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anime-lover-forever-1127 · 3 years

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A Woman With Vision {Arthur Leywin} - 20. Beast Glades

Beast Glades

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Disclaimer - (Cause fanfiction is tricky ground and I hope not to offend the creator of the original story and get sued)

I do not own "The Beginning After The End", it belongs to its original creator TurtleMe. This is only a fanfiction that I was inspired to write by the original work. Please support the official release. Most of the media - such as the art and illustrations, gifs, video's, etc. used in this fanfiction - are from the web. Thus, most of them aren't mine (because I really, really can't draw) unless mentioned. To fit the story, images are also edited by various apps and websites. So they aren't mine, just edited. I get much of the text, especially the fight scenes and thought, aside from my oc's, from the original novel, which can be found on Library Novel. Please support the official release.

Also if you own a picture or Video that I found online, and you either want your name added, or me to take it down. Please contact me and we can talk it out. P.s. I also ask that you do not copy my work and publish it onto any other website.

If you're gonna use my idea, please ask me (If you ask nicely, I for sure, will agree). If I don't contact you within a week, then just assume I'm giving you the all clear and go for it. Just remember to credit me.

I will be writing out scenes even if my Oc isn't in them. As long as she's mentioned, or influencing the characters in some way. This may seem a bit annoying. But that's just how I write. I like to embed my characters into the story line. Because of this, most of the dialogue/scenes will come from the original work.

Playlist

For the playlist you can go to my YouTube channel, which is under "Anime-lover-forever-1127" and click on the playlist titled "A Woman With Vision {Arthur Laywin}". Or you can use this link watch?v=GYlAaNM7WS8&list=PLVKYkztH1Zd8bdl2_a1C8F6u8gPPwfa6D&ab_channel=7clouds

Warnings: Spoilers for Chapter 30 and chapter 54 of the comic

*****

Today's Special

No one tells you that the hardest part of MOTHERHOOD is when your kids grow up

~ sitiraihana

*****

{Morgana P.O.V.}

Crossing through the teleportation gate, my senses jolted from the scenery. The City of Xyrus had the most teleportation gates among the cities since they were the only way one could enter it, it being a floating city and all. The one we crossed led us directly to the front entrance of the area known as the Beast Glades.

The chirps of birds, occasional cries and roars of beasts, and the constant sound of water flowing filling the background all created an enticing symphony of nature. The sight of tall trees and numerous hills covered in various plants and shrubs made it hard to believe that this beautiful landscape was filled with magical beasts capable of killing even the strongest mages. However, because of abundances of natural resources on the outskirts, it was mostly only the lower rank beasts that inhabited this deeper an adventurer traversed, the more mysterious and treacherous the landscape turned, filled with the lairs of powerful beasts that have amassed their treasures and power in the solitude's of unexplored regions in the Beast Glades.

I took a sip of the crisp air as Jasmine and Arthur arrived behind me through the teleportation gate when, suddenly, I heard a wish, and from the corner of my eyes I saw Sylvie scurry off.

"Wait, Sylv! Where are you going?" Arthur called after her, dumbfounded.

Sylvie transmitted a vague response; I could feel her emotions of excitement as she sent out thoughts about her plans to train as well.

"Did she just?" I asked, pointing at the direction my baby just ran off to.

"Yep, she just ran away from home." He answered weekly, his tone going a little high.

"Oh, Arthur." I sighed, pulling him close and giving him a shoulder hug. I had only known Sylvie for a couple of months, and I felt as if something was missing without her here.

But she was Arthur's bond, and had never left him since the day she had hatched. I could only imagine how big the hole in his heart must feel.

"Are you gonna be ok?" I asked. "We could take a break."

Arthur shook his head, "We just got here. Plus, I'm only a little…" He struggled, unsure of what world to use, "...uneasy. But… I can sense her whereabouts. So it should be fine."

"You can sense her whereabouts?" I asked, surprised.

He nodded, "Wait! You can't?"

I shook my head.

"Close your eyes, and try searching for her aura."

I did what he had said. I could see the mana floating around me, but no Sylvie. I opened my eyes, "Nothing. No trace of her. Maybe we're not just there yet."

Sylvie had explained to me that the longer me and Arthur were with each other, the stronger our mate bond would become. And the stronger it becomes, the easier it would be for me to create an adopted bond with Sylvie. Of course that would only be possible after spending time with her. And if I ever got a bond, it would be the same with Arthur. He would form a bond, through me, until he had a second, slightly weaker bond, with my own, on his own.

So because of that, until my bond with Sylvie was complete, I would be using Arthur's bond, to support my own developing one with her.

Now it was Arthur's turn to give me a sympathetic and reassuring hug. "It's fine mama bear."

"You're right." I nodded, "Knowing you can still

"She'll be okay. Mana beasts have a natural instinct to grow stronger. She must've felt very suffocated being in a sheltered environment all of her life," Jasmine pips up , walking next to Arthur.

"I know." I nod, "But that honestly doesn't make it hurt any less."

Jasmine lets out a chuckle, "It's like your her mother."

"She is" - "I am"

Arthur and I answer at the same time.

Jasmine stops a bit, staring at us long and hard, before smiling, "I think I get what your parents meant now. Well, to each their own."

Both me and Arthur smile at that. She really is a great woman.

Putting her hand on our shoulder, she signalled for us to start moving. "There's a place I wish to visit first before going to a dungeon. We have to hurry though; it gets a little more dangerous at night."

Willing mana into her body, Jasmine bolted off into the distance, her wind attribute mana propelling her even faster.

I followed after her, forming two gales of wind below my feet as I dashed after her, Arthur doing the same, followed.

Everyone in a while, Arthur would give me an update on Sylvie.

"I just hope that she doesn't go after bigger beasts until she's ready." I sigh.

"Don't worry. She knows she has us if she ever gets in over her head. She knows she can always ask us for help." Arthur says, petting my head.

*****

The journey lasted a few hours and it began to grow dark. The only reason Arthur and I had been able to keep up with Jasmine, even when she was at a dark yellow stage, was Arthur had been using mana rotation throughout the way, and I had controlled mine to only use the bare minimum amount mana needed to create a controlled, constant amount of wind. This skill had become almost second nature to me now as I utilised it unconsciously whenever I exerted mana.

By late evening, we had cleared through a dense forest and arrived at a small clearing. Surrounded by trees, there was a small field of grass with a stream of clear water flowing through it.

"We'll camp out here for a few days," Jasmine announced as she set down her bag and took out a couple of items.

"Weren't we going to a dungeon right away?" Arthur asked, setting down his bag as well.

She simply shook her head, picking up a few branches of wood and gathering them together.

Well Arthur and I went into the forest, finding some decent-sized branches to make a fire with. After a bit, we had a fire crackling and popping in the middle of our camp. Making myself comfortable, I leaned against Arthur who had removed his mask and sat silently by Jasmine, next to the fire.

Trying to break the silence, Arthur asked Jasmine, "What made you want to become an adventurer?"

"…"

Her gaze never left the fire and after a few minutes of more awkward silence, I just stared back at the flame, assuming she didn't want to answer.

"I wanted to get away from my family." I almost missed what she said from how quietly she spoke amidst the wood of the fire snapping fiercely.

"I see… were you on bad terms with your family?" Arthur responded, his eyes focused on the fire.

I choose to just listen to their conversation.

"…"

"The Flamesworth House was a major contributor to the war against the elves. Our house has provided many powerful mages, both conjurers and augmenters. Our lineage in the fire attribute element was second to none. We took great pride in this, because fire is considered to be the most powerful of the elements," she stated monotonously.

Despite her short sentences, this had been the most Jasmine had talked in one sitting.

"But Jasmine, aren't you a…" Arthur asked, looking up at her as she nodded in response.

"Since early on, when I had first awakened and started training, my family tried to test my mana for fire affinity. I went through various tests so they could see how my mana was exerted and how it flowed through my mana channels." She took a pause and poked at the fire before continuing on. "When it was made clear that I had no aptitude for the fire attribute, my family regarded me as lesser."

"…"

Arthur didn't know how to respond to her. For the first time, the always aloof and cold Jasmine seemed…vulnerable.

"I'm sorry for what happened…" was the only response Arthur managed to utter.

But so much for staying silent, I stood up to my knees and crawled over to Jasmine until I was face to face with her. Looking her directly in the eyes, I told her firmly. "Your family is wrong… and crazy." Her eyes went wide at my statement. "Wind magic is probably stronger than fire when you get down to it! All your family is, is a walking matchstick. All they can do is shoot out flames, a pillar if they're really getting creative. But with wind magic… we can create tornadoes, fly, move objects across a room. I mean it was because of wind magic we covered a distance that would have taken us days, in mere hours. Do I really have to say more?"

Jasmine's eyes widened and she shook her head, she gave me a faint smile. "The Twin Horns have treated me well and I don't dislike what I am."

I smiled, "I know that. I can tell it on your face whenever you're with your party, that you're clearly happy. But I'm just letting you know that your family is wrong. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but theirs… is just plain stupid."

I glanced at her palm as Jasmine formed a small swirl of wind, different emotions running through her face as she peered at her hand.

This world was a place of discrimination and classification. The hierarchical roots embedded into this land would never truly disappear. Normal humans were considered second-rate people, while even amongst mages, augmenters were discriminated against by conjurers. It went further than that where, unless one was a deviant or a dual element specialist, some elements were considered "higher class" than others.

Being born from a family of powerful fire attribute mages, she was discarded as inferior because of the elemental attribute she had; something that most mages would kill to acquire. She was a dark yellow augmenter skilled in fighting and mana manipulation at the ripe age of 24. Many would consider her a genius but from the standards she grew up with, she considered herself lesser.

We placed more wood to last through the coldest parts of the night and laid out our sleeping bags a few feet away so we could still feel the heat.

As we got ready to go to sleep, Arthur leaned into my ear and whispered, "I know subtlety isn't really your strong suit. It never has been."

I sent him a glare, "This better be building into a compliment."

He sent me a smile, "Well, more of a request. But I'm not shy to add one in there. Anyway, if we ever meet with nobility… and royalty again - assuming you haven't scared them enough yet. Could you at least try to hold it in. Until we least have a chance at beating them."

I huffed, "Speak for yourself. I already have my network ready. Of course it really isn't anything that great yet, but it has potential. The seeds are planted, and ready to sprout like a butterfly bush at a moment's notice." I winked at him.

He stared at me confused, "Who would-"

I cut him off, "Finishing school is quite boring when you've actually played the high society game. But, when it comes to making connections with little girls eager for your approval, there's nothing like it. As for informats, they're easy to buy. Mom and dad's allowance has always been generous, and I know exactly how to put it to good use." I smirked as I thought of the various amounts of blackmail I had collected for various families.

Arthur stared at me, wide eyed. "Damn, why didn't you say anything?"

I shrugged, "I thought you knew me?"

"I do!" He defended himself. "But I may have accidentally underestimated you. I thought your network may take you another two to three years. Sorry. Never again."

I smiled into the fire, "Well… If I'm being honest. It's nowhere near as good as my old one. But it's better than nothing. Information is the name of the game. And plus, every now and then, I do find a few pieces of gold." I said, remembering the little golden nugget of information I'd collected on a certain elf princess. I don't wanna be mean, but if she pushes my hand...

My eyebrows furrowed as I remembered, "Where's my compliment?" I pouted.

Arthur chuckled, "What you said to Jasmine, was truly amazing."

"Of course it was." I said, smiling and accepting the compliment. I ran my fingers through his hair, and added, "Though, we really do need to work on your elements. You need to do so much more than just creating pillars of fire." I felt a sweat drop roll down the side of his neck as I began making plans. "I've made a lot of progress with my wind, though I definitely need to work on my water. Before we start school, I would like to start working with ice a little bit. Though I'm not sure how much I could exactly get done between practising wind, and working on water, and relearning the sword." I pouted, eyeing the blue blade Arthur wouldn't let me touch unless he knew for a fact I wouldn't drop it on myself.

As much as I hate to admit it, I don't really blame him for it. Considering he never lets me forget it, I know for a fact he remembers how bad my first sword training lesson went. And to be honest, as fun as it would be to swing it around again, I don't wanna know how well it would work out with my current build. It was too big for my current body. So until I grew a bit, I'd have to use a practice sword.

Eyes closed, I waited to drift off when I heard Jasmine mumble something.

"…It's weird. When I talk to you two, it doesn't feel like I'm talking to children."

I didn't respond. Pretending to be asleep, I hoped she wouldn't push further for a reply.

*****

"Good morning." Jasmine was up and cooking something over the fire by the time I had gotten up and out of my sleeping bag.

My stomach rumbled to remind me that I hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon as I looked hungrily at the skewered fishes being grilled on the fire.

"Good morning! You should've woken me up, Jasmine. There's no need for you to do all of the chores on your own."

I turned my head to see Arthur rubbing his eyes.

"…I tried waking both of you up… But you wouldn't budge." Her half-closed eyes that give off an apathetic stare regarded us with concern. "If I didn't hear you breathing, I would've mistaken you for corpses."

"Haha…" Arthur let out an awkward chuckle. "I'm sorry, I really need to fix that."

"You and me both." I nodded. I usually woke up early on my own. But if I didn't, then nobody could wake me up.

After devouring the grilled fish for breakfast, we put out the fire. Using the nearby stream to wash myself and my clothes.

Arthur put on his mask and swords, well I wrapped my cloak around my shoulder, and placed my contents lenses in, assuming we'd go hunting for some mana beasts around the area, when Jasmine stopped me.

"Your opponent for these few days will be me."

"Huh?" I couldn't help but be surprised at the turn of events. We came all the way here to spar?

"This area is close to the dungeon we will be exploring, but for these days, I want you to focus on fighting me. I noticed that your fighting style seems… awkward at times. Like, you know it in your head, but your body doesn't listen to you… or something like that." She told Arthur and then turned to me, "You have your control down. But you need to focus on increasing your mana amount. We can stay in a dungeon for days at a time. So you're going to need to work on that."

Unsheathing her two daggers, she pointed one at me, continuing, "We won't use any kind of mana for these next few days while sparring."

I hadn't expected Jasmine to catch on to what I had been worried about, but it was a good opportunity.

"Good idea," Arthur replied, unsheathing his short sword.

I sat down on the grass, getting ready to meditate.

{Arthur's P.O.V.}

"Use your other sword…" Jasmine's eyes flickered toward Dawn's Ballad.

"How did you know this was a sword?" I wasn't planning on hiding my weapon from her but I was still caught off guard.

"Knowing you, that black stick should be something more than just a cane or a practice stick," she shrugged, walking a few steps closer to me.

Giving her a confirming nod, I tossed the short sword to Morgana, who caught it with her eyes closed. From my position, I could see the mana around us, begin to gather towards her.

As the sword soundlessly glided out from its scabbard, the translucent blade glowed a light teal as it reflected the sun's strong rays.

Holding it out in front me, I positioned myself. "Ready when you are."

"Y-Yeah," Jasmine stuttered as her eyes remained glued to Dawn's Ballad.

We dulled the edges of our weapons using mana before beginning. Without mana strengthening my body, I realised just how much I had been neglecting myself. After a few swings, my arms felt heavy and my legs trembled as they pushed feebly off the ground.

This was my mistake. I knew of the limits that my juvenile body had, but instead of trying to fix my shortcomings, I chose only to mask it using mana.

While magic in this world was capable of many things, it should be only used as a supplement to your abilities, not a replacement to cover them.

I lunged out with a sharp thrust aimed at Jasmine's sternum. Even though our swords were coated to prevent fatal injuries, it would still leave bruises and even broken bones if taken lightly; this made the sparring experience much more intense and real.

Jasmine swung her two daggers down in an outward arc, parrying my lunge and knocking the blade of my sword into the ground.

I brought my rear foot forward to maintain balance as my teal blade sunk into the ground below her. However, by that time, Jasmine had already brought her daggers back into position to follow up with a quick, downward slash.

Prying out my sword, I immediately pivoted my body to the side to avoid the overhead slash. As her daggers grazed harmlessly past my loose shirt, I kicked her arm away and stepped away into a more comfortable distance.

My arms were burning from the quick, consecutive movements as I positioned my sword in a defensive stance.

"It's my win," Jasmine said, sheathing her two daggers deftly into their scabbards attached to her thighs.

"You're right," I laughed as I dropped Dawn's Ballad on the ground. We had sparred for a little less than five minutes but my arms and legs screamed in protest from overuse. Massaging my forearms, I picked my blade back up and slid it back into its black sheath.

The duel had ended with me with the upper hand, but I didn't have the strength to proceed. It was my loss.

"Hey Jasmine, I think I'm going to need more than a couple of days to work this out," I confessed with a chuckle.

Her lips curled up slightly as she nodded in agreement.

I had three years before I'd attend Xyrus Academy. During my time at school, I would have plenty of chances to focus on studying mana.

I knew what my priorities were at this time.

Making a rough calculation in my head, I held up two fingers. "Two years, Jasmine. I'll dedicate two years to getting my body truly adjusted to sword-fighting without relying on mana."

"That's it?" she said, surprised.

"Just watch," I smirked.

*****

A Butterfly bush is a really fast growing plant. I could have used weeds, but referring to an information network as weeds, doesn't sound nearly as nice.

Also, finishing school only takes about 6 weeks. So I didn't have to worry about that.

I get the whole bond system is a little confusing, especially with me throwing in mate bonds and secondary bonds. So if you have any questions, please feel free to ask. Because I do have plans to keep using and referencing the bonds - so it would be easier for you guys and less confusing, if you know what's actually happening. (Or if your just here for the romance - I guess you can sort of skip it - though again - their is the mate bond)

I feel like I should give you guys a heads up, that the next chapter is going to likely be on the shorter side (and the two after that as well). But man will it leave a huge impact on you guys. I'm actually willing to bet the title of the next chapter alone would be worth the hype (and the happiness and excitement you would get from four pages - why four you asks, one page for each word in the title.)

In fact, here's a little teaser (Feel free to try and guess what may be happening, and the contents of the paper):

Next Time~

Morgana untied the bright red ribbon and uncurled the scroll.

Her eyes widened as they flew over the contents of the paper, before tears began streaming down her cheeks.

#animeloverforever1127 #tbate #the beginning #the beginning after the end #a woman with vision #A Woman With Vision {Arthur Leywin}#Arthur Leywin #20. Beast Glades #arthur #morgana

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atrixfromice · 3 years

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If isn't one thing, is another!!!

Or “the odyssey of quest for the best microphone!”

I’m going to talk about this, because I promised to some folks I would. But also because I feel the need to talk about this to feel...well, maybe not better...but to feel a bit less dissapointed at least.

I was really excited about going one step further to a higher level regarding my fictional characters, but unfortunately for me, “if isn’t one thing is another” as we say in Mexico. Is an expression for when we have one and another and another misadventure or bad thing happenning succesively.

And that’s precisely what happened to me in general this year. But specially, with this animation project. First my computer started to have trouble, so I told myself “well if that’s so, I might just make the animation in traditional and I could tell my brother to lend me his computer so I can put the drawings together on movie maker”. And my mom helped me with the traditional animation tools that are the glass desk I use as animation table, and the portable lamp. These ones!

But at the same time with my computer trouble, I had a lot of trouble too with the quality of the audio records when I found my character’s voices, since the peeps who were enthousiastic to work voicing my characters had no microphone to record, and I had no microphone to record either!

They recorded directly with their smartphone, and I with my smartphone and using an earphone as microphone. So in all the cases the voice was overcame by the sound of the street, the neighbords, people talking in the distance, etc.

Plus, one of my friends was so nice to spend an afternoon and night with me until 4 am (via chat online of course, he lives in mexico city and is far away from where I live) talking about my fictional characters and making voices so I could know if he could fit for one of my characters, because he was so excited a bout this animation, and mostly because, as I said before, he always wanted to be a voice actor for animated cartoons.

So I thought it worth the effort to help them and myself a bit, and I had the brilliant, brillant idea ( now I know it wasn’t a good idea XD) of making a tour on my town to see if I could find a good quality micro for a decent price so I could buy at least 2 or 3, and send then 2 to my friends and one for me, or send one to one of my friends and take one for me.

But what happened I think I wouldn’t have predicted it!

Firs of all, almost all electronic stores were closed due quarantine. Except for one who was a little modest store that had recently oppened. So I bought my micro there because I had no choice.

The first “micro” I bought was actually not a micro (even if the girl who was selling there told me that is was usable to record) but just some headphones that worked via bluetooth with a micro included but they were only to talk, not to record. So yeah that day I learned that you cannot record via bluetooth. Because even if I installed an app so my smartphone could recognize the mic, the sound was horrible!! It sounded like someone who was talking to you from 3 meters away or something like that! Even the records sounded better with my earphone used as micro! And that was so much to say.

So I went to the store and I told the girl I needed to change the product or the return of my money cos this product wasn’t able to make what I needed it for, that was RECORDING AND GIVE ME A GOOD QUALITY SOUND! And then the girl said she couldn’t give me back my money because their enterprise didn’t allowed that, but yes to product changement in case of trouble. So I accepted and she gave me an earphones with microphone included, it was a generic brand but the girl told me it worked well, so I thought everything was going to be ok.

But no, actually that was worse! It got worse and worse.

I arrived home almost at dawn and I spent almost all day walking to go from store to store and come back. So as you can imagine, I was exhausted. I felt like the toothpaste you squeezed and it’s almost to get over. I wasn’t going to record my fictional character’s voice at that moment. I even didn’t ate all day! But I didn’t really cared, I felt too tired so I just I collapsed on the bed like a log.

So the next morning, I woke up and I happily proceeded to test the micro, and for my misfortune, just one of the headphones worked well, and the other didn’t, and the microphone, that was important part I needed, it didn’t worked at all!!! So there you have me, walking 2 hours to go and come back from the same store (since the transports are not doing their service due COVID) to change that micro, and then the girl gave me another brand of headphones with microphone, and I prayed God for this to the good one!

Again, same stuff, I didn’t ate and I was tired, but this time I didn’t collapsed like a log, I tried to test the micro to know if it worked or not, and then, it happened that the headpones worked both of them, but the micro didn’t work!

So next morning I went to the store for the 3rd time and I was very upset, I told the girl to give me back my money because I didn’t wanted any other product from this store. I'm appreciative she was very understanting with me, because she treated me nicely and with calm even if I was so exasperated, pissed off and cursing in french.

No kidding on this! In retrospective...it was so embarassing because every people at the store turned their gaze at me like if I was a mad woman! LOL But you can deny after the 3rd time receiving a bad product you would probably have felt the same.

so I calmed down as well. And this time she gave me a lapel microphone, because she couldn’t give me back my money. And thanks goodness when I came home, I tested it and it worked. I I felt relieved and could eat finally.

The next morning I prepared myself a sandwich, and took care of my home duties like moping and swepping and dish washing, that stuff. And when the afternoon came and I tried to record on my new, and I realized that while it worked, the sound quality was very bad cos it picked up a lot of the background sounds and it made to some clicking and squeaking like if I was moving it but I wasn’t.

So I took my afternoon to look on google for how to record with a cheap or bad quality microphone (this one was not that cheap, but it was bad!) and I did all what people adived on on youtube and on blog articles. And I tried to record for two afternoons. like 6 and 6 hours, imagine it, I spent 12 hours voice acting!

Even I put covered my windows on aluminium paper, and I recorded on my bathroom and inside of my closet! XD But nothing worked because, while there was a bit les background noise, the recordings still had those annoying squeaking sounds, and when the voice made high notes, it sounded like someone's fingernails on a blackboard!

It was particularly hard to record on the closet, cos I was up for 6 hours and a bit more standing up trying to record something, and I had to start from the beginning because of the so annoying sounds that were made when I made emphasis on the words. So at the end my feet were numb and burining like hell! That not counting that more the time passed, the less my physical strenght to record I had.

And then after I finished, I thought it was really good, and I was so proud and satisfied with the result, then I gave the record to one of my friends, who offered as beta tester to listen my records, and he commented he heard an squeaking sound and that in the pauses when I talked, he could hear my breath! And that he couldn’t understand what was being said. And he’s an native english-speaker, soo, sooo it meant the record was not going to be able to be used!!!

So you can imagine why at the end I was so dissapointed and sad! Because I had a really exhausted body, a wounded pride, and a sore jaw and throat, because when you record voice (specially on a bad quality mic) you must exagerate a bit your voice and pronnounce well, and move your mouth a lot so you can get a good emphasis on your dialogues. And after all this effort I only got a 2 or 3 minutes recording, which was awesome, but the quality wasn’t good enough to be on an animation!!!! *sobs*

It was a dialogue between two characters, the main character from “good team guys” and the main “bad team guys”, from one of my stories. It was an epic battle between these two, and it was so...so awesome and mindblowing!

No kidding! It had all what I wanted it to have, all those delicious emphasis on the right words and phrases. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to record something THIS GOOD ever again in my life! Because I was inspired, and this doesn’t happen very often.

That without counting that I feel like a great jerk now because I feel like I failed to the peeps who were so participative offering their voices to voice my fictional characters, and who were enthusiastic and excited about voicing one of my original characters. But I think I’m smart enough to notice that right now I don’t have the tools to do neither animation nor voice acting.

So.. that’s why I dediced to not record more, not continuating animating, because I’m just I messing up my health and sleep and with this bad quality micro and computer I’ll not have any good results.

I think is better to save money to buy a good microphone for the voice, or a couple of ones, and send one to my friend. And wait until my brother could borrow me his laptop.

I think, while it makes me sad to come back to illustration and comics only...I feel a bit better by talking about my oddysey. So I thanks a lot to y’all who have been here to support my art and listen to what I write about my art projects.

#atrixfromice #late night rambling #animation

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davidmann95 · 4 years

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Superman & Lois Pilot Script Review

I’ve been reliably informed that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and indeed as my laptop and everything on it have been unusable for a couple months after a mishap, I went from ‘maybe I’ll write something on the pilot script for Superman & Lois’ to ‘as soon as I can get my hands back on that thing I’m writing something up’. I’m actually surprised none of you folks asked about it when I’ve mentioned several times that I read it; I was initially hesitant, but I’ve seen folks discussing plot details on Twitter and their reactions on here, so I guess WB isn’t making much of a thing out of it. Entire pilots have leaked before and they just rolled with it, so I suppose that isn’t surprising. Anyway, the show’s been pushed back to next year, and also the world is literally sick and metaphorically (and also a little literally) on fire, so I thought this might be fun if anyone needs a break from abject horror.

(Speaking of the world being on fire: while trying to offer a diversion amidst said blaze, still gonna pause for the moment to add to the chorus that if opening your wallet is a thing you can do, now most especially is a time to do it. I chipped in myself to the NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund, and even a casual look around here or Twitter will show people listing plenty of other organizations that need support.)

What I saw floating around was, if not a first draft, certainly not the final one given Elizabeth Tulloch later shared a photo of the cover for the final script crediting Lee Toland Krieger as the director rather than a TBD, but the shape of things is clearly in place. I’m going for a relative minimum of spoilers, though I’ll discuss a bit of the basic status quo the show sets up and vaguely touch on a few plot points, but if you want a simple response without risk of any story details: it’s very, very good. Clunky in the way the CW DC shows typically are, and some aspects I’m not going to be able to judge until the story plays out further, but it’s engaging, satisfying, and moreover feels like it Gets It more broadly than any other mass-media Superman adaptation to date.

The Good

* The big one, the pillar on which all else rests: this understands Lois and it really understands Clark. Lois isn’t at the center of the pilot’s arc, but she’s everything you want to see that character be - incisive, caring, and refusing to operate at less than 110% intensity with whatever she’s dealing with at any given time, the objections of others be damned. Clark meanwhile is a good-natured, good-humored dude who you can see in both the cape and the glasses even as those identities remain distinct, who’s still wrestling with his feelings of alienation and duty and how those now reflect his relationships with his children. The title characters both feel fully-formed and true to what historically tends to work best with them from day one here in ways I can’t especially say for any other movie or show they’ve starred in.

* While the suit takes a back seat for this particular episode, when Superman does show up in the opening and climax it absolutely knows how to get us to cheer for him; there’s more than one ‘hell yeah, it’s SUPERMAN, that guy’s the best!’ moment, and they pop.

* While the superheroics aren’t the biggest focus here, when they do arrive, the plan seems to be that they’ll be operating on an entirely different scale than the rest of the Arrowverse lineup. Maybe they scripted the ideal and’ll be pared-down come time for actual filming and effects work, or maybe they’re going all-out for the pilot, but the initial vision involves a massive super-rescue and a widescreen brawl that goes way, way bigger in scope than any I’m aware of on the likes of Supergirl. I heard in passing on Twitter from someone claiming to be in the know that the plan for Superman & Lois is that it’ll be fewer episodes with a higher budget, more in line with the DC Universe stuff if not exactly HBO Max ‘prestige TV’, and whether it’s true or not (I think it’s plausible, the potential ratings here are exponentially higher than anything else on the network so they’d want to put their best foot forward) they seem to be writing it as if that’s the idea.

* This balances its tones and ambitions excellently: it’s a Kent-Lane family drama, it’s Lois digging in with some investigative reporting to set up a major subplot, it’s Superman saving Metropolis and battling a powerful high-concept villain, and none of it feels like it’s banging up at awkward angles with the rest. There are a pair of throwaway lines in here so grim I can’t believe they were put in a script for a Superman TV show even if they don’t make it to air, and they in no way undermine the exhilaration once he puts on the cape or the warmth that pervades much of it. This feels as if it’s laying the groundwork for a Superman show that can tackle just about any sort of story with the character rather than planing its feet in one corner and declaring a niche, and so far it looks like it has the juice to pull it off.

* While the pilot doesn’t focus on him in the same way as the new kid, Jonathan Kent fits well enough for my tastes with the broad strokes of his personality from the comics, albeit if he had made it to 14 rather than 10 without learning about his dad being Superman. A pleasant, kinda dopey, well-meaning Superman Jr. - the biggest deviation, one I approve of, is that he can also kinda be a gleeful little shit when dealing with his brother in ways that remind you that this is very much also Lois Lane’s boy.

* We don’t know much about the season villain as of yet, but it’s an incredibly cool idea that I’m shocked that they’re going for right away, and I absolutely want to see how they play out as a character and how they’ll bounce off all the other major players.

* The way this seems to be framing itself in relation to the Superman movies and shows before it feels inspired to me: there are homages and shout-outs to and bits of conceptual scaffolding from Lois & Clark, Smallville, Donner, and more, but they’re all shown in ways that make it clear that those stories are part of his past rather than indicators of the baseline he’s currently operating off of. We get a retrospective of his and Lois’s history right off the bat with most of what you’d expect, and combined with those references the message is clear: this is a Superman who’s been through all the vague memories that you, prospective casual viewer, have of the other stuff you saw him in once upon a time, but this series begins the next phase of his life after what that general cultural impression of him to date covers. It strikes me as a good way of carrying over the goodwill of that nostalgia and iconography, while building in that this is a show with room to grow him beyond that into something more nuanced (and for that matter true to the character as the comics at their best have depicted him) than they tended towards. Where Superman Returns attempted to recapture the lightning in a bottle of an earlier vision of him in full, and Man of Steel tried to turn its back on anything that smelled of Old and Busted and Uncool entirely, perhaps this splitting of the difference - engaging with his pop culture history and visibly taking what appealed from some of those well-known takes, while also drawing a clear line in the sand between those as the past and this as the future - is what will finally engage audiences.

The Bad

* This is the sort of thing you have to roll with for a CW superhero show, and that lives and dies by the performances, but: the dialogue varies heavily. There are some really poignant moments, but elsewhere this is where it shows its early-draftiness; a decent amount is typical Whedon-poisoned quippiness or achingly blunt, and some of the ‘hey, we’re down with the kids!’ material for Jon, Jor, and Lana’s kid Sarah is outright agonizing. I suspect a lot of it will be fixed in minor edits, actor delivery, and hopefully the younger performers taking a brutal red pen to some of their material - this was written last January and the show’s now not debuting until next January, they’ve got plenty of time for cleanup - but if this sort of the thing has been a barrier to entry for you in the past with the likes of The Flash, this probably won’t be what changes your mind.

* There are a few charming shout-outs to other shows, but much moreso, Superman & Lois actually builds in a big way out of Crisis. Which is a-okay with me, except that what exactly that was is rather poorly conveyed given that lots of people will be giving this a spin with no familiarity with that. Fixable with a line or two, but important enough to be worth noting.

Have to wait and see how it plays out

* The series’ new kid, Jordan Kent, is so far promising with potential to veer badly off-course. He’s explicitly dealing with mental illness, and not on great terms with Clark at the beginning in spite of the latter’s best efforts, the notion of which I’m sure will immediately put some off. Ultimately the commonalities between father and son become clear, and he’s not written as a caricature in this opening but as a kid with some problems who’s still visibly his parents’ boy, but obviously the ball could be fumbled here in the long term.

* Lois’s dad is portrayed almost completely differently here than in the past in spite of technically still being her military dad who has some disagreements with her husband. There are some nice moments and interesting new angles but it seems possible that the groudwork is being laid for him to be Clark’s guy in the chair, and not only does he not need that he most DEFINITELY doesn’t need that to be a member of the U.S. Military, especially when one of the first and best decisions Supergirl made when introducing him was to make clear he had stopped working with the government any more than necessary years ago. Maybe it can be stretched if his dad-in-law occasionally calls him up to let him know about a new threat he’s learned about, and maybe they’ll even do something really interesting with that push-and-pull, but if Superman’s going to be even tacitly functioning as an extension of the military that’s going to be a foundational sin.

* As I was nervous about, Superman & Lois has some political flavor, but much to my delighted surprise, there’s no grossly out of touch hedge-betting in the way I understand Supergirl has gone for at times. As of the pilot, this is an explicitly leftie show, with the overarching threat of the season as established for Lois and Clark as reporters being how corporate America has stripmined towns like Smallville and manipulated blue collar workers into selling out their own best interests. Could that go wrong? Totally, there’s already an effort to establish a particular prominent right-wing asshole as capable of decency - without as of yet downplaying that he’s a genuinely shitty dude - and vague hints that some of the towns’ woes might be rooted more in Superman-type problems than Lois and Clark problems. But that they’re going for it this directly in the first place leaves me hopeful that the show won’t completely chicken out even if there’ll probably be a monster in the mix pulling a string or two; Greg Pak and Aaron Kuder’s Action Comics may justify Superman punching a cop by having him turn out to be a shadow monster so as to get past editorial, but it’s still a story about how sometimes Superman’s gotta punch a cop, and hopefully this can carry on in that spirit of using what wiggle room it has to the best of its ability.

So, so far so good. Could it end up a show with severe problems carried on the backs of Hoechlin and Tulloch’s performances? Absolutely. But thus far, the ingredients are there for all its potential problems to be either fixed, subverted, or dodged alright, and even when it surely fumbles the ball at junctures, I earnestly believe this is setting itself up to be the most fleshed-out, nuanced, engaging live-action take on these characters to date. And god willing, if so, the first real stepping stone in decades to proper rehab on Superman’s image and place in pop culture.

#Superman & Lois #Superman #Lois Lane #DCTV #Opinion

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ducktracy · 4 years

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158. porky’s romance (1937)

release date: april 3rd, 1937

series: looney tunes

director: frank tashlin

starring: joe dougherty (porky), berneice hansell (petunia, babies), mel blanc (excited petunia), billy bletcher (time munches on narrator)

i’ve been looking forward to reviewing this since the day i first typed my review for bosko, the talk-ink kid. so you’ll have to excuse me for rambling on more than normal, i’m really passionate about this cartoon. there’s so much to say!

first off, this cartoon means a lot to me. it’s the first one i checked out on my own accord. i caught wind of who carl stalling was and wanted to listen to a piece of his music to familiarize myself. i saw his depression era compilation of music, and included was the opening number for this cartoon, which absolutely blew me away. i looked up the cartoon and watched it and instantly fell in love. porky was fat! porky has a different voice actor! porky was INTERESTING! porky was killing himself! i had never seen anything like it, so it holds a special place in my heart. i had a vague idea of some directors, like bob clampett and chuck jones, but had no idea who the hell this “frank tash” guy was. but after watching it, i knew i’d love him. and i do!

secondly, this is joe dougherty’s final appearance. while mel is undoubtedly the better porky, i’ve really come to appreciate joe. he gets a hard time because he had a real stutter, and one of the repeated criticisms i see is that it sounds too overdone. true as that may be, he couldn’t help it, and i applaud him for working as long as he did. i mean, a little over 2 years, that’s a decent amount of time! and he does have talent. we’ve seen and heard much worse. so i’m a little sad to see him go, but excited at the same time knowing wonderful things are ahead. i love this particular era in looney tunes history, the porky’s romance to, say, porky’s badtime story era. there’s this sense of newness and freshness—new voices, new characters, new directors. you feel the change happening before your very eyes. it’s all so exciting!

i’ve rambled enough, and i’m certainly going to ramble much more, so buckle up! after petunia pig rejects porky’s marriage proposal, porky seeks a noose for comfort. when the suicide attempt goes wrong, he’s then launched into a dream sequence about their potential marriage life... and realizes marriage isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

this cartoon has a unique opening to it. before the title card itself, we are presented with “leon schlesinger’s new looney tunes star: petunia pig!” curtains draw to reveal petunia positioned in front of a microphone. yes, this is petunia’s first appearance! she has quite an interesting history. she appears only in 3 frank tashlin cartoons, where she was depicted as a sultry, sexy foil for the bumbling, not very sexy porky. bob clampett would adopt her in 1939 and make her to be much cuter, giving her hair and a much more naïve demeanor. she hardly has any cartoons at all, yet somehow managed to live on through the dell looney tunes comics and in future looney iterations.

petunia greets her audience warmly, opening with “my public! i hope you pictured my liking--i mean, i hope you lictured my picking... i mean... i--” overcome by nerves, petunia struggles to read the script in front of her and greet the audience. this little bit was inspired by the short lived 1936-1937 radio program community sings. the offscreen announcer attempts to calm her down. “shhh, petunia. don’t get excited, don’t get excited...” petunia’s furious outburst (vocals by mel blanc, of course) of “EXCITED!? WHO’S EXCITED?? I’M NOT EXCITED!!!” comes from comedian professor tommy mack, who would do the same slow routine and then the explosion with the “WHO’S EXCITED?” line. tashlin’s the woods are full of cuckoos is an entire tribute to community sing.

the curtains close on petunia, and then we’re actually greeted with the title card. an absolutely stellar rendition of “i wanna woo” underscores the title and the opening scene. a happy porky whistles along to the music as we have a montage of him buying necessities for petunia. a diamond ring, some roses, some chocolates. what a good guy! i love the visuals in this cartoon. everything is so sleek and modern--it’s evident tashlin was enamored with the art deco style. and that song again is just beautiful--it’s why i investigated this cartoon in the first place!

porky finishes his routine as he approaches petunia’s house, dancing up and down the stairs before ringing the doorbell. i love that face of his as he poses by the doorbell, throwing his bouquet in the air and catching them in his hand. he’s awfully full of himself.

inside, petunia approaches the door, her brat of a dog fluffnums by her side. for some reason, fluffnums was attempted to be pushed as a reoccurring character, with model sheets and drawings of him surfacing around the studio, i guess for publicity, but he only appeared in this cartoon. same goes for the iceman in i only have eyes for you (his name is sammy sparrow?) and the parrot in i wanna be a sailor. petunia opens the top portion of her door to see her visitor, and we see cocky old porky posing with his hat hilariously tipped on his face. petunia, for whatever, isn’t very pleased, turning her nose and marching away, stomping her foot. “porky pig! pooh-pooh!” in the same rhythm, the dog barks the same amount of syllables, stomping its little paw. warm welcome.

a lovely, downtrodden chorus scores porky as he trudges away tearfully, wilting, pausing only to kiss petunia’s nameplate on her house. suddenly, fluffnums looks out the window and barks for petunia. “what is it, fluffnums?” then, petunia spots the box of chocolates porky carries along behind his back. we then get this BEHEMOTH of a scene that displays how tasteful of a director frank tashlin is: 6.5 seconds, 157 frames, 10 cuts. petunia rushes out of her house at the speed of light and urges porky back inside her home. the scene has CLARITY--you can understand what’s happening, unlike the rapid cutting in porky in the north woods. this scene is genius. petunia throws a dazed porky on her couch while she gorges herself on the chocolates, cooing about how glad she is to see him.

mark kausler identifies the animator as volney white (though the thick eyebrows make me think of bob bentley. mark’s a wonderful source of information i gladly accept everything he says, because he’s right 99.9% of the time) for the scene where porky tries to reach for a chocolate himself. fluffnums, ever the threatening guard dog, growls. we have a great back and forth scene as porky sheepishly pets the dog on the head, reaching for a chocolate and still getting growled at. the charade continues until porky finally snatches one, sticking his tongue out in childish defiance at the dog. as porky lifts up his trophy, winking towards the audience at his act of outsmarting, the dog jumps up and eats the chocolate himself, breaking a hole in porky’s boater hat in the process. (no dogs were harmed in the making of this cartoon!)

seeing as this is joe dougherty’s last cartoon, he doesn’t speak very much at all. in this scene, the animators had porky facing AWAY from the audience so they wouldn’t have to animate his lip movements. it was pretty clear that everyone was tired of working for dougherty. instead, porky’s body jitters as he speaks. they used a technique called staggered exposure, which was mixing up a sequence of drawings to get that jittery effect (so instead of going in a sequence of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, and so forth, it would be more like 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, and so on.) “why petunia, i want you... you.. you to.. be in love.. that is.. um.. will you.. uh... er, uh.. may i.. that is... won’t you... will you... aw, shucks. will you marry me?”

just as porky finally manages to spit out his confession, disaster strikes. petunia’s bastard of a dog pulls the carpet out from under porky, sending him flipping and falling in the air. because of this, petunia ridicules and laughs at him. porky is now absolutely devastated, leaving petunia’s house for good. i love the detail of his ears and bow tie wilting. carl stalling’s music is on point in this cartoon: an underscore of “the little things you used to do” backs up the scene here. that song was sung at the end of the coo-coo nut grove, where the entire nightclub was flooded in tears.

the next scene is strikingly somber and surprised me greatly the first time i watched it. we iris in on porky writing a suicide note, a noose tied around his neck, tied to a tree branch. the note simply reads “dear petunia, i love you. goodbye forever -- porky” the camera panning out is a little janky and rough, but i digress. porky wipes away his tears, pulling a photo of petunia from his pocket and giving it a kiss. with that, porky jumps.

because of his weight, the suicide attempt fails as the tree branch breaks, porky toppling to the ground and hitting his head. thus launches a dream sequence as his surroundings spin around (by unscrewing the lens of the camera, screwing it (counter)clockwise in front of the aperture), melting away to the exterior of a church. wedding bells chime victoriously. inside, petunia and porky give their vows. porky struggles, stuttering “i d-d-d.... i-d..d-” the officiator whistles (a dougherty era running gag), and porky spits out his final “do.”

more volney white animation as the lovebirds exit the church, waving to the crowd that surrounds them. and, of course, fluffnums is there too, begrudgingly carrying petunia’s veil in its mouth. we cut to porky and petunia happily riding in their car, a victorious JUST MARRIED banner waving in the wind, with shoes attached to strings on the bumper marching along in time to “in my merry oldsmobile”. porky’s license plate reads BOOB -- a good indicator of how frank tashlin felt about porky.

a lovely overhead layout of the honeymoon hotel porky and petunia stay at (with, of course, an underscore of “honeymoon hotel”, which was also the title of a 1934 earl duvall merrie melody). the elevator rises to the top floor in syncopation with the music. a nice silhouette shot of porky and petunia, and rather suggestive at that. they kiss, and the last we see before a fade out is porky turning off the light in the apartment.

billy bletcher voices the narrator as a triumphant fanfare blares. “TIME... MUNCHES ON!” rather disconcerting eating noises, and then we open to a very rotund petunia and fluffnums gorging themselves on chocolate. not the most flattering depiction of a woman, but the ironic “laughing” of the clarinets and horns playing “oh, you beautiful doll!” is a wonderful touch. i love when the scores themselves serve as jokes.

pan across the apartment, the score melting into another rendition of “i wanna woo” as we see poor porky hard at work. i adore the layout of this entire scene. porky busies himself with all the odd jobs petunia has (presumably) thrown onto him, washing the clothes, ironing a dress, cooking the food, washing the dishes. he unsuccessfully attempts to balance the chaos, trying not to kill himself in the process. pay attention to how the furniture is arranged. the stove, the sink, even the ironing board, they’re all slightly diagonal and at an angle. practical? absolutely not, no one has their furniture arranged like that, just jutting out. but in animation terms, it’s more than practical. it’s so that you can see the details clearly, so that you can see every little thing happening. the clarity of the scene would be muddied if the furniture was arranged the way it should be--you may miss details like the pan burning on the stove or the looming pile of dishes. this is some super smart staging, and the architecture is just beautiful within itself. porky struggles to keep up with the demands, but fails, burning food, clothes, etc. you’ll notice that when he fails to balance a pile of dishes, the china crashing into him as he flops down on the floor, whatever he’s cooking in the pot boils over as well. everything just explodes at once.

meet porky pig jr, porky pig jr, porky pig jr, porky pig jr, porky pig jr, porky pig jr, porky pig jr, porky pig jr, and so on. all of the babies start screaming at the noise (bob bentley animation), and petunia puts in her two cents by yelling “porky pig! shut those kids up!” porky rocks one of the cradles back and forth, reassuring her “i’m doing the best i can, petunia dear.” petunia marches forth, wielding a rolling pin as she retorts “don’t dear me, you WORM!” with that, she beats porky relentlessly over the head with the rolling pin, all of the kids shouting “GIVE IT TO HIM, MAMA! GIVE IT TO HIM!” which is another radio show catchphrase of some sort.

finally, we’re met with reality. porky sits in a daze on the ground, petunia stroking his cheek with fluffnums at porky’s other side. petunia puts on her best sympathy act, cooing “oh porky, i’m so so-ree! you’re my honey man. i’ll marry you, darling, honey bunny boo...” while petunia showers porky in all sorts of pet names, he looks up at his suicide note, remembering his dream where petunia was an abusive slob. they had trouble with the camera movements again--when they came out of the dissolve, the camera was in the wrong position slightly, creating a double image.

this is one of my favorite endings to any looney tunes short. a terrified porky jumps up at zips away into the horizon (with that great electric guitar zoom/twang sound effect i love so much), petunia shrugging and fluffnums making a ! mark appear over his head. suddenly, porky retreats, snagging his chocolates from petunia and running for the hills. a beat... and he returns once more, only to give fluffnums a well deserved swift kick in the ass. the music score in this scene is just lovely, nice and jazzy. the timing is succinct, and i love the guitar zoom sound effect. iris out.

as you can see, i love this short, a lot. while i love the blow out, i think this is my first true favorite that we’ve seen so far. it’s so dark, and i don’t even like dark stuff! it just feels so different. carl stalling is in tip top shape with his music scores. every single piece is lovely, especially that beginning. the animation is fun, the expressions are great. i wish i could articulate my thoughts better, because i really just love this cartoon a lot. i’m super happy it was one of the first i had seen, because i probably wouldn’t be typing these reviews had i not. frank tashlin’s cinematography is STRONG in this one. the camera cuts, the angles... this is a beautiful cartoon, inside and out. i feel bad that it’s joe dougherty’s last appearance, but understand at the same time. great things are ahead, revolutionary things! i’ve warmed up to joe quite a lot. i’ve found nothing in terms of what he did after his tenure as porky--wikipedia (not reliable, i know) states that he attended medical school before becoming a voice actor, so good on him! anyway, i absolutely love this cartoon and have seen it multiple, multiple, multiple, MULTIPLE times. it’s strikingly different in tone than what we’ve seen and what we WILL be seeing. it’s not just your everyday frank tashlin porky cartoon. this one stands out, and i implore you to watch it.

link!

#lt #porky’s romance #reviews #looney tunes #tashlin #long post

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ajuimaginary · 6 years

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Soulmate Mingyu

Part of the Seventeen Soulmate Series

Your pen tapped out an absent minded pattern on the paper in front of you, note-taking long forgotten. You were sitting in the middle of your classroom in high school, ignoring your teacher in favour of your own drifting imaginings.

It wasn’t your fault you were distracted, At least not this time. You were watching artwork sketch itself across your arms.

Your soulmate connection was causing the marks, of course: that familiar link every person shared with a destined future true love. Your skins became canvases tied together by fate, and when one was marked in any way, the other would share an identical imprint.

Right now, your soulmate was drawing neat patterns of flowers, a basic blue ballpoint pen sketching them line by line so they pooled over his bare skin, and in turn, appeared on your own hands, coming from no where.

You wanted to express for affection for the artwork, so you followed a pattern that had become familiar to the two of you, and you drew the outline of a little heart just under his drawings.

You waited, and like always, you had a quick response. A second, slightly larger heart was etched alongside it from your soulmate’s end. Perfectly, artistically, formed. It was his reply. An assurance that he felt the same way.

You felt a flutter in your real heart. You hoped you would never stop being this moved by even the smallest of moment between you. When the bell rang to end the lesson, you barely noticed.

No one would blame you though. There was nothing quite so exciting as signs of a link with a soulmate. Especially when you hadn’t met one another yet, and your joined skins were your only communication.

Although, you and your soulmate knew a few things about each other already.

In most nations, when babies were born, it was common for parents to seek the basic soulmate info their child might want when they were older. A pen with ink safe for newborn skin was owned by most hospitals. It was used to write soulmate? across the baby’s forehead. If the soulmate was already born, their parents would see the mark appear, and they would send a reply saying yes, then possibly exchange more info. If the soulmate was not born yet, it was a matter of waiting until the word soulmate? appeared, sent from the other end.

Because of this tradition, in your early years, your parents and your soulmates’ parents had already been in contact. You knew he was Korean. You knew his name was Kim Mingyu. You knew he was a boy. You knew his birthday.

Those were the only details that hospitals and parents traditionally bothered to exchange. They left the rest to the kids. You knew in some cultures the parents would be taking the info they got to consult astrologists or religious leaders for more insight. But that was the extent of it.

In the largely globalized world of the modern age, it was taboo in most countries for parents to interfere by continuing communications across their infants’ skin. It was considered more organic to let the children establish ties as they grew up. They could decide for themselves if they wanted to know more before meeting one another. You and your soulmate had long ago come to an agreement that you wanted to do most of your discovering in person, whenever the universe turned its destined pages and bound your paths together.

You were happy knowing one another’s names, and had spent all your lives working to know each other’s languages too. You could tell he’d become quite good with yours because of the ease he wrote down the occasional thing he wanted to remember- like a song title or a movie. And you knew he’d seen your abilities with Korean as well.

The other things you’d discovered about him intrigued you beyond belief. He seemed crazily talented. Almost unfairly talented.

His talents came through in bits and pieces throughout your childhood, when he was bored during what must have been the Korean school day. It was pretty common in your world for people to draw on their own skin. Who didn’t like the idea of a little extra communication with their soulmate? So you would watch doodles paint patterns on your arms, and see how good Mingyu was at art - from little geometric designs to quirky cartoon figures, some of which you recognised, and some which (after a little Googling) introduced you to comic books he must have enjoyed.

There were also the recipes. They were less common, and he only seemed to make those notes if he had no other means to record his food ideas. They made your heart flutter more than anything else, because your soulmate could apparently cook, and cook well at that.

He would scrawl notes to himself on the bare skin of his forearm: ideas about ingredients, or spice combos. One time, when you were only about twelve years old, he wrote out a whole recipe in a quick scrawl, like he was trying to get it noted down quickly to try at home later. Interest raised, you also decided to try it as well. Only problem was, his handwriting was hard to read from his rush to get it all written. After squinting at it for a while, you circled a couple of things on your own arm, and wrote little question marks beside it, hoping he would see, and clarify for you.

Sure enough, the recipe began to rewrite itself out on your other arm. It was in someone elses hand-writing this time, because using his non-dominant right hand would have been even messier. You wondered who was writing it, thinking fondly of your soulmate asking for their help.

Thanks, you wrote under it, adding a little heart.

He drew a returning heart, and, most likely, returned to cooking.

Ever since then, that had been your routine. A small heart when you wanted to express affection, and an answering heart from the other person.

You started to thank each other when you accidentally provided a good recommendation for a song, or a movie, and as time passed, you started to deliberately write things you wanted to share.

When you stumbled across a cartoon with a character you’d seen him doodle before, you always let him know what you thought. When his friends all watched a movie he knew you’d seen before, he would tell you if he’d enjoyed it.

It was such a simple way to be connected, but it warmed your heart each time.

When your soulmate reached his late teenage years, he must have started getting into performing, because occasionally some truly dramatic stage make up looks would appear on your face that you were pretty sure he couldn’t be for day to day events. Sometimes, they were embarrassing - appearing at times you did not want to have that intense of a smoky eye. Sometimes, they were really perfectly timed - you were delighted at the seemingly professional level of quality you were given for free through your soulmate.

As well as the make up, the occasional scrawls your soulmate added to the back of his hand sometimes looked like song lyrics. Usually just a few short bars, in messier than normal handwriting that indicated to you he must have had to jot them down quickly. It added to your theory that he was interested in performing.

You wondered if he was passionate enough about performing to put song covers online or something. Perhaps you might have even glimpsed his face before around Youtube. The thought made you grin, but you would have no way of knowing for sure until you met him.

One of the nicest surprises came to you one day when you were listening to music on Spotify- a decent mix of English songs and K-pop (which you’d been listening to for a long time since you knew the language anyway.) You were playing random playlists you found, seeking new music, and then suddenly one of the songs played some rap bars you definitely recognized. You checked the song title - 기대 - and the group name - Seventeen. And you added it instantly to your library.

You were sure your soulmate must have sung the song before, and as always when you discovered a little connection like that, the moment of recognition was thrilling.

You picked up a pen, and then wrote along your arm.

Hi Mingyu, I just listened to 기대 by Seventeen!

There was a pause much longer than usual before you got any response. You went about your day with the letters on your arm, wondering when he would write something back. Usually his replies were quick. But it was when you were getting ready for bed that he finally wrote back.

Sorry it took me so long to reply.

You frowned in confusion, but more letters began to appear.

Did you like the song? Did you watch a performance? Do you know anything about Seventeen? Did you look them up?

It was an odd series of questions.

I didn’t watch anything, you responded, and I haven’t looked them up. Should I have?

You waited, feeling very anxious suddenly, like you had done something wrong. Mingyu seemed sharper and more upset than usual. You watched his questions wash off your arm as he removed them to make room to write more, and you quickly went to your bathroom sink to wash your side of the conversation away as well.

On the blank slate, Mingyu wrote:

No! Don’t look them up! Promise me you won’t.

How strange...

You stared at the request for a long time.

Okay. You wrote. I promise.

You waited for more explanation, but he wrote nothing else for a long time. You picked up your pen again, hesitated, and added:

I liked the song though. Can I still listen to it?

Mingyu drew two adorable hearts first, and wrote: Of course you can. I don’t want to order you around, I’m sorry, it’s just important to me that you don’t look up that group. Feel free to listen to the song though.

Another pause.

What did you like about it?

You laughed a little.

It’s really nice! There’s kind of a soothing but cool style to it. Even the way it starts off it amazing. I think the voices have a kind of story telling vibe to them.

You waited for his response.

I like that too. He wrote. And then he put a few more hearts, and said goodnight. You both washed off your arms and you went to bed.

You had no idea what was going on, but you wanted to respect his wishes and his boundaries, so you didn’t press the issue. You simply let it go. But you listened to 기대 almost every day for a while after, and you especially loved the lines that you remembered Mingyu had written on his arm.

One year after the 기대 incident, your world changes for ever.

You knock on your best friend’s front door, smiling at the pink balloons tied on the letter box and around the doorway. Her little sister yanks the door open, a huge grin on her face.

“Welcome, Y/N!” she yells happily. “It’s my birthday!”

“I know, sweetie,” you smile back at her, handing her the gift in your hands, and watching her squeal with excitement, shaking it violently in her hands. “I can’t believe you’re six years old already! I’m here to help set up the party.”

She guides you through to the back garden, chattering happily about how all her class is coming to join the fun. You respond with the expected enthusiasm, and gasp in amazement when you walk out onto the decorated back lawn. Your best friend waves you over as soon as she sees you.

“Thanks again for offering to help with the party!” she says. “Can you run the face painting? You only need to do really basic looks. We even have some examples the kids can pick from, so you won’t have to think of any complicated designs yourself.”

You look at the sheet of card she’s holding, with a tiger, butterfly wings, a pirate, and other classic kids’ designs she must have printed off from the internet, and you agree you can do the job.

There’s a bit of time to kill before the actual event begins, so you decide to practice some face painting on yourself. It will get you used to this set of paints and it will probably get the kids more excited when they arrive to see an example of the work on the person painting them.

You pick the tiger, and start by covering your face with orange, then adding stripes where you can see them on the guide, a pink nose, and long black whiskers, turning your face from side to side in the tiny mirror so you can see what you’re doing. When the look is complete, you’re actually pretty pleased with yourself.

“Looking good, Y/N!” your friend yells out from across the lawn.

“I’ll paint you next?” you offer.

She comes over, pulls out the second chair at the face painting station, and sits down in front of you.

“Can you give me the butterfly?” she requests.

But as you lift your hand to begin painting her face, you let out a gasp, and freeze, staring at the frantic letters forming across your skin.

Y/N please don’t keep that on! please wash your face now!

It’s about a hundred times messier than Mingyu’s usual handwriting. He must be freaking out.

“What’s going on?” your friend asks.

In answer, you flip your hand over. Her eyes scan the letters, and her brows raise.

“Well, go on then! He’s still writing more ‘please’s! Go wash your face!” she says, all but pushing you out of your seat.

Still confused by Mingyu’s urgency, you turn and race toward the house, stopping at the first sink you see, in the kitchen, and slamming on the tap so fast you spray water down your front.

You dab haphazardly at your face, the water running orange and black and swirling away down the sink.

Your skin feels pink from scrubbing when you stop. You stare at the back of your hand again. It’s blank now. He must have washed off his pleading. A single phrase forms, still a little rushed, but you can almost feels his thankfulness in each letter.

Thank you so much. I’ll explain later.

And that’s all.

Mingyu doesn’t try to communicate again until the party ends. You’re helping to clean up, chucking paper cups empty of coca cola into a rubbish bag. Your best friend’s little sister, the birthday girl, is napping on a couch inside, totally tired after the day’s events.

As you reach down to pick up the next cup, you see new writing appear on your arm. You sit down right there on the grass, watching it appear.

So I know you listen to KPop, which means you’ll probably hear about this soon enough. So I’ll tell you first... something happened today. And it made me decide I want to meet you. Is that okay?

You stare at the words in confusion. But all the times you’ve talked, Mingyu has been a little long winded when explaining things, so you’re sure you’ll understand eventually.

You find a pen, and write back... That’s okay.

Good. Says Mingyu. Did you know KCon LA was this week?

Yeah

Well I’m at KCon LA right now. And this thing happened. And I know I need to see you now. Send me your address, please. I have enough to pay for all my transport, no matter how far away you are. I’m taking a break from work anyway. I have to find you. Please?

You’re shaking by the time you finish reading his excited words. Something really dramatic must have happened for him to change his mind like this... to want to meet you right away no matter what.

You could never refuse him. You write out your home address in careful letters on your arm.

Thank you. Mingyu writes. And while I’m on my way... you can look my name up online. And then

He pauses for a minute or so.

watch the video from this link www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PrXNl05CWM. He takes his time getting every number of the link right, and then continues. It’s embarrassing, but when you watch it, you’ll understand. I’ll see you as soon as possible.

Okay, Mingyu. I’ll see you soon. You write back.

You’re almost afraid to do everything he’s asked. It seems so dramatic. But before panic can take over, you see one more tiny shape form. A single inky heart.

And you smile.

You explain to your friend, head home, open your laptop, and type Kim Mingyu into Google. The first result is a KPop profile; facts and Profile for MinGyu, member of thirteen member Korean boygroup Seventeen.

One hand over your mouth in shock, you click through and quickly skip past the picture (you’re not ready for that) to read what the profile says, trying to make the information sink in. You read facts you already knew about your soulmate - name: Kim Mingyu, born: 06 April 1997, hometown: Anyang, South Korea - along with brand new information - position: lead rapper, height: 187cm - and you try to piece it all together with your reality.

Your mind flashes back to that day when you listened to your first Seventeen song and he asked you not to look up anything more about that group. When you were so charmed by the rapping. The smooth storytelling style to the flow of those lyrics...

And you scroll back up to the photo. You let out a little gasp. He’s beautiful.

It takes a moment for that to feel real as well. But something about the photo they’ve chosen for the profile helps you. He’s impossibly handsome, of course, but he somehow manages to fit in with the picture of Mingyu you had in your mind, because he has a dorky pose, pointing a finger at the screen. It makes him feel more real. More human. More yours...

And then that comforting feeling fades in and out rapidly when you switch straight to Google images and spend about an hour scrolling through photos of your stunning, gorgeous, sexy soulmate. Your head is spinning by the end of it. In some photos, you can see that personality you’ve been getting to know. The sweetness, the slight foolish charm of him, the talents in art that seems to translate to his fashion sense as well, the shots of him cooking... but at the same time, he looks more beautiful than you dared let yourself imagine.

Your favourite thing is spotting bits of writing on his arms. Your writing. And a whole ton of little hearts.

Then you type out his Youtube link, that he spent so long writing out properly to make sure you would watch the right video. It’s only hours old. A performance MNet uploaded of Seventeen at KCon earlier that same day.

You watch as the boys, all thirteen of them, come out on stage and begin their song. But about halfway through, their expressions start to change when they glance at Mingyu, and when the camera comes in closer, you see your soulmate’s face has turned orange. Then the black stripes begin to form. The boys are faltering in their dance steps now, not sure if they should continue.

Mingyu looks annoyed, like he can’t understand why their performance is falling apart.

Then he catches sight of himself on the monitors. And his jaw drops. And he freezes.

You must have been just finishing off your face paint at that time, because the tiger is nearly completely there. The pink nose adds a hilarious softness to Mingyu’s horrified expression. The crowd is laughing, obviously quite charmed by the display, and amused by its poor timing so much that they don’t mind it messing up the planned show. But Mingyu seems upset by it... as do some of his friends, who must have worked so hard getting ready for this day.

On go the tiger whiskers, long and slightly curved, forming one by one around that lovely nose. None of the boys are moving now. The close up camera is fixed on Mingyu.

The member with the round cheeks steps forward suddenly, saying something funny about Soulmates into the microphone. It makes the rest of the members swirl into action. Some of them crowd around Mingyu, and two with concerned expressions usher him from the stage. The round cheeked one keeps speaking, clearly taking charge of the damage control.

“Thank you, Jeonghan and The8, please take care of Mingyu and return quickly!”

Two more of the boys seem to shake themselves from their surprise as the round-cheeked one beckons them forward, and they start speaking in fluent English to the crowd. They say they’ll move on to their unit performances now, and leave Hip Hop team for last so Mingyu can come back with his face paint gone... and that’s it.

That’s the end of the video.

You can see the recommended next clip is for Seventeen’s other performances, so you know they must have finished as they planned. And since you washed off the face paint fast, you know Mingyu must have returned in time for his performance. But you feel bad for him anyway. He must have been upset to have that happened in front of a whole audience...

You scroll the Youtube comments for a bit. People are amused, or feeling sorry for him, or intrigued by any sign of a soulmate, or surprised that MNet even uploaded the interrupted performance (though you’re sure they’re delighted by its entertainment factor... the clip already has a ridiculously high number of views.)

And after that, it all feels too much for you. The truth is too intense. You close your laptop and go to find your family, so you can tell them what’s happened and get ready for your visitor.

The thought makes you smile again. A little happy tremble goes through you. You get to meet your soulmate soon... You get to meet Mingyu.

He knocks timidly on the door when he arrives, and you fly to answer it, barely noticing each step as your feet swallow up all the space between you until all that remains is your front door.

You take a deep breath, hand on the handle, and fling it open.

“Mingyu,” you gasp.

There he stands, looking shy and awkward, face graced by a slightly giddy smile he can’t seem to keep down. You find that despite running to meet him, you’re now frozen where you stand. His warm honey eyes scan over you though, skating across the features on your face, shifting down your body, and he looks so happy you might just melt where you stand.

“Hi, Y/N,” he whispers. “Did you look it up?”

You nod. And then words begin to pour out of him, in the same rushed way he writes, a long-winded explanation that makes your heart squeeze with pure affection.

“I realised after that performance that we were being stupid to wait to meet each other- to hope that the world would throw us together some, even though we were bound to be desperately thinking about one another every second until it happened. Or at least, I thought about you...”

He steps forward, lifts his hands and cradles your face.

“I was always worried about making you a part of my life too soon. I though I had all the time in the world to meet you, and what if I did meet you too soon, and I just messed it all up right away? As if it were possible to ever spend too much time together...”

He laughs, and when you join in, his smile becomes blinding.

“After today I know this is what I want. I want to be with you. I want us to know every detail of each others lives. I want a public, open, happy relationship with you before the eyes of the entire world. I don’t want anyone to see that video and think it was embarrassing. I want it to be the story of how we came together. I want it to be the beginning. Is that what you want?”

He’s so gorgeous, and the two of you are destined, so it’s a surprise to see how nervous he looks. As if you would ever turn him down.

“This is want I want,” you assure him.

And, hands still warm on your face, he kisses you for the first time.

#mingyu #kim mingyu #seventeen scenarios #mingyu x reader #mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagines #drabble #soulmate au #admin lizzie

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vagrantblvrd · 6 years

Text

Brighter than the Sun (1/1)

Summary: Ryan’s been on murder breaks before, sure, but this one is a little different.For one thing, he’s two states over from Los Santos.

For another, Geoff insists on calling it a vacation, because Geoff.

Notes: Based on this, because reasons.

AO3

“Michael and Jeremy are assholes, and I regret ever laying eyes on the Terror Twins.”

They’re miles apart, and yet Ryan can still hear the exasperation and underlying fondness in Geoff’s sigh.

“I blame you, you know,” Geoff says, and that’s not really fair because he was the one who decided on keeping Michael and Jeremy.

Geoff also made the mistake of listening to Lindsay when she told him they needed people like Trevor on board with them – better than letting someone else snatch him up and have that terrifying mind of his turned against them, and Alfredo had just sort of happened to them.

Which isn’t to say Lindsay has bad judgment, no, it’s just. Ryan’s convinced Lindsay was some terrible trickster goddess in a past life. Embodiment of chaos and all that entails because her track record in this life is pretty solid evidence in Ryan’s book

So whatever happened shouldn’t count as being Ryan’s fault at all, really. The mere thought that Geoff seemed to think Ryan could have prevented whatever disaster they’ve brought upon themselves is amusing as all hell.

The corner of Ryan’s mouth ticks up the slightest bit, already knowing whatever is coming next has to be good.

“I don’t see what I had to do with anything that happened seeing as I’ve been out of town.”

Doing a job for Geoff that took him over three state lines and into a river at some point, and his shoulder still aches. Got things taken care of, though. One less asshole out there looking to cause trouble for the crew.

“What happened?”

There’s a pause, like Geoff’s struggling to come to terms himself, and then he sighs again.

“Does it matter?” he asks, and he sounds so very tired. “The cops and the FiB are riled up, and everyone’s laying low until it blows over. It might be better if you found yourself a safe place to wait it out instead of trying to get back into the city.”

If things are bad enough that Geoff feels the need to warn Ryan instead of letting him discover it on his own and cackling like an idiot about it -

Probably means things like roadblocks and check points. City-wide alerts and hotline numbers to call in sighting of the anyone in the crew.

There are ways around that, of course, and it wouldn’t even be hard. But there’s tempting fate, and there’s being unnecessarily stupid.

Ryan looks around. He’s stopped at a small gas station just outside a small lakeside tourist town. Nice and quiet.

Peaceful.

Not a bad place to hide out for a while, and it’s a good bet no one would ever think to look for him here.

Still.

“Do you need me there?” Ryan asks, glancing at the dashboard clock.

He can be back in Los Santos by tomorrow night if he pushes it. Sooner, if traffic’s on his side.

“Nah,” Geoff says, and there’s a thread of amusement in his voice now. “Lindsay and Trevor are taking care of things here, just. I don’t fucking know. Take a vacation or something. Find yourself a nice little beach town and work on your tan.”

“You realize I’m in a landlocked state right now, right?” he asks, doesn’t bother reminding Geoff about all the beaches in Los Santos. Long strips of sand and rocks and moderately-polluted ocean. “Not a lot of beaches out here.”

“Ryan.”

“Geoff.”

Geoff sighs again, and the exasperation is back in full force with just a side of annoyance to balance it out.

“You know what I mean, dickhead.”

Ryan does, actually.

It might be nice to take a little time off after the last few weeks. Sleep in an actual bed instead of sleeping the backseat of the car he’s using. Eat something that isn’t fast food or sitting under a heat lamp in a convenience store for God knows how long. Stop looking over his shoulder expecting a knife in it because his target was a wily little shit and the others weren’t there to watch his back.

“Call it a vacation or what the hell, one of your murder breaks if you want,” Geoff says, and he’s laughing at Ryan now.

“Vacation,” Ryan echoes, like that’s a thing people like them get.

Geoff mutters something Ryan doesn’t quite catch, and then he sighs again, and honestly, it’s a little bit worrying how often he’s done that since Ryan called to check in.

“Stay safe and don’t forget to check in, asshole,” Geoff reminds him, and hangs up because apparently he never learned proper phone etiquette.

========

The town is called Creedence Lake and it’s this perfect mix of small town America and a little tourist town off the beaten track.

There’s a row of shops down the main thoroughfare and sandwich boards advertising the special or the day or sales. Wooden sidewalks and what looks like a saloon out of a western next to a photo studio specializing in old timey portraits.

It’s just as quiet and peaceful as he was expecting, and something about it is undeniably charming.

The only motel around is ten miles down the road, but there happens to be a quaint little bed and breakfast run by a sweet gray-haired woman named Pauline. Her accent manages to draw Ryan’s out of him without him realizing it, and it earns a delighted smile from her and a nice little discount for Ryan.

She gives him a corner room on the second floor overlooking a decent sized vegetable garden used to provide fresh produce for the bed and breakfast.

“I hope it’s too your liking,” Pauline says as she hands him the keys. One for the door to his room, and the second to a footlocker for his valuables. “Let me know if you need anything, dear.”

She’s tiny, shorter than Jeremy by half a foot, and it should be comical the way she goes up on her tiptoes to pinch Ryan’s cheek, but somehow it’s not.

“It’s the off-season so there’s only one other guest staying here,” Pauline tells him. “Sweet young man, ran into a bit of car trouble, I believe he said. He’ll be staying here until Johnny at the garage can get the poor thing fixed.”

Ryan frowns, wondering just how much information Pauline manages to get her hands on with that sweet, grandmotherly air of hers, and sees her smiling at him.

Sweet. Kind. Completely disarming.

“Dinner’s at seven, maybe you’ll meet him then,” she says, and turns to leave. “There’s a menu on your dresser, but if it’s not to your liking there are cafes and diners around town you might enjoy.”

And then it’s just Ryan poking at the rustic farm décor that seems to be the theme of his room, and the town in general from the looks of things.

He feels out of place here, but it’s it’s this or the motel down the road, and honestly, Ryan’s tired of those. Cookie cutter rooms and paper-thin walls and too much of his life spent in places like that before he’d settled in Los Santos.

There’s character to this town, the people he’s seen walking around. People like Pauline who seems too good to be true, twinkle in her eye and little granny glasses on a chain.

“Vacation, huh?” he mutters, thinking back to Geoff’s words.

It has a better ring to it than “murder break”, and is bound to draw less attention if anyone asks him what he’s doing in a sleepy little town like this.

He goes over the window and looks out.

Past the garden he can make out the shops, see tourists exploring the town and what it has to offer, happy and carefree.

This is either going to be just what Ryan needs after the last few weeks or the worst idea he’s ever had, only time will tell.

========

There’s still a few hours before dinner, so Ryan decides to do a little exploring of his own.

He brought a few changes of clothes with him on this job. Work clothes and “civilian” clothes for the times he needed to blend into a crowd to avoid spooking his target.

Graphic t-shirts and an old pair of jeans he’s had for forever and never managed to get rid of, a pair of sneakers he’s had almost as long.

A backwards baseball cap and air of Aviators rounds out his ensemble, and he takes a moment to pose for selfies he texts to Geoff using obnoxious filters before putting his phone on silent and tucking it into a pocket.

He makes sure to grab the brochure off his dresser before he leaves. There’s a map of the town with various shops and places to see marked on it along with coupons. A helpful list of places offering freebies for first-time customers and all kinds of goodies.

And, look.

It’s not like Ryan charted out a route or anything to optimize his time here, but.

He kind of did.

The shop owners are bright and cheerful, friendly even, and it’s a little jarring at first.

He’s used to cynical, suspicious cashiers and employees in Los Santos, people who’ve been robbed at gunpoint at least once. Always expecting the worst when someone walks through their doors and offering the bare minimum (if that) to any customers, and it’s all the product of the kind of place Los Santos is.

Here -

The people are happy, cheerful and go out of their way to make sure their customers have a good experience. They’re chatty, anecdote at the ready for each on and anywhere else Ryan would expect it to be an act.

And maybe it is, because Ryan finds himself buying things he has no use for, horribly little kitschy things someone made to sell in their shop. Godawful ugly but an odd sort of charm to it, and all of the shop owners are just so nice, really.

It isn’t until he’s at the candy store with a paper bag half full of saltwater taffy that he stops to think how bizarre it is.

Some part of him wondering if there’s something in the water here, or if that’s just what happens in places like this. Some impulse that has people buying things they don’t need and will never use because it’s a souvenir, like that means anything.

“Jesus,” he mutters, and peers into the bag he’s holding because he can’t remember what flavors he’s picked out already, when someone bumps into him.

He hears a surprised yelp, and reaches out to steady the person behind him before he can fall on his face.

Lean figure, sunglasses pushed into his hair, and startled green eyes.

“Ah, shit,” he murmurs, hand going to the sunglasses that have started to slip from their perch. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

He’s somewhere in his late twenties maybe, and has an accent that Ryan can’t quite place. There’s a little bit of a Texan drawl in there mixed with something else and unlike anything he’s heard before.

“It’s fine. Are you okay?”

The guy shrugs, tucks his sunglasses into his shirt pocket and rocks back on his heels as he looks Ryan over as though he doesn’t trust his personal assessment.

“I’m lovely,” he says, and grins. “And so are you.”

Ryan -

Wait.

The guy’s still grinning up at him, although it starts to fade a little as Ryan just stares at him as he tries to process what he just heard.

“Uh.”

“I’m – I’m sorry,” the guy says. “Was that too forward?”

Yes?

No.

Maybe?

It’s not like Ryan’s used to people coming up to him and flirting so blatantly, but to be fair most people who see him tend to do so when he’s working. Not a lot of people out there brave enough to flirt with the goddamned Vagabond when he’s wearing the mask and face paint.

This isn’t new territory, exactly, because Ryan’s not that much of a human disaster, just.

Unexpected.

“I - “

“Oh my God,” the guy says, and buries his face ins his hands, tips of his ears turning bright red. “I’m sorry, that definitely was too forward.”

He peeks at Ryan through his hands.

“I’m just going to go now,” he says, and scurries away before Ryan can say anything, bell of the shops door jingling merrily as Ryan tries to figure out what the fuck just happened.

========

When Ryan goes down to the dining room later that night he finds that Pauline’s set the table for three and blanks for a moment before he remembers Pauline mentioning the other guest.

“Oh, there you are,” Pauline says, twinkle in her eye again for a brief moment Ryan thinks she’s talking to him, but then he hears the creak of the stairs behind him.

Turning, he freezes as he sees -

“Ah, hello again?”

It’s the guy from the candy shop.

“Uh - “

“Oh, so you two have met!”

Pauline sounds far too excited about that, but Ryan's a little busy trying to get his brain in working order again because the guy is still staring at him.

And maybe it’s the soft lighting in here, but Ryan’s having a hard time not staring back.

The guy isn’t not attractive, and Ryan is a human disaster who can’t stop thinking about their earlier run-in and his flirty smile.

But those thoughts are pushed aside at his well-tuned paranoia that is stuck on how very suspicious it is that the guy happens to be staying at the same bed and breakfast as Ryan.

Vacation, Ryan reminds himself because this isn’t Los Santos, and there probably isn’t some sinister reason for this kind of coincidence. (Probably.)

Besides, Ryan knows there are limited options regarding places to stay in Creedence Lake. If the guy’s car is at the mechanic’s for the rest of the week, it makes sense for him to stay in town rather than a motel miles away.

“In a manner of speaking,” the guy says, and makes a show of sniffing the air as the smell of the roast Pauline’s made drifts towards them

The guy looks past Ryan at Pauline, and his smile turns soft and sweet and Ryan is still staring.

“Dinner smells lovely,” he says, eyes cutting to Ryan and away again so quickly as he moves past him that at first Ryan’s not sure it actually happened. “You didn’t have to go to so much trouble.”

Pauline titters, swatting at the guy’s shoulder and blushing as he continues to effortlessly charm her.

“Why don’t you boys sit down while I bring the food out,” Pauline says, and tuts when they open their mouths to offer to help her. “I won't have it, you two are guests. Now sit!”

Ryan glances at the guy who shrugs, and they do as Pauline says because it seems neither of them are brave enough to defy her.

Pauline hums in approval as they take their seats across from each other.

Ryan feels a little less off balance when he notices the way the guy keeps darting looks at him and fidgets with his silverware, the cloth napkin folded neatly in front of him. The little nervous smile he offers him when he comes to some sort of decision.

“I suppose I should introduce myself properly this time,” he says with a little laugh as he holds his hand out. “I’m...Mark. Mark Nutt.”

Ryan raises an eyebrow at the hesitation. A result of lingering embarrassment or something else?

Mark is watching him, something sharp in his eyes as Ryan reaches out to shake his hand.

“Reggie King,” he says, falling back on one of the identities Matt made for him a while back.

It’s the one he tends to use when he goes on jobs that require a little more effort than simply putting a bullet in someone’s head. When he has to play nice with the local population and the Vagabond’s usual attire might draw unwanted attention.

By all accounts Reggie’s a nice guy and all around upstanding citizen. Has the kind of backstory Matt seems to have pieced together from a mix of comic books and other media he’d consumed as a child. It certainly went a long way in explaining the ridiculousness of the name that went along with it all.

Mark frowns as he leans back in his chair to study Ryan.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Mark says, and there’s that soft smile again. “You just don’t strike me as a Reggie is all.”

“Believe it or not,” Ryan says, that’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”

For a moment he was actually tempted to give Mark his name, but then common sense reasserted itself and he’d tossed out the fake name he’d give to Pauline earlier to go along with the driver license and assortment of cards in his wallet.

Mark hmms, and just when Ryan thinks he’s going to say something about that, Pauline comes back into the room and his attention shifts. Whatever he had to say forgotten as Pauline regales them with a story about the town’s founding as she passes the tray of dinner rolls down to them and conversation turns to safer topics.

========

“Holy shit,” Michael wheezes, sounding like he’s dying. “Holy shit, Ryan. You’re not even on vacation for one day and suddenly your life is a fucking Hallmark movie, what the fuck.”

Michael must have put him on speaker phone judging by the way he can hear Jeremy laughing himself sick is any indication.

Ryan glares at the ceiling of his room and wonders why the hell he thought sharing his misadventures with Michael when he called to check in with the others was a good idea.

To be fair, he was expecting to get Geoff. Had hoped for that, actually, because Geoff tends towards wanting to know as little as possible about things like this unless he can find a way to torment them with it. Claims the headaches they cause him usually aren’t worth knowing about things like this.

But Geoff had been on a call with Burnie, going over crew business and discussing the transfer of one of Burnie’s people to Los Santos. Something they’ve been going back and forth about for weeks now, and Ryan’s been careful to keep out of it based on the shouting matches alone.

Nothing too serious, just a pair of idiots who’ve known each other for far too long and have the tendency to get overprotective about their people. (Which, admittedly, isn’t the worst thing in the world in this business.)

And so Ryan had gotten Michael and Jeremy and so many regrets the moment he told them about the...situation with Mark.

Pulling his ear away from his phone he glimpses the bags - bags - of horrible touristy shit he bought earlier and decides he’s going to gift them to the others. (God knows he has no idea what to do with any of it.)

And why not, really? It’s what people on vacation do, right? Buy hideous things to give to their friends and loved ones and the few assholes at work they don’t completely loathe?

“I got you guys souvenirs,” he says, and smirks at the way Michael and Jeremy’s laughter cuts off abruptly. “You’re going to love them.”

“That’s terrifying,” Jeremy finally says. “Ryan, you’re terrifying.”

Ryan huffs out a laugh because it’s not like he’s some kind of psychopath. He’s not bringing bodies home to them. (Technically.)

“Don’t worry about it.”

There’s a pause, and then Michael’s back.

“Stop trying to change the subject, asshole,” he says, there’s some little bit of fondness with the annoyance.

Ryan sighs because he’s not sure Michael’s wrong about Ryan’s life turning into some horrible romantic comedy when all the main plot points are there.

Well.

Kind of.

For all that he senses something ever so slightly off about Mark, there are very simple explanation for all of it.

Mark’s car breaking down is just bad luck that could have happened to anyone. Given the choice between a shady motel on the interstate or Pauline’s bed at the heart of Creedence Lake with its charming aura, he would have (did, actually) choose the one less likely to feature in a horror movie.

Running into him at the candy shop isn’t that surprising, given the size of the town. The odd hesitation when he introduced himself has several explanations, and even if he'd given Ryan a false name, it’s understandable given his situation, or maybe Ryan’s projecting.

“Mark Nutt, huh,” Michael says, managing to set Jeremy off again. “You want us to get Matt to look into him for you?”

It’s almost a joke, save for the serious note in Michael’s voice. He’s not quite as paranoid as Ryan tends to be, but of everyone in the crew he understands the reasons for it the best.

“Nah,” Ryan says, because as touching as it is that Michael’s offered to bring Matt in on this, that he’s actually taking it seriously, it’s not necessary.

If Mark Nutt turns out to be a problem, Ryan’s confident he can handle whatever comes up, if not -

Well.

Michael’s quiet on the other end.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m good,” Ryan says. “I doubt he’s a serial killer in disguise.”

“Yeah, well,” Michael says, and Ryan can hear the laughter in his voice. “That’s what people say about you, too. Only, you know, without the ‘in disguise’ part.”

Ryan rolls his eyes as Michael cackles like he’s just told the best joke in the world while Jeremy gasps for breath in the background.

“Hilarious,” Ryan deadpans.

“I thought so,” Michael wheezes as he gets himself more or less in control. A pause.“Be careful out there, idiot.”

Michael clearly went to the same school of terrible fucking phone etiquette that Geoff did because he hangs up on Ryan without warning.

“Animals” Ryan mutters, wondering what he’s done to deserve this kind of treatment.

========

The town of Creedence Lake is named after a bright, clear lake at the base of the mountains with a path that winds through around it marked in the brochure Pauline provided.

Something like curiosity that has Ryan wandering along it shortly after dawn when the shops are sill closed and he feels the need to stretch his legs.

The skies are a dark steel gray, clouds gathering over the town and surrounding area. It feels like rain on the way, but Ryan’s loathes to go back to the bed and breakfast just yet.

The forest around him is full of noise, birds calling to each other as they flit through the branches. A few hopping through the short grass near the edge of the path in search of insects and other delectables. He spots a few squirrels, hears what he thinks might be foxes late returning to their dens after a night of hunting.

It’s a welcome change from Los Santos with its glittering skyline and concrete canyons, artificial to its bones. Ryan’s not quite the country boys the others seem to think he is after learning where he’d grown up, but he’s no stranger to places like this.

He can see why people come out here, it’s a beautiful place to go camping and there are a few boats out on the water already.

Fishing or just enjoying the peace and quiet before the storm hits, perhaps.

“Ah, shit.”

Ryan -

What are the odds? he wonders, rounding a gentle bend to find Mark fussing with a camera.

An expensive looking DSLR from the looks of it and a small equipment bag resting on a flat boulder by the path.

Ryan scuffs his foot through the loose gravel lining the path when it becomes apparent Mark’s focus is on the camera in is hands and hasn’t noticed him yet.

It takes a moment for the noise to register, and then Mark’s head snaps up, one hand dropping towards his hip before he recognizes Ryan. (Catches himself, makes it look like he’s shaking out a hand cramp.)

“Fancy meeting you here,” Ryan says, and makes a what can you do? gesture because Creedence Lake is a small town and there are only so many things you can do here.

Mark blinks, and then he laughs. Shaky little thing at first like he’s forgotten how things like that work.

“Small world indeed,” he says, and scowls at his camera when it makes an angry noise. “Stupid thing.”

Ryan cocks his head and takes a slow step closer, not wanting to startle him again.

“Is it giving you trouble?” he asks, because that’s a thing people do. Ask the most painfully obvious questions, because of course.

Mark snorts, eyes flicking up to meet Ryan’s.

“That obvious, is it?” he asks. “It’s always been finicky, but it seems as though it’s determined to drive me mad today.”

Ryan’s not too terrible when it comes to small electronics and other things like that. He can probably find his way around it. (And definitely doesn’t think about why he wants to try, no.)

“I’m pretty decent with gadgets,” he says, which is true-ish, because explosive devices and other fun toys. “I could give it a look, if you want?”

Mark gives him a considering look, corner of his mouth pulling up into a smile. “If you don’t mind?”

There are far too many questions marks flying around, so Ryan holds his hand out and Mark gives him the camera with a sheepish smile.

Ryan turns the camera over in his hands. Digital DSLR covered in scuffs and scrapes. A faint nick on one corner and sections where the finish has been rubbed away, and what – oddly enough – looks like spatters of paint.

An older model and clearly well-used.

“I’ve had it for ages,” Mark says, when he catches Ryan running his thumbnail along a scratch. “Good workmanship, I suppose. Solid.”

He’s not wrong, really.

Ryan fiddles with the camera for a few minutes. Ends up pulling out the pocket knife he’s carrying for the screwdriver attachments to remove the camera’s casing. Nothing seems broken that he can see, which is a good sign.

Mark chatters on about past trips he’s taken with the camera, describing shots he’s taken with it in a way that catches Ryan's attention. Has him watching Mark and the sheer joy on his face as he talks, and when he can’t seem to look away, Ryan realizes he’s getting in a little too deep here, because Mark looks -

The camera buzzes in his hands.

Startled, Ryan looks down at it as the flash goes off in his face, followed by the sound of the shutter and Mark’s helpless laughter.

This high, squeak of a thing that is -

Well, ridiculous, and Ryan loves it.

“The fuck,” he mutters, trying to blink way colored dots filling his vision.

Mark pulls the camera from his hands, fingers brushing his, and Ryan catches the edge of his grin when he takes the pocket knife too.

“I told you it’s finicky,” Mark chides, although the way he breaks off into laughter a second later doesn’t lend it much credence.

Ryan sighs, watching Mark screwing the casing back into place. He glances up at Ryan, an oddly thoughtful expression on his face – and then brings the camera up to snap a picture before Ryan can do anything.

“Did you just - “

Mark lowers the camera to look at Ryan over it, slight trepidation on his face as though he’s just remembered some people aren’t fond of having their picture taken.

For whatever reason, not all of which are connected to illegal activities, or so Ryan’s heard.

“I can delete it, if you want me to.”

No hesitation there, which helps settle the flare of annoyance left behind by Ryan’s surprise.

“I – no,” Ryan says, doubting anyone who shouldn’t will stumble over it, or even know what it means. “It's fine, you just surprised me.”

Mark tips his head to the side, and Ryan resists the urge to fidget under his gaze. Sharp and intent and just the tiniest bit unnerving.

“You’re sure?”

“It’s fine,” Ryan says, and smiles at the skeptical look on Mark’s face. “Really.”

Mark nods, little smile on his face. “Alright then, thanks for fixing it,” he says.

Ryan shrugs. “Lucky I happened to be out here, I guess?”

It’s.

Awkward.

Really, unbearably, awkward because Ryan is just staring at Mark, and Mark is staring at Ryan and how two people can be this unbelievably socially inept is incredible.

“There’s some sort of game trail over there,” Mark says, just as painfully aware of how pathetic they are, and points towards the woods. “Care to explore it a bit?”

It’s either a serial killer’s favorite line used to lure the unsuspecting to their deaths, or a socially awkward man’s grab at something less awkward that what’s currently happening.

Or.

Something along those lines.

Mark must see some of Ryan’s thought process or maybe what he’s just said registers because he scratches the back of his head and laughs.

“I realize it sounds a bit shady, but it would be nice to have some company out here.”

Not that that’s any less shady, but Ryan’s more than capable of taking care of himself and honestly, it’s not that difficult of a decision.

“Sure,” Ryan says, because he’s the one carrying a small armory on him at any given moment. “Sounds like fun.”

Mark gives him and odd look, and laughs as he turns to lead the way.

“It’s a bit of a hobby,” he says, patting his camera fondly. “Never had the chance to do anything professional about all this.”

All this being his camera and the camera bag he’s toting around Ryan assumes.

“Life’s funny that way I suppose,” Mark says, glancing back at Ryan, rueful smile on his face. “Takes you places you never expected and all that.”

Ryan chokes on a laugh because God, if only Mark knew.

“It does do that, yeah,” he agrees, because it isn’t as though he put down wanted criminal when his school guidance counselor asked him to write down career paths he was considering. “Big time.”

========

“Ryan,” Trevor hisses, “Ryan, help.”

Ryan glances over to where Mark is attempting to skip rocks across the lake. He’s not great at it, manages to get one or two if he’s lucky before the stone drops into the water.

“Trevor - “

“They’re going to kill us if you don’t do something, Ryan!”

Ryan sighs, because any other time he’d be concerned.

Really.

Now, though.

Now Trevor seems to be hiding in a stairwell with Alfredo muttering something Ryan can’t quite make out. Ryan’s received several texts from the others in less than a minute telling him to leave the Twins to them, no need to worry, and Mark is holding those stones all wrong if he wants to get one to the middle of the lake.

It had started as a throwaway comment, a mention of something he’s always wanted to do but never managed to get around to with school and work and life. And then Ryan's phone had gone off and Mark had started looking for rocks to skip to give Ryan some privacy.

Which, of course, turned out to be completely unnecessary because Trevor and Alfredo.

“I don’t want to know what you two idiots did,” he says, because he really, really doesn’t.

Wants nothing to do with the kind of shenanigans Trevor and Alfredo might get up to when they’re cooped up at the penthouse with the others. No real outlet for the kind of chaos they’re capable of and thank God he’s not there to fall victim to any of it.

Trevor gasps, and there’s an echo from Alfredo.

“Ryan,” Trevor says, and it comes out scandalized. “How could you?”

Ryan looks skyward, reluctant smile on his face because this. This is the man they’ve put so much of their faith in. That Lindsay’s put so much of her faith in, and when he thinks about it that way, it explains so much, really.

“Because I’ve known the two of you long enough to know you deserve whatever is coming your way?”

There’s a certain kind of silence after that.

Hurt. Betrayed, and then Trevor harrumphs.

“Well if you’re going to be like that, we didn’t want your help anyway.”

Ryan rolls his eyes at the faint ”Yeah!” from Alfredo in the background.

“Call me if something serious comes up,” Ryan says, and this time around he’s the one who hangs up on someone before they get the chance to do it to him.

It feels oddly satisfying, and Ryan can definitely see the appeal.

Mark smiles at him when Ryan walks over to him.

“Alright then,” he says, pressing a handful of rocks into Ryan’s hands. “You’ve got this look on your face. What am I doing wrong?”

It’s not that Mark’s been doing anything wrong per se, it’s just -

“Reggie.”

Ryan makes a face and turns his hand over to show Mark the rocks he’d picked up.

A little on the lumpy side and too small. Not the worst, maybe, but they’re not going to work for what Mark wants to do.

“Okay, so,” Ryan starts. “It helps to have the right kind of rocks.”

A quick look at Mark reveals he’s listening intently, no annoyance or irritation at being corrected, and Ryan relaxes as he shows Mark the kind of rocks to look for. Flat, round, and the right size and weight to get a lot of spin on them.

“That’s the key to it, then?”

“Part of it, yeah,” Ryan says. “You need to have the right technique too if you want to want them to go any kind of distance.”

Mark nods, and after a few minutes they have a sizable collection of rocks to choose from, and Mark looks at Ryan expectantly.

“You want to hold them like this,” Ryan says, and demonstrates the proper way to hold the rock in his hand and how to throw them by launching one of them.

It skips several time across the water and makes most of the way to the middle of the lake before it sinks.

“Your turn,” he says, turning back to Mark who gives him a dubious look before trying again.

He doesn’t quite do it right. Doesn’t get the angle right and he doesn’t snap his wrist forward when he throws it.

“Here,” Ryan says, when Mark sighs as his rock sinks after the third skip. “Like this.”

The rock goes a little further this time before losing momentum and sinking under the water.

“Ah, dammit,” Mark sighs, hand over his eyes as he stares at the spot where the rock sank. “I’m not going to be able to do it, am I?”

Ryan rubs his thumb over the rock in his hand, sandpaper rough and grounding.

“You’re giving up to easily,” Ryan says, and smiles when Mark looks back at him. “Try it again.”

Mark’s gaze drops to the rocks Ryan’s holding out to him, and laughs as he reaches for them.

“All this work for something so silly,” he says. “I feel like I should do something to thank you for teaching me the proper way to do this. And for helping me with my camera.”

“You don’t have to do anything, really,” Ryan says, not sure he should be rewarded for this – whatever the hell he thinks he’s doing.

“Breakfast?” Mark says suddenly. “Or, lunch, probably, considering how long we’ve been out here for.”

Ryan -

“Unless you have plans for the day, that is,” Mark says, lifting his head. “Sorry, I didn’t even think to ask.”

“No, uh,” Ryan says, stumbling over his words. “Brunch?”

Mark blinks at him. “What?”

“Brunch,” Ryan repeats, feeling like an idiot. “After breakfast and before lunch?”

Mark is still staring at him.

“Uh - “

“Is that a yes?” Mark asks, and he’s absolutely laughing at Ryan, which. Understandable, really, given the fact Ryan is an idiot.

“Yes,” Ryan says. “It’s a yes.”

========

There’s a diner at the center of town with a Bigfoot statue in front of it. This hideous thing that looks nothing like any of depictions of Bigfoot Ryan’s ever seen, and yet -

“It’s so ugly,” Mark murmurs, dismayed. “Why on earth would anyone make something like that?”

Ryan wishes he knew, because it’s kind of amazing in its own way. Ugly and misshapen and the kind of thing you can’t stop thinking about because it haunts your every waking moment and makes its way into your nightmares. Just will not leave you the fuck alone.

“I don’t know,” Ryan says, “but they have a brunch special.”

Mark eyes the Bigfoot statue warily and sighs. “I hope it makes up for that monstrosity.”

Ryan holds the door for Mark because he has manners, and has to bite back a laugh when he hears the horror in his voice.

“Oh my God, how is it worse inside?”

Ryan steps looks around a to see that Mark is in no way wrong because the place is an interior decorator’s nightmare.

Tacky as all hell with little bits of Bigfoot-themed “flair” and just generally awful in a completely amazing way.

“That one has a rocket-pack,” Mark hisses, discreetly gesturing to a plush toy Bigfoot hanging from the ceiling with what is indeed a tiny rocket-pack strapped to his back to make it seem like it’s flying. “Why?”

“The aesthetic?” Ryan offers, and laughs at the scowl he gets for it. “What? I think it’s got a unique sort of charm to it.”

“’Charm’” Mark repeats, a little like Ryan’s lost his damn mind.

Which, you know.

Not untrue.

There’s a waitress headed their way, bright smile and sunny disposition. Ryan watches in fascination as the disgruntled expression on Mark’s face is replaced with a smile to match hers.

His body language changes too.

Goes from broken and defeated to open and friendly in a matter of moments, and it’s disconcerting, if Ryan’s going to be honest. Has him watching Mark as he effortlessly charms the waitress, gets them a corner booth hidden away from the worst decorating offenses.

When Mark notices Ryan watching him, he grins.

“Trick of the trade,” he says and picks up his menu. “Comes in handy like this from time to time.”

It’s tempting to ask Mark what he does for a living for that to be something that goes along with it, but that would open things up to him asking Ryan what he does, and wow, that’s not a great idea.

So.

Ryan pulls his own menu close and laughs at the woodcut style drawings decorating the edges of it. A pair of eyes in shadowed woods looking out. Silhouette of Bigfoot on a mountain ridge. A forest trail and tracks that could only belong to Bigfoot.

“Good lord,” Mark murmurs as he turns it over in his hands. “They’re really committed to this, aren't they?”

As if the rocket-pack wearing Bigfoot wasn’t a sign. The huge statue out front. Everything about this diner that was made to draw tourists in with its sheer kitschiness.

“Looks like it, doesn’t it?”

It’s not the artwork along the menu’s border, either. Half the dishes are Bigfoot themed, and the ones that aren’t are clear references to other local cryptids.

“Amazing,” Mark says, but he’s laughing a little too, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

Ryan can’t seem to look away, heart doing this embarrassing little flip, and oh, God, he’s really in trouble here, isn't he.

========

Thunder rumbles overhead when step outside some time later, little flashes of lightning flickering at the corner of Ryan’s eye.

Brunch ran long, slid effortlessly into that comfortable space where they lingered over coffee and dessert and ended up trading stories.

“Think we’ll get back before the storm hits?” Mark asks watching the clouds warily. Hands running over the camera bag with easy confidence, smoothing down zipper pulls and buckles to make sure everything is secured safely. “It’s not that far.”

Pauline’s bed and breakfast is a couple of blocks away, just past the town park near the edge of the lake.

Ryan steps to the edge of the covered sidewalk, peering up at the sky and the rain-heavy clouds spread across it.

Another roll of thunder breaks from the sky, closer this time, followed by a crack of lightning that splits the sky.

“I don't think we’re going to be that lucky,” Ryan says, and it’s some bout of recklessness that takes hold of him Has him glancing sidelong at Mark. “We could go back inside and gets coffee while we wait out the storm.”

“Or?” Mark prompts, corner of his mouth twitching, picking up on the restless energy running through Ryan.

“Or, we could take our chances and risk making a run for it,”Ryan says, and there's that childish recklessness in the face of thunderstorm. It’s been too long since he’s felt like this. Young and carefree and stupid with it. “What do you want to do?”

Mark holds his hand out, palm up like he’s testing the air.

“Well,” he says, and pulls his arm back to adjust the star of his camera bag. “I’ve heard too much coffee is bad for you, so - “

Mark flashes Ryan a grin and bolts for it, laughter trailing behind him on the tail of his, “Race you!”

Ryan’s brain stalls out, and then very helpfully points out that Mark is a goddamned cheat as he gives chase and the skies pen up, soaking them to the bone in a matter of minutes.

Mark’s laughing, quick on his feet as he cuts through the town square, hopping over benches and short hedges, looking over his shoulder to check on Ryan every so often.

“Get back here!” Ryan yells, laughter stealing air out of his lungs as he lags behind just enough for Mark to keep his lead. “You cheat!”

Mark spins around and tosses off a little salute before dashing up the paved walkway to the bed and breakfast.

Ryan sees the edge of his grin as he ducks inside, screen door clattering shut behind him just as Ryan hits the stairs behind him.

He has to take a moment to let his eyes adjust when he steps inside, turns his head when he picks up voices. Sees Pauline watching her soaps in the front office, engrossed in whatever plot is playing out and oblivious her to her ridiculous guests.

Ryan shuts the door quietly behind him, gaze landing on the wet footprints headed upstairs, feels sooner lips stretch into a grin as he follows.

The footsteps move past the bathroom, pas the linen closets and Mark’s room where they seem to disappear. Ryan pauses, frowning down at them.

They look like they lead into the room, but something about them -

The soft squeak of a rubber sole on hardwood floor is what alerts him to the presence behind him, has Ryan stepping neatly out of the way as Mark pounces. Breathless laughter and a disappointed groan, and then a startled yelp as he trips over his own feet.

“Shit!”

Ryan can’t stop his bark of laughter as he reaches out to steady Mark and stumbles back a step. His back hits the door to his room as Mark latches onto him to keep from falling on his face. He’s still laughing breathlessly, that high squeaking thing that has Ryan smiling so damn wide at how happy it is.

“Botched that one, didn’t I?” he mutters, breath puffing against Ryan’s neck as he drags himself upright, eyes gleaming in the dim light of the hallway.

Ryan hums, doesn’t want to crush Mark’s delicate feelings just yet.

“It was a good try?” he finally says.

Mark snorts, head tipped to the side to watch the rain through the window at the end of the hallway. The storm's calmed down, slow, gentle patter of rain that calms that restlessness running through them.

“Nice of you to say,” Mark mumbles, thumb moving in slow sweeps over Ryan’s collarbone. Light, absent, and he doesn't seem to be away he’s doing it. “But I appreciate it.

He gives Ryan a sweet smile. Seems to think something over for a long, long moment, and Ryan can see the moment he reaches his decision. Eyes narrowing just the tiniest bi, chin lifting as he untangles his fingers from Ryan’s shirt.

“Let me know if I’m overstepping,” Mark murmurs as he reaches for Ryan’s face, hands cool against his skin.

Ryan goes still, heart racing as he forgets to breathe – and then Mark’s kissing him and Ryan’s mind Ryan shivers as he lets him take the lead here. Feels Mark’s fingers slipping into his hair as he deepens the kiss. Makes a happy noise in his throat as he presses closer, weight pushing Ryan against the door, and -

The cold weight of Ryan’s gun against his spine jolts him out of the happy daze he’s fallen into with brutal sharpness. Has him gasping for air as he jerks back and looks down at Mark who frowns up at him.

“Reggie?”

He looks worried, concerned as he steps away, gives Ryan room. Hands hovering between them like he’s afraid to touch Ryan, and it’s an effort to think. Force his mind to work as that fucking gun digs into his back, grounding him.

Clear reminder that no matter what he called this – what it was he was doing here – it was just a brief respite from his life back in Los Santos.

That he wasn't actually some tourist who happened to stop off at this quaint little town. Just someone whose biggest worries were things that could be resolved with words instead of bullets or knives.

That Mark wasn’t privy to Ryan’s life, didn't even know his real name and what a terrible mistake he was making with Ryan. How unfair he was being to Mark and what kind of monster was he?

He doesn't – people like him don’t get this, that, and it -

“I - “

Ryan’s phone rings, loud and jarring and he’s pathetically grateful for the distraction as he reaches behind him and wrenches the door open.

“Phone call,” he says, breathless like he’s just run a marathon, head turned away so he doesn’t ave to see the pity or worse in Mark’s eyes. “I have to take this.”

“Reggie?”

Ryan slams the door between them, listens to Mark walk away as he lets the call go to voicemail.

========

“Jesus Christ, Ryan,” Geoff sighs, exasperated and fond and so very, very done. “Why are you like this?”

If he was smarter, Ryan would have left already. Packed his shit and headed back to Los Santos and do whatever he had to in order to get back to the penthouse, law enforcement be damned.

But he’s not, and he hadn’t, and then he’d made the mistake of calling Geoff back. (Eventually, once Ryan had calmed down. Started thinking again.)

Which, you know. He realizes now, because Geoff is an asshole who doesn’t seem to understand that Ryan’s doing the right thing here. Being a decent human being who -

“You’re freaking out, aren’t you?” Geoff demands. “Ryan, I can hear you freaking out from here and you’d better fucking stop it right now, asshole!”

Ryan winces away from his phone, freak-out aborted because Jesus Christ, Geoff’s voice when he gets like this.

“Ryan? Ryan!”

“Jesus, calm down, Geoff, you’re getting worked up over nothing.”

Well, that and Ryan tries not to let opportunities to fuck with Geoff slide by if he can.

There’s an ominous pause, and then Geoff’s yelling again. Something about pots and kettles and that Ryan had better fucking be grateful he was two states away or Geoff would murder the shit out of him.

Ryan sighs and sets his phone down to grab a can of diet soda from the mini-fridge, laughing quietly when he can still hear Geoff yelling all the way across the room.

When Geoff stops yelling, Ryan picks up his phone.

“Geoff?”

“I fucking hate you,” Geoff sighs, and now he sounds drained. “None of you assholes seem to understand the depth of the hatred I feel towards you at any given moment.”

Ryan rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his soda because that’s a common complaint of Geoff’s. An old favorite, even. Something he likes to tell them when he feels they’re being particularly trying.

“Love you too, Geoff.”

Geoff mutters something that sounds uncannily like go fuck yourself, Haywood, and takes a deep breath.

“Ryan.”

“Geoff.”

“I’m not doing this again, dickhead, so fucking listen, okay? Just shut up and listen.”

Geoff sounds serious, so of course Ryan listens. (He listens even when Geoff is making no goddamned sense, but that’s his little secret.)

“This Mark guy,” Geoff starts. “You said he made the first move?”

Unless Ryan’s wildly off the mark regarding their first meeting, yes.

“Yes?”

“And he’s the one who’s been pushing this whole thing?”

Well, unless Ryan somehow misinterpreted Mark pinning Ryan to his door and kissing the ever-loving fuck out of him before Ryan reacted like a heroine out of a Victorian romance, then yes.

“Go for it,” Geoff says, so matter of fact it takes Ryan moment to realize what he said.

“What?”

And now Geoff’s laughing at him, the stupidly infectious laugh he has to him when he’s honestly amused by something.

Someone.

“Ryan, I know you like to think you’re some big, scary bogeyman and all that shit - “

He is.

“- but you’re a goddamned idiot. Also, you know. A dork. The biggest one I’ve ever met.”

That's -

Okay, that’s not completely wrong, but Geoff could be a little bit nicer about it. Take Ryan’s delicate sensibilities into account and all.

“If this guy is set on jumping your bones, fucking go for it."

Ryan groans, because Geoff’s laughing again. Chuckling over his shitty sense of humor.

“Geoff - “

“I’m serious,” Geoff says, still so damned amused. “I mean I get that it’s been a while for you, but that’s a thing adults do once in a while? Especially when they’re on vacation and run into someone they're attracted to. That whole ‘what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas’ shit, you know?”

Ryan remembers that advertising campaign, yes. (May have been a little too amused considering the number of jobs he’d had that took place there, but that’s neither here nor there right now.)

“That’s not helpful,” Ryan points out, because it’s pretty much the opposite of that. “But hey, thanks I guess?”

Geoff sighs, like Ryan’s being particularly stupid today.

“What, are you planning on seeing him again after this?”

Realistically? Not really, no.

It wouldn't be safe for either of them, for one. And for another, he doubts Mark would react favorably to finding out what Ryan does for a living. Can’t really see the two of them settling down in a quaint little house with the white picket fence and the rest of that impossible dream.

“No?”

“Then I don't see the problem here,” Geoff says patiently. “You’re on vacation, Ryan. Have some fucking fun, you idiot.”

There is a pause, and then Geoff sighs, because it’s so damn easy to say things like that, isn’t it. Make it seem nice and simple and so clear-cut. Just do it, what’s the holdup?

“You deserve to have nice things, Ryan,” he says, and this is the reason Ryan called him, needed to talk to him. Geoff understands, looks after his crew of fucked up individuals even though he’s just as fucked up. Knows they all have their hangups and things like this can be the hardest shit in the world. “Try to remember that, okay?”

And that -

Look.

“That’s horrible advice, Geoff,” Ryan says, because it is.

It’s the kind that spells trouble for Ryan because that’s how his luck runs sometimes. Just a string of bad luck, timing, that ends in disaster and regret and (frequently), Ryan doing his damnedest to outrun the cops at one point or another.

“Yeah,” Geoff agrees. “But it’s not like you’re going to listen to me anyway, so I don’t really give a shit.”

========

Ryan stays in his room that night and well into the next day, and he’s not hiding, exactly, just.

No, okay.

He’s hiding.

He tells himself he’s just checking on things back in Los Santos. Making phone calls to a few of his contacts to make sure Geoff and the others are actually okay, aren’t hiding the truth from him thinking they were somehow protecting him.

Fortunately they are alright, which is a relief, but makes him think about Mark and that smile of his (that kiss) and the looks he’d give Ryan once in a while like he was a puzzle Mark was trying to figure out.

About Geoff’s shitty advice. (It isn’t, really, but it's so much easier to tell himself it is rather than admit there’s merit to it.)

Thinks about how careful he’s been, like he knows Ryan’s a fucked up mess and doesn’t want to spook him. About that kiss, and the feel of Mark’s fingers on his face, playing with his hair, his lips on Ryan’s. The warmth of his body against his.

Ryan thinks about a lot of things, and then – like a perfectly functional adult – plugs his phone in to let it charge and turns on the television to watch mindless daytime dramas to stop thinking. Let his brain coast along until it hits a wall or he gets his shit together, whichever comes first.

It works for a bit, although Ryan is confused about the convoluted plots that involve evil twins and half-siblings and conspiracy theories that spark more melodrama than is good for anyone.

Halfway through the third episode he hears movement in the hallway and makes a decision. (A horrible, terrible, awful decision.)

“Hey.”

Mark stops ins his tracks, camera bag over his shoulder and this cautious look on his face when he turns around.

“Reggie,” he says, eyes searching Ryan’s. “Is everything alright...back home?”

Ryan...may be a bit of an asshole. May have mentioned there was family drama going on in his life during brunch. Used it as an excuse as much of an explanation hoping Mark wouldn’t pry even thought Ryan knew he wouldn’t have, because Ryan had panicked.

Ryan’s good, great, even with a gun in hand and the intent to wreak havoc. Point him at someone you want dead and he’ll deliver every goddamned time.

He’s fantastic when it comes to his job, and has the kind of reputation that speaks for itself in that regard, but take that all away and he’s this awkward human disaster who fails at simple social interaction.

“Uh, yeah,” Ryan says, and he knows Mark knows what a flimsy excuse it was, but he’s too polite to call Ryan on his bullshit. “Everything’s fine, thanks for asking.”

Mark smiles awkwardly, and Ryan winces.

“Sorry about earlier,” he says. “Were you headed out?”

Again with the painfully obvious questions, but Mark doesn't seem to mind.

“I was. Did you want to join me?”

There’s a hopeful lilt to the question, and the hesitant way he asks it is on Ryan for being the kind of asshole who takes advantage of a decent human beings compassion.

The panic – fear – is still there, sharp and aching because Ryan wants this thing with Mark and knows he isn’t allowed to keep it.

He can’t keep this thing with Mark, can’t hold it close the way he wants to, but maybe Geoff’s not completely wrong, either. Maybe Ryan can let him have something here, whatever Mark will allow him.

“Let me grab my jacket,” Ryan says, and feels a flash of relief when Mark smiles.

========

“You’re an idiot,” Jeremy says, more than halfway to happily drunk and having the time of his life, even though Michael’s yelling at him to hand his phone back. “Like. Fuckin’ hell, Ryan.”

From what he can tell Michael and Jeremy were having some kind of drinking competition. He knows Geoff hasn’t told them about Ryan’s latest stupidity, so this is probably drunk Jeremy’s brain telling him he should really remind him in case Ryan’s forgotten.

Jeremy stealing Michael’s phone because he couldn’t find his, and Michael wasn’t using his and why, why why are you this dumb, Ryan?

Ryan snorts, watching Mark from the corner of his eye as he takes pictures of the wooden statues carved out of whole logs lining the sidewalk. There are at least three bears and two beavers. Others that are some form of modern art and things Ryan can’t even begin to guess at, and Mark thinks they’re all fascinating, hence the pictures.

Seeing how many of them he takes, the time and effort he puts into it Ryan wonders what kept him from pursuing a career in photography. What’s stopping him from doing it now since he seems to love it so much.

“Ryan?”

Jeremy’s going on and on about all of Ryan’s perceived failings and it’s a good bet he won’t remember any of this when he sobers up, so it’s a good thing Ryan’s recording it.

For posterity.

“Yeah, I know,” Ryan says, when Jeremy winds down. “It's a good thing I’ve got my Battle Buddy to straighten me out like this.”

Ryan’s not sure what he’s doing right now when it comes to Mark. Just knows he didn’t want to leave it the way he almost had.

A tangled mess of intentions and regrets and Ryan’s own stupidity because Mark didn't deserve any of that, and Ryan -

Well.

He’s stupid, because he knows there’s no way he gets out of this without a broken heart and yet here he is anyway.

“Ryan,” Jeremy says, the way he does sometimes when he’s not completely certain Ryan isn’t an idiot. “Don’t be stupid, okay? Like. Stop that.”

Mark’s laughing at something, and when Ryan looks over it’s to see him watching this tiny scrap of a kitten attacking one his shoelaces that's come untied.

Fierce little thing that acts like it’s battling something ten times its size, a horrible threat to the safety of its kingdom and Mark looks -

He’s smiling so wide, and laughing so hard it’s just that squeaky laugh of his again.

Happy.

He looks happy and it suits him, something warm in Ryan’s chest at the sight of it and God, he’s so fucked because he knows if things were different -

“I’ll do my best, Jeremy,” he says, and knows he’s lying, but Jeremy won’t remember this in the morning anyway, right?

The only one who’ll know is Ryan, and that’s fine.

It’s fine.

There’s a startled yelp from Jeremy, a yell from Michael and the line goes dead. A step up from the way his phone calls to the others have been going, though, so that’s nice.

“Everything alright?”

Mark's watching him carefully, and Ryan tucks his phone away.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, everything's great.”

========

It goes on like that for the next couple of days. Mark wandering around Creedence Lake and Ryan tagging along because he’s the kind of idiot who does shit like that.

He realizes that Mark has this odd way of looking at the world, will have this look on his face for the longest time like he’s pondering the universe’s greatest mysteries. And then he’ll turn to Ryan with this serious expression on his face and ask something like ”How does a dog know when it should stop growing?” because someone’s out walking their dog.

It usually takes Ryan a few seconds to parse the real meaning to Mark’s questions because why wouldn’t he, really? On the surface they’re ridiculous, nonsensical, but if he takes the time to think about it they’re really kind of brilliant.

Most of the time, anyway.

Sometimes it's just Mark being a troll, little spark of mischief in his eyes because he’s twigged to the fact that Ryan gives honest thought to his hypotheticals and other so-called nonsense and is not so secretly a bit of an asshole.

Pauline’s the one to tell them about the fireworks display planned that weekend to celebrate Creedence Lake’s founding.

Weather reports predict clear skies for the day of the celebration with storm clouds rolling in early the next morning, creating a perfect window for the fireworks.

“Everyone turns out for it,” she says, swatting Ryan’s hand away from the dishes he’s helping clear from the table. “None of that, young man. I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a dozen times. You are a guest here.”

Ryan hold his hands up in surrender and laughs as he backs away from her. Tiny and fierce and he has no trouble at all believing she could take him down if she wanted to.

Pauline’s expression softens as she looks to where Mark is coming down the stairs after taking a personal phone call, eyes sliding over to Ryan.

There’s a sympathetic smile on her face, voice lowered so that only Ryan hears what she says.

“I know it’s none of my business,” she says. “But when you find someone who makes you as happy as he does, you hold onto them with both hands and don’t let go for anything. Life’s too short to make those kinds of mistakes.”

Ryan blinks.

He hadn’t thought she’d noticed the way Ryan was all but mooning over Mark all week, but apparently he was wrong about that.

“What?”

Pauline snorts, and reaches up to pat Ryan’s cheek..

“Honey,” she says kindly, “you’re not subtle.”

Ryan can only stare at her as she smiles pleasantly up at him, this look in her eyes that’s a little bit terrifying.

“You are a scary, scary lady,” he tells her, and she winks as she goes back to clearing the table.

There’s a quiet laugh behind him, and Ryan sighs when he turns to see Mark grinning at him.

“What did she do now?”

Ryan stares at him, not sure what to say because seriously - mind scrambling for something to say that doesn’t come from the stupid Hallmark movie his life has become.

“Uh – She mentioned the fireworks display tomorrow night?” he says, and winces at the way Mark’s eyebrows hit his hairline at what has to be the shittiest evasion in history.

“And that’s cause for concern, how?”

Ryan shrugs and makes an explosion gesture with his hands. “You think giving her access to fireworks is a good idea?”

And the thing is, Mark actually thinks about it for a moment. Watches Pauline puttering about, humming a little under her breath.

She still looks like a harmless little old lady, but Ryan’s learned she’s surprisingly sharp, doesn’t seem to miss a damn thing. Terrifying in all the ways that matter.

“Now that you mention it,” he says, “I don’t.”

Ryan looks at Mark, Pauline’s words in the back of his head tangled together with everything the others have told him.

It feels like their time here is running out, or rather it’s coming to an end.

Mark’s car will be fixed soon, and Jack had called to let him know things were back to normal in Los Santos. That he could come back when he was ready, and -

“Should be something to see, though,” Ryan suggests. “The fireworks, I mean. Ones she’s had nothing to do with.”

Mark tips his head to the side as he pretends to think about it, this little smile playing at the corners of his mouth as Ryan babbles like an idiot.

“It’ll be a good sendoff,” Mark says, oddly wistful smile on his face as he looks at Ryan. “Nice way to end things here.”

Ryan -

“Yeah,” Ryan says, and coughs to mask the way his voice went all funny on hims for a moment there. “It will, wont it.”

========

Pauline sets them up with a picnic basket the night of the fireworks celebration, loads it down with food and drink and a gingham blanket for the fireworks display.

“There’s a spot on the south side of the lake,” she says, twinkle in her eye as Mark walks past checking his camera’s in working order. “Gorgeous view of the fireworks and plenty of privacy too. No one goes up there during the fireworks, say it’s too much work when they can see the fireworks just fine from the north shore.”

Ryan can feel his cheeks heating up at the wink she gives him. It’s like being a teenager all over again with his first crush and his family knowing.

“Pauline - “

“Make sure to bring jackets,” she says, and shoves the picnic basket in Ryan’s hands. “It gets cold out there at night.”

And then she’s pushing the two of them out the door of the bed and breakfast and they go because neither of them are brave enough to tell her no, even now.

It takes them just over an hour to reach the spot Pauline mentioned overlooking the lake. Soft grass underfoot and tall trees and underbrush screening them from view of anyone on the hiking path below.

“Wow,” Mark says, odd smile on his face as he looks around. “Nice and secluded, isn’t it.”

Ryan nods, looking for the best spot to lay the blanket out. “That’s what Pauline said.”

Mark helps him clear rocks and twigs and other detritus before laying the blanket out and setting the picnic basket down.

There’s still time before it gets dark enough for the fireworks display, and Ryan casts about for something to say as he sits next to Mark. Wonders why he didn't suggest they watch the fireworks with the others on the other shore. Why he -

“How did you end up here of all places?” Mark asks, taking a beer out of the picnic basket. “This town’s a bit out of the way.”

Ryan shrugs as he accepts a can of diet soda.

When in doubt, lie.

When lying, sprinkle a little bit of truth in there to really sell it.

Remember not to mention the part about killing a man, though. (Or the fact there have been too many to keep an accurate count, each one another tick against him when it comes time to face whatever judgment lies in store for him.)

Too much truth there, and people don’t like that. (The part about too much truth, yes, but also the killing thing.)

“Business trip.” Ryan settles on. “My boss sent me out of the office for a couple of weeks and I finished up early. Decided to see what the place was about since I had the time.”

Ryan takes a sip of his drink as he looks at the lake, decides to be a little brave.

“I hadn’t planned on staying this long, didn’t see a reason to when I got here, but - “

Ryan shrugs because that went and changed on him, didn’t it.

He can feel his cheeks heating up when Mark gives him a long look.

“Is that so,” he says, and Ryan can hear the smile in his voice.

Ryan shrugs again, slides a look at Mark who is staring at the beer he’s holding, fingers tracing over the raised logo on the neck of the bottle.

“I was on my way to a new job. Opportunity of a lifetime and all that,” Mark says with a funny little laugh. “There was a mix-up with the airline and I missed my connecting flight and customer service was a nightmare, so I figured why not drive the rest of the way since it wasn’t that far?”

Mark laughs and takes a hefty swig of his beer before he looks at Ryan.

“I think you can guess the rest,” he says, waving a hand around him meant to encompass the little town they've found themselves in.

Car trouble, Pauline had said. Serious enough that Mark had spent the better part of a week stranded in a little tourist town.

Not an auspicious start to the next chapter in his life, or whatever it was meant to be.

“Worked out, in the end, though” Gavin says. “Some kind of infestation at the office. Closed the whole thing down until it’s been dealt with.”

That.

“Sounds like a classy place,” Ryan says, and wishes he hadn’t – until Mark laughs.

Some weird, dorky thing that has his shoulder bumping into Ryan’s as he shakes with it.

“You’re not too far wrong,”Mark says, crooked smile on his face. “But I’ve been trying to get out there for a while now. Friends I haven’t seen in ages and all.”

He shrugs when Ryan raises an eyebrow at him, because surely there’s more to the story than that?

“It’s complicated,” Mark says after a moment, setting his beer aside. “Things kept popping up, and my old boss needed me there...so I stayed.”

He says it like it’s just that simple, and Ryan hopes that whatever kind of asshole his old boss is that he appreciated that about him. (That Mark’s new boss realizes what he has in him, too.)

“Admirable,” Ryan says, not sure what else he can say to that.

Mark snorts.

“Not as much as you’d think, really, but I’ll take it.”

Ryan -

“Ooh, look. It’s starting,” Mark says, pointing towards the lake.

There’s a floating dock near the north shore of the lake where the fireworks are set, small figures moving around on it as they prepare to start the display. If he listens, he can make out a distorted voice over a loudspeaker, some classic rock song blaring out of the speakers anchored in the sand along the shore.

“I’m a bit glad we’re not close enough to hear it,” Mark confides, leaning into Ryan. “Always kind of dull, what they have to say.”

In Ryan’s experience, Mark’s not wrong.

Out here, at least, they won’t have to sit through whatever prepared speech is taking place. Just sit and enjoy the fireworks without people pressing in on them.

“Yeah,” Ryan says, just as the first fireworks go off.

A ripple of movement as they shoot upward, and then brilliant points of light bursting across the sky.

“Oh, wow,” Mark says, laughing in delight because the display is a little more complicated than fireworks from a roadside stand. More along the lines of something you’d see in Los Santos on the Fourth or New Year’s, organized by the city. “It’s amazing!”

Ryan watches the play of light and color over Mark’s face, and the delighted smile on his face and eyes tracking the arcs of light blooming across the night sky and wants.

“Reggie?”

Mark’s eyes are wide and he’s holding himself carefully still because Ryan’s in his space, hands coming up to frame his face.

Something nice, Ryan thinks, like that’s not a fucked up thing to think, but it fits, because Mark -

Christ.

“Let me know if I’m overstepping,” Ryan says, an echo of Mark’s words, words feeling fragile on his tongue because this isn’t something he gets to keep, but God does he want to.

Hold on tight with both hands the way Pauline had told him to, but if this is all he’s allowed he’ll take what he can get, what Mark will give him.

Mark’s eyes soften, mouth curving into a gentle smile as he reaches for Ryan.

“Okay,” he says, laughter tripping out of him like it’s just that simple, lips meeting Ryan's as the fireworks light up the sky.

========

“Ryan, we’ve got trouble.”

Jack, and he sounds worried.

As close to being afraid as he allows himself, and Ryan looks over at the quiet mumble beside him. Sees a tuft of hair poking up from the tangle of blankets and his chest aches at the sight.

“Ryan?”

“Yeah,” Ryan says, clears his throat when it catches on the way out. “Just. Give me a moment, Jack.”

He can hear Jack’s suspicion on the other end, but the bed is shifting, and -

“Reggie?”

Ryan closes his eyes at the soft,”Oh,”, from Jack, only to open them again when he feels fingers brush his arm.

“Something’s wrong,” Mark says, doesn’t bother with obvious questions. Too smart for those, sharp eyes and clever tongue and this edge to him that peeks out when he’s not paying attention.

“Reggie.”

Slender finders curling around his wrist, squeezing gently.

“Do you need me to go?”

Ryan shakes his head as he dredges up a smile for Mark. That would be rude, even for Ryan considering this is Mark’s room.

“I need to take this,” he says, and gets up, breath hitching when Mark’s hold tightens before he lets go.

He can feel his eyes on his back as he leaves, Jack so very quiet.

“Jack” he says, shutting the door to his room behind him, and Jack, bless his twisted heart, understands.

“DeMarco’s boys are stirring up trouble for us,” he says, voice grim. “We have things under control for now, but Trevor's contacts say they’re ramping up for something. I’m sorry, but we need you back in Loss Santos.”

The hell of it is, he does sound sorry. Knows the basics about Ryan’s little adventure out here, if not the details. Knows -

“I can be there by tomorrow night,” Ryan says, glancing at the wall clock ticking away. “Sooner if traffic’s on my side.”

He can hear Jack struggling for something to say to that, and laughs, because this was always how it was going to go.

“Tomorrow night,” Ryan repeats, and hangs up so he can start packing.

========

The sky’s an angry gray, clouds silent and still and ominous, and Ryan can’t help but feel it’s a sign of some sort. A portent, perhaps.

Pauline hands him Tupperware containers packed full of food and raises up on her toes to peck him on the cheek, eyes sad as she wishes him a safe trip, and heads back inside.

Mark -

He looks small, huddled up in an old army surplus jacket, hair disobedient as ever.

“Your hair’s a mess,” he says, flicker of a smile touching his lips.

Ryan snorts, because pot, meet kettle.

“That’s rich coming from you,” Ryan says, tugging lightly on a wayward lock of hair.

There’s this odd little smile on Mark’s face as he wraps his arms around him, burying his face against Ryan’s chest.

“Be careful,” Mark says, so many things packed into those two little words, and Ryan would laugh if he didn’t understand.

“You too,” he says, smiling a little when Mark does laugh, a pair of idiots who can’t seem to use their words the way they should, but somehow manage to get their, meaning across anyway.

========

The drive back is a blur.

Lush forest giving way to rolling hills and dry scrubland. Cities whose names he doesn't other to learn and then the lights of Los Santos spread out like a glittering strand of jewels.

Bright and shining and as much as Ryan knows it's going to kill him one day, he loves it.

“Home sweet home,” he mutters as he crosses the city line, feels something settle in him when he’s driving down familiar streets breathing stale, dirty air again, breathing in Los Santos. “No place like it.”

Nowhere else in the world like this shitty city, corruption and greed. People doing their damnedest to claw out a living for themselves best they can.

Geoff’s waiting for him when he pulls into the penthouse’s garage looking like he hasn’t slept in years. Hands shoved in his pockets as he watches Ryan pull his bags from the backseat of his car.

“Christ, Geoff,” Ryan says, “you look like shit.”

Geoff grins as he looks him over because Ryan’s hardly a fresh daisy himself after the drive back. Could use a shower and a nap, but doubts he’s going to get either of those anytime soon.

“Back at you, buddy,” Geoff says, little bounce in his step as he leads the way to the elevators. “Nice to have you back.”

Ryan grunts, doesn't tell Geoff it’s nice to be back because that would just make him puff up his chest. Think he’s part of the reason, and they've all realized keeping Geoff's ego in check is a good idea. (Entertaining as hell, too, which is a bonus.)

“DeMarco?” Ryan asks, watching the floors fall away.

Geoff slides a look at Ryan.

“He’s got Wilcox’s crew with him on this.”

DeMarco and Wilcox and have plagued the Fake AH Crew for years. Sneaky bastards who bow and scrape to anyone bigger than they are, play meek and obedient until they don’t.

There have been incidents with them before, the Fakes sending them scurrying back into their nests down by the docks easily enough. They must have seen the Fakes laying low recently as a sign of weakness, thought they might stand a chance if they worked together.

“You up for a little good old fashioned destruction?” Geoff asks, like he doesn’t know the answer.

========

The DeMarco problem keeps them busy for the next week. Has Ryan running seek and destroy missions with Michael and Jeremy. Planning raids on money laundering fronts with Geoff and Jack, Trevor laying out intel B-Team dug up.

Has Ryan out there doing what he excels in. Weapon in his hands and clear targets and this singing in his blood because he’s a little fucked up. Too long spent in Los Santos where the normal rules don’t apply and people like him thrive.

Reminds him who he is, and keeps him too busy to regret the things he isn’t.

The others give him looks from time to time in the lull between jobs, missions, but -

Vacation, right? Break from the normal, everyday grind, and it had been nice while it lasted, but this is where he belongs.

And as time goes by, it gets easier to remember that. Think of that little tourist town and everything it give him for that brief moment in time as something good he got to have for even a little while.

Which is good, because this fight DeMarco ad Wilcox have brought to them is more annoying than anything else

The Fakes going up against people who don’t have a firm grasp on the concept of teamwork, who gladly offer up the guy next to them for a chance to save their skins.

It’s insulting, really, to know they thought they ever had a chance of taking the the Fake AH Crew down.

“Christ, Ryan,” Michael’s laughing, assault rifle slung over his back as he climbs over the cement barricade he used for cover. “That was a hell of a shot, dude.”

DeMarco got his hands on an APC, beauty of a thing knocked over on its side and so much scrap after Ryan’s rocket hit it dead on.

“Idiot didn’t upgrade the armor,” Ryan says, and it’s a damn waste of a fine vehicle.

Michael rolls his eyes as he punches Ryan’s shoulder, just hard enough to sting because Michael.

“Yeah, well,” he says. “Sorry if I’m glad he didn’t since those assholes were so intent on fucking killing us.”

And.

“Point,” Ryan admits. “But it’s still a waste.”

Michael shakes his head and turns toward a building across the way and flashes Alfredo a thumb’s up to let him know he can leave his sniping position.

“Maybe if you ask real nice Geoff will buy you one for your birthday,” he says, like Ryan wouldn’t actually ask for one.

========

“Where are we getting this intel anyway?” Ryan asks at one point studying the blueprints to a warehouse laid out on the heist room table.

There’s been a steady stream of it, valuable information that’s lead to success for the crew time and again, allowed them to cut DeMarco and Wilcox’s crews down. Destroy their operations one by one and forced them to go to ground.

B-Team’s fantastic, Matt and the others getting their grubby little hands on all kind inf useful information for them over the years, but this -

A cut above the usual.

Trevor looks up from the conversation he’s having with Geoff and Lindsay, eyebrow going up.

“New transfer,” he says, and shrugs at Ryan’s blank look. “Burrnie’s guy? He’s been working with B-Team since he got into town to help us pin DeMarco and these other rats down.”

It takes a moment before it clicks in Ryan’s head. Remembers the arguments between Geoff and Burnie over this guy. Shouting matches really, that had driving Ryan and the others out of the penthouse after a while because it was a little too much like listening to their parents fighting.

“I thought he was going to be with us?”

That was Ryan’s understanding, at any rate. Maybe that changed while he was out of the city and no one thought to tell him?

Trevor cocks his head.

“Well, Ryan,” he says, drawing his words out the way he does when he’s trying not to call someone an idiot to their face for whatever reason. “Matt needs the help. You may not have noticed, but there’s a bit of a crisis going on here.”

Geoff chokes on a laugh because he’s the worst, and Trevor’s beaming at him like he isn’t an asshole of the highest grade.

“Is that what’s been going on?” Ryan asks, because he, too, is an asshole of the highest grade. “I thought it was Thursday.”

========

Jeremy’s toying with the pin of a grenade like that’s not a bad idea, sniper rifle resting against his shoulder as they wait for the others to kick things off.

Raid one of the warehouses DeMarco and Wilcox have been using as a staging are for their push into Fake territory.

Geoff and the others are on the ground, preparing to go after DeMarco and Wilcox themselves while Jeremy and Ryan pick off anyone trying to escape. Finish these bastards off for good, remind anyone looking to try something like this why it’s a bad idea.

“Think you could flip the Patriot with that thing?” Ryan asks, pointing at a shiny black Patriot parked in front of the warehouse.

DeMarco’s, if Ryan remembers correctly. Stupid expensive and a beautiful target, nice way to get a little of theirs back even if DeMarco won’t be alive to appreciate it.

“Dunno,” Jeremy muses, amused glint in his eyes when they hear a crackle over the comms.

“I swear to God,” Geoff says, low and angry. “If you two fuckers mess this up, you’re fired.”

And, see.

That would just open things up for the two of them. Allow them to go freelancer, be their own bosses and all of that. Offer the services of the Battle Buddies to potential clients, afford them the chance to travel a bit. (See more of the world before they inevitably set it on fire, because that tends to happen more often than not.)

Not exactly a downside when you look at it like that.

“Do not,” Geoff hisses, because he’s the poor bastard who hired both of them. Figured out how they work over the years.

Faintly, he hears a gunshot. Then another, and knows Geoff and the others have set things in motion inside. That Geoff will be too busy coordinating things from the ground level to pay attention to something like a grenade going off when bullets are flying.

Ryan grins, mouths, “Do it”, to Jeremy, as he settles into position with his sniper rifle.

From the corner of his eye he sees Jeremy shrug as he pulls the pin and tosses the grenade with a lazy underhand throw.

========

As it turns out, the resulting explosion manages to lift the Patriot off its suspension, but not enough to completely flip it over.

The second grenade, though, does the job beautifully.

========

With DeMarco and Wilcox taken care of, the only thing left to to worry about is cleanup, which leaves Ryan and the others at loose ends while B-Team sees to that.

Has Ryan remembering he never bothered to fully unpack after getting back to Los Santos, and that -

“What the actual fuck is that thing?” Geoff demands, staring at the abomination sitting innocently on his desk.

“It’s a souvenir,” Ryan says, like Geoff’s a little bit of an idiot. “Do you like it?”

He can hear the yells of outrage and terror from the others elsewhere in the penthouse, which means they must have found the gifts he left for them to discover.

Nice little things the citizens of Creedence Lake made with their own hands out of local materials for tourists to buy.

“It has eyes,” Geoff hisses, which is true.

Little glass eyes the kind you’d find at a craft store.

“And teeth,” Geoff adds, like Ryan somehow hasn’t noticed.

More like fangs, really.

“Yeah,” Ryan says. “It’s pretty great.”

========

A week or so after the mess with DeMarco and Wilcox and Geoff calls a crew meeting. Well. Most of a crew meeting, because Lindsay took Trevor and Alfredo out on a job.

“I know you assholes have better things to do,” he starts, looking a little like he’s dying as they take seats around the heist room table. “But I didn’t just fucking sell my soul to Burnie for nothing.”

Ryan was under the impression he’d done that years ago.

“Uh,” Michael says, shooting Ryan a confused look. “What?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy says. “Didn’t that happen a long time ago? Like. A long, long time ago?”

Jack has a suspiciously blank expression on his face. The most neutral of neutral parties in whatever is going on right now because he is an asshole.

Geoff stares at them like they’re killing him with how stupid they all are, and turns his head towards the door.

“Get in here, jackass!”

Because Geoff couldn't just push the intercom button like a normal person. Why not yell at the top of his lungs in an enclosed space? That’s always fun for everyone.

There’s this little pause, and then the door opens.

“God’s sake, Geoff. Was that really necessary?”

Ryan doesn’t freeze at the sound of that voice, no.

He just.

“Fuck off, dickhead,” Geoff says, but there’s this smile on his face as he greets the person who walks in.

Lean figure, and even though he’s still wearing his sunglasses, Ryan knows exactly what color his eyes are.

Somewhere in his late twenties maybe, and hearing that soft, British accent finally makes sense. Explains why the fuck Ryan couldn’t place that bizarre mishmash he first heard in that little candy shop in Creedence Lake.

Ryan’s staring.

Ryan’s perfectly aware he’s staring and can’t seem to stop, but that’s fine, really. Goddamned perfect because the others are watching Geoff and Mark.

“This asshole,” Geoff ways, waving a hand at Mark. “Is why we’re going to owe Burnie and Roosters favors for the rest of our miserable lives.”

Mark snorts, reaching up to push his sunglasses in his hair as he looks around the room at them. Gives Jack a smile like they know each other, polite little nods to the others.

Then he sees Ryan. (And of course Ryan doesn’t have his mask or his face paint. Hasn’t done that around the penthouse when there wasn’t a need to for a long, long time, because it’s safe here.)

He sees Ryan and he doesn’t freeze either, just goes this certain kind of still. Polite little smile faltering in the moment before he looks back at Geoff.

Smooth about it too, or maybe the others are just that oblivious because they don’t seem to have noticed anything odd.

“This is Gavin, try not to break him,” Geoff says, clapping a hand on Mark’s - Gavin’s - shoulder . “It was a nightmare getting him out of Burnie’s clutches, but I promise you it was worth it.”

A pause.

“Probably, anyway,” Geoff says, like he’s having second thoughts. “He’s done alright for us so far.”

Gavin laughs, and it’s just the way Ryan remembers, which.

You know, makes for a perfectly valid excuse when the atmosphere in the room shifts and the others get up to introduce themselves like it’s some kind of party. Mingling and making small-talk and Ryan just needs a little time to get his thoughts in order.

========

“I’m going to assume your name isn’t actually ‘Reggie’.”

Ryan looks over his shoulder to see Gavin walking towards him.

“It’s not,” he says, watching Gavin as he picks up one of the paper targets Ryan used earlier.

He hadn’t expected Gavin to track him down to the shooting range. Thought Geoff would have him doing something or other, or he’d be familiarizing himself with the penthouse and other facilities on the lower floors since he’s been staying with B-Team in their little lair.

Ryan’s head is still a mess, but he thinks a few hours of murdering the fuck out of paper targets helped a little. Enough that he was jut about to pack things in, head home and call it a night.

He certainly doesn’t freeze up when Gavin looks at him, sharp and intent.

“Is this...” Gavin stops to clear his throat, and gestures between the two of them. “Is this going to be a problem?”

Ryan can’t read him the way he could read Mark, and that’s.

Worrisome?

Confusing.

Things were easier, simpler in Creedence Lake.

Just two strangers blindly fumbling their way into...Ryan doesn’t want to call it a relationship because he’s not sure that’s what it was.

Just.

Something.

And now, because that’s just how his luck seem to work, its spilled into his life here. Taken those memories and twisted, just so, that he can’t look at Gavin and see Mark in him even though they have the same face.

Can’t, because there's something sharper to Gavin’s than there was with Mark.

Where Mark was awkward, nervous, Gavin is easy confidence. Smooth smile and charming about it, like he could talk you into doing just about anything and you’d be glad for it, thank him for the opportunity.

Other small things that don’t quite line up with the man he thought he’d known and it’s confusion, disorienting, and yet -

There’s something in the way he’s watching Ryan that he recognizes. (Thinks he recognizes.)

“I don’t see why it would be,” Ryan says, because they’re adults and being reasonable about this shouldn't be an impossible task.

Gavin isn’t Mark, but Ryan isn’t Reggie, either. The two of them have to find a way to reconcile that if they’re going to be working together from now on. Especially if Geoff wrangled him away from Burnie, wanted him with the crew badly enough to owe him favors.

Gavin cocks his head like he’s not quite buying it, but doesn’t quite want to call Ryan on his bullshit just yet.

“Right,” he says, and Ryan’s surprised to see the pinched look on his face eases, flicker of a nervous smile . “Geoff said you come down here a lot.”

“Some people meditate to clear their heads,” Ryan says, aware that this confession makes him sound like a madman. “I shoot things.”

It’s not as bad as it has to sound, because Ryan’s not an actual psychopath. But coming down here to practice his marksmanship is easy, familiar. Something he can do without much thought. Just point, aim , and shoot. Reload and do it all over again and it’s soothing, calms his nerves and lets him think clearly instead of just reacting.

Gavin nods like that’s a normal thing to admit to as he sets the paper target back down and turns to Ryan like he has something he wants to say. (And honestly, the list of topics is a a short one, so Ryan has a guess or two as to what it could be.)

“I just - “

The door to the shooting range bangs open, spilling Michael and Jeremy inside, and from the sound of it they’re at least a little drunk.

“Ryan!” Jeremy calls out brightly, stumbling over to them. “Ryan, we need you to referee!”

Ryan looks a Jeremy, drunk as hell and hanging on to Michael for dear life.

“Referee what?” Ryan asks, understandably wary because Michael is smirking at him.

“This moron,” Michael says, nothing but fondness in it as he looks down at Jeremy. “Bet me he can shoot better than I can, drunk off his ass.”

“Please, Ryan?” Jeremy asks, giving Ryan a hopeful look

Ryan sighs because it’s hard enough to say no to a sober Jeremy when he hits Ryan with the puppy dog eyes. Saying no to a drunk Jeremy when he does it is all but impossible.

“Sure, buddy,” he says, ignoring the look Michael gives him because Ryan’s a soft touch when it comes to his crew and he knows it full well.

Michael snorts as he helps Jeremy get set up, and when he looks up, Gavin’s watching with an odd smile on his face.

“You want to co-referee?” Ryan asks, because these are some of the idiots Gavin’s going to be working with, and he needs to know.

“Something tells me I don’t want to miss this,” Gavin says, and settles in to watch the disaster unfold.

========

Like normal, functional adults, Gavin and Ryan absolutely do not talk about Creedence Lake and what happened there.

They just.

Don’t.

There’s no awkwardness about it past that initial shock when Gavin walked into the heist room or their talk in the shooting range.

It’s just two people learning to work together and Ryan being Ryan painfully grateful the others have no idea how on point Michael was about Ryan’s life turning into a shitty romcom.

Things get easier, after a while.

Ryan learns not to look for signs of Mark in Gavin, realizes it’s a mistake because he’s been doing it the wrong way around.

Gavin is sharp and clever and funny, and Mark -

Mark wasn’t quite an act, just. Another aspect of himself,the way Reggie had been for Ryan. A pale imitation of the person he actually is, in more ways than one.

Ryan had thought Mark was a troll, but as time goes he comes to realize that was nothing compared to Gavin.

This horrible little menace who has the ability to convince normally reasonable people to do the most ridiculous things, and do them gladly.

“Yeah,” Geoff sighs, as they watch Michael and Jeremy shoveling God only knows what in their mouths while Gavin films it. “This kind of stuff just happens when he’s around.”

Ryan doesn’t know what that means – doesn’t want to know, so he slowly backs out of the room before the others notice his presence.

If Geoff or the others are surprised at how well Gavin and Ryan work together they don’t mention it. Just assume it’s some kind of happy coincidence the way the rest of them somehow manage to work despite their very different personalities.

Or maybe it’s just that Gavin seems to get along with everyone. Geoff and Jack have apparently known him for years, met him when Geoff was still with the Roosters. Putting together his plans to start his own crew and brought Jack with him to negotiate terms with Burnie.

Michael’s wary around him at first, but it doesn’t take long for Gavin to win him over. Jeremy’s easier. And to everyone’s regret, Gavin gets along particularly well with Trevor and Alfredo. With Lindsay, and apparently it’s no real surprise to Geoff or Jack that things just happen with Gavin around.

“Look at it this way,” Jack says. “Everything those three have done do far was just preparing all of you for Gavin.”

They’re watching the Dusk Boys discussing plans for a heist using salt and pepper shakers and various dishes and silverware as props. Ryan has no idea what’s going on there, going on the laughter and demented smiles from Trevor and Alfredo, the smirk on Gavin’s face, he hopes like hell it never gets the okay from Geoff.

That is nowhere near as reassuring as Jack surely meant it to be, because Ryan’s had actual to God nightmares featuring Lindsay,Trevor, and Alfredo and their brilliant ideas.

When someone’s causing them problems and Geoff doesn’t necessary want them dead, he’ll send Lindsay out with Trevor and Alfredo and sits back to enjoy the fallout.

“That’s terrifying, Jack.”

And Jack, good old Jack, just smiles.

“Good,” he says, and claps Ryan on the shoulder. “It means you’re paying attention.”

========

Geoff starts sending Gavin out on jobs. Trusts him to handle meets their allies, broker new arrangements with crews and gangs in the city.

“It’s why I wanted him here,” Geoff admits. “He’s good at getting people to do what he wants.”

Which should be cause for concern, really, because they’re both well aware of how such a thing could be used against them, but -

It’s Gavin.

This strange assortment of skills and abilities and random bits of knowledge packed into one person. This odd little idiot who happens to have all of them wrapped around his little finger in a matter of weeks, and doesn’t seem to understand what that actually means.

“Yeah,” Lindsay says, fond little smile on her face as Michael tries to smother Gavin with a throw pillow. “He’s kind of dumb like that.”

That.

He is.

He really, really is, because as much as Gavin loves the chaos of the crew, the thrill of a heist that’s going well, even just tormenting Geoff along with the others, he doesn’t seem to realize he’s crew now too. That he still hasn’t earned his place with them for whatever reason.

Will sneak off while the others are celebrating a successful heist and watch the city from the balcony, odd little smile on his face.

“The party’s inside,” Ryan says, leaning on the railing beside him.

Gavin hums, watching the traffic below.

And Ryan, alright. Not much of a party animal himself, but he’s pretty sure what the others are doing wouldn’t be considered a party by most peoples’ standards. Not the sort they'd expect from a crew of notorious criminals, at any rate.

“Didn’t want to intrude,”Gavin says, like an idiot.

The thing is, Ryan’s something of a hypocrite about this. It took him far too long to realize he was part of the crew too. That he wasn’t just a useful asset, a weapon Geoff could point at the crew's enemies.

And even though Gavin doesn’t seem to question where it stands when it comes to Geoff or Jack, he’s far more hesitant with the others. Ready to play his part when there are shenanigans involved, less certain when it comes to things like this.

No work to do be done, business to be seen to. Just this group of assholes grateful for the opportunity to know each other and enjoy their company without having to touch on things like feelings, because God knows criminals like them don’t do emotions.

“You wouldn't be,” Ryan points out, just a simple observation. “But it’s probably safer out here anyway. Things get cutthroat when someone breaks out the board games.”

Monopoly was banned early on, although Geoff delights in threatening them with it when they get on his nerves. Candyland is still in the running for now, but it’s only a matter of time until there’s another Monopoly-level incident.

Gavin laughs, because he doesn’t understand, but that’s okay.

He’s smart. He’ll figure it out.

========

Shit goes wrong sometimes here in Los Santos. (Often. Frequently.)

Shit goes wrong, and when that happens guns tend to be involved. Knives are also commonly used, and if things go really, really wrong, there are explosives. Things on fire, that sort of thing.

“Christ alive,” Gavin mutters. “That went well, didn’t it?”

“Oh, I don't know.” Ryan says, nudging Gavin deeper into the shadows in case they're still being chased. “I thought it went swimmingly.”

Their car is several blocks back and currently on fire, which will be fun to explain to Geoff, and they’re hiding in an alley from weapons dealers and cops, because of course they are.

Gavin snorts out a laugh, and Ryan gives him a smile.

It’s not the first time a meet went south, and it won’t be the last. The important part is that they’re still alive, and Ryan plans on things staying that way.

“Shame, though,” Gavin says. “We could have used those weapons.”

Lots of shiny toys they could use for a future heist, or just to round out their armory.

“Well,” Ryan says, because he’d had his eye on the mini-gun. “The good news is that this is Los Santos. Plenty of other fish in the sea and all that.”

Or, you know. People willing to sell illegal weapons, anyway. Some of them won’t even try to kill them, so that’s something to look forward to.

“Is that so,” Gavin says, and something about the way he says it pulls Ryan’s attention back to him.

Makes him so very aware of how closely they’re pressed together.

Gavin’s watching him, this strange little smile on his face.

“We never talked about it, did we,” he says thoughtfully.

Ryan’s traitor heart does this little sideways lurching thing because no, they hadn’t.

Maybe it makes Ryan a coward, but he’d kept his silence on the matter. Some part of him had expected Gavin to be the one to bring it up one day, just to clear the air. Explain to Ryan that while it had been nice, fun, it was just something that had happened. A fling, like Geoff had said. Something adults did sometimes, but they were coworkers now, members of the same crew and that was all,no hard feelings, yeah?

But because they’re perfectly normal, functional adults they never talked about it, and Ryan had assumed it was all implied when Gavin acted as though nothing had happened between them.

Took that messy tangle of emotions and feelings and want and shoved it all down because he didn’t want to ruin the good working relationship they’d formed. Didn’t want to make things awkward because he couldn’t quite forget.

And it had worked for a while there, because he liked Gavin. They got along better than Ryan had expected they would, worked well together when Geoff sent them off on jobs.

“I thought - “ Ryan’s voice is clearly in league with his traitor heart because it breaks on him a little there. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Gavin’s staring at him like Ryan’s the idiot here, which.

True, because -

“Did you check the alley?”

Ryan startles at the sound of the voice, takes a step towards the mouth of the alley, silently berating himself because they’re still being chased.

The weapons dealers gave up when the cops joined in on the fun. No idea who they’re chasing but determined to catch them anyway once they realized what was going on.

Hands close on his arm, surprising strength to it as Gavin pulls him off balance and Ryan throws his hands out to keep from crushing Gavin against the wall of the alley

“I’m sorry, Ryan,” Gavin says, fingers tangling in the front of Ryan’s shirt to hold him there when Ryan tires to put room between them, deal with the threat of the cops coming closer. “Sorry.”

“Gavin, what - “

“I’m sorry,” Gavin says again, something small and scared to it, and then his hands are on Ryan’s face, and a moment a moment after that he’s kissing Ryan.

Ryan’s mind goes blank because he remembers this. Gavin’s lips on his, the heat of his body, cool fingers sliding into his hair and for one perfect he forgets.

Forgets that what happened in Creedence Lake stayed there, that he didn’t get to keep it because Los Santos would have ruined it. Taken it from him and shattered it beyond repair because that’s how it goes in this city. (Some part of him is still waiting for that to happen with the others, this crew that’s become a second family to him.)

“Hey!”

It’s like having a cold bucket of water thrown on them, Ryan jerked back to reality at the harsh yell.

They’re far back enough in the alley that they shadows help mask distinguishing features, and Gavin’s careful to keep Ryan from turning to look at them. Reveal the face paint he’s wearing, catch their interest and have them looking closer.

“Sorry officers!” Gavin calls out to them, breathless giggle and note of embarrassment at having been caught out like this.

Ryan’s fingers dig into the crumbling wall behind Gavin because right, of course. That’s what this is, and he’s stupid for thinking otherwise.

He doesn’t hear whatever the cops have to say to that, focused on getting his breathing under control and taking his cues from Gavin in case things don’t go their way.

Eventually they leave, laughter bouncing off the alley walls and Gavin pulls his hands away.

“I’m sorry,” Gavin whispers, eyes darting away from Ryan’s. “It was the only thing I could think of.”

It’s brilliant, in its own way.

What other reason would to people have for hiding away in an alley like this? (That doesn’t involve blatantly illegal activities?)

Ryan’s used the same trick before. Endured the friendly teasing from the others, Jeremy fanning himself and telling Ryan he’d ruined him for other men because Jeremy is an asshole.

“It’s fine,” Ryan says, and it is.

Will be.

Something.

He just needs time to sort himself out again, and things can go back to the way they’ve been.

Really.

“Ryan.”

It would be easier if Gavin didn’t say his name like that, though.

“We should get back,” he says. “Let Geoff know what happened.”

“Ryan.”

“Look - “

Gavin’s stronger than he looks.

Ryan knows, has seen him play-wrestling with Michael and win once or twice. Seen him help Michael drag Jeremy to his room at the penthouse the three of them went out for bevs. Watched Michael let him try out his mini-gun at the old airfield north of the city.

Today, wth the way Gavin’s manhandling him. Earlier with the cops and now as he pushes Ryan up against the wall of the alley. (The way Ryan lets him, because it’s Gavin and Ryan's a goddamned mess when it comes to him.)

“You’re impossible, you know that, don’t you?” Gavin says. “I’m. I didn’t want things to be this way between us.”

Yeah.

Ryan got that loud and clear, and he thought he’d been doing a good job up until now.

“I tried to talk to you about it that first day,” Gavin says, the annoyed note in his voice traded for something tired, faintly amused. “But then - “

“Michael and Jeremy,” Ryan says, and finally, finally looks at Gavin. Figures he can do that much if he’s intent on having this conversation now. “And that stupid bet.”

“I didn’t want to leave things like that,” Gavin says. “Didn’t want you to think what happened was just some kind of, some kind of fluke. But every time I tried, something would happen and I didn’t know how to go about it.”

It has been a busy few months.

Dealing with the fallout of the DeMarco problem. Crews and gangs seeing it as an opening they could exploit, forcing the Fakes to take action or be seen as weak. Gavin integrating into the crew. The small heist they pulled not too long ago.

This.

“You don’t have to - “

“I don’t regret it,” Gavin says in a rush, like it was that or choke on the words, and he looks.

Ryan can’t remember ever seeing Gavin look scared, but he imagines it must look a lot like this.

“Us, I mean,” Gavin says, and smiles, small and uncertain. Scared and still standing his ground because he has something to say and means to do it. “I didn’t go about it the right way, I know, when I tried to talk to you before. Didn’t have the right words and there’s clearly been some kind of misunderstanding between us, but I didn’t regret any of it.”

That’s -

The smart thing to do here is for Ryan to keep his mouth shut. Not tell Gavin he feels the same way too, repress, repress, repress, and muddle on, because this is Los Santos and no one gets a happily ever after here.

But Ryan’s a mess when it comes to Gavin.

“I don’t regret it either,” he says, and there’s his heart right there for Gavin to do with what he wants, because it’s the simplest of truths, isn’t it?

The kind that lays you bare. Lets people see things you’d rather they not because the things they could do with it if they wanted.

Gavin’s laughing, and that’s usually not a good sign, but he’s also moving closer, forehead pressed against Ryan’s chest, shoulders shaking with his laughter.

“Michael’s right about us, isn’t he. “We are idiots.”

Well, he’s not wrong ab -

Wait.

“What?”

Ryan cranes his neck to look down at Gavin.

“What did Michael say?”

Gavin lifts his head, big, dopey smile on his face.

“Called us idiots, didn’t he,” Gavin says, like Ryan knows all this already, honestly Ryan.

“What do you mean - “

“I thought he was imagining things,” Gavin interrupts. “Told me to stop faffing about and - “

Gavin clams up suddenly, blush hitting him hard as he bites his lip and looks away.

Going on context clues, Ryan can guess what Michael told him. Not hard, when Michael’s not the kind of guy to beat around the bush. Blunt and to the point and now Ryan’s blushing.

“Huh.”

Gavin clears his throat, sneaks a glance up at Ryan.

“You should have told him we did that already,” Ryan says, because he can’t not. “More than once.”

Gavin snorts, little grin lighting his face up.

“God, can you imagine his face if I had?” he asks, looking like he’s thinking of doing just that the next time Michael brings the subject up,

Which.

Gavin said he didn’t regret them, which isn’t the same as saying he’d be interested in picking up where they left off. See where things lead, now that they’re not pretending to be people they aren’t, pale imitations of the real thing, but.

“I wouldn’t mind a do-over,” Ryan says, because apparently he’s a child.

Gavin stares at him for a long, long moment, expression unreadable.

Ryan desperately wishes for the ground to swallow him whole, because you know. Idiot.

“A ‘do-over’ Gavin says, like he’s testing how the word feels in his mouth. “A ’do-over’.”

The good thing is that he doesn’t sound horrified or disgusted at the suggestion, like he’s going to go to Geoff and tell him Ryan propositioned him in a dirty alley. The bad thing is that he sounds like he’s dying, that’s how hard he’s laughing, that breathless squeaking thing again.

“A do-over!”

It’s hard to be terrified of rejection when you have someone hanging on to you to keep from falling on their face when they’re laughing as hard as Gavin is.

“I mean,” Ryan says, looking skyward, reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “You could just say no. I’m a big boy, I can take it.”

Gavin’s laughter cuts off abruptly, and his hands are on Ryan’s face again, tugging him down so their eyes meet.

“I wouldn’t,” he says, deadly serious as he searches Ryan’s face. “Ryan, I wouldn’t.”

Ryan’s chest hurts at the honesty in Gavin’s voice, the look in his eyes.

“Okay,” Ryan says, covering Gavin's hands with his own. “Okay.”

This time when Gavin kisses him, there’s no audience to fool. No little box in Ryan’s head to shove the memory of it into later to try to forget.

Just Gavin’s lips on his, laughter in his ears, and something like happiness held tight in his hands.

========

“Ryan,” Gavin says, something to his voice that has Ryan instantly suspicious of him and everything he chooses to be. “Matt gave me the proofs for our papers. Wants us to look them over before he has them made.”

Okay, see. That’s even more reason for suspicion because when Matt and Gavin collude they turn into horrible little goblins.

And this job Geoff wants Gavin and Ryan on is terrible enough as it is.

“I don’t want to know, do I?” Ryan says, eyeing Gavin warily as he drops a thick manila envelop on the table in front of him, smirk on his fae that speaks of terrible things in Ryan’s future.

“Just look them over, would you?”

Ryan sighs heavily, and reaches for the envelope.

Driver license for both of them, a handful of cards – credit, debit, and various memberships to stores and services. Passports and everything they’d need to start a new life somewhere because Matt’s an overachiever, goes above and beyond every damned time no matter what they ask of him.

Everything looks in order at first glance, but by the way Gavin’s practically vibrating with restrained glee, Ryan knows there’s more to it.

So.

“What - “

Oh.

Ryan gives Gavin a look, and the asshole grins at him, all sunshine and light.

It shouldn’t be a shock given the job they have lined up, but the marriage certificate still gives Ryan pause.

The crew knows about the two of them now, if not the details of how they met. (They have their suspicions, of course because Ryan’s life is the worst kind of romcom.)

“No,” Ryan says, as he lays the two marriage certificates beside each other. Slight differences, granted, but still.

“But Ryan,” Gavin says, striving for a serious expression. “We need to make sure we have our cover straight. Otherwise we might fail.”

Ryan sighs, eyes on the names Gavin gave Matt to use for their cover identities.

Mark Nutt and Reggie King, and Michael is never going to let him live it down when he finds out about this. Geoff is never going to let him live it down.

“I couldn’t decide how we should hyphenate our names,” Gavin says, laughter bubbling out of him. “Didn’t know if we should go with Nutt-King or King-Nutt.”

Ryan groans because it sounds even worse when Gavin says those names out loud.

“If I had known,” Ryan says, trying to seem unaffected by Gavin’s breathless laughter, the sheer joy in it it. “That Geoff would make us play the happily married couple for a job one day, I would have gone with a different fake name.”

Okay, no.

It’s more that if he known what a terrible human being Gavin is, but the sentiment’s the same.

When Ryan opens his eyes Gavin’s still laughing, gone from squeaking to the occasional chuckle, eyes filled with amusement and smile so wide it looks like it hurts.

This idiot that Ryan has given his heart over to, so goddamned pleased with himself over something so dumb and God help him, he still doesn’t regret any of it.

#freewood #ragehappy #fahc fic #it is finally done!!1!#\o/#also #you know what you did miss-ingno #>:((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((#vagrant fic

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