelings and everything was so much better for it. The kiss lasted far longer, both of them enjoying the sensation immensely. It didn’t go any further than just soft and sweet, and it was simply perfect.
Their wonderful moment was ruined by Virgil’s phone beginning to blare loudly. They jumped apart, startled by the sudden noise. Virgil apologised before scrambling for his phone, answering the call as quick as possible.
That led to them both heading out of the park. Patton was happily wrapped under Virgil’s arm, their fingers intertwined. Everything was feeling just right. They stopped in front of their houses.
“Well, this is me.” Virgil said, looking down at Patton, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Patton hummed in thought, “Can I come over later, actually? I have something for you.”
Virgil wasn’t expecting such a request, but nodded in agreement, “Sure. I’ll text you when I’m done, promise.”
Patton grinned and spun himself out of Virgil’s arm with a giggle. He closed the distance between them and kissed him goodbye before running across the road.
Virgil must have looked extremely pleased as he entered his house, if his father’s comments were anything to go by.
“Well, what’s got you so happy, son?” His father asked, teasingly from his spot on the couch.
“Nothing really.” Virgil said, putting his bags down at the foot of the stairs, “It’s okay if Patton comes over later, right? Once we’re done?”
His father smiled, “Of course it is! Now, come on, I need your extra pair of hands to organise these tests.”
Virgil followed his dad into the downstairs office, where he was greeted by large piles of test papers and essays. He sat down, cross-legged on the floor and began to work through the first pile. It wasn’t the first time his dad had asked for his help with this, though it had been Logan’s responsibility back before he went off to university.
His father sat down in the office chair with a loud groan. He watched his son get to work with the papers before asking, “Son, will you answer me one question?”
“I guess…?”
“How did it take you two so long?”
Virgil dropped the test in his hand, his eyes shooting open wide as he stared open-mouthed at his dad. This reaction had his dad in fits of laughter.
“You two aren’t so slick, y’know. I saw you two outside.” His dad said, chuckles still rippling through him.
“Invasion of privacy, dad! What the hell!” Virgil growled, trying to get back to working on the papers.
“It was a public space, Virgil. Doesn’t count.” His father shot him finger guns before turning back to his computer and working on some document that was already half-finished.
Virgil worked quickly, grumbling half of the time about how it was unfair and not right for his dad to have seen and talk about stuff like that. His dad ignored him for the most part, only throwing a couple of retorts every now and then. It was just passing 5pm when Virgil was finished sorting out the papers.
He stood and stretched before pulling out his phone. He let Patton know he was free to come over and was about to put his phone in his pocket when he got a response, “Hey dad, Patton’s coming over now. See you later.”
“Okay, son. Find out if he’d like to stay for dinner. Also, no sex in the house!” His dad called to him teasingly.
Virgil, who was already halfway towards the staircase, froze and yelled back, “Shut up! Oh my god! You’re the worst!” This was only met with loud laughter which caused a fond smile to pull at the corners of Virgil’s lips.
Very soon, Patton was sat on Virgil’s bed and the two were happily chatting about something or other. It didn’t take long for Patton to introduce the reason he’d come over this evening by handing Virgil a fairly heavy plastic bag.
“Ta-da! For you!” Patton offered with a smile, “Go on! Open it!”
“You just gave it to me. Give me a second.” Virgil laughed.
Virgil pulled the plastic bag off of a present box. He shot a suspicious glance to his new boyfriend. While there was the possibility of the other boy doing a “box in a larger box” present, it was highly unlikely he’d do that for this moment. Cautiously, Virgil untied the ribbon that kept the lid firmly shut. He could see Patton practically vibrating with excitement next to him as he slowly lifted the lid of the box.
Virgil’s breath caught. Inside was a gorgeous spiral bound notebook. He carefully lifted it out and looked over the front cover, feeling the weight of the surprisingly thick pad of paper as he did so. The entire front was covered in various flowers, all gorgeous looking and detailed. Virgil ran his fingers over each one, taking in all the details as best he could.
Patton couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He’d given Virgil a few minutes, but he just had to speak. “So, all the flowers mean something really special!” Patton started, shifting closer to Virgil so he could point to each flower in turn. The excited boy explained each and every flower, what it meant and why he picked it for this gift - which resulted in a very flustered and blushing Virgil due to all the compliments that were showering him.
“Oh! It’s also on the back, see!” Patton turned the book over in Virgil’s hands, showing him that the flowers did indeed carry through to the back. Patton began to ramble about other things, “I knew I wasn’t the most artistic and greatest at drawing or painting, so I asked for Em’s help and she was super super helpful in teaching me how to do this. I mean, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that, or let you know that she did all the line work, but she did such an amazing job! I couldn’t take all the credit for it! Also, also, Asher helped me with all the flower meanings! We spent like three weeks coming up with all the flowers, they were just so amazing with it all and so helpful. I came up with the final design though and chose all the flowers, putting them in the best place and I painted it all too!”
Virgil was only half paying attention, too engrossed in the beautiful piece of art in front of him. It was so wonderfully thought out and looked amazing. He turned it back over so he could open the front cover and have a look at the pages inside and was greeted with the final surprise. Written in big bold letters on the inside cover was a simple question: “Virgil, will you go out with me?”
Patton was still rambling on beside him but was slowly tapering off as he saw that Virgil had opened the cover. He laughed unashamedly, “Oh yeah, I forgot about that! That was my idea to ask, but you beat me to-” His sentence was cut off as Virgil’s arms wrapped around him tightly. The hug was quickly reciprocated, but something felt a little off. Virgil’s arms were too tight, his body too tense. Patton began to worry a little, “Virgil…? Are you okay?”
“Sorry…” came the muffled response as Virgil buried his head against Patton’s shoulder.
“What are you sorry for?” Patton ran his fingers through Virgil’s hair, while his other hand soothingly rubbed circles against his back.
“Ruined it…”
Patton could only smile, “I already told you it was fine, Virgie. You didn’t do anything wrong, I loved it. Yours was way better.”
Virgil turned his head, so he was facing Patton’s neck, now able to speak freely, “Don’t say that, this is so fucking cute. Yours is so good…”
“Language.”
Virgil snorted, smirking to himself. He was slowly relaxing in Patton’s hold, his grip finally loosening to it’s usual state. Virgil shifted around a little to get comfortable, but kept his head resting on Patton’s shoulder. The moment felt perfect and sweet. Just the way it should be. But Virgil was yearning for something and he knew he’d have to ask for it.
“Hey… Patton?” He muttered, a little ashamed.
“Yeah?”
“Can I… uh, can we…” Virgil swallowed hard, trying to force the words out of himself, “Iwannakissyouagain.” As his words all rolled into one, Virgil cringed. The slight shudder of laughter from Patton had Virgil lifting his head to look at his newly appointed boyfriend.
Patton was giving him such a fond look that Virgil felt his heart might explode, “I’m proud of you for asking…” Patton spoke so softly, lifting Virgil’s head back up so he could line up their lips once more.
Virgil was so relieved that Patton was taking the initiative, as he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do it again. Ever so softly, their lips met again. It didn’t take long for the world around them to fall apart as they focused on the gentle movements and the wonderful softness.
“Son, did you find out if-”
Virgil fell off his bed due to him pulling away so quickly from Patton. His heart pounded and his breathing quickened in an instant. He raised his gaze to glare at his father in the now open doorway of his room, completely at odds with the dark blush that coated his cheeks, “OH MY GOD GET OUT!”
His dad chuckled and shut the door quickly, blocking the cushion that was thrown his way by his son, “Sorry, Virgil. I just never found out if Patton was staying for dinner or not.”
“I DON’T CARE! GET OUT!” Virgil screeched the command once more, the pitch rising significantly.
Now, both his dad and his boyfriend were laughing. He turned sharply to look at Patton, who was instead looking towards the door, “I’d love to stay, Mr Mortenson.”
“Of course, Patton. Also, please, call me Jason. You’ve been here often enough.” Virgil’s dad offered with a smile, “I’ll call you when dinner’s ready. You two play nice now!”
“DAD! WHAT THE FUCK?!” Virgil cried out, having finally gotten up from the floor.
“Language!” was the response he got from both of the other two, echoing from both outside the door and inside his room.
Virgil pouted and sat back down on the bed, clearly unhappy and uncomfortable with the interruption. Patton’s arms sliding around him managed to break his pout, causing Virgil to turn and bury his face into Patton’s shoulder once again, “My dad’s the worst…” Virgil complained, trying desperately to sink into Patton so he’d never have to face his father again.
Patton simply giggled, “I think he’s great fun!”
Virgil groaned, “You’re both the worst…”
“Love you too, Virgie.”
Last Chapter —– Next Chapter
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and never ever watch the ten o’clock news
(Read on AO3)
Summary: Bodhi never expected to be sitting in an interrogation room with his best friend while she lied to the police about being a psychic. In retrospect, he probably should have. [AKA the Psych AU Literally No One Asked For]
I wrote this Psych AU for my dearest @taxicabsandcupcakes as an EXTREMELY belated birthday/decently belated Winter Solstice/slightly belated New Year’s/aggressively early Friend-iversary present, which means I’ve had this idea since your birthday but didn’t actually find the inspiration to write it until Psych the Movie happened and then had to invent an occasion for giving it to you. This is my way of saying thanks for your sage writing advice, endless encouragement, and for yelling about Jane Austen on twitter with me. Hope you like it!
There’s additional notes on the fic itself if you follow the AO3 link above, which I recommend reading if you’re the type who enjoys that sort of thing.
“I need you to drive me to the police station.”
Bodhi, to his eternal embarrassment, actually pulls the phone away from his face and stares at it in disbelief, despite the fact that he’s alone in his office and no one is around to appreciate what he assumes is some excellent physical comedy.
“Pardon?” he asks, after a moment.
Jyn sighs on the other end of the phone. “I need you to drive me to the police station. Please,” she adds as an afterthought.
“Doesn’t that honor belong to the cop who’s arresting you?”
“Very funny,” Jyn says flatly. “My bike won’t start, will you please drive me?”
“You’re still not telling me the most important part,” Bodhi says, already starting to feel his exasperation growing. “Why do you need to go to the police station? Did something happen?”
“Something is always happening, Bodhi. Something is happening right now. And right now. And also now--”
“Jyn, come on...”
“Okay, fine. You remember that thing we talked about? The one you said I shouldn’t do anymore?”
“I told you to stop wearing white after Labor Day, advice which you have consistently ignored…”
“I keep telling you, Labor Day is a holiday invented by greeting card corporations to sell product!”
“All those Labor Day cards that everyone buys and sends out to their loved ones,” Bodhi says, playing along with Jyn’s nonsense.
“Exactly!” Jyn practically shouts. “Also, if you think about it, it’s always after Labor Day. You know what I mean?”
“I don’t. Did you get fined for committing a crime of fashion? Is that why you have to go the police station?”
“No, it has to do with the other thing you told me to stop doing.”
“Do I really have to guess? I tell you to stop doing a lot of things,” Bodhi says. His initial worry has already subsided and he’s tired of this conversation. He needs Jyn to tell him what’s going on so he can get back to work.
“Bodhi, don’t be the dollar sign in Ke$ha’s name!” she says, clearly frustrated with him as well.
“She got rid of that, you know. It’s just an ‘s’ now.”
“Precisely.”
“Jyn, honestly…”
“I called in another tip to the police,” Jyn says, suddenly giving up the game. “And before you get upset, that one tip helped them solve, like, ten open armed robbery cases. So now the chief of police wants me to come down and they’re gonna give me a check, or an award, or something. I can't remember what it was, I wasn't listening. What’s a purple heart for?”
“Injured in battle.”
“Okay, so maybe not that. Whatever. It’s a big deal. The queen will probably be there.”
“Jyn, we live in America. There is no queen here,” Bodhi says, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“Agree to disagree. What do you say? Will you take me?”
“I…” Bodhi begins to say before something occurs to him. “Wait a minute. You told me you were calling in those tips anonymously.”
“I was.”
“So how could they give you a reward, if they don’t even know who you are?” He asks.
“Okay, so,” Jyn begins to say in her best bullshitting voice. It's one that Bodhi is very familiar with. “I might have made a very tiny, laughably insignificant mistake when I called in this particular tip.”
“You told them your name,” Bodhi supplies.
“In my defense, I was a little drunk and I really wanted to impress this girl I was on a date with.”
“Neither of those are good excuses!”
“If it makes you feel better, my date wasn’t pleased either,” Jyn admits. “She was actually kind of insulted that I was paying so much attention to the news when we were making out.”
“As she should be.”
“You know I can’t help it! It’s just the way my brain works!”
“You’re telling me you actually picked up your clue just from the news?” Bodhi asks. “That’s honestly kind of impressive.”
“Tell that to her! She stormed off before I could tell her my whole ‘eidetic memory, trained in observation by my tough cop mother’ tragic backstory,” Jyn says.
“Great. What restaurant are we not going to be able to get a table at from now on?”
“She’s the hostess at Cilantro, that tiny place on Elm.”
“They have the best brunch in the city, Jyn!”
“Yeah. It’s a real loss,” Jyn agrees. “So, you’ll come get me on your lunch?”
***
The first time Bodhi spoke to Jyn was in fourth grade and he and his family had just moved to the country for his dad’s job. He was a scrawny, brown kid with a funny accent and, to make it worse, he transferred right in the middle of the year. All the kids in his class had already made their friends and they thought he was weird. Everyone except Jyn.
She’d dropped her lunch tray on the table across from him on his first day and said, without preamble, “I like your voice, it sounds like mine. Also, your watch is cool. Have you seen the movie Flubber? It’s my favorite.”
And just like that they were friends. Looking back on it, Bodhi’s not sure he ever really had a choice. Jyn had decided she liked him, and once she liked someone, that was it. They belonged to her. She was always between him and the meanest kids in school, distracting them, talking in circles until they gave up and left her best friend alone. You couldn’t mess with Jyn; she had something clever or weird to say to any of your threats or insults and she never cared what other people thought of her. That, and the fact that her mom was a cop and everyone knew it, meant that people generally left her--and, by extension, Bodhi--alone.
After high school, they went their separate ways: Bodhi went to college to try to make something of himself and Jyn left Santa Barbara on her motorcycle to get away from her mother and see the world. She sent postcards from every new city she landed in, and the two of them kept in touch even as Bodhi started working as a pharmaceuticals sales rep and Jyn continued to work whatever odd jobs she could find in whatever part of the country she was living in at that moment. In complete defiance of logic and the predictions of their families, the two of them stayed close despite the distance and their wildly different lifestyles. Still, no one was more surprised than Bodhi when Jyn reappeared in Santa Barbara.
He has tried in ways both subtle and obvious to get Jyn to tell him what made her come home, but with no success. Bodhi assumes it had something to do with her mother retiring and moving to Miami, but he doesn’t think that’s the whole reason. He’d worry about her, but Jyn seems the same as ever. She’s got the same mercurial temper--upbeat and joking one minute, put out and snarky the next--and she still flirts with every waitress, bartender, and barista they come across. Which, of course, means there are several fine establishments in Santa Barbara that Bodhi can no longer visit without someone asking about when his cute friend is going to call them back, or just telling him off in Jyn’s place.
The only thing different about Jyn is her newfound obsession with calling in anonymous tips to the police. She’s always been highly observant, but Bodhi has never seen her so preoccupied with using her skills to help people. He told her to be careful about it and he actually thought she would listen, given her distaste for the police, but, instead, he finds himself walking up the steps of the Santa Barbara Police Station with Jyn during his lunch hour to collect her reward.
Once they’re inside, Jyn goes to the desk to let the officer there know that she’s arrived and Bodhi takes a seat on one of the benches in the lobby. Within seconds, another officer drops off an enormous man in handcuffs, depositing him on the bench next to Bodhi with a muttered, “Wait here!” and then departing. Now, Bodhi’s come a long way from his terrified, scrawny, fourth grade self, but he is also, in no way, shape, or form, an intimidating person, so he does his best not to make eye contact.
After a few minutes, Jyn joins Bodhi and, as is her custom, puts herself directly between him and danger, this time in the form of their large, handcuffed companion. “What are you in for?” Jyn asks pleasantly. Bodhi elbows her in the ribs.
“They say I jacked my ex-wife’s car, but I’m innocent!” the man shouts.
“Ugh, cops, am I right?” Jyn says, in a tone that sounds more like they’re at happy hour than a police precinct. The man grunts in agreement and the conversation seems to be over, until Jyn adds, more quietly, “Hey, I don’t want to sound like I don’t believe you--because I totally do--but, if I were you, I’d brush that broken glass off your sleeve. To the untrained eye, it looks like maybe you broke a window or something.”
The man glances at Jyn and then at his sleeve, before sweeping his hand over the latter. The same officer from before returns to collect him as soon as he’s finished.
“Thanks,” the man says gruffly as he stands up and then winks at her over his shoulder as he’s lead away.
“No problem,” Jyn says and turns to Bodhi, at whom she rolls her eyes. “Idiot,” she adds, under her breath. “He just knocked all the glass into his boot.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Bodhi says, keeping his voice low.
“I know. What’s the point of helping criminals if they’re too incompetent to help themselves?”
“That’s obviously not what I meant,” Bodhi huffs. “Did they tell you how long this was going to take?”
“They said someone would be with me shortly. Please, try to relax.”
“They can’t just give you a check? It has to be a whole production?”
“Bodhi, don’t be the Brave Little Toaster’s less brave little cousin!”
“I just have a bad feeling about this,” Bodhi says, ignoring her.
“Noted. Now, be quiet and I might let you be in the picture with me, the mayor, and what I hope is one of those giant novelty checks,” Jyn says.
“I do love giant novelty checks,” Bodhi admits.
“You know that’s right,” Jyn says, and offers her fist for him to bump.
At that moment, another cop appears in front of them. “Jyn Erso?” he asks, sounding uninterested in a response.
Jyn stands up to greet him. “That’s me. And this is my associate, DJ Deathstar,” she says, motioning at Bodhi, who just rolls his eyes at her. Jyn’s been making up fake names for him since they were kids and it’s probably better the police don’t know his actual name anyway.
The officer looks perplexed but all he does is nod and say, “If both of you would follow me,” before leading them out of the lobby and through the bullpen.
They go through a door at the far side of the room, which leads them to a long cinderblock hallway with several doors on either side. The officer opens the last one on the right, and motions for them to go in ahead of him. Once Bodhi and Jyn have both crossed the threshold, he closes the door behind them suddenly and they both turn in surprise.
All at once, Bodhi realizes where they are.
“Shit,” he says, taking in the bleak room with the large table in the middle and the mirror on the wall. “Why are we in an interrogation room?” he asks Jyn.
Jyn, for her part, is glaring at the other figures in the room. Seated at the table are two more cops, but they’re in plain clothes, which must mean they’re detectives. They stand as soon as Bodhi speaks.
“Why don’t you both take a seat?” the shorter of the two of them says. He’s soft spoken with a slight accent and he looks absolutely exhausted.
Bodhi nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels Jyn’s hand on his elbow. When he looks over, she gives him a reassuring smile. If he didn't know her as well as he does, he could totally miss the anger behind that smile, but they've been friends for twenty years and he’s perfected the art of reading Jyn’s moods. These detectives have no idea what they've gotten themselves into. She cocks her head towards the chairs in invitation and he gets the message loud and clear without her saying anything. Do what they tell you and let me do the talking.
“They didn’t mention anything on the phone about a vetting process before they gave me the key to the city,” Jyn says, nice and light, once she and Bodhi have sat down on the other side of the table.
“You are not getting a key to the city, Miss Erso,” the other cop says, his tone clipped. He has an expressionless face and is frankly too tall to be an actual human being, as far as Bodhi is concerned.
“No…?” Jyn asks innocently.
“No,” he says, sounding even less amused than before.
“Listen, Mr. ...?”
“Detective,” he corrects. “Head Detective Kay Tuesso.”
“Your mother must be very proud,” Jyn says, and Bodhi has to hold back a snort. “And who’s this?” she asks, her eyes training on the other detective.
“My partner, Detective Andor,” Detective Tuesso says, obviously growing impatient with Jyn’s antics.
“Charmed,” Jyn says and actually extends her hand for Detective Andor to shake. He gives her a puzzled look in return.
Nonplussed by any of the annoyance she seems to be causing, Jyn pulls her hand back and leans forward conspiratorially on the table. “Now that we’re all on such friendly terms, why don’t you tell me what exactly is going on?” she asks.
“I’m sorry, Miss Erso,” Detective Andor says, “but we’re not all acquainted. Who is this?” he asks, gesturing at Bodhi.
Jyn turns and gives Bodhi a searching look. For his part, Bodhi would rather not tell the police his name, given he has no idea what sort of trouble Jyn has unintentionally mixed herself up in, but he’s pretty sure they can figure it out who he is whether she tells them or not. He knows better than to actually shrug at her, when everything about her demeanor is screaming be careful at him, so he just looks back at her as calmly as he can. They’ve been in enough crazy situations together over the years that he trusts her to get them out of this one. He sees her small smile of comprehension before she turns back to the detectives.
“This is Bodhi,” she says evenly. “He drove me here.”
“What, like a Lyft driver?” Detective Andor asks.
“Yes!” Jyn replies, snapping her fingers like they're all just brainstorming together and she loves what the detectives are bringing to the table. Which, knowing Jyn, might be what she actually thinks.
“And you brought him in with you because…?”
“I'm just quirky, I guess,” Jyn says with an easy shrug and barrels on before the detectives can question her any further on Bodhi’s presence. “Now that we’re finally all acquainted, can you get to the point? The meter’s running.”
Neither of the detectives look particularly convinced by any of this, but Detective Andor continues anyway. “You recently called in a tip about several armed robberies that occurred in the last few weeks. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Well, thanks to that information you gave us, we’ve apprehended a suspect.”
“Good for you,” Jyn says, with forced cheer. Bodhi can practically see her patience wearing thin before his eyes.
“I'm glad you feel that way,” Detective Andor replies, tightly, and Bodhi thinks that Jyn probably isn't the only one who's running out of patience. “But, you see, we have a problem. Our suspect claims he had a partner, somebody who masterminded the whole thing, and he’ll only tell us their name if we give him immunity.”
“Huh. That’s a real pickle,” Jyn says, flatly, as if the subject doesn't interest her at all.
“As you can imagine, we don't want to give in to our suspect’s demands, not when we can just arrest both of the people responsible,” Detective Andor continues, adopting a tone one would normally use when explaining a difficult subject to a child. “So, we’re trying to figure out who this accomplice is on our own. And that's why we’ve brought you here today.”
There's a full minute where Jyn just blinks at the detectives in confusion and Bodhi starts to worry that she's actually stopped functioning. He's about to grab her by the shoulder and shake her out of it when she blurts out, “I'm sorry, just so we’re clear, you want me to figure out the guy’s accomplice too?” When they say nothing in response, Jyn continues, disbelieving, “I'm just curious, when do you two start chipping in?”
The detectives exchange a look at that, and Bodhi suddenly understands what is going on.
“Jyn,” he says as a warning.
“What?” Jyn snaps, turning on him.
Bodhi heaves a deep sigh before speaking. “They think you did it,” he says.
“I--” Jyn begins to say before turning to look at the detectives. She must see the same thing in their faces that Bodhi did, because she suddenly freezes. “You think I'm the accomplice?” she asks, incredulity and anger making her voice go quiet.
The scariest thing about Jyn, in Bodhi’s opinion, is how calm she gets when she's really and truly angry. The detectives in front of them might be well trained in reading people and analyzing evidence, but he's pretty sure they are in no way prepared for Jyn when she's actually furious.
“The evidence you gave to our tip line could only have come from someone with inside knowledge of the crimes,” Detective Tuesso says.
“That is not true.”
“What other explanation is there?” Detective Andor asks, sounding at least open to the possibility.
“Maybe I'm just a better detective than you are,” Jyn says, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest, her tone casual but filled with malice. Bodhi does his best not to wince.
“Or, perhaps,” Detective Tuesso begins, “you realized your good luck was running out, that you and your partner would not be able to evade the police forever, and you decided it was time to cut your losses and turn him in.”
“And gave my name to an anonymous tip line while I was at it, just in the interest of fairness,” Jyn says, mockingly. “Oh, and I also trusted that my partner--who I had just betrayed--wouldn't rat me out to the police! You're right, I'm a criminal mastermind!”
“Jyn,” Bodhi says again, hoping she’ll actually heed the warning in his voice this time.
“You aren't offering us any other plausible explanations for your having such detailed information, Miss Erso,” Detective Andor says. “And if you can't do that, we’ll have to arrest you.”
It might just be that the precarious nature of their situation puts Bodhi in a dramatic mood, but he swears, in that moment in the interrogation room, that time actually stops, allowing him to see the exact second that Jyn comes up with a plan. There’s no mistaking the expression that comes over her face for anything other than pure, mischievous inspiration.
“Alright, alright, you got me!” Jyn says, and Bodhi thinks he might actually be having a heart attack. “I haven't been honest with you. But it's only because I--” Jyn breaks off and looks downward, the picture of innocence. “I didn't think you'd believe the truth.”
“And what exactly would that be?” Detective Tuesso asks, not looking convinced in the slightest.
“I'm psychic,” Jyn says and, yep, Bodhi is definitely having a heart attack. “I have the Gift. The Sight, if you will. That’s how I knew about those robberies. I saw them, with my third eye.”
The entire room seems to be holding its breath after Jyn’s “confession”. No one seems to know what to do with themselves and Bodhi doesn't dare to even look at Jyn. He’s pretty sure if he so much as exhales, all hell will actually break loose.
The two detectives, recovering from their shock, both move at the exact same time. Detective Tuesso stands abruptly and says, “If you're done wasting our time--”, while Detective Andor reaches across the table for the case file and says, “You mean to tell us--” before they're both interrupted.
Jyn, in a split second, leans forward and captures Detective Andor’s wrist in her hand. She closes her eyes, as if trying to remember some long lost memory, and takes a deep breath. When she's finished, she looks Detective Andor directly in the eye and says, “You have to stop blaming yourself. It wasn't your fault.”
“Excuse me?” He says, utterly bewildered.
“I hear screaming. Sirens,” Jyn says, waving her hands around her head in a way that Bodhi imagines is supposed to convey spirituality. “I smell...gunpowder? There was a shooting. You did...everything you could. Everything by the book.” Jyn pauses, then adds, “As always.”
Detective Andor looks petrified by this outburst. “How did you--” he begins to ask, his voice even quieter than usual.
“As I've told you, I have...abilities. Of the supernatural variety,” Jyn says. She seems to realize she's still holding his wrist and looks at it intently. “This is your first case back on active duty, am I correct?”
“Don't answer that,” Detective Tuesso cuts in.
Detective Andor looks at his partner like he had completely forgotten there was anyone else in the room, then looks back at Jyn. He pulls his arm away from her like he's been scalded. Jyn, for her part, looks back at him serenely.
“This is highly entertaining, Miss Erso,” Detective Tuesso begins to say, “but this proves absolutely nothing. And moreover--”
“Ah, fuck!” Jyn yells, squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing her temples, as though she's got the world’s worst brain freeze. “That feels like…glass. Broken glass. I can see it shattering. And there's a tall man there. He's very angry, and heartbroken. A lover’s spat, perhaps?”
“What are you--”
“Yes, definitely, an argument between lovers. I see...a heart…and an arrow...and the letter S. Does this mean anything to you?”
When the detectives say nothing in response, Jyn winces again. “Yes, of course. I see it clearly now. You have a man in custody here, about this tall,” Jyn says, gesturing well above both her and Bodhi’s heads. “The answers you seek are in his left boot.”
Both of the detectives are staring at her, completely mystified, and Detective Tuesso looks like he's about to make another attempt at bringing Jyn to order when there's three taps in quick succession on the one-way mirror.
“Excuse us a moment,” Detective Tuesso says, looking none too pleased with the interruption. “Come on,” he says to his partner, who seems to be having more trouble tearing himself away.
They both depart, leaving Jyn and Bodhi alone in the interrogation room. This would be a wonderful moment to confront Jyn about what the hell she thinks she's doing but unfortunately, they're not actually alone.
“I can hear you thinking from here,” Jyn says quietly.
“We’re not talking about this now. We can't,” Bodhi whispers urgently.
“I need you to relax,” Jyn responds. “Everything is fine, as far as you and I are concerned. Just, trust me. When have I ever lead you wrong?”
“Would you like that list in chronological order?”
Jyn makes a tsk sound in the back of her throat. “You can suck it,” she says petulantly.
“You suck it,” Bodhi fires back.
“No, you.”
“You.”
He and Jyn actually look at each other after that. “Suck it,” they both sing-song in harmony, like they're still teenagers and not the full-grown adults they're supposed to be acting like. Maybe there are worse people to be stuck in an interrogation room with, Bodhi thinks, at the exact moment Detectives Tuesso and Andor return.
“You're free to go,” Detective Tuesso says, looking pained.
Jyn rises immediately, grabbing Bodhi’s elbow to drag him up with her as she goes and giving him a kick in the ankle to get him moving towards the door.
“Not you,” Detective Tuesso says, pointing at Jyn.
“What?” Jyn cries. “But you just said--”
“We’re not arresting you,” Detective Andor says. “But Interim Chief Mothma would like to speak with you. Alone,” he adds, when he sees Jyn and Bodhi exchange a look.
Bodhi is about to object when he feels Jyn give his elbow a reassuring squeeze. He turns to look at her and she's smiling like she always does when faced with a challenge. Go ahead, that smile is meant to say, I've got this.
“I think they're finally going to give me my giant novelty check,” she says before she breezes past him out the door.
***
Twenty minutes later, Jyn finds Bodhi pacing on the steps outside the precinct. The look on his face must be more anguished than he realized because when he turns and sees her, she immediately throws both of her hands up in a don’t shoot gesture.
“Alright, before you yell at me—”
“What in the absolute fuck did you just do?!” he shouts.
“I said before you yell at me, dude! Come on!” Jyn practically whines. “And what I just did was save our asses, so you’re welcome.”
“You wouldn’t have had to save my ass in the first place if you had just driven yourself to the precinct and left me out of it.”
Jyn opens her mouth to argue with him, but Bodhi continues before she can get a word in. “And, furthermore, you just lied. To the police. About being a psychic. I mean, have you lost your damn mind?!”
“Hey, say it a little louder, why don’t you?” Jyn shouts back, and Bodhi sobers. “Feel better now?” She asks, when she’s given him a moment to collect himself. When he nods, she says, “I can’t believe you just furthermore’d me, man. You’re starting to sound like your mother.”
“Shut up,” Bodhi says, without heat. Jyn cracks a smile, which he finds himself returning tentatively. “What did the chief want to talk to you about?”
“Interim chief,” Jyn corrects, and Bodhi rolls his eyes at her. “She’s pregnant.”
“She wanted to tell you she’s pregnant?”
“No. I’m just telling you.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s badass,” Jyn says, gesticulating wildly. “A pregnant cop? How cool is that?”
“Jyn…”
“Sorry for trying to paint you a picture with my words, Bodhi! I thought maybe you felt left out!”
“I was deeply hurt,” Bodhi says, gravely. “Now, will you please tell me why you got called into a meeting with the chief of police?!”
“Interim chief! And she wants my help with a case,” Jyn says casually. She even has the audacity to shrug.
Bodhi’s pretty sure he’s actually gaping at her now. Like, his jaw is actually hanging open in shock. He’d be embarrassed, but he just doesn’t have the capacity for any other emotions at the moment.
“Why?” He finally manages to ask, after an embarrassingly long pause.
“Haven’t you heard?” Jyn says with a mischievous smile. “I’m Santa Barbara’s most preeminent psychic detective!”
Bodhi groans and puts his head on Jyn’s shoulder. She pats at him in a halfhearted consoling gesture.
“Can you be the ‘most preeminent’ something? Does that work grammatically?” She asks, nonchalantly.
“Don’t you dare try to distract me with grammar, Jyn,” Bodhi warns. “This is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I know for a fact you listened to all of R. Kelly’s ‘Trapped in a Closet’, so there’s no way that’s true.”
“It was before he got weird!”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“I don’t even know how you did that back there,” Bodhi cries, getting them back to the subject at hand.
“What?”
“All that stuff you said in the interrogation room! How did you do it?”
“You know about my observation thing,” Jyn says, brow furrowing in confusion.
“Yeah, but that stuff with the detective. How did you know all that?”
Jyn sighs, as if explaining her skills is a huge burden. “I saw in the paper a few weeks ago that there’d been a shooting and the police had been involved.”
“They wouldn’t have published the officer’s name,” Bodhi interjects.
“No,” Jyn concedes. “But the officer at the front desk was asking about how the new guy was doing, being back from administrative leave. The cop he was talking to was the one who brought us into the interrogation room, so clearly he had been working with our detectives on the robbery case. And most of the cops in the SBPD are still left over from my mom’s time there—at least the ones that are old enough to make detective—and I didn’t recognize Detective Andor, so I figured it could have been him. Standard administrative leave is two weeks, the shooting happened roughly that long ago, and I noticed the bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t been sleeping well. So, I took a stab in the dark. So to speak.”
“Jyn, all of that is totally circumstantial. What if you’d been wrong?” Bodhi says, even though he’s a little in awe of what he’s just heard.
“Luckily, I wasn’t,” Jyn says simply.
“What about all that stuff with the heart and the shapes and the letter?” Bodhi asks.
“Oh,” Jyn says, as if she’s already forgotten. “Our carjacker from the lobby had a tattoo on his ankle. One of those hearts that’s been shot through with an arrow. And it had the name ‘Susan’ wrapped around it, on a banner. Figured if Susan was his wife, she probably filed the charges against him and the letter would jog their memory if nothing else did.”
“This is unbelievable,” Bodhi says, shaking his head. “And what does the Chief want from you?”
“Interim chief. And she wants me to help them with a kidnapping case.”
“I’m a little nervous about the strength of our police force if they have to hire you to solve a kidnapping.”
“I know, right?” Jyn says. “Apparently, it’s the heir to some hoity-toity family’s fortune that’s gone missing. The family is close with the governor and Interim Chief Mothma is under a lot of pressure to solve this thing quickly.”
“They think this guy is still alive?”
“I guess so.”
“Huh,” Bodhi says. “Are they paying you?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“So, that’s a no.”
“It’s more that they’re paying me by not arresting me,” Jyn says. “And only if I deliver.”
“And what happens if you don’t?” Bodhi asks, not totally convinced he wants to know the answer.
“They’ll arrest me for obstruction of justice,” Jyn says simply.
“Damn it, Jyn.”
“I don’t know why you’re so worried. This is like my two greatest strengths: observation and bullshitting. My whole life has been preparation for this!”
“Only you would see having to prove to the police that you’re psychic by solving a high profile missing persons case as a fun challenge. Do I need to remind you you’re not actually psychic, or are you at least still mildly self-aware?” Bodhi asks.
“Bodhi, don’t be an under-whipped meringue! I know what I’m doing!” Jyn says, and he has to admit, he can’t remember the last time she was this excited about anything. “Now, do you want to go interrogate some fancy white people with me, or not? I bet they own some Baroque art or whatever that you can nerd out about while I investigate.”
“Jyn, I can’t,” Bodhi says, and he thinks he sees Jyn’s face fall, just for a second, before she quickly hides her reaction. “I have to get back to office, I have a million calls to return. I can’t get involved with one of your crazy schemes today, I’ve lost enough time already.”
As soon as it’s out of his mouth, he knows it was the wrong thing to say. He and Jyn don’t fight, not really, and any spats they do have are over as quickly as they begin, usually because they start punching each other and get it out of their systems. What does happen occasionally, though, is that Jyn will shut him out—when she feels rejected in any way, or when she’s going through her own stuff that she doesn’t want to talk about. Bodhi sees the neutral mask that immediately goes over her features and he knows she’s upset by what he’s just said.
“Jyn—” he starts to say, reaching for her.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jyn interrupts, already looking around for her exit, instead of looking at him. “I’m gonna get a cab. I’ll talk to you later.”
As she passes by, she claps Bodhi on the shoulder and then she’s gone.
***
Just like they don’t fight, he and Jyn also don’t apologize. It took some getting used to in the beginning for Bodhi, a naturally nervous person for whom apologizing—even when nothing is his fault—is just a reflex. Jyn, on the other hand, never apologizes for anything. If the phrase “I’m sorry” comes out of her mouth, it’s always a transitional phrase at best, and sarcastic at worst. Over the years, Bodhi has warmed to Jyn’s way of dealing with things. On the rare occasions they do actually fight, Jyn will disappear for a few days and then resume contact as if nothing ever happened. She just needs time and space to get over herself sometimes. And once she has, she doesn’t hold a grudge, at least not when it comes to him. Old issues don’t come back up in arguments years later with her, the way they do in Bodhi’s other relationships. It’s a fault he’ll readily admit he has as well, never letting old grievances go, so it’s probably just as well Jyn isn’t like that with him. Maybe, every once in a while, they actually do bring out the best in each other.
All of this is to say, when Bodhi doesn’t hear from Jyn for three days after their conversation outside of the police station, he’s not actually worried. It’s pretty standard behavior from her, and, even without their weird conflict, they don’t always talk everyday anyway. There’s the niggling concern in the back of his mind that she’s working on a case, and she could actually be in danger and that’s why he hasn’t heard from her, but it’s not enough to really drive him to distraction.
Still, his relief when he gets a call from her on that third day is immediate and a little overwhelming. It’s short-lived, however, when he hears how tired she sounds on the phone and when she asks, tentatively, if he’ll come pick her up because her bike broke down on some isolated back road. His keys are in his hand before he even hangs up and the next thing he knows he’s calling over his shoulder to the woman at the front desk that he’ll be out all afternoon with a family emergency.
It’s nearly forty minutes later that Bodhi actually finds her, because, while Jyn did her best to explain where she was, she is stranded on a truly deserted back road and there’s no landmarks nearby for reference. When he arrives, Jyn is still trying to get her bike to start, with no success. Her jeans are covered in mud, her hands are coated with black grease from working on the motorcycle, and Bodhi is pretty sure she hasn’t brushed her hair since he saw her last. She looks a complete mess, and worry bubbles up in Bodhi’s throat just seeing her.
He pulls over, throws the car in park, and gets out in something of a daze, but he can’t actually bring himself to say a word. Anything he says will betray his concern, and there’s nothing that raises Jyn’s hackles more than being fretted over. When she makes eye contact with him, he says, “You look great,” because he can’t come up with anything else and Jyn’s face breaks into a relieved smile.
“Yeah, well, you know what they say,” she responds, gesturing at herself with one hand. “Dress for the job you want.”
“You want to be Farmer Hoggett?”
“Danny Zuko, actually,” Jyn says, waving her motor oil-stained hands at him. She follows up the gesture with a heavy sigh, and all the energy seems to drain out of her at once.
“You’ve only been a fake psychic detective for three days, Jyn,” Bodhi jokes. “You can’t be tired of it already.”
“Watch me,” she says through a yawn. “And I may be a fake psychic, but I’m a real detective, thank you very much.”
“You have the bags under your eyes to prove it,” Bodhi says, the only way he can think of to bring up her disheveled state.
“Thanks, they’re vintage.”
“I thought so,” Bodhi replies, and then he decides they’ve goofed around enough, given the situation. “Seriously, Jyn, what happened? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she says, reflexively. “I hurt my knee when the bike crapped out, but that’s that worst of it. I just need a ride home, so I can change my clothes and keep working on the case.”
Bodhi wants to ask more questions, but he knows Jyn is probably frustrated enough as it is and she’ll probably be more inclined to talk once they’re on their way.
“Okay,” he says, inclining his head towards his car. When Jyn starts to move towards him, he asks, “What are you going to do about your bike?”
“I got a guy coming to pick it up. He’ll bring it home for me,” Jyn says, as Bodhi holds open the passenger side door for her.
“You should bring it to a mechanic.”
“You should suck it,” Jyn counters. “I can fix my own bike.”
“Clearly,” Bodhi says, gesturing at the dejected looking motorcycle behind them. Jyn scowls at him from her seat as he closes the car door.
Once he’s back in the driver’s seat and they’re on their way back to Santa Barbara, Bodhi looks over at Jyn. Up close, she looks even more exhausted than he initially thought.
“When was the last time you slept?” He wonders aloud.
Jyn gives the appearance of thinking it over before saying, “When did we last see each other?”
“Three days ago.”
“Sometime before that, then.”
“Good grief,” Bodhi mutters. “How are you even alive right now?”
“I’m not. I’m a ghost. I’ve been a ghost this whole time,” Jyn says, drily.
“How dare I care about your well being,” he says, shaking his head bitterly.
For once, the guilt trip actually seems to have an effect on Jyn, because she sobers a little and says, “You’d be amazed what a great motivator the threat of jail time can be.”
“I honestly forgot all about that,” Bodhi says, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Really? You?”
“I guess I just had no doubt you’d solve the damn thing,” he replies, with a shrug. “You’re Jyn. You’ve never met a crazy situation you couldn’t get yourself out of.”
When he chances another look in her direction, she’s looking back at him with a serious expression. “Your faith in me is undeserved,” she says. “But appreciated.”
“Anything for you,” Bodhi says, and he means it. They’re always going to be there for each other; it’s what best friends are for.
They drive in companionable silence for a few minutes, and Bodhi wonders how he’s going to get her to tell him about the case. He doesn’t have long to worry about it, though, because the next thing he knows, he sees flashing lights in his rear view mirror and hears a siren blaring.
“Jyn,” Bodhi says warningly as he pulls over. “What did you do?”
When he looks over at her, however, she looks just as confused as Bodhi feels. This must be a surprise to her as well.
Still, Bodhi can’t help but add, “You better tell me now, so we can get our stories straight.”
“I have no idea what’s going on,” Jyn says, shrugging. She reaches over and gives his arm a squeeze, then adds, “But I’m glad to have you on my side.”
The cop who’s just pulled them over taps on the window, and Bodhi does his best not to jump. He rolls down the window.
“Good afternoon, officer. What can I do for you?” Bodhi asks, trying to sound casual and definitely failing.
“License and registration,” the cop says, and Bodhi hurries to oblige. He hands over the items, but the cop is looking at Jyn very intently.
“You look familiar,” he says to her.
“I was the model for the Morton’s Salt Girl,” Jyn says immediately, and Bodhi has to suppress the urge to smack her.
The officer looks up from Bodhi’s license when she speaks. “Hey, that’s it. You’re Lyra’s kid, aren’t you?” He asks, finally cracking a smile.
“Guilty as charged,” Jyn says with a rueful smile, and Bodhi has to resist the urge to smack her again. He settles for glaring at her instead.
“I worked with your mom for a long time, right up until she retired,” the officer says, his whole demeanor changed to one of friendliness. “How’s she doing?”
“Oh, you know. She’s in Miami. Livin la vida loca, and all that,” Jyn says, casually, as if she’s spoken to her mother mother recently, which Bodhi knows for a fact she hasn’t.
The officer, for his part, looks confused. “Is that so?” He asks. “Because I saw her at the Safeway just last month.”
“She was just visiting,” Jyn lies, automatically.
“She told me she was moving back to the old house,” the cop says.
“Well, you’re just remarkably well informed, aren’t you?” Jyn says, feigning sweetness.
“Uh, is there a problem here, officer?” Bodhi asks, trying to distract the cop from asking Jyn any more questions.
“One of your tail lights is out,” the officer says, turning his attention back to Bodhi reluctantly. “You need to get that fixed,” he adds, handing Bodhi back his license and registration.
“Absolutely, sir. I will. Right away,” Bodhi says eagerly.
The officer nods. “Alright, then. You two have a good rest of your day, now. And tell your mom Officer Macklin says hello,” he adds to Jyn.
“You got it,” Jyn says, already turning away from him.
The cop heads back to his own car and Bodhi pulls away carefully. It isn’t until the cop car is a tiny, retreating speck in the rear view mirror that Bodhi chances speaking to Jyn.
“Your mom is back in Santa Barbara?” He asks carefully.
“Apparently,” Jyn says with an unconvincing shrug. She’s looking down at her phone instead of meeting his eye.
“You want me to bring you to her house instead?” Bodhi asks, looking back and forth between her and the road.
“No need. Liverpool has a match today,” Jyn says, looking up from her phone. “And there’s only one bar in town that will put football on the TV. Take your next right.”
***
If anyone were to ask him, Bodhi would say he loves Jyn’s parents like they’re his own, but he’s also pretty glad that they’re not. Growing up, he spent a lot of time at Jyn’s house and he got to know Galen and Lyra Erso fairly well. He’d always been closer to Jyn’s dad, who was always interested in Bodhi’s school projects and honors classes. They had a lot of similar interests, which couldn’t be said of Bodhi and his father. Bodhi loves his dad, and he knows his dad loves him, but they don’t always have a lot to talk about. So it was nice to talk to Galen, every now and then, and imagine what it would be like.
Jyn, for her part, was always closer with her dad too, but, because his job had him traveling a lot, she spent a lot more time with her mother, whose odd hours as a cop meant she could be around for her kid more often than her husband could. Lyra is hard to describe; she’s not a particularly warm person, but she is undeniably generous and invested in others. That’s always been Bodhi’s experience, at least. For the longest time, he assumed Jyn’s mother hated him, as she never seemed happy to see him. It took time for him to realize that she showed affection more practically than that. She has never forgotten a single thing Bodhi has ever told her, he’s pretty sure, which is how she remembers things like his mom’s birthday and her favorite kind of flowers to send every year, and how, all through his high school years, she knew his top choice colleges—in order—by heart after he mentioned them to her once. Much like he came around to Jyn’s unique personality, Bodhi eventually realized that Lyra’s intense questions and no-nonsense attitude were the product of her caring very deeply, rather than not caring at all. It was easier for him, though. She wasn’t his actual mother and if she ever got to be too much for him, he could just go home. Jyn didn’t have that option.
For as long as he can remember, Jyn and her mother have been like oil and water; they just do not mix. It would be easy to blame the animosity on Jyn’s parents’ divorce when she and Bodhi were in high school, but the conflicts between Jyn and Lyra were going on long before that. Jyn has always resented her mother for raising her basically from birth to become a cop, without taking her daughter’s personality or interests into account. When her parents separated, things only got worse, especially when her parents agreed, without consulting her, that she would live full time with her mother. From there, Jyn’s rebellious streak only got worse and as soon as she turned eighteen, she was out of her mother’s house.
About a year ago, Lyra retired early from the police force and moved all the way to Miami. Bodhi
never expected Jyn to come back to Santa Barbara permanently, but if there was one thing that didn’t surprise him about her return, it was that she waited until her mother was gone to do so.
But Lyra was back now too. The proof was right in front of them as they entered the pub. Jyn’s mother was sitting alone at a table near the bar with a full beer in front of her, her eyes on the television that was set to the football match.
Jyn makes an annoyed noise in the back of her throat, which brings Bodhi’s attention back to her. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, it’s just—” Jyn pauses to roll her eyes. “She’s such a cop, that’s all. I mean, she can see every possible exit from her seat. Does she ever take a day off?”
“She’s retired,” Bodhi points out.
“You can’t retire from being a pain in the ass.”
“That’s lovely, Jyn,” Bodhi says. “You ought to cross-stitch that on a pillow.”
“And you ought to suck it,” Jyn shoots back, pleasantly.
“No, I insist. You suck it,” he replies, and throws his arm out in an after you gesture.
Jyn shakes her head at him. “Here we go,” she says, like she’s approaching an executioner, and not her mother.
As they cross from the door to where Jyn’s mother is sitting, something occurs to Bodhi. “Wait, what do I call her?” He asks suddenly.
“What are you talking about?” Jyn asks under her breath.
“I normally call her Mrs. Erso, but your parents are divorced now, yeah?”
“Funny story,” Jyn says, though the grim look on her face says otherwise. “They’re actually not.”
“Wait, what? It’s been, like, 10 years!”
“Believe me, I know.”
“So, what are they, if not divorced?”
“Hella estranged,” Jyn says with a shrug.
“Is that the legal term?” Bodhi asks, unamused.
“Yes.”
“Seriously, what do I call her, Jyn?”
“I don’t know, dude. Call her Deputy Dog, for all I care,” Jyn whisper-shouts at him. By then, they’ve reached her mother’s table, and Jyn says, “Hey, Mom!” as if she’s surprised to see her there. In her mother’s favorite pub. Where they specifically came looking for her.
“Jyn,” her mom says with a nod. Bodhi’s fairly certain she saw them come in. Hell, she might have spotted them before they got to the door. She’s that good. “Hello, Bodhi. How are you?” she says, turning her attention to him and offering her hand to shake.
“Hello, Mrs. Erso,” he responds. She has the strongest handshake of anyone he knows. It’s like she took a seminar or something. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Are you still working in pharmaceuticals?” she asks, taking a sip of her beer.
“Yes.”
“Good for you. It’s nice to see some young people are able to hold down a job for more than six months.”
Jyn rolls her eyes at the obvious dig in her direction. Bodhi coughs to mask his discomfort and mumbles a response.
“Bodhi would ask about how Miami is treating you, but, unfortunately, you’re not in Miami. You’re here,” Jyn says, her voice pitchy with annoyance.
“I didn’t care for Miami,” Lyra says simply. “Too humid. Too many nightclubs. I got bored.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me you were coming back because…?”
“You would have to call me on occasion to know anything about my life, dear,” Lyra says. “Or return my calls. But you don’t. Besides, if I had told you, I’m sure you would have scurried off to some new town to get away from me as soon as you found out.” When Jyn doesn’t say anything in response, Lyra asks, “Am I wrong?”
Jyn only shrugs in return. “I guess we’ll never know, will we?” She says, after a long pause.
“Indeed,” Lyra says, giving her daughter’s appearance an unimpressed glance. “What happened to you?” She asks.
Jyn looks down at her clothes, which are still covered in mud from earlier. “Oh, this? This is the fashion, Mom. All the kids are doing it.” When Lyra continues to look at her expectantly, Jyn relents and says, “My bike broke down on this muddy back road. I was trying to fix it, but Bodhi had to come get me.”
“I hate that stupid bike,” Lyra says. “You should get a reliable car. Like Bodhi has.”
“Bodhi has a company car, Mom,” Jyn says, exasperated. “And it looks like a blueberry.”
“Hey,” Bodhi interjects. “My car is nice.”
Jyn waves him off as her mother asks, “And you have nothing better to do on a weekday than drive around on your motorcycle? Do you even have a job?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Jyn says, as she pulls out the seat across from her mother and drops into it, “I happen to be working for the SBPD. On a case. And an important one at that!”
Bodhi doesn’t point out that the police aren’t paying her and that she’ll go to jail if she fails, mostly because he knows that Jyn just said it to get a reaction out of her mother. And she certainly gets it. Lyra’s face drops and she asks, astonished, “You? Working for the police?”
“Just like you always wanted,” Jyn says, leaning back in her seat triumphantly.
“I wanted you to become a cop. A real police officer,” Lyra says sharply. “Am I right in assuming that’s not what happened?”
“I’m consulting,” Jyn says, which is being awfully generous, Bodhi thinks to himself.
“And why would they want you to consult on a case?”
“Because,” Jyn begins, and Bodhi can see her trying to figure out what to tell her mother that will be easier than the truth. She sighs, closing her eyes, bracing herself. “Because I told them I was psychic.”
Lyra blinks a few times, very quickly, but otherwise shows no signs of shock. “You did what now?” She finally asks.
“I’ve been calling in tips to the police, stuff I’ve noticed from the news or the paper, using the skills you taught me,” Jyn explains. “But the last time, I gave them my name, by accident. And they kind of thought I was responsible for the crime. I told them I was psychic so they wouldn’t arrest me.”
“And then they just hired you to work on a case?” Lyra asks, disbelieving. “No questions asked?”
“Basically,” Jyn says with a shrug. Once again, she conveniently leaves out the part where she’ll be arrested if she doesn’t solve the case, but Bodhi still thinks it’s better not to mention it.
Lyra, for her part, seems to know Jyn isn’t telling her the whole story and she’s clearly weighing whether it’s worth interrogating her daughter further. “That department has really gone downhill since I left,” she says instead.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“So why are you here?”
“What do you mean?” Jyn asks. “I heard from Officer Macklemore—”
“Macklin,” Bodhi corrects.
“I’ve heard it both ways,” Jyn says to him, before looking back at her mother. “Anyway, I heard from Officer Macbook that you were back in town, and I came to confront you about it.”
“How is Macklin, anyway? Last time I saw him, his arthritis was acting up and giving him a lot of trouble,” Lyra says.
“How would I know anything about his arthritis?” Jyn asks impatiently. “All he said was to tell you hi from him.”
“Well, that’s very nice of him,” Lyra says pleasantly.
“Mom!”
“What, Jyn?” Lyra suddenly snaps. “You expect me to believe that you actually came here because you were so upset that I hadn’t told you I was back in town. Do you think I’m stupid? I know you don’t care! So, you can either tell me what you really want from me, or we can keep talking about my old coworker’s joint problems. Either way suits me fine.”
The silence that follows Lyra’s outburst is excruciatingly awkward. Jyn has a look on her face that Bodhi has never seen before, and he’s pretty sure it’s because she’s about to burst into tears. In their time as friends, Bodhi has seen Jyn go through some shit, including some truly awful arguments with her mother, but he’s never once seen her cry. He has no idea what to do in this situation—will reaching out for her make it worse? Should they just leave? Before he can do anything, though, Jyn drops her head into her hands and sighs.
“I can’t figure it out,” she says, shakily. “I cannot figure this damn case out. I mean, I found the bodies and everything, but it still doesn’t make sense. The cops think it’s a murder-suicide, open and shut. But it doesn’t feel right and I can’t prove otherwise.”
Lyra is looking at Jyn intently, waiting for her to say more, but she doesn’t. She just sits there, head in hands, looking small and exhausted. After what feels like an eternity, Lyra speaks. “How many hats?” She asks quietly.
Jyn takes her hands away from her face to glare at her mother. “What?”
“How many hats are there in the room?” Lyra asks again, even more calmly.
“I heard you. I just can’t believe you want me to do this right now!”
“You’re out of practice, and you’ve gotten soft. That’s why you can’t solve the case,” Lyra suggests with a shrug. “Now, tell me how many hats.”
“Mom, this is a stupid game from when I was a kid. I’m not gonna—”
“If you can’t do it, just say so.”
“Ten,” Jyn says, not breaking eye contact.
“Go on, then. And don’t cheat.”
Jyn sighs, a deep, frustrated noise, and closes her eyes. “Four baseball caps on the guys at the bar,” she says. “The couple in the booth at the back are both wearing cowboy hats; his is leather, hers is straw. The family at the table in the corner have a baby in a sun hat and a boy in one of those rainbow beanies with the spinner on top, which I didn’t even know existed in real life, so that’s interesting. There’s a captain’s hat hanging on the wall with all of the other junk that counts as decor in this godforsaken place. And when we came in, the chef was out talking to the bartender and he was wearing a hat. I assume we were going from when we walked in, yeah?” Jyn asks smugly.
Lyra nods and smiles. “You missed one,” she says.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. The woman at the bar.”
Jyn doesn’t even look. “She’s wearing a visor. A visor isn’t a hat.”
“What is it, then?”
“Ugly,” Jyn says, simply. “And it’s red, because I know that’s what you’re going to ask next.”
“Not bad,” Lyra admits.
“I’m not out of practice,” Jyn says fiercely. “I’m as sharp as I’ve ever been.”
“You just needed to focus on something else, instead of the case,” Lyra says. “You were getting so bogged down in the particulars that you couldn’t think straight. Happened to me all the time, when I was on the force. I’ll bet your mind feels clearer now, doesn’t it?”
Jyn blinks at her mother in disbelief. “Were you actually being helpful just now?” She asks.
“Believe it or not, I’m usually trying to help you, Jyn. Even when you think I’m not.”
Jyn looks at her mother for a long moment, her brow furrowed in concentration. Suddenly, she slaps her palm on the table and turns to Bodhi. “I need you to bring me to the police station,” she says, urgently.
“Did you figure it out?” He asks.
“No, but I’m going to. I just need to look at the case file again.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I know a guy,” Jyn says vaguely.
“Alright. Do you want to go home and change first?” Bodhi asks, gesturing at her still-muddy clothing.
“What? No! Honestly, I think I might be onto something. This is a Look, right here,” Jyn says, standing up.
“If you say so,” Bodhi says, as she starts pulling him towards the door.
They don’t make it far, however, before Jyn stops suddenly. She turns halfway back to her mother, looking completely lost. A moment of deliberation passes before Jyn says, “Thanks, Mom.”
Lyra looks up at her daughter and surprise flashes across her face, briefly. She raises her beer in salute and Jyn smiles.
“To the blueberry!” She shouts at Bodhi, and links their arms together.
“We’re not calling it that,” he says, only to be ignored. “Jyn, I’m serious!”
Jyn pushes the door open and drags him out into the night, still paying his complaints no mind.
***
“Sorry, I’m still not clear on why he’d be willing to help us,” Bodhi says, keeping his voice low so as not to attract any further notice from the other cops at the precinct.
“Quid pro quo,” Jyn says, kicking her feet up on the desk in front of her. “I helped him, he’ll help me.”
“He said that?”
“His eyes did.”
“What did his mouth say?” Bodhi asks, suppressing an eye roll.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t listening. I was too busy staring longingly into his eyes.”
“You’re ridiculous,” he says, shaking his head. “How exactly did you help him?”
“I solved that stupid armed robbery case for him,” Jyn says.
“You did?” Bodhi asks. “That’s amazing. Doesn’t that mean they can’t arrest you for it now?”
“They can’t arrest me for that, but they can arrest me for obstruction still.”
“Damn. So who was the guy’s partner?”
“Ah, that’s the thing,” Jyn says, relishing her Poirot moment a little too much. “He didn’t have one.”
“What?”
“He made it up, to get the immunity deal. Created this whole shadowy figure who masterminded all the robberies to stall the police and he took a gamble that they’d believe him. It was complete bullshit.”
“How did you figure that out?” Bodhi asks, astonished.
“Miss Erso is extremely well-versed in the art of bullshit,” a voice says from behind him. He turns to see Detective Andor approaching them with a cup of coffee in his hand.
“Oh, Detective. I’ve asked you to call me Jyn, and I meant it,” Jyn says, her face lighting up with mischief.
“And I’ve never asked you for anything, so I don’t really understand what you’re doing here,” he shoots back. “And with your feet on my desk, no less!”
Jyn swings her feet off the desk and onto the floor in one graceful motion. “You need to lighten up, Detective, or you’re gonna go gray prematurely,” she says. “Then again, you’d look distinguished, so maybe it’s worth it.”
“What can I do for you, Miss Erso?” He asks, looking tired.
“Jyn. And I need to see the file for the McCallum case.”
“Can’t you see it with your third eye?”
“Would you look at that?” Jyn says to Bodhi, gesturing at Detective Andor. “He’s handsome and funny! If he has a good job, I’m putting a ring on it.”
Bodhi is about to roll his eyes at Jyn’s antics, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees Detective Andor crack a smile. Maybe Jyn’s antics aren’t as unwelcome as he thought after all.
“As flattered as I am, how do you know I’m not spoken for?” Detective Andor asks.
“I saw it with my third eye,” Jyn says, and he laughs.
“Mm. Good one. No, really. Do your,” he gestures at her with his coffee mug, “psychic thing. On me.”
Jyn’s eyebrows shoot up at that and Bodhi can see her resisting the urge to turn the detective’s statement into a dirty joke. “I don’t have to,” she says, finally.
“Sorry?”
“I don’t have to ‘do my psychic thing’,” Jyn says, using air quotes. “Anyone with eyes could see that you're single.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. First of all, you’re a cop, just like my mother. It didn’t help her in the romance department, either,” Jyn says, like she’s letting him in on a secret. “You lot work all the time, hence the bags under your eyes and the fact that you’re here right now, on a Friday night.”
“I could be leaving,” he suggests.
“You have coffee. At 8 PM.”
“Could be decaf.”
“It isn’t,” Jyn says with certainty. “You’re about to pull an all nighter to work on a case. And then you’ll eventually go home to your lonely bachelor pad and eat a meal for one you picked up in the freezer section because you’re ‘too busy’ to cook for yourself. How am I doing?”
“You’re close,” Detective Andor says, trying to be evasive. “But I could have a spouse who’s okay with me working Friday nights.”
“You could,” Jyn allows. “But you also don’t wear a ring.”
“Maybe I just don’t wear it at work.”
“That’s a possibility. But I don’t think so.” Jyn pauses for a second, watching the detective. “Come on, how’d I do?”
“Devastatingly accurate,” Detective Andor concedes. “Except for one part.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m a really good cook,” he says, sitting on his desk in the spot recently vacated by Jyn’s feet. She smiles up at him, delighted, and Bodhi’s pretty sure if he doesn’t do something they could be here all night. He clears his throat awkwardly.
Both of them startle, like they’d forgotten about him entirely. Detective Andor takes a sip of his coffee and places the mug on the desk. “What do you need the file for?” He asks, not quite looking at Jyn.
“Sometimes I do get random visions,” Jyn lies with ease. “But most of the time, my gift requires inspiration. I’m hoping something in the file will trigger it.”
“That case is basically wrapped up, though. I heard it was a murder-suicide between the McCallum kid and the guy he hired to fake his kidnapping,” Detective Andor says.
“I’m not convinced,” Jyn says seriously.
“Hey, from what I hear, they wouldn’t have found that cabin without you,” Detective Andor says, adopting a soothing tone. “Your work here is done. Don’t overthink it.”
“I’m thinking it just the right amount, thank you,” she replies. Detective Andor looks as if he is about to say something else, so she adds, quickly, “You have two options here, as I see it. You can get me that file now, or you can spend the whole night talking in circles with me, finishing none of your own work, and then you can get me the file.”
“Sounds like I’m getting you the file either way.”
“It’s just a matter of whether you have your dignity intact when you do,” Jyn says, throwing in a shrug for good measure. “Choose your own adventure, Detective,”
Detective Andor makes a big show of looking around, and then stands up. “I’ll be right back,” he says, needlessly, and walks away.
Jyn and Bodhi watch him go in silence for a few seconds, before Bodhi asks, “What’s going on there?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re flirting with cops now?”
“I was not flirting with him,” Jyn says, scandalized.
“Jyn, please.”
“I wasn’t,” she says, and she actually stamps her foot, like a child. “I can’t stand cops, you know that.”
“Right. You can’t stand that guy. You can’t stand him so much you just spent ten minutes pestering him about his marital status,” Bodhi says, unimpressed.
“He asked me to!”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. He can’t stand you either. He can’t stand the idea of making you dinner in his tiny, sad apartment and he can’t stand the idea of having beautiful, hyper-observant children with you someday.”
“Bodhi,” Jyn says, slapping at him ineffectually. She’s laughing too hard to do so accurately.
“It’s one thing to seduce and abandon half the food service professionals in Santa Barbara, Jyn, but please don’t start sleeping with cops and never calling them again. My heart can’t take it,” Bodhi says, only half joking.
“I’m not gonna sleep with him,” Jyn replies, looking offended.
“Uh huh.”
“I’m not! Jesus!”
“You, Jyn Erso, are a bisexual menace to society,” he says gravely.
“I’m a bisexual philanthropist, thank you very much, and you, Bodhi Rook, can suck it,” she shoots back easily and lands a solid slap on his arm.
They’re still scuffling like that when Detective Andor returns and drops a file on the desk in front of Jyn. Her face lights up and she tears into the folder with enthusiasm. In addition to Jyn’s many other gifts, she’s also a very fast reader, so she makes short work of scanning through the entire file on the McCallum case. She flops back in the chair once she’s done with the last page, and Bodhi is pretty sure that’s not a good sign.
“Nothing?” He asks.
“Nothing,” Jyn confirms. She rubs her eyes. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for. It’s just that...something doesn’t feel right.”
“How so?” Detective Andor asks.
“It’s just a vibe I have.”
“This is some sort of psychic thing? Vibes?”
“You don’t get vibes? I thought everybody got those,” Jyn says.
“I’ve always thought of it more as intuition,” Detective Andor says with a shrug. “It’s not really a spiritual thing.”
“Well, the spirits are telling me there’s more to this case than meets the eye.”
“Your spirits can’t be more specific?”
“Apparently not,” Jyn says, closing the case file with more force than is really necessary. She tosses it gently back to Detective Andor. “Thanks, anyway.”
“Look, if you don’t mind me saying so, this could all be in your head,” he says. When Jyn gives him an annoyed look, he continues, “Hear me out. This probably isn’t the way you saw this case shaking out. Maybe it’s not that you missed something, or that there’s some cosmic imbalance afoot. Maybe you’re just disappointed. But that’s the work. You’ll have to get used to it if you want to keep doing this.”
“Keep doing what?”
“Consulting. You lead us right to the bodies. It might not be the way anyone wanted the case to end up, but you helped solve it. I wouldn’t be surprised if Interim Chief Mothma wanted to use you again.”
Jyn shakes her head. “You know what I still can’t wrap my head around?” She asks, rather than address what Detective Andor has said.
“How to accept a compliment?” Detective Andor suggests.
“Technically, everything you just said was a fact. None of it was actual praise,” Jyn says. Detective Andor gives her a half-smile and motions for her to continue. “What I don’t understand is why everyone thought this McCallum kid had finally turned his life around. From what I hear, this wasn’t his first try at it. He’d screwed it up before. And you even have a report in there of an incident between him and his father that got so heated the neighbors called the cops to intervene. Why was everyone in that family so surprised that this guy was still up to his old bullshit?”
“People can change,” Detective Andor says simply.
“You don’t honestly believe that, do you?” Jyn asks. When he just shrugs in response, she says, “But you’re a cop!”
“And I wouldn’t be one if I didn’t think this work could make a difference in someone’s life,” he says. “The McCallums didn’t think their son had changed. They hoped he had.”
“Lot of good that did them.”
“Better than the alternative, right? I’d rather hope for the best, than anticipate the worst all the time.”
“That’s a terrible way for a cop to think!”
“I didn’t say that’s the way I actually think,” he says. “Just that it’s how I would rather think.”
“You’re full of shit,” Jyn says, but she looks amused. Fond, even.
“See if I ever help you again,” Detective Andor says, gesturing at her with the case file. “I’m going to put this back before someone misses it,” he adds, and takes off, leaving Jyn and Bodhi alone again.
“That was a very tender moment between you two. I’m glad I got to be here for it,” Bodhi says, for lack of anything better to contribute.
Jyn snorts. “Shut up,” she says, but the expression on her face says her thoughts are still far off.
“Did it help?” Bodhi asks, nudging her with his foot.
“What?” Jyn says, turning her attention to him.
“Anything Detective Andor just said.”
“Oh, no.” Jyn responds, then winces. “I mean, it’s not bad advice, but I just can’t get over this feeling that I’m missing something. I just don’t believe it, you know? That this rich kid botched his own kidnapping so badly that his dirtbag partner turned on him, killed him, and then killed himself because he couldn’t live with the guilt. Oh, and speaking of guilt, this kid’s strict father felt so badly about his son’s disappearance that he apparently tried to kill himself too? Even though he tried to write his son out of his will for being a fuck up? Like, none of it adds up. It doesn’t feel right at all.”
“Wait, what happened with his father?”
“He had this will drawn up—”
“No, you told me about that. You didn’t mention his suicide attempt.”
“Oh, well, I don’t know that for sure,” Jyn says. “When I visited the McCallum house, Mr. McCallum had a bandage on his wrist and he got antsy when I asked him about it. But I overheard some of the help talking and they were saying he tried to kill himself after his son disappeared.”
“So that’s all speculation,” Bodhi says.
“Well, yeah.”
“But you don’t believe it?”
“I mean, it could be anything, really. I tried to look through their medicine cabinets to see if I saw anything that would suggest what kind of injury it was, but it was mostly generic stuff, like ibuprofen and allergy medicine. The only name I didn’t recognize was Zin...Zinfandel?”
“That’s a wine, Jyn.”
“Damn it. Uh, Zin… zinacef? Is that something?”
“Yeah. Zinacef is a brand name for cefuroxime. It’s an antibiotic.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, for people who are allergic to penicillin.”
“And why would they prescribe it?”
“Like most antibiotics, to treat an infection,” Bodhi says. “And if he had an injury to his wrist, it’s probably because the doctor was worried that the source of the cut could have infected him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, if he cut himself on, I don’t know, a rusted nail or something. Although you’d be more worried about Tetanus in that situation. Maybe an animal bite? Like a cat or a—”
“A dog?” Jyn suggests, interrupting him. Her eyes are wide and she’s leaning forward in her seat.
“Sure,” Bodhi says, shrugging. “Why? Does that mean something?”
“Yeah, it does! McCallum Jr.’s friend who helped him fake the kidnapping had a dog. I saw it at the cabin. It all makes sense now!” Jyn practically shouts.
“It does?”
“Yes! Bodhi, you’re a genius!” She says, grabbing his face in both her hands.
“I am?” Bodhi says.
“Yes, you are!”
“That’s nice. But please don’t kiss me. Your cop boyfriend is coming back and I don’t want him to tase me in a jealous rage.”
Jyn lets him go. “I wasn’t going to kiss you, and Detective Andor is definitely not going to tase you,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“I notice you didn’t deny that he was your boyfriend, though.”
“You’re a child!”
“Takes one to know one!” Bodhi shoots back. Jyn reaches out as if to slap him, but he quickly says, “Look alive, he’s on his way over.”
“Shit, I gotta make up a vision,” Jyn says. “This fake psychic thing is way harder than it looks on TV.”
“Yeah, we all feel real sorry for you.”
Jyn glares at him in response as she raises her hand to her forehead in what’s becoming her default faking-a-vision pose. “Help me out,” she says, under her breath, as Detective Andor reappears.
“Oh, Detective Andor, thank goodness you’re back,” Bodhi says, hoping he sounds genuine. He’s doesn’t consider himself to be the world’s best liar. “I think she’s having a vision.”
Detective Andor, for his part, still looks utterly bewildered by the whole thing, so it’s Jyn who actually has to speak up. “I’ve seen our killer,” she says, completely serious.
“You’ve seen their face?” Detective Andor asks.
“No, their wrist,” Jyn replies.
“Their wrist? What good does that do us?”
“I can see it so clearly now,” Jyn says, covering her forehead with her hands. “They found McCallum in his cabin hideout. They figured out the kidnapping was staged before we did and they went to confront him about it. There was a scuffle, between McCallum and our killer. It was an accident, they didn’t mean to kill him, it just happened!”
As Jyn speaks, she keeps her eyes closed, as if she’s actually watching this all happen behind her eyelids. Bodhi can’t help but be impressed. She’s very convincing. For all the trouble it’s caused them, maybe this fake psychic thing is truly her calling. It’s such a ridiculous idea that he’s honestly surprised it didn’t occur to her sooner.
“After McCallum died, his partner came back to the cabin with his dog to find the killer still there. Our killer shoots him and stages it to look like a suicide, effectively pinning McCallum’s death on him instead, but not before the dog bites them and gets a piece of their wrist.” Jyn suddenly opens her eyes and sits back, her face clear of the anguish of her “vision”. She looks at Detective Andor and asks, “Do you know anyone with a mysterious wrist injury?”
Detective Andor blinks at her in disbelief for a few seconds before realization dawns. Then, he quickly reaches for his keys on the desk. “We have to get to the McCallum residence. I’ll call for backup on the way,” he says, and he’s already heading for the exit.
“Are we supposed to follow you?” Jyn shouts after him.
“Yes, let’s go.”
“Alright,” Jyn says, standing up and smacking Bodhi on the knee. “You heard the man. Let’s go catch a murderer.”
“Today has been the weirdest day of my life,” Bodhi says, shaking his head but following after Jyn anyway.
“And it’s not even over yet,” Jyn says with excitement. She loops their arms together once more as they leave the precinct.
***
There’s a light drizzle falling from the sky as Bodhi stands on the front yard of the McCallum residence. Just like Jyn said at the beginning of the case, the house is beautiful and large and absolutely full to the brim with great art and other things that Bodhi would normally nerd out about. Standing there, though, on a rainy Friday night, surrounded by cop cars whose lights are making the whole place glow red and then blue on a constant loop, Bodhi can’t honestly enjoy himself too much.
Mr. McCallum Sr. had been put into a car by an astonished looking Detective Tuesso nearly twenty minutes ago, after admitting to killing his son and his accomplice. The rest of the cops on the scene are still inside taking statements from the other people in the house and getting other relevant details so that they can finally close the case. The atmosphere in there became too much for Bodhi eventually and he excused himself to wait for Jyn outside.
When she finally finds him, he’s looking up at the sky for no particular reason other than the flashing lights from the cars are starting to hurt his eyes.
“You look very emo,” Jyn says, taking in his pose as she approaches.
“You just solved a murder,” Bodhi replies.
“Yeah,” she says, with no small amount of pride in her voice.
“That guy killed his own son.”
“Yeah,” Jyn says, this time sounding somber.
“That’s…” Bodhi starts to say, but he can’t really find the words. “That’s a lot,” he finally settles on, even though it’s nonsense. Jyn will understand, he thinks.
She, of course, nods in response, before also looking up at the sky. “It is. A whole fucking lot,” she says, and he’s glad she gets it.
They stand there in silence for a moment, just listening to the rainfall and the buzz of activity coming from the house behind them. It feels like the first time in hours he’s actually relaxed, ever since he got that call from Jyn this afternoon. He can’t even imagine how she feels.
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Jyn says, suddenly. Bodhi looks over at her only to find her already looking at him.
“Yeah, you could’ve,” he says.
Jyn shakes her head. “No. You saved the day.”
“We’re a good team,” Bodhi responds, trying to deflect her praise.
“That we are,” she agrees. “But I’ve always known that.”
“Yeah, no surprise there.”
At that moment, another police car pulls up and a few people get out. One of them, a woman, spots Jyn and walks in her direction.
“Miss Erso,” the woman calls as she approaches.
“Interim Chief Mothma,” Jyn greets her in return. “Good to see you again.”
“I believe we have you to thank for solving this case,” the Chief says.
“Oh, well, I suppose,” Jyn says. “But I had lots of help.”
Interim Chief Mothma’s eyebrows raise in surprise at that. “You did?” She asks.
“From the spirits, of course,” Jyn says, gesturing vaguely upwards.
“Of course,” the Chief echoes. “Well, thank you for your assistance,” she says, offering her hand to Jyn.
“Happy to help,” Jyn replies, shaking the other woman’s hand
“Oh, that reminds me,” Interim Chief Mothma says. “I spoke to your mother on the phone earlier.”
“You did?”
“Yes. As she’s a former member of the department, I wanted to get her take on your value as a consultant and ask her about your abilities. I have to say, you two need to get your stories straight.”
“We do?” Jyn says, and Bodhi can hear the nervousness in her voice. As for himself, he’s pretty sure he’s having a heart attack.
“Yes, you do. Your mother says that your gift didn’t present itself until you were eleven, but when you and I spoke the other day, you said you’d had your psychic abilities since birth,” the Chief says.
“That’s my mother for you,” Jyn says, easily, even though Bodhi can still see the tension in her shoulders. “She always has to undermine me! Just because she didn’t notice my abilities before I was eleven, doesn’t mean I didn’t have them. I’ve told her this a thousand times!”
“Well, I appreciated her insight,” Interim Chief Mothma says. “And I appreciate your work on this case.”
“Thank you, but I couldn’t have done it without Bodhi,” Jyn says, gesturing at him. “My chauffeur,” Jyn elaborates, for the Chief’s benefit.
“Ah, of course,” she says, looking bemused. She shakes Bodhi’s hand anyway, which gives him something to do besides elbow Jyn in the ribs. “Thank you both.”
One of the officers calls for her then, and Interim Chief Mothma leaves them with a wave. Jyn and Bodhi look after her for a few seconds before Jyn says, “That was close.”
Bodhi lets out a breath of relief. “No kidding,” he says. “I cannot take anymore stress today. I just can’t.”
“Okay, buddy. Let’s get you home,” Jyn says, patting his shoulder.
“We can leave?”
“Yeah, whenever we want. The cops are done with me for now.”
“Awesome,” Bodhi says, before he remembers the problem. “But my car is still at the precinct.”
“Oh, yeah. Cassian said he’d bring us back when we were ready.”
“Who?”
“Detective Andor.”
“You called him ‘Cassian.’”
“Did you think his first name was Detective?” Jyn asks, rolling her eyes at him.
“You’re on a first name basis with him now?” Bodhi asks, unable to help himself.
“Relax. It’s no big deal,” Jyn says, crossing her arms over her chest. “You can call him that too.”
“I should hope so. He’s going to be my best friend-in-law someday.”
“I hate you,” Jyn says, but she’s smiling a little. “I’m going to go find Cassian and ask him to take me back to the precinct. And I’m gonna leave you here. You can walk home, for all I care.”
“If you want some alone time with your boyfriend, all you have to do is ask,” Bodhi replies. Jyn flips him off, which is all the encouragement he needs. “You two, alone in a police cruiser. Very romantic.”
“Don’t give me ideas, Bodhi Rook,” she says, and then she turns on her heel and heads back towards the house.
Smiling to himself, Bodhi follows her.
***
Unsurprisingly, Bodhi doesn’t hear from Jyn for a few days after the McCallum case wraps up. He assumes she’s catching up on all the sleep she missed while she was working the case, an old habit of hers he remembers from when they were in high school. She would always wait until the last minute on projects, pull all-nighters to finish them, and then sleep for days afterwards. For all solving murders and writing research papers are completely different, Bodhi thinks that Jyn’s method of recovering is probably the same for both.
Given the amount of emotional upheaval she went through, Bodhi actually figures it will take longer for Jyn to recover after this, but it’s only Monday when he receives a text from her asking him to meet her that afternoon when he’s done at work.
Sure. At your place? He replies immediately.
No. I’ll text you the address. Her reply comes twenty minutes later.
Why are we meeting at a mystery location?
I have something I need to show you!
You’re making me nervous…
You’re always nervous. See you at 4:30.
Jyn actually remembers to text him the address about ten minutes before he’s planning on leaving the office, and the map on his phone shows that it’s right by the water, but there’s no businesses listed there. Whatever Jyn is trying to do, it’s going to be a surprise, despite Bodhi’s best efforts. He sighs, before gathering his things and heading out for the night.
It’s a short ride from his office to the address Jyn sent him and he finds himself pulling into the small parking lot of a tiny, one story office building that faces the beach. He recognizes the only other vehicle in the lot as Jyn’s motorcycle, so this must be the place. There’s a wide window on the front of the only office housed in the building and, when Bodhi gets out of his car, he sees that there’s a sign painted on the glass that reads, “PSYCH” in big letters and, underneath that in a smaller script, it says, “private psychic detective.”
“Oh, no,” he says to himself, before pulling open the door.
“Bodhi,” Jyn greets him cheerfully when he enters the room.
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Depends on who you ask,” she says. “Why? What did I do?”
“You rented office space, for your psychic detective agency! Which is a career you’ve had for less than a week! And, by the way, you’re not actually psychic!”
“Oh, that,” she says, waving a hand at him, as though his are petty concerns.
“You’re not actually naming it that, are you?” Bodhi asks.
“No, Bodhi. I just paid them to hand paint it on the window because I’m a patron of the arts with money to burn.”
“You can’t call it that,” Bodhi says, ignoring Jyn’s joke and changing tactics.
“Why not?
“Psych?” He says, hoping hearing it aloud will make her understand. When she just looks at him blankly, he adds, “As in ‘Gotcha!’”
“No. Psych, as in psychic,” Jyn says, throwing in some jazz hands for good measure.
“It doesn’t read that way.”
“Oh, whatever.”
“Actually, I have a great idea,” Bodhi says, rubbing his forehead. “What if you called it, ‘Hey, We’re Fooling You and the Police, Hope We Don’t Make a Mistake and Someone Dies Because of It.’”
“As catchy as that is, I think that would take up too much space on the window,” Jyn says seriously. “It would interrupt our ocean view and you have no idea how much that cost me.”
“Speaking of which, how did you even get this place? I know your credit score is terrible.”
“True. But yours isn’t.”
“Mine?” Bodhi asks. “What does my credit score have to do with it?”
“You co-signed the lease with me.”
“Funny, I don’t remember doing that.”
“Well, you’re a busy man. I didn’t want to bug you with the trivial details, so I signed for you,” Jyn says innocently.
“Jyn!”
“It’s not my fault that your signature is easy to forge!”
“That’s not even remotely the problem here,” Bodhi says, his annoyance clear in his voice. “What real estate agent would allow this?”
“A really terrible one.”
Bodhi groans and covers his face with his hands. Jyn crosses the room to pat him consolingly on the shoulder.
“Hey, lighten up. This is gonna be fun! You and me, solving crimes together,” she says.
That’s enough to pull Bodhi out of his despair and he gives Jyn a disbelieving look. “Jyn, what are you talking about? I already have a full-time job,” he says.
“Oh, believe me, I know. You’re always talking about it, with your steady paycheck and your dental plan and your 411K,” Jyn says bitterly.
“It’s a four-OH-one-K, Jyn.”
“I’ve heard it both ways.”
“I’m not leaving my job,” Bodhi says firmly and he sees Jyn’s face fall. “But, I can help you with cases in my spare time, if you’d like.”
“I would like,” Jyn says, smiling. “I would like very much.”
“Good. Partners?” He says, offering his fist for her to bump, which she does.
“Partners. Of course,” Jyn says, and the two of them enjoy approximately thirty seconds of peace before a noise outside catches Jyn’s attention.
“Okay, look alive,” she says, smoothing out her shirt. “Our 5 o’clock is here.”
“What?!” Bodhi asks, shocked. “You have a client already?”
“We gotta keep the lights on somehow,” Jyn replies.
“The Jyn I know has never paid an electricity bill on time in her life,” he says, eyeing her suspiciously.
“Well, maybe I’m turning over a new leaf,” Jyn says with a small smile, which Bodhi returns easily. If she’s really serious about this, he’s not going to stand in her way.
“I’m proud of you,” he says, pointing a finger at her emphatically.
She points back at him. “Thank you.”
At that moment, a young woman comes through the door, looking around cautiously. “Is this the psychic detective agency?” She asks.
“Yes, it is,” Jyn says. “And I’m the psychic detective, Jyn Erso.”
“Wow,” the young woman says, completely dazzled. She looks at Bodhi then, clearly confused as to his role.
Jyn, for her part, doesn’t miss a beat. “Allow me to introduce my associate, Burton Guster.”
Bodhi doesn’t bother correcting her, giving a small wave instead. This is his life now, after all.
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Wholesome Week 2 Day 2 ~ "Fifteen"
@wholesome-week
“Marco…,” rang a whisper, which was left unresponsive.
“Marco…!” the voice once more attempted. Still, there remained no answer but a toss of shoulders on a bed.
Growing impatient, the voice hissed, “MARCO DIAZ!”.
A pair of eyes shot open, looking straight above, leading to a scream.
Third time’s a charm, the voice’s owner thought.
“Star?! What the heck are you doing?!” Marco had come to find Star standing right above his bed, hanging upside down, calling his name.
“C'mon, Marco! Don’t you know what today is?”
“Yeah! The day you almost scared me to death! You can’t just hang over someone’s bed and then scare them awake!”
“Psh, you’re fine! The one who should really be offended is me!”
“Star, you’re making no sense.”
Star hopped onto the floor and stood upright. She stared at Marco blankly, not making a sound.
He returned her look, until what Star had meant dawned upon him. He hopped out of his bed. “Oh my gosh. It’s our one-year friendship-iversary!”
Star smiled. “And?”
“…and the first time we fought Ludo?”
“Annd??”
“…a year since you set your kingdom on fire?”
“Besides that!”
“Oh, oh! I’ve got it now! It’s been a year that you’ve had your wand!”
Star smacked her head, then shook Marco. “It’s my fifteenth birthday!”
The boy’s eyes widened, then both of their smiles, too.
Suddenly, Star yelled, “Super confetti blast!”, and confetti showered the room, both teenagers bursting out with giggles and excitement.
“This is awesome! We have so much to celebrate… and do you know what this means?”
“I’m a year older than I was last year?”
“Fifteen birthday punches!” Marco began to chase Star across his room, as she had immediately began to run.
“No! No! Marco! No birthday punches!” She stopped firmly in her tracks, watching his every move.
He mirrored this behavior, arousing suspicions within her. Finally, he lifted both of his hands in the air in surrender. “Alright, alright- no birthday punches…”
“Good.”
“…just birthday tickles!”
Almost immediately, Star was on the ground, laughing hysterically. She quickly reached for her wand, pointed at Marco, and commanded, “Makeup blast!”, stopping him instantaneously.
He look in the mirror and groaned. His face looked like ‘Princess Marco’ all over again. “Great,” he laughed, following with a groan, “now I have to go clean my face.”
As, Marco left to the bathroom, Star received a call from her mother on her mirror.
“Star? Hello, Star- I need you to come to the castle today.”
“Gee, thanks, mom. I’m having a wonderful birthday so far.” Star muttered, sarcastically.
“I know it’s your birthday, but since you are now fifteen, we must celebrate with dinner, alongside the royal families of the other kingdoms. You do realize you are coming of age to find a husband?”
“Ugh, mom, I don’t want to sit around sipping tea and being proper with the other royals, and I most certainly am not planning on finding a husband.”
“Star, you must come-” Star ended the call midway in her mother’s sentence.
Coming out of the bathroom, Marco asked, “What was that all about?”
“My mom wants me to go to some stupid royal birthday dinner. Looks like we’re going to Mewni.” Before giving Marco the opportunity to have his output heard, Star quickly grabbed his dimensional scissors and opened a portal to the Butterfly Castle, dragging him inside.
“Hello, my not-so-little girl!” King Butterfly announced. “Hello, Marco!”
“Hey, dad!” she hugged her father.
“Ah, Star, I see you’ve followed my directions for once,” her mother said, arriving in the throne room where they stood.
“Now, why is it you request me here so early?”
“Honey, it’s your birthday! You must prepare for tonight’s dinner; you must 'wow’ the other kingdoms,” her father replied.
“Ugh, let’s get this done and over with. What are we doing?”
“Well, the servants shall make you look your best; they will do your hair, makeup, nails, and dress you… and, Star, you will wear your crown,” Queen Butterfly demanded. The young girl groaned.
“That sounds… constricting.” Marco whispered to Star, feeling sorry that as royalty, her parents limited her independence.
“Marco,” the Queen began. “Since Star has brought you here with us, you must also look proper for tonight’s dinner.”
“Uh, okay, thanks,” the boy answered, unsure of what his response should’ve been.
The Queen then waved her hand, commencing the servants’ preparation of each teenager for the night’s dinner. Being separated from one another, Marco’s attention lasted for two hours, while Star’s, five. While putting the finishing touches on her outfit, Marco knocked on Star’s door.
“Come in!”
Marco opened the door and entered the room. Star was hidden behind a screen which her mirror had converted into, just as she did when she prepared for the Blood Moon ball.
“Hey, Star. Almost ready?”
“Yeah, I just think my outfit is missing something.”
“Well, I know this is going to sound corny, but I think you’ll shine just like the star you are.”
“Aw, thanks- wait, that’s it! I know what I’m missing!”
“…You’re welcome?”
“Thanks. Now, super glitter blast!” A blast of glitter emerged from behind the screen, covering Star’s dress exactly the way she’d planned. “…And now, for the finishing piece.” Star pointed her wand toward her head, and finally, her crown appeared in her hair, but with a nice, personal touch: a few flowers and her horn headband.
“Alright, now I’m ready.” As Star stepped out from behind the screen, Marco looked up in full focus.
Star wore a matte satin, red ballgown with an off-shoulder neckline, and that made contact with the ground. The top of her gown was covered in roses, and the bottom of her dress shimmered like the stars in the night sky. She wore her hair in a loose half-up half-down curled style, with the crown and horns in the front to top it off. Her pink wings had grown over time, and shown in the back. With golden heels and earrings, she’d surely be the center of attention at the dinner.
Marco was left awestruck, and, without thought, he said, “You’re beautiful. I-I meant- it’s just- you look beautiful. Not beautiful- but pretty– not that you’re not beautiful but- ugh! You know.” He blushed and turned his head in the awkwardness and his panic.
Star’s face turned red as well. “Thank you, Marco. You look super handsome too…”
They stood in silence for a few moments, until Marco began to lean in closer to her, almost making contact with her until-
Moon Butterfly burst into the room. “Marco, I would like you to escort my daughter to the …Great Hall for dinner with the other royals within the next few minutes.” She then shut the door and left the pair in their awkwardness.
“So… I guess I should start 'escorting’ you to the Grand Hall?”
“Marco?”
“Star?”
“I’m glad I have you as such an amazing best friend.”
“Me too. I know I’ve said this, but you’re the best girl a guy could ever ask for.”
They took another moment to smile and stare at one another until Marco said, “Now, are you ready to go?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she admitted.
Grabbing onto her hand, Marco led Star through the halls, then stopping in front of a huge door.
“Marco, this isn’t the grand hall. It’s the ballroom!”
“Well, I’ve never really been in this castle before. Why don’t we check it out anyway, maybe you could give me a mini-tour?”
“That’d be great.” Star pushed open the door, still with her smile.
“Surprise!” yelled a crowd of people within the room. In the group stood Star’s friends and the people she cared about most, excluding Marco: her mother and father, Mr. and Mrs. Diaz, Ponyhead, Alfonso and Ferguson, Janna, Kelly, Starfan13, surprisingly, Tom, and many others. Many, many tables and decorations filled the room. A DJ occupied a corner of the room. Space had been left for the dance floor in the middle of the room. Long tables with rows of food had lines of people waiting behind it. The most important people in Star’s life occupied a single table, sitting in pairs of girls and guys; someone had paired Janna with Tom. One small table held a huge cake, reading 'Feliz Quinceanera, Star!“ A single spotlight shone on her.
"Marco- I don’t understand. The dinner? The royal families? My mother? Having to get ready for such a long time? What is all of this? Who did this?”
“It was all a set up. This is a Quinceanera, a special traditional party for a girl who is turning fifteen. I thought you deserved it, so I let everyone in on the surprise. There was never any royal dinner, we just needed an excuse to get you ready for the party. What do you think?”
“I think this is amazing! You did all of this for me?”
“I had help, and for a girl as special as you, I’d do anything.”
This time, it was Star who went in for a kiss with Marco, and it was this time she got it. The crowd cheered and whistled, and after a quick flush of cheeks, Star pulled Marco over to the cake table. Flashing her wand, Star made another cake appear next to the birthday cake, the new one saying 'Happy Friendship-iversary Star and Marco!’
The music played, and everyone was in much excitement. As Star sat, Marco sat beside her. “Remember the Blood Moon Ball?” he reminisced.
“Haha, yeah. According to legend, our souls were bonded that day. I hadn’t even known I was dancing with you. You have quite the moves, Marco Diaz.”
“Well, would you like to put the legend to the test?”
“How would we do that?”
“Would you like to dance with me?”
Amused, Star accepted the request she’d been awaiting, being led to the dance floor.
“I thought you’d never ask. Now show me what you’ve got!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author’s note: Thank you to whoever actually read this far! This is my first Starco one-shot ff, and I really had fun with this, so I hope you enjoyed it too! (Btw I’m sorry it’s long, guys)
#wholesome week 2#svtfoe#star vs. the forces of evil#marco diaz#one shot#one shot fanfic#starco#starco fanfiction#fanfic#wholesome week 2 day 2#star butterfly#day 2#birthday#birthday party#quinceaños#quinceañera#jantom#star and marco#surprise party#surprise#ponyhead#moon butterfly#queen butterfly#king butterfly#fifteen#15#15th birthday#friendship-iversary#tom lucitor#kelly
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Sooooo little update...
Let’s skip ahead six and a half years. Honestly, I forgot I started this. And like usual, I didn’t fallow through. But, hey, what can ya do? Try again in a half dozen years I guess.
So much has happened since that day. Relationships. Jobs. Homes. Life... I was lucky enough to find love (a couple times actually) and was lucky enough to learn from it. I also found pain (more than a couple times unfortunately) but was lucky enough to learn from it as well. I learned that love can be toxic. It can feel amazing while feeling horrible. I learned that someone you love hurts you more than you can ever imagine. And that sometimes walking away is worth the pain. I learned to feel vulnerable. I learned to stand up for myself. I learned when to fight for myself.
I learned.
I grew.
I became an adult. Almost overnight. I also learned that I was capable of hurting the people I love most too. More than they ever thought possible. I learned that there are some things you can’t fix. And even though time has dulled the pain, it’s still there. I see it in my family. They don’t know but I still see it. Every time I cough or have a cold I see fear. They hide it but I can still see it. (Okay Mom really isn’t that subtle but still) I spent a lot of time hating myself for the pain I gave them but I also see what that pain has become. I never doubted my family loved me. Not even in my angsty teenage years. But I never realized HOW MUCH they truly love me. They have been a rock that made this journey possible. They were like a motel 6. Always there. And always leaving a light of for me. I really truly don’t know where I’d be without them. Definitely not where I am today. My relationship with them is stronger than ever. I waited a month to ensure I was on meds and things were going in the right direction before letting them in on the situation. It was partially aselfish and partially preparing myself to take care of them. There was so much I needed to learn and I was supposed to be the knowledgeable one because I was part of the group most affected by this disease. I knew they would be going into this blind and I needed to have the knowledge to make them feel secure. I tried but failed at that. I hurt them. Mom cried. Dad screamed. My sister threw up. Oddly enough not the reactions I was expecting. I expected silence from Dad, rage from Sister and shock from Mom. I came in unprepared but we ended up okay. For a few days. Then we lost my cousin unexpectedly in a car accident. The reality of the situation hit home drastically. I wasn’t close to him and honestly wasn’t expecting to cry at his funeral but it hit me hard that day. Not about my own mortality but about how it affects everyone else. I saw his brothers sobbing. Strong men crying like babies. I saw my sister break down. Something I’ve NEVER seen in my life. And I thought she was crying for him. He was only two weeks older than her and I thought it hit her hard. Until his brothers put him into the hearse. She looked at me and smacked me. We got back to the truck and all I remember was her sobbing and saying “What the fuck did you do?!” I’m sitting here crying because I can never forgive myself for making one of the strongest people I know break down. I knew she cared. It took my Dad coming to a Doctors appointment with me to help him get through things. My Dr gave him results. Gave him information. Gave him proof that I was getting healthier. We’ve never been closer than we are now. I honestly feel that this truly changed us for the better. And then there’s Mom, she’s Mom. I stayed away for a long time. I feel I hurt her most and that killed me. She was the one I was scared to tell. And the one I was scared to face. I couldn’t help but see the hurt every time I looked at her. I realize now that hiding wasn’t the answer but at the time I just couldn’t face her. Things have changed. I feel normal with her. It feels like when I was a kid! I call her to tell her about my day. I call her when I need help. I call her occasionally just to say thank you. (That one normally gets an immediate “what’s wrong?!” But I expect that) I feel like it went back to the old days. I know she worries and always will, but I’m sending her every breakthrough article I read. Every happy and healthy story I find. And keep her away from anything involving the AIDS crisis I can. It’s funny, the one biggest consistent thing in our relationship is we protect each other...
Speaking of where I am today... I’m laying in my tub. Happy. Healthy. And in one of the best emotional places I’ve ever been. I’ve been undetectable since May of 2013 and have no plan of changing that. It’s funny how when I was young I never saw myself older than 30. Like that was the end for me. And now I see myself as 110 telling my grandchildren about how when it snows it’s actually the man on the hill carving ice sculptures with his scissor hands... oh wait... that’s Winona Ryder... but I think I’ll have the same shitty age makeup! Anywho, I see myself being around for a while. I have a fiancé that I love and loves me back. That accepts me and challenges me. That makes me feel amazing. And that took a long time to find. It’s ironic that I met him a week after my 3rd HIV-iversary. He never batted an eye about my status and has always accepted it. That’s what makes him so special to me. I never doubted that.
The one thing that really hasn’t changed since that day is that I’m still not scared. And still here to stay!
And that’s my update. See ya in another half dozen years!
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Just Friends (part two) - Stiles Stilinski
A/N: **MAY BE TRIGGERING** drug use+overdose, suicide
A whole month. A month of being friends with Stiles. Best friends, really, seeing he was the closest person you had. But there’d been a month of eating lunch together every other day. (on the other days he’d eat with his friends). A month of walking to classes and lockers together. A month of texting each other during classes to carry on conversations you didn’t want to end. A month of fangirling about Star Wars. A month of him driving you home in his jeep, which you found out he called Roscoe. A month of hanging out at his house, planning to study but always watching tv. A month of being best friends with Stiles, and a month of him never going to your home.
Sure, he’d dropped you off there, but never walked through the doorway. Just to your porch, where you’d thank him, say goodbye quickly, and rush inside. The door always seemed to close on him before he could blink. But he never really pushed the subject. Which made you glad, you didn’t want to drag him into your drama.
It was Friday night, and you were currently walking to his house, he’d invited you over, and since you didn’t have a car... your only option was walking. But you didn’t mind. The weather was nice, and it was a good excuse to listen to music. His house was really only a twenty minute walk anyways.
When you arrived, Stiles opened the door, grabbed your wrist gently, and pulled you in. “Come on, this is gonna be so much fun” He said enthusiastically, bringing you all the way into the kitchen.
“Stiles why are we-”
“Do you know what today is?” He asked, blocking your view into the room.
“Um.. Friday?”
“Yes, but I mean holiday wise” He said.
“I don’t know-”
“It’s our friend-iversary!” Stiles exclaimed, throwing his arms up and moving so you could see the table. On it, was a cake, which looked homemade, and on it was messily scribbled in frosting, ‘happy one month friendship anniversary!’. You had to giggle at his awful culinary and decorative skills.
“It’s wonderful Stiles... but I didn’t get you anything, like a gift or something” You said with a slight frown.
“No no, I didn’t either, I just thought I’d make dessert and we could hang out the whole night” He shrugged, and you nodded.
“That sounds great” You smiled, walking into his kitchen and getting two plates, and two forks.
You ended up eating the whole cake together, while sitting on his bed and watching tv. A Marvel marathon of course. You were currently on Captain America: The Winter Soldier. It was late, the both of you laying with your backs against the headboard of his bed, a laptop playing the film between you. Your eyes were beginning to give up staying open, and you often yawned quietly. In minutes, you were sleeping on Stiles’ shoulder unknowingly. He didn’t wake you up, or move you or anything, just smiled and pulled a blanket over you.
“For God’s sake y/n stop getting in the way!” Your older brother yelled at you. Your seven year old eyes welled up with tears. “I just want some privacy!” He exclaimed again.
“y/b/n please! Please I don’t want to be alone!” You sobbed outside of his room. He stood holding his door open and watching you cry.
Your mother and father had gone out for the night, and you’d had a bad dream. But when you’d come crying to your brother, he wanted nothing to do with you. He ‘d rather just finish his blunt before going to bed. His eyes were bloodshot red, face pale and lips swollen and chapped.
“Just go to bed, it was just a fucking dream” He’d sneered, and slammed the door in your face. You’d cried outside his room all night, falling asleep by the door.
When you woke up a few hours later from another nightmare, your sniffles resurfaced, and you knocked on your brother’s door again.
“y/b/n?” You called quietly. “I’m sorry, I won’t be annoying or loud” You promised. “Can I please just sleep in your room tonight?” You asked softly. “I’ll stay on the floor” You waited for an answer, but it didn’t come. “y/b/n?” You called again. Still no answer. You swallowed your fear, and hesitantly opened the door to the room.
You didn’t expect to find your brother lying on the ground with an empty bottle of your mother’s prescribed medication in his hand.
You awoke with a jump, tears steaming your cheeks. The action caused Stiles to jolt as well, looking from the movie to you.
“What time is it?” You asked quickly.
“Almost midnight do you want a ride or you can stay on the couch if you want-” Stiles stopped when he saw you were crying. “Hey.. hey what’s wrong?” He asked softly, reaching towards your face but you turned away, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.
“Just a bad dream” You said dismissively. “It’s nothing” Stiles got out of bed, opening a dresser drawer. “What’re you doing?” You asked, and watched him retrieve sweatpants and a tee shirt.
“Clothes for you to sleep in” He told you. He handed you the pajamas, and you took them with a hesitant hand.
“I don’t want your Dad to be angry-”
“He doesn’t care, he likes having you around” Stiles said with a smile, and you felt your chest warm at the idea of being wanted somewhere. “Now, I’ll let you change in here, just call when you’re finished and we can just lay and talk about this dream, okay?” You nodded, and he pushed your hair back from your face, thumb caressing gently over your forehead. “Alright, I’ll be back when you’re done” He said, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
You’d changed rather quickly, having to tie the sweatpants up high around your waist so the material didn’t trip you when you walked. Although it still came over your feet. You took a few extra minutes, wandering Stiles’ room, looking at picture frames he ad on his desk and walls. Pictures with him and his friend Scott McCall. You particularly liked the ones where he was just a kid, at the zoo with his family or playing outside with his friends. After looking around for just a little bit, you opened the door, seeing Stiles standing in the hall in his own sweats and tee shirt, scrolling on his phone. He smiled upon seeing you, and you both walked into his room.
“You don’t mind me sleeping here?” You asked. “It’s not gonna make anything... weird... right?” Stiles shook his head and pursed his lips.
“Things could never be weird between you and I” He said, collapsing onto the bed. You crawled in next to him. “So,” He started, “What was this nightmare about?”
“Oh, it’s fine, I’m okay now” You rushed, but he gave you a look. One that you knew meant he still wanted to know. You took a few deep breaths to calm your nerves. “I don’t want to scare you away” You whispered, not wanting to look up to him from the bed sheets. Stiles clasped a hand with yours.
“There’s nothing you could possibly say that would scare me away” Stiles said, giving you a smile that you saw in your peripheral view. He squeezed your hand, grabbing it in both of yours.
“It wasn’t..it wasn’t just a dream” You said quietly. “It was a memory” You breathed the words out, still worried and unsure about opening up to him. “Stiles I- I want to talk to you_ i want to tell you these things I do I really do-” Your voice cracked and when you looked at him, he saw the tears in your eyes.
“Hey, it’s okay, I promise” You licked your lips, breathing again.
“I had a brother” You said, and Stiles instantly felt a pang of sadness at your past tense mentioning of him. “And... and one night... my parents went out for date night and left us home” You breathed in sharply, and looked up at him. “I fell asleep and had a bad dream” You wiped your eyes with your free hand. “I went to his room, and I know that he was smoking... he did any time mom and dad left” A few more tears escaped. “He told me to go away, he yelled at me a lot, and I passed out in the hall outside his door” You sniffed, and Stiles let go of your hands to cup his own around your cheeks, thumbs brushing the tears away. “I woke up and-and I was scared again-” Your chest heaved and your lips quivered. Stiles’ brow knit together as he watched you unravel in front of him. “I opened the door, and he was there on the ground” You closed your eyes, and it was like you were reliving it all over again.
“It’s okay, I understand, you don’t have to say it” Stiles spoke softly, but you shook your head.
“I need to say it” You said, opening your eyes, and looking at him. “He killed himself. He OD’d on my dad’s pills...” You nodded slightly when you finished. Stiles’ thumbs rubbed circles in your skin.
“And how do you feel now?” He asked.
“You’re not gonna tell me you’re sorry for my loss?” Stiles shook his head no.
“I’ve heard that enough from my mother that I know it does nothing for anyone” You nodded again. “Is there... is there anything you want? Anything I can do?” You breathed out, and closed your eyes.
“Can we just... lay here for the night, I don’t really want to do anything” Stiles nodded, and watched you shuffle a little closer.
“Goodnight” He said, combing his hand through your hair with a soft smile.
“Goodnight Stiles” You responded softly.
xoxo ~ jordie
i just want to say that it’s going to get pretty serious and intense in the chapters to come, and i just want readers to know that i’m always here to talk to :) ok i’m done with the sappy stuff. thanks for reading!
#teen wolf#teen wolf imagine#teen wolf scenario#teen wolf fanfiction#teen wolf x reader#stiles#stilinski#stiles stilinski imagine#stiles stilinski scenario#stiles stilinski x reader#stiles stilinski fanfiction#dylan o'brien#dylan o'brien imagine#dylan o'brien scenario#dylan o'brien x reader
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The Adventures of Aborted Andy | Episode I: Meeting Your Maker
By David Himmel
HE TOOK AIM FROM HIS ROOFTOP PERCH. The tripod steady on the rake, he breathed in measured breaths. A gentle gust of wind. He delicately adjusted his scope to account for the shift. Not that it was a hard shot. Andy was only ninety-five yards out. The morning sun was at his back, which was a double bonus. No glare for him and a blind for those looking to see where the shot may have come from. Andy couldn’t have asked for a better mark at a better location.
Maria’s shift at Turnip, Atlanta’s hottest new vegetarian restaurant, started at ten o’clock. She preferred the lunch shift. The hour of prep work before opening was her own little therapy session. Polishing the silverware, rolling the napkins, setting up the soup and salad stations, brewing the coffee… it gave her time to think without having to think about it. Nothing specific, just a chance to be alone and quiet with whatever thoughts were in her head that day. Working the lunch shift meant she could be home in the evenings for her kids, Miguel and Rosa. The money wasn’t bad. A lot of business meetings occurred on her shift. It turned out that vegetarians prefer their tofu, kale, and sprouts with alcohol.
The Planned Parenthood Andy had lined up in his sight was just a few blocks from Turnip. It was a convenient way to take care of an inconvenience. Her appointment was at nine sharp. Fifteen to twenty minutes in and out then off to work. Andy checked his Luminex Evo Navy Seal Blackout watch. 8:56 a.m. He looked at the building through his binoculars to see Maria rounding the corner. He followed her into the building with the scope’s crosshairs covering her head. He adjusted his position and scope once more. Then he waited, breathing those measured breaths just like he’d been taught.
As Maria exited, she looked upwards, perhaps toward God, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Andy clicked the safety off with his thumb and took one last slow breath as he wrapped his finger around the trigger. He squeezed. Maria opened her eyes. Andy thought she looked sad as the rifle’s muzzle flashed in his scope. Maria’s head jerked back as the bullet pierced through her shattering the glass doors of the Planned Parenthood behind her with blood, gray matter, skull fragments, and a twisted, hot piece of lead. She dropped to her knees then slumped over with her bleeding head resting peacefully on the curb.
Andy disassembled his weapon with lighting speed. He packed it away in the black backpack made specifically for a weapon of this sort. He bolted to the roof access door as fast as his little, chubby legs would carry him. He made his way through the condo/office building stairwell without being noticed just as he had done on his way up. Andy was good at his job. And for a nine-month-old baby, he was really good at it.
✶
THERE’S A PLACE FOR THE UNBORN DEAD. One that exists in the heavens complete with the best parts of a Black Ops training facility and a McDonald’s indoor play area. It’s where the babies—fetuses—aborted by their mothers might find themselves. Unaware of who they are or where they came from, these fetuses are collected and turned into weapons of revenge. They were born into an afterlife of service to a vengeful being operating in the darkest shadows far off the radars of Heaven and Hell. Black Ops for Babies with one mission: Provide balance to life on Earth. A life for a life. One moment the fetus is alive, warm and unaware, in its mother’s womb and the next it is standing in the presence of a magnificent dark lord literally on new legs that would have grown had Mommy Dearest not terminated that opportunity. The baby is taught to hunt, kill, and hide in plain site while on Earth executing its mark. And when vengeance is served, the young, undead assassin returns to the void the magnificent dark lord calls home.
✶
ANDY WOKE FROM HIS NAP in his Pack ’n Play filled with pacifiers and Baby Einstein gadgets against siding made of flaming mesh. He reached for the bottle in the corner by his head and took a long drink. It was time for another mission. That was Andy’s existence: Mission —> nap —> snack —> mission.
He was sent by the shadow-cloaked demon who collected the souls of the aborted babies to Peoria, Illinois. It was a beautiful day in Detweiller Park. Larissa was enjoying an iced coffee from Starbucks and a book in the sun. She had finally gotten around to reading The Da Vinci Code. She felt self-conscious reading it in public like that. But she was a distracted college student when the book was all the rage a decade-and-a-half ago. These were her early thirties. These were her best days.
She loved her job as a social worker helping the elderly and the poor find work, homes, solace in their lives built on disadvantage. She was house hunting with her boyfriend of six years, Freddy. They were finally having serious talks about marriage and kids. Larissa was enjoying every moment of every day. She was free. She was untethered. She was happy. And she knew she deserved it. Her childhood and teenage years and twenties were hard. A drunk mom, an absent dad, a GED she barely passed, a collegiate life that left her with debt and a short rap sheet for minor crimes like public drunkenness and shoplifting hair conditioner from a CVS. A sunny day in the park with a book that was good enough to keep her turning the pages but not good enough to warrant all the hype it received more than a decade ago.
She felt hungry and considered packing up and grabbing some Chipotle. But she and Freddy had big dinner plans. Today was their meet-iversary and Freddy was surprising her with a romantic dinner somewhere. Larissa was sure he was going to cook for her, which would be disappointing if she didn’t have an affinity for a handsome, overweight, and kind coder trying his damndest to be both Chef Gordon Ramsay and Adonis. So she sacrificed her hunger and focused on Dan Brown’s Illuminati conspiracy.
Andy toddled through the woods. He found a fallen tree about one hundred and twenty yards away from the clearing where Larissa was enjoying her day. He unpacked his rifle, assembled it and, without realizing it, wet his diaper. But because Andy was a specter of sorts and a tool of an off-the-grid demon, the diaper remained dry. Diaper rash was the assassin’s greatest foe, which gave Andy and his cohorts an advantage. He used his binoculars to confirm his mark. Larissa. He set the binoculars down and took aim with his rifle. He breathed in measured breaths. He considered the wind and the humidity. He adjusted his scope. He aligned the sight hairs on Larissa’s face. This would be easy.
As he clicked off the safety and wrapped his finger around the trigger, he paused. He recognized her.
What was this? A feeling of… uncertainty? This was unfamiliar to him. He was a baby. A baby with a gun but a baby who for the first time felt remorse. He looked up from the scope. Setting the rifle down, he reached for the binoculars. He looked closer at Larissa. She was beautiful. Her jet black hair was curled naturally in the humidity and it bounced gracefully against the top of her shoulders with each turn of the page or sip of iced coffee. It reflected the sun at times blinding his view. Her bright green eyes were focused on the book but exuded a kindness and calm he’d never known since… since he was in utero.
“Fuck you, Mommy,” Andy said in the most adorable baby talk ever.
Andy was an aborted baby. His soul scooped up by a demon and taught to murder. He knew nothing else until this moment. The moment he made one hundred and twenty yard contact with his mother who had aborted him a little more than a decade ago. He took time watching Larissa through the binoculars. She read, he watched. She sipped iced coffee, he watched. She let the late spring sunshine toast her naturally golden skin to a gentle pink. He watched
After some time, Andy surveyed the rest of the park. Young women sunbathing; empty nesters walking; people jogging; an elderly European immigrant in a Speedo doing yoga; twentysomething guys throwing frisbees; a boy and his dad tossing a baseball back and forth; dogs chasing sticks and tennis balls. The park was rich with life. To Andy, it was beautiful. And he realized that he wanted to live. He wanted to get sunburned in May killing time in a park. He wanted to have a dog. He wanted to sit with his mother.
He picked the rifle up again, took aim and clicked off the safety. Because this was his life. A non-life. An unlife. The life of a slave. Larissa was enjoying her life because Andy didn’t have one. She, above all the others he had killed, needed to pay for her crime—her sin. He breathed in measured breaths and let his finger embrace the trigger
“Fuck you, Mommy,” Andy said in the most adorable baby talk ever.
But he couldn’t do it. She was his mommy. He couldn’t kill her. She had a life to live. Who was he to decide her mortality? And with that, his little baby brain was overwhelmed with knowledge of how Larissa agonized over the decision to abort Andy. How she got pregnant from a man she loved but never loved her. Was it rape? How her body struggled to keep Andy healthy as he struggled to grow inside of her. How she knew that she was too young and troubled and poor and irresponsible to raise him. How even if she wanted to, she couldn’t have done so because she and Andy were rejecting each other. If she hadn’t aborted him, nature would have.
Andy was done with letting outside forces determine his fate. And he’d be damned if he’d let those same forces determine Larissa’s fate. She was right to terminate the pregnancy. In those woods at Detweiller Park Andy understood everything. And with that knowledge he decided that he was going to give his mother the one thing that she never could give him: the chance to live.
The demon was not happy with this. But like his mother, Larissa, it was a choice with consequences Andy would have to face. And he was fine with that.
Story image used without permission from Christopher Haden Art.
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