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Fandom: Shoot From The Hip Sketches; The Detective Vs The Xmas Tree Bandits
Rating: Teen
CW: Injures, Death/Greif, Dysfunctional Family
Word count: 9465
Prompts: @fandom-free-bingo Fandom-Free Build-A-Bingo • April 2026: Fluff; Found Family
@fandombingo Kisses, Chaos, Catastrophe; "I didn't notice when it changed. I just know it did."
AO3
Note: Ahhhh it's done omg. Y'all this was suppose to be like 2000 words I don't know how we ended up here but it was an enjoyable ride let me tell you. Second longest one shot I've posted now, which is crazy. Call it Christmas in July or something, hope you enjoy reading.
Frankie dragged Donnie over to lean again the closest wall, ignoring the pain in his leg and holding his own breath while trying to figure out if his brother was even breathing.
"Come on Donnie — not like this. It doesn't end like this."
He tried to find a pulse, something he'd never done before. Which lead to blindly moving his fingers around the not burned part of Donnie's neck and just hoping he felt something as the tears built up in his eyes. Staring at the burns that'd gone through Donnie's jacket sleeve to his arm. One that went up his neck and reached his face. Not to mention the blood — god why was there so much of it?
"Fuckin' hell…"
There were hundreds of people around them now, all screaming over top of each other. Explosions tended to draw confused and panicked crowds. Frankie had tuned out every last one of them with soul focus on his brother. So why did that voice seep through?
There was a hand on his shoulder, someone bending down beside him.
"Hey — let me help. I got first-aid shit."
Any other moment, Frankie would have told them to kick rocks. But right now? He still couldn't find a fucking pulse.
Frankie moved only slightly to Donnie's side, giving the red haired stranger just enough space to crouch in front of him. They quickly brought their own hand to Donnie's neck.
"He's still breathin' —" Now Frankie could too "— But these burns are bad. Don't know how much I can do— fuck we'll find out."
Frankie watched him carefully as the stranger explained what he was doing out loud as he did it. Didn't sound like any professional medical bullshit he'd heard before, it really boiled down to 'doing this so he hopefully doesn't die' and at that point, that's all Frankie wanted to hear.
The man really didn't look like a medical professional. He seemed close to Frankie and Donnie in age, looked pretty similar to them too. That meaning old clothes who were probably a size or so too big for him and his hair was uneven in the back like he cut it himself. Nothing about him scream doctor or nurse, but seemed like he was doing something for Donnie. More than Frankie could.
"Frankie?"
The timid voice came from the mess of them behind him that Frankie had been ignoring so well. Was much harder to tune out your own name, however, making him glance over his shoulder. His eyes landed on a familiar little boy with curly ginger hair, now singed at the bottom, missing his tricycle and shakily walking towards Frankie as tears fell down his face.
He looked lost and alone. Something Frankie new all to well.
"Rupert — fuck — come here kid."
He turned around and got up to his knees as Rupert hurried over, burring his face into Frankie's coat while crying out incoherent words against him.
Frankie didn't know what the fuck you were suppose to do when a child was involved in an explosion (because of you) and wouldn't stop crying. After doing his best to get Rupert away from that bomb, he lost track of him in the chaos that followed. Then he found Donnie…
But, somehow after all that, he still ended being who this child came to for help. He'd be damned if he didn't at least try. Even if he was trying to deal with his own shit too.
"My dad — he's dead! Frankie's he's dead!"
That was the first thing Frankie had actually understood.
"I'm sorry Rupert," he whispered back, holding the young boy tightly as he continued to sob. "I'm really fuckin' sorry."
What else could he say? He'd done this. He gave Rupert the bomb, he told him to come here, he was so adamant on getting this done quickly, he got everyone he hurt, he killed this kid's dad, he did this to own brother.
They were both crying now, Frankie quieter than Rupert. He didn't want to turn back around. He couldn't even look a Donnie. What if he was dead? What if Frankie killed the only family he had?
"Hey!"
The stranger tapped his fingers against Frankie's shoulder, forcing him to look back as he kept his arms around Rupert. He was a little surprised to see tears running down the man's face too, even as he spoke surprisingly calmly.
"I've done what I can, his breathing's better I think, but should find a doctor or some-"
"Do we look like we can afford some doctor?" Frankie question bluntly, voice harsh yet faulting. "We go to any hospital they're gonna arrest us before he gets any help anyways!"
That didn't make any sense to that man — obviously. He couldn't know who they were. What they'd done. But Frankie was beyond trying to make sense to anyone. Donnie wasn't dead, but he still needed help. Help they couldn't afford — help that if they tried to get would end up getting them arrest for sure.
Frankie could say it was all him — that Donnie had nothing to do with any of it. The money would still be a problem — but maybe they had enough in their hidden savings? If that doesn't get taken when he's arrested. Fuck, no option looked remotely good-
"Then will get him help somewhere else," the stranger insisted as he stood up suddenly. "Rupert — mom at home?"
Rupert pulled away from Frankie for the first time, he's tears slowly only to give the other man a confused look and hesitant answer.
"I think so… How do you know my mom?"
"She's my mom too," the other man muttered. "It's a lot to explain — but if we ain't taking him to the hospital, we gonna go somewhere. Before the paramedic's start takin' people there regardless.
It was Frankie's turn to be confused now. But this guy — Rupert's brother? — was right, they didn't have time for that. Donnie wasn't going to get any help back at the strip club either. So fuck — guess they were going with this guy.
"You're the brother dad told me about!" Rupert realized as he let go of Frankie, trying to rub away the tears still falling from his eyes as he looked up at the other man. "You're also Rupert."
"Sure am kid," he confirmed, offering his hand towards Frankie to help him to his feet. "We're gonna have to carry him there."
Frankie took his hand and got up off his knees. The two of them stood on either side of Donnie, carefully pulling him up and holding him between themselves. His limp arms draped around their shoulders.
"He needs help," Rupert pointed out, looking at the burns going up Donnie's neck. "Are we taking him to the house?"
"Yes, we are," his older brother — Rupert too apparently — confirmed again.
"Think you can lead the way, Rupert?" Frankie asked, just to give the kid some task to focus on.
Rupert nodded quickly, taking the job seriously as he pointed forward and started walking into the crowd surrounding them.
It was difficult at first, getting through all of the other panicked people trying to help the injured. Most of it was spent just trying not to lose sight of little Rupert. Frankie's bad leg probably didn't help either. He was relieved when they broke free and little Rupert started guiding them down quiet, empty alleyways.
With the sounds of all the chaos fading behind them, Rupert — the older one — spoke up again for the first time, to ask Frankie a question.
"What's your name?"
"Frankie," he answered honestly. "He's Donnie, my brother."
"I see. Rupert — the first one I guess. Rupert's older brother — didn't know they named him after me. Was gone for a long time… only just got back a few days ago actually." He let out a small laugh, Frankie saw tears rolling down his face again. "Haven't gotten to see my mom yet actually — fuck I think she thinks I'm dead."
"She does," little Rupert confirmed. "Dad told me you were alive still though, and that I should find you. He also told me to tell mom he's sorry… and Merry Christmas."
He listed off his father's final words with little emotion left in his voice, not look back at the other's as he spoke. Just staring at the path ahead of them. Frankie couldn't tell if he was crying again or not.
"Yeah… tried speaking to him few day ago," Rupert muttered, using his free hand to rub away his own tears.
"I'm sorry 'bout your dad," Frankie offered quietly.
Sorry it's my fault.
He wouldn't be doing all this for him and Donnie if he knew the truth. Frankie should tell him, tell him he was helping the guy who got his father killed. He would find out eventually regardless, little Rupert would say something about the bomb for sure.
But, Donnie needed help, and this was the best chance he had. Frankie couldn't risk ruining that.
He wasn't sure how long they walked before little Rupert opened the door to a homey—looking place in a quiet neighbourhood. He called loudly for his mother as Frankie and Rupert got Donnie inside, met with a frantic red-headed woman wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace.
"Rupert! Oh thank God — Your father said he was going to find you and then I saw the explosion on the news — are you alright? Are you hurt?"
"I'm okay mom," the young boy promised. "Dad… I found my brother! He's helping my friend's — they got hurt!"
She turned to look at the other three for the first time. Frankie opened his mouth to say something, but cut himself off as he saw her eyes focus on her elder son.
"Rupert — no. No… you died. You're — you're dead…"
"What's going on darling?" a new voice questioned as a familiar man in a bright green jacket came out from the kitchen.
"Reggie?"
"Frankie?"
"The fuck are you doing here?"
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Why the fuck are there so many people in my house?" the woman snapped loudly, followed by a deep breath in an attempt to ground herself. "Okay… breathe."
She focused back on Rupert, hesitantly bringing her hand to the side of his face. It hovered just above, as if she was scared to touch him.
"Was Jack right? Are you really alive, my boy?"
"Yes mom, I am," he promised quietly, unmoving as her fingers brushed the side of his cheek.
"Oh Rupert…"
He quickly — yet carefully — left holding up Donnie to Frankie as his mother started sobbing into his arms. Holding on tightly to the son she was so sure she lost as he tried his best to guide her back to the kitchen.
"Rupert — show Frankie somewhere Donnie can rest," he instructed as he passed by, turning to Reggie afterwards. "I don't know who the fuck you are — but make yourself useful or somethin'."
Reggie stood there for a moment before doing just that and helping Frankie with Donnie. Little Rupert lead them down the hall to what must have been a spare room, where they laid Donnie on the neatly made bed. Frankie let out a exasperated sigh as he dropped down beside the bed, holding onto his little brother's hand as he watched the very faint movement of his chest that proved he was still breathing.
He looked… so small. In so much pain. Frankie hated that he couldn't do more — couldn't do anything to help the most important person to him. That he got into this situation.
"The fuck happened Frankie?" Reggie questioned quietly, staring at Donnie himself with a look of disbelief.
"Bomb," Frankie replied dryly, uninterested in explaining anything any further. Reggie of all people should have been able to piece together what happened. He knew what they were going to do. Why they couldn't go to the hospital.
A hand grabbed Frankie's shoulder, a small attempt to be comforting from his… landlord? He guessed — still didn't know why Reggie was even here.
"I gotta doctor friend, kinda owes me a favour," he said quietly. "He ain't gonna ask any questions, could call him."
"Why would you do that for us?" Frankie questioned skeptically as he looked up at the other man.
"Fuck Frankie — you kids may drive me crazy but I don't wanna either of ya to die," Reggie insisted with a small laugh, his hand squeezing Frankie's shoulder. "Let me go give him a call."
Frankie nodded, still thinking about Reggie's words as he walked away. Little Rupert stood beside Frankie, looking at Donnie with a scarily blank expression.
"Is he going to die?" he asked bluntly, his voice fluctuating right at the end.
"I don't know," Frankie admitted quietly. "I hope not."
"I don't want anyone else to die."
"Me either kid."
Reggie returned not long after, promising help was on the way. While they were waiting, Rupert and his mother joined them as well.
"Rupert explained you are your brother had no where else to go," she said to Frankie from the doorway. "You're more than welcome to stay here — it's the least I can offer you for helping my son."
Helping. Cause that's what he did. Frankie didn't usually have any problems lying to people. It was part of life. But right now, it made him feel sick.
The Christmas-themed chime of the doorbell rang, Reggie hurried off and came back with the doctor he promised.
The spare room was turned into a makeshift hospital. The doctor and Rupert's mother — who just so happened to be a veterinarian — got to work doing what they could. Rupert somehow convinced Frankie to leave the room with him, Reggie and little Rupert. To give them space. The four of them ended up around the kitchen table as Reggie made coffee.
"I still don't understand what happened," he noted, setting a mug in front of Frankie. "What went wrong?"
"A lot," Frankie muttered, resting his arms on the table and staring into the coffee. Mostly to avoid looking at anyone else as he admitted the truth. "It's all my fault."
"No it's not!" little Rupert quickly chirped in his defence before scrunching his face at the coffee Reggie tried to offer him, pushing the cup over to his older brother.
"Kid, I really fucked up," Frankie insisted with an empty laugh. "You should know that."
"What do you mean?" Rupert inquired, blowing on the hot drink.
Frankie kept looking into the dark brown liquid. If only the cup was big enough to drown himself in. Probably what they all would want, once they knew.
"It was my bomb," he finally said, louder than he intended. "I gave it to Rupert to put at the tree — even after Donnie told me not to get the kid involved. We just — really needed the money and I was being fuckin' stupid 'cause I knew the police were onto us. It was just suppose to be one last job — enough money to pay Reggie back and get the fuck outta this city before they could catch us."
He took a deep breath in, followed by loud exhale out as he continued spilling the truth of it all.
"That detective — your dad— he tried to stop me too. Tried to give Donnie and I an out for all the other robberies. But it was too late. It was too fuckin late! And now he's dead — and Donnie might be dead — and it's my fault!"
Tears fell from Frankie's eyes as he stood up abruptly, shaking the table enough for some of the coffee to splash over the edge of his mug.
He didn't look at any of them, quickly turning towards the front door and storming off.
He couldn't actually leave — not with Donnie still here. They might take out their anger on him, Frankie couldn't have that. But he couldn't stay at that table either. He needed air.
Frankie stepped outside, assaulted by the cold evening air and the obnoxiously brightly coloured light strung across every house on the street. He let the door fall shut as he leaned again the icy siding of the building. He tried to rub away the tears in his eyes with his dirty fingers, cursing under his breath.
What the fuck was he going to do?
He wasn't that surprised to see the front door open again, Rupert looking up and down the street before spotting Frankie. He shut the door, standing right in front of him.
"If you wanna beat me up or some shit, I won't fight back," Frankie mumbled honestly, staring down at his old boots
"Fuck, I wish that's what I wanted," Rupert muttered back, running his hand through his hair before crossing his arms. "Wish I could be madder at you, honestly."
"Well why the hell aren't you?" Frankie questioned as his head turned up. "You should be! I got your little brother involved in all this — I got your dad killed!" He was almost mad that Rupert wasn't more angry with him.
Frankie wasn't really thinking when he shoved Rupert back. Wasn't very hard, enough for the other man to stumble into the railing of the porch.
"Why the fuck aren't you mad?" he repeated loudly, getting in Rupert's face. Frankie had trapped him, between the railing and himself. He'd have to push back now. "You should be fucking pissed!"
"I'm very pissed Frankie, believe me!" Rupert shouted back. "I'm pissed off at a lotta things right now! But you ain't one of them!"
Frankie grabbed the collar of his coat, Rupert didn't flinch.
"Why the hell not?"
"Because — fuck what could I say or do to you that you ain't already doing yourself?"
…
"The hell does that mean?"
"Fuckin' — look at you," Rupert insisted, lowering his voice to a more normal volume. "It's like you want me to be mad at you or some shit."
Frankie didn't say anything as he let go of Rupert and took a step back. Rupert continued.
"You're right, ya fucked up. We all do. Sure — maybe this is bigger than the average fuck up — but doesn't mean… I don't know what the fuck I'm saying. You ain't a terrible person Frankie. Least not as terrible as you seem to think."
He still didn't say anything, turning away from Rupert as he tried to rub the tears out of his eyes. Frankie flinched slightly when a hand came down on his shoulder, unsure what Rupert was doing as he stepped closer to him.
Rupert silently pulled the other man into a hug. Frankie could feel himself lock up at first — probably the last thing he thought was going to happen. He eventually allowed himself to relaxed, hesitantly bring his arms up around Rupert.
Frankie knew this was ironic — they both did. He'd gotten his father killed, yet Rupert was comforting him.
Neither said anything, standing on the porch in the dead of a very cold night. Just them, the wind, and the distant singing of someone's Christmas lights. For the first time in — fuck he couldn't even remember when — Frankie felt some amount of peace. In that moment, everything crushing down on him seemed a little lighter.
Maybe, he even believe what Rupert had said about him.
The door creaked open again, the two parted quickly as Reggie spoke up.
"Fuck — it's cold out here. I don't know what you're doing but get the hell inside would ya?"
Frankie and Rupert followed the other man back inside, Frankie almost immediately attacked by a small child grabbing onto his legs.
"Please don't go Frankie!" little Rupert begged through more tears. "I want you to stay!"
"I ain't leaving yet," he promised, patting the boy atop his head. "Your brother made me think I shouldn't go so quickly. And my brother's still here too, ain't he?"
"Can we go check on Donnie?"
"Let Frankie do that, Rupert," Rupert suggested. "Come help me — I don't know make hot chocolate or some shit."
That seemed a good enough task to distract little Rupert, who followed his older brother back to the kitchen while Reggie followed Frankie over to Donnie's room.
"How's he doing?" Reggie asked quickly as the pair of them stood in the doorway. He hand once again rested on Frankie's shoulder. People kept doing that to him today.
"The burns surprisingly weren't third degree," the doctor reported. "Breathings stable, he seems in and out of consciousness still, but should properly wake up soon."
"He's gonna live?" Frankie asked.
"He'll live," the doctor confirmed with a small smile as Frankie let out a sigh of pure relief and made his way back to his brother's side. "You want me to look at your leg too?"
Frankie had forgotten about the pain in his leg, looking down at the hole burnt through one of the patches in his jeans and the mark that looked so small in comparison to everything Donnie had.
"It's fine. Hardly hurts anymore."
"Alright. I've left some burn treatments over there, for whoever needs it."
"Thanks doc," Reggie said as the man went to leave, following him out the door. "Come with me — see if the other two have any burns or something."
Frankie held Donnie's hand again, this time sitting in a chair instead of on the floor. Donnie was gonna be okay.
He hadn't killed his brother.
They were gonna be okay.
He wasn't gonna be alone.
"Reggie told me a little of what happened," Rupert's mother said softly. Frankie had honestly forgotten she was in still in the room. It took a second for the weight of her words to hit him fully.
He'd still gotten the detective — her husband — killed. He'd lucked out that Rupert… took pity on him or something, and he'd never got lucky twice.
"You two can stay here long as you need."
Frankie blinked a few times, wondering if he could have possibly heard her right.
"We hardly use this spare room anyways," she continued. "Hopefully it's nicer than whatever room Reggie had you staying in."
Frankie let a chuckle slip out, swallowing his guilt as he looked up at her.
"Thank you… It's very kind of ya ma'am."
"Please, just call me Reese," she insisted with a smile. "And you're very welcome… Frankie was it?"
"Yeah, Frankie," he confirmed. "And he's Donnie."
"Well, I'll give you a minute," Reese said as she walked towards the door. "Yell if you need anything, we'll probably be in the kitchen."
"Thank you," Frankie said again as she shut the door behind her. He turned his attention back to Donnie, once again just watching him breathe.
"Don't know how the hell we lucked into this Donnie, but you're gonna be alright now. We're gonna be okay."
Frankie didn't want to leave Donnie's side, didn't want him to wake up alone and confused. So he stayed there,move to sit on the edge of the bed. Waiting.
Little Rupert was the first one who checked in on him. Telling Frankie to call him RJ now, for Rupert Junior. Because he 'needed a different name than his brother' and RJ 'sounded cooler than Rupert.'
It wasn't long after Reese poked her head in, ushering RJ off to bed. She checked in with Frankie before leaving herself. Telling him to help himself to any of the food in the kitchen if he was hungry.
Frankie thanked her again, mumbling out some sort of apology for… just about everything that happened that day. It was met with a warm smile from Reese, who told him not to worry too much and try to get some rest.
She was far too kind to him. They all were.
Reggie popped his head in shortly after. Frankie finally learned that he'd been seeing Reese while her husband was at work — naturally. Why the hell else would Reggie be here? — And just happened to be seeing her while everything was going down. Didn't say much else to Frankie before leaving. Frankie didn't know if he was staying the night or heading home — deciding quickly he didn't need to know.
Lastly, Rupert. Didn't say anything when he walked in, closed the door behind him. Handed Frankie a cup of water before sitting in the empty chair beside the bed.
"Thanks."
Rupert gave him a nod, glancing over at Donnie as he stirred slightly. Eyes blinking several times as he finally woke up.
"Donnie — easy," Frankie insisted qucickly as Donnie tried to sit up.
"Frankie? Ow— Fuck — were the fuck are we?"
"Somewhere safe," his older brother reassured as he slid closer. "You remember that kid Rupert? His older brother — fuckin' Rupert as well — helped ya out."
Frankie pointed the other man out, Rupert gave a small wave.
"Hey."
"Hey…" Donnie greeted hesitantly before turning back to Frankie, lowering his voice. "What the fuck happened?"
"I fucked up — that's what happened," Frankie explained. "RJ — the little Rupert — set the bomb off and —"
"I know that," Donnie cut off, wincing as he tried to move his burnt arm. "How the fuck did we end up here?"
"That detective guy — their dad — didn't make it. RJ came crying over to me while Rupert was helping me figure out if you were still even alive," Frankie started again.
"Ran over when I saw the explosion," Rupert added. "Just so happened to be the first people I saw."
Frankie and Rupert worked together to slowly recap everything that'd happened while Donnie was out. Silently agreeing to spend less time on the details of their 'fight' outside and getting Donnie to focus on things like Reggie's weird involvement in it all.
"You gotta be kiddin' me," Donnie muttered for at least the third time once they finished, good hand on his head.
"Yeah, that's how we all feel," Rupert remarked as he stood up. "I'll go get you some water or somethin'. Doctor said something about that I think."
Donnie waited until Rupert left before trying to sit up.
"The hell you doing, Donnie?" Frankie questioned, quickly forcing him back down with just a hand on his chest.
"Getting the fuck outta here — what are you doing?" Donnie questioned back with a confused look on his face. "What happened to 'trust no one but ourselves' huh?"
Frankie sighed as Donnie repeated the words he'd said himself so many times.
"And I still believe that — but the fact that they all haven't killed me for what I did proves at least something about them, right? They're probably the only reason you're not fuckin' dead — and I rather not risk running out to fuck knows where while you're like this."
"You really think we can trust them?" Donnie questioned, still in fight or flight mod.
"For tonight? I do," Frankie promised, looking away from him in an attempt to hid the water building up in his eyes. "I almost lost you Donnie… because of my stupid plan—"
"Our stupid plan," Donnie corrected. "Wasn't all you…. If you trust them, I trust you so..."
Frankie rubbed his eyes as Rupert returned with a glass of water, setting it on the side table by Donnie.
"Thanks," Donnie muttered, looking down at the bandages wrapped around his left arm. "Where's my jacket?"
Frankie pointed to the black jacket hanging off the bed post.
"One of the sleeves got all fucked up — but told them not to throw it out."
"Good. Thank you."
"Important to you?" Rupert inquired from his chair. "The jacket?"
"Like the one nice thing I own," Donnie remarked with a laugh, wincing again at the pain it caused. "Well — it was."
The two of them kept talking. Mostly Rupert talking, few words from Donnie. Frankie didn't remember much of what they said. He must have dozed off shortly after, next thing he knew he woke up properly laying across the bed with Donnie sleeping at his side. First time he'd ever been happy to here his brother's snoring as he got up.
Frankie quietly slipped out of the room, following the sound of voices to the table where Reese and her sons were having breakfast — or lunch, looking at the clock hanging on the wall. They all paused as he entered, Frankie awkwardly stood in the archway that separated them from the living room.
"Good morning Frankie," Reese greeted. "There's eggs and toast on the counter, help yourself.
Frankie put a singular piece of toast on his plate before joining them at the table in empty chair beside RJ.
"Is Donnie awake yet?" The young boy asked. His hair was a little shorter and slightly uneven now, all the burnt parts haphazardly cut off with kitchen scissors if he had to guess.
"He did, but now he's sleeping again," Frankie explained before biting into the still warm toast.
"How's your leg?" Reese inquired.
"Fine. Hardly even hurts." Not exactly true, but Frankie didn't need anyone worrying about that.
"Mom, where'd the strange man go?" RJ asked between mouthfuls of cereal. "The bald guy with the green coat."
"I'm not sure, RJ," she replied, Frankie couldn't tell if that was true or if she just didn't want to tell her son. Either was reasonable.
"What's his deal anyway?" Rupert questioned, met was a raised eyebrow from Reese. She looked at him — a face that asked if he really was asking his mother about a guy she had over.
"Reggie's a friend. Was spending time with me, since your father couldn't be bothered..."
Frankie say her face drop after mentioning her now deceased husband. The whole table fell silent, nothing but the sound of silverware clinking against glass dishes. Frankie wished he stayed in the bedroom with Donnie.
It was Rupert who eventually spoke up.
"RJ, can you go for a second?"
"Why?"
"Someone needs to check on the Christmas lights outside, right? Make sure none of them fell off or somethin'."
RJ quickly accepted the random excuse Rupert threw at him to leave, hurrying to the door and getting his boots and coat on. Clearly determined to do the best job possible, kid liked feeling helpful. If Frankie had been paying just a little more attention, he would have taken the chance and left with him.
Instead, he found himself trapped at the table as Rupert focused on his mother.
"Dad is a piece of work," he began, before correcting himself. "Was a piece of work. And I know I haven't been around last few years — but based on the one conversation I got to have with him before… all this, I'm assuming he hadn't changed much."
"You'd be correct," Reese agreed.
"But, he was still our dad," Rupert stated firmly, gesturing to himself and the door RJ left through. "And maybe he wasn't always present — but… fuck he tried sometimes? I'm not trying to say he was a great dad but— he was the only one we had. Who RJ watched die. Now that he's gone, can we agree to just… not talk shit about the dead or somethin'? Least for a little bit? For RJ at least."
Reese didn't answer right away, taking a long, slow drink from her coffee. She set the mug back on the table, folded her hands in her lap before facing Rupert again.
"My issues with your father were no where near enough to be happy that he's dead, believe me. I loved him once, you know. I don't noticed when he changed, not right away. I just know he did. I thought I was truly done with our marriage… but soon as he left last night to go find Rupert — RJ — I started thinking that maybe there was still part of the man I feel in love with in there."
She paused, silently brushing away a tear with her finger.
"I think focusing on the good parts of Jack, for now, is for the best. For RJ."
"Thank you."
Reese turned to Frankie, he thought the two of them forgot he was there. Least that what he was hoping.
"Many things lead to Jack's death that night. Though you played a part, the blame shouldn't fall on you."
The room felt silent again, Frankie never felt more awkward in his life. For a brief moment, he wished he was back at the strip club. What the hell could he say to that? The blame absolutely should fall all on him. Why were they all so damn forgiving?
They all turned as uneven footsteps started down the hall, Frankie shot up out his chair when he saw Donnie round the corner. Holding on the wall with his good arm for support as each slow, tiny step clearly hurt him.
"Donnie — the fuck are you doing?" Frankie hissed, arm around his brother as he practically carried Donnie into the chair Rupert had pull out for him.
"Was lookin' for you," Donnie explained quietly, failing to hid the pain on his face every time he seemed to move.
"Yell or something next time," Frankie insisted.
"It ain't that bad."
"Like hell it ain't — you almost fell over just walking in here."
Donnie muttered something under his breath in response, folding his left arm into his lap before reaching for the half piece of toast left on Frankie's plate with the other. Frankie sighed as he pushed the plate closer, returning to his chair with a close eye on his brother.
"So, Reggie mentioned to me that you two were renting a room from him," Reese recalled lightly, clearly attempting to lower the tension that seemed to just keep building.
"If you could call it that," Donnie muttered, making Frankie snicker as all the names they called that crappy place ran through his head.
That dump, The shithole, rat's paradise, indoor alley, the list went on.
"Well, from what I've heard it's not much good," she remarked bluntly. "No place for someone recovering from injuries like yours, Donnie. I know I told Frankie this last night, but just know you two can stay in the guest room long as you need."
"Thank you, Reese," Frankie said, something she'd heard a dozen times by now. "We can pay you a little-"
"You'll do no such thing," Reese cut off quickly. "I won't take a cent from either of you. Save that money for something important."
What they'd always been trying to do.
Frankie didn't push back any further, knowing it was an argument he wouldn't wind. He'd find some way to pay her back though.
They didn't really speak much as everyone kept eating. Frankie got up once, grabbing a second, now cold piece of toast for himself and another for Donnie when he asked. Anything to keep him from trying to stand up again.
RJ came running back in shortly after, shaking snow out of his hair as he spoke.
"All the lights are still working — I turned them off 'cause it's too light out to see 'em all right now though. None fell of the house!"
"Good work," Rupert praised, RJ grinned widely as he climbed up into the chair beside his mother. His eyes locked onto Donnie rather quickly.
"You're awake again!"
"Yeah," Donnie confirmed, glancing at Frankie as he didn't know what else to say to the kid. Frankie shrugged in response. Donnie didn't have to say anything more on the subject, as RJ quickly threw more words at him.
"Are you and Frankie staying here for Christmas?"
"Oh — that is tomorrow, isn't it?" Reese realized as she glanced over at the calender hung on the fridge.
"Guess so," Frankie confirmed. Donnie added on;
"We don't really do Christmas though."
"Why not?" RJ questioned quickly. "Doesn't Santa bring you presents?"
Donnie hesitated as Frankie shot him a look. Despite their issues with the holiday, the sure as hell weren't gonna ruin it for this kid.
"He uh… knows we don't celebrate," Donnie came up with, turning to Frankie for help again.
"Wasn't something our family did, so he didn't stop by," Frankie made up. "Had a lot of other houses to get to anyways."
"Well he always comes here," RJ remarked. "Maybe he knows you two are here — and he'll bring you something!"
"Didn't give him much of a warning, did we?" Frankie remarked with a small laugh. "But maybe."
The rest of the day — Christmas Eve — was oddly quiet. After Frankie failed to convince Donnie to go back and rest in bed, RJ managed to convince him to sit on the couch and watch some animated Christmas movie they had on VHS with him.
Frankie was surprised when his brother agreed, before quickly realizing Donnie just didn't want to disappoint the kid. That he could relate to. He didn't wanna be too far from Donnie, case his needed him for anything. But did end up following Rupert outside when he asked for help shovelling snow. He couldn't let go of a chance to work towards paying the family back, after all. And he didn't hate shovelling that much. Often did it for Reggie to help pay part of their rent.
Reese had hot chocolate waiting for them when they came back inside. The third or so time Frankie had been offered a warm drink while he was there, first time he'd actually drank it. Was really cold out there, after all. His shitty fingerless gloves and crappy jeans (with an extra hole in them) hardly help. The jacket did, but that was really it.
After confirming Donnie was still doing alright — now listening to RJ explain each of his toys in detail — he asked Reese about possibly using the shower. She directed him to the larger bathroom upstairs. Showed him how the shower worked, pointed out soap and shampoo he could use, and left him with a towel and clothes she hoped would fit him before heading back downstairs.
Frankie couldn't remember the last time he had an actually warm shower. Probably that one time he pulled together enough money for he and Donnie to spend the night in a hotel room for Donnie's birthday couple years back. Wasn't even that nice of a hotel — but sure as hell nicer than any other place they ever stayed in.
The pants fit him surprisingly well, a little loose but not like they were gonna fall down when he walked. Shirt was a bit too small, the sleeves didn't reach his wrists and the bottom sat above a little above his waist. Not that uncomfortable though — just looked like he was wearing a crop top to be honest. And he didn't hate that. Always had his jacket if he got cold — or started to feel ridiculous.
Reese told him to leave his old clothes in the basket in the bathroom, said she'd wash them. Frankie wasn't sure if the jeans would survive any sort of machine, but didn't really care that much about them anymore.
He went back downstairs. Donnie had fallen asleep on the couch while RJ was captivated by something on the TV. Frankie couldn't help but laugh as the kid rolled his eyes when Donnie snored, advising him to turn the TV up louder to drown him out.
He then found Rupert in the kitchen, swearing at the oven as he struggled with the timer. Frankie tried to help him, eventually getting the red dial off the number zero and turning it around to fifteen as Rupert instructed. He then told Frankie to make sure the food inside, a tray of frozen chicken strips and fries, didn't burn while he went to shower himself.
Easy enough job, Frankie hadn't had to do a thing by the time Rupert returned. He was the one to take to food out, asking Frankie to go get their respective brothers.
Frankie told RJ the food was ready before carefully shaking Donnie awake and helping his brother back to the kitchen.
"Where's mom?" RJ asked his older brother as he placed a plate of food in front of him.
"Said something about goin' shopping before she left," he replied vaguely as he placed another full plate in front of the chair Frankie helped Donnie into. "She'll be back soon, probably."
There wasn't a lot of talking done during dinner, even RJ was on the quieter side for the meal. He was also the first one to finish, complaining only a little when Rupert told him to go shower before watching TV again.
"For someone who only just started being an older brother, you're very good at it," Frankie remarked, Rupert gave a small smile.
"That kid makes it pretty easy."
Despite that fact that he was yawning again after he finished eating, it still took Rupert and Frankie both to convince Donnie to just go to bed. He begrudgingly agreed, eventually, though. Frankie helping him to the bed and turning the lights off in the room before he went back to the kitchen to help Rupert clean up.
Reese returned shortly after they finished, recruiting the two of them to help her bring in groceries from her car. She hadn't bought a lot of stuff, just enough for the pair of them to get everything in one trip. Frankie had know idea how the hell she found a store open at that time on Christmas Eve, but didn't bother asking as he put his jacket back on and silently helped carrying plastic bags inside to the table.
RJ came back down and jumped at the chance to join in helping too, Reese giving him the job of putting things away as he knew where everything went. Was a good thing, as neither Rupert or Frankie weren't much help there. Just waited for Reese to tell them to take something to a cupboard or hold the fridge door.
When most everything was put away, as Reese told RJ to get ready for bed, he asked her about leaving milk and cookies out for Santa. Frankie offered to help him poor the glass of milk while Reese tried to remember where the cookie she just bought were put.
With the milk and cookies set out on the table, RJ said his goodnights. Frankie hadn't expected the young boy to hug him just as he'd hugged his mother and brother, but try not to let the surprise show too much and hugged him back.
"Oh… RJ's toys," Reese muttered after he'd already gone upstairs, peering into the mess of toys left around the living room.
"I can deal with 'em," Frankie offered. "Just in the bin over there?"
"Yes, thank you."
A little bit of cleaning really felt like the least he could do, after everything this family had done for him and Donnie. Picking up a couple of toys and tossing them in a bin was hardly even work, anyways.
RJ sure had a collection of them. Racecars, toy soldiers, posable action figures, and plastic horse just to name a few. Thing that really caught Frankie's eye was a couple small frogs made of translucent coloured plastics. If you pushed down on the tab on the back of them and let go, the frog would 'hop' forward.
Frankie had one before, when he was young. Their parents had made him wait outside with Donnie — strapped into a baby car seat carrier thing — while they went into the gas station store. When they came back out, his mother dropped the small yellow frog into his hand. Said something about it being free with their shit, but Frankie didn't care about that part, it was something from his parents. A gift. The only 'gift' they'd given him before was whatever crappy food was lying around the house and clothes either too big or too small for him.
But the frog felt like a real gift. Even if is parents had meant nothing by pawning the bit of plastic the cashier gave them off on their son, Frankie thought it was just the coolest thing ever.
He remember sitting on the floor of the dark living room that night. Donnie laid on a blanket on the floor, screaming his head off. Their parents couldn't hear, too busy screaming at each other in the bedroom. Frankie turned up to TV to try and drown them out, then sat beside Donnie and showed him the frog.
He couldn't give it to Donnie, Frankie spent enough time stopping his little brother from shoving anything that'd fit into his mouth. But he could make it jump for him. Add silly noises too as it left the ground. That was eventually enough to change Donnie's crying out for little giggles.
Frankie also remembered being pissed off when he lost the stupid thing two or so years later. Even if it was just a cheap toy, it was his cheap toy. Back then, having anything that was actually his felt like a huge deal. Especially because his parents had given it to him. And now they'd abandoned him and Donnie. That frog felt like proof that secretly, deep, deep down, his parent really did love him. That they'd come back for them one day.
It would be easy to laugh at how stupid that was, if it wasn't just… really sad.
Frankie pushed down on the plastic tabs of one of the frogs. Watched it hop up and land not too far from him. Really was a simple, cheep toy.
"Having fun?" Rupert asked, arms resting on the back of the couch as he looked down at Frankie.
Frankie's face went a little red, quickly picking up the frogs and dropping them in the bin before standing back up.
"You smoke?" Rupert asked.
"Sometimes, yeah."
He motioned for Frankie to follow him outside, into the cold night air as the stood on the porch together for the second time. Rupert handed him a cigarette, lighting his own before also offering Frankie the green lighter.
"Thanks."
Frankie didn't smoke often, they couldn't afford that kind of shit. Most of Frankie's smoking happened when they arrived back at the strip club in the early hours of the morning, one of the strippers out there would usually offer them one. Frankie usually would take them up on it, Donnie didn't. He tried it once or twice, hated it every time. Definitely a good thing, for the sake of his health.
"Been talking to my mom," Rupert said, leaning against the railing of the porch and staring off at the Christmas lights across the street. "Made some calls this morning, about what poor sucker got buried under my name. Aren't sure just yet, can't confirm till the right people are back after the new year or some shit, but it had to be someone who was labelled missing. Got them to tell me the list, pretty sure I know the guy."
Rupert paused as he brought the cigarette up to his mouth, blowing out a breath of smoke before continuing.
"Name was Colton, told us to called him Cole though. Two of us were usually paired together for shit. Were reported missing together too, apparently. We'd already lost each other I'm sure. Mom said he had my dog tag when they found him — no idea how or why he had it. But he did. We don't look that similar, but after what can happen to a man out there… anyone who's about the same build can look like anyone else. So, they just assumed it was me, and he was still missing."
Frankie leaned up beside Rupert, using his own cigarette as an excuse for his silence. So Rupert had been in the war, that made sense. Eventually, he came through was some sort of response.
"That's tough…"
Never said it was going to be a good one.
Rupert gave a small laugh at Frankie's bluntness.
"Yeah, sure is. What can ya do about it?"
"What can ya do about it," Frankie repeated, less as a question and more of a statement.
The front door opened, Reese shivered as the cold breeze hit her.
"What the hell are you doin' out here — it's freezing. Come back inside, please."
Rupert and Frankie put out their cigarettes in the snow on the railing before following Reese back inside with a strange bit of déjà-vu. She couldn't exactly tell the two grown adults to head to bed, but she heavily implied that it would be a good idea for them to. And neither Frankie or Rupert seemed to feel like disagreeing with her.
"RJ — have some patience, would you?"
"I could go wake him up, you know?"
"Please mom? Please please pleaaaaase?"
Frankie rolled over, a little surprised not to find his brother at his side. Enough so he forced himself out of bed and to the partially open door.
"FRANKIE! Merry Christmas!" RJ yelled the moment he stepped out, running over and attaching himself to Frankie's legs.
Donnie had new clothes on now too, a little too big for him as was usual. And Frankie's coat wrapped around himself like a blanket.
"Merry Christmas kid," he replied with a yawn, ruffling RJ's hair as he scanned the living room.
Reese sat in the recliner near the lit Christmas tree, Rupert and Donnie both on the couch.
"Can we open presents nooow?" RJ asked his mother.
"Yes, now that's everyone's up."
RJ ran over to the tree, Frankie leaned against the arm of the couch beside Donnie.
"Didn't have to wait for me."
"We always wait for everyone to be up," Reese brushed off, standing up and helping RJ read the names on each gift under the tree. Most where for him, a few for Reese herself. To the suspires to them all, RJ brought Donnie, Frankie and Rupert each a over a wrapped box from under the tree bearing their names.
"See! Told you Santa would know you're here!" he exclaimed as he handed Donnie the gift with his name.
Frankie glanced over at Reese when handed his, she gave him a warm smile in response.
He studied the decorated box in his hands before carefully pulling back the green paper. Underneath was shoe box, some brand he didn't recognized covering each side. It was pretty clear that the shoes advertised weren't what was actually inside.
Instead, after taking off the lid he found a silver chain choker, a new pair of black fingerless gloves, and silver necklace with a small, green gemstone pendant.
The loud gasp from Donnie made Frankie look up, smiling wide as he watched his brother hold up a new oversized leather jacket. Just like his old one, minus the damage. He was quick to try it on — Rupert and Frankie having to physically slow him down and remind him he was still injured. Frankie took his own jacket back with a chuckle as Donnie (a little more carefully) stood up and admired his new one.
"Looks great on you, Donnie," Frankie insisted as he pulled the pendent up out of his own box, unclipping the thin silver chain and bringing it around his neck.
He'd always loved jewellery, from a distance of course. He remembered getting screamed at for trying on his mother's bracelet once before. Didn't think much about it as he got older — much more important things to be focusing on — but wow… he hadn't realized how much he still loved it.
How on Earth Reese knew to get him just that was a question he couldn't wait to ask her, when RJ wasn't around of course.
He looked over towards RJ, seeing him get excited at a large toy truck that carried toy cars on it's trailer. Then over to Reese, a few tears as she held a book that must have been a gift from her late husband. Then back to Donnie, very pleased with his jacket to say the least — looked like he was trying not to cry himself. Frankie got that. Then Rupert. He was had his open box on his lap, holding a plastic case carrying different coloured strings, tiny pair of scissors, and a set of sewing needles that he seemed pretty happy with.
"Well with gifts all done," Reese began, "Suppose we should start breakfast. RJ, could you take all your new toys — and old ones — up to your room?"
Her son nodded, piling everything he could into the bin in an attempt to only have to make one trip. Frankie waited until he was out of earshot before speaking.
"Thank you, Reese. Really. I mean… it's…" he wrapped his fingers around the gemstone hanging from his next. "… you didn't have to get us anything —"
"Seemed only right, everyone should have something to open on Christmas," she replied, walking over and placing a hand on Donnie's shoulder as he failed to hold back his tears. "I'm glad I seemed to pick out something you'd both like."
Donnie hesitantly turned to face her, words building in his mouth but nothing actually coming out. Reese gave him a soft hug, which he happily returned.
Frankie smiled again before glancing back at Rupert, seeing him pull out a pendent of his own from the box. Similar to Frankie's, though a gold chain and a dark stone instead. He walked around the couch as Rupert stood up and struggled to close the clip on the necklace behind his neck.
"Let me help you," Frankie insisted, pushing the back of his hair up slightly and taking both ends of the chain from Rupert.
"Thanks," Rupert said, turning back to his mom once Frankie was finished. "And thank you, mom."
"Thank you, for coming home," she replied as she pulled him into a tight hug, kissing the top of his head.
Frankie walked back around the living room and slid his arm around Donnie, unable to shake the smile off his face.
RJ came running back downstairs at the same time someone rang the doorbell. Confused, everyone followed Reese through the kitchen as she went to answer it.
"Merry Christmas!" Reggie cheered the moment she opened the door. He'd swapped the green jacket for an equally obnoxiously bright red one, and carried in a large, open box with him. "Hope you don't mind darling, brought Frankie and Donnie all their crap from mine place, and a little something for you and the kids too."
He dropped the box into Frankie's arms, taking the small plastic grocery bag off the top as everyone moved over to the table. Frankie took the box of his and Donnie's limited possessions, mostly old clothes, to their room before joining the other to see Reggie giving RJ a toy car and candy he probably picked up at a gas station.
He tossed some candy over to Rupert as well, admitting he had no idea what to get him but didn't wanna show up with nothing for him. Rupert mumbled out a thanks, Frankie couldn't help but snicker at just how much he seemed to dislike Reggie. Could hardly blame the guy, either.
"And for you, Reese," he said, taking a small rectangle box out of his bag. "I know we weren't gonna do gifts — cause you had a husband and all — but well…"
God, he was a moron.
"… yeah. Anyways, take this as a 'I'm sorry for your loss' kinda gift instead of a Christmas one how 'bout?"
"Thank you, Reggie," Reese said with both a smile and an eye roll as she took the box.
Inside was a set of Christmas themed pencils, Reese laughed as she set them on the table, thanking Reggie again for the 'charming gift' before asking him and Rupert to help her with breakfast.
"These people ain't so bad," Donnie whispered to his brother as they sat with RJ at the table, the three of them watching Rupert and Reggie bicker at the stove.
"So what, he's just going to be around now?" Rupert asked his mother.
"I'm not trying to be your father or anything, kid," Reggie insisted quickly. "Just — I don't know maybe think of me as like you're uncle or something. Someone who comes around every so often, keeps your mom happy-"
"Ew — no! Please — stop fuckin' talking," Rupert begged with his head in his hands. Reese was shaking her head, hitting Reggie in the arm with a wooden spoon. Donnie and Frankie couldn't keep in their laughter, RJ looked between them and his brother in an attempt to figure out what was so funny.
"They ain't too bad," Frankie agreed while trying to catch his breath, made even harder when Rupert threw the wooden spoon at Reggie and hint the back of his head.
First time either of them had ever enjoyed Christmas Day, no doubt about that.
Extra Notes: Maybe a family really can be two Christmas-tree stealing brothers, some random kid who just so happened to be the son of the detective who was after them (and is now dead), is older brother with the same name who everyone thought died in the war, their now widowed mother, and the guy she was seeing on the side who also happens to be the landlord of those first people.
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: Other
Fandoms: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Dawn of the Jedi (Comics)
Relationships: Original Force Hound Character(s)/Original Force Hound Character(s), Original Force Hound Character(s) & Original Force Hound Character(s)
Characters: Original Force Hound Character(s), Original Force Hound Character (Peth), Original Force Hound Character (Cresh)
Additional Tags: Cannibalism, Carnivorism, it isn't cannibalism if they're a different species, Aliens, non-humans, Slavery, Force Hound(s) (Star Wars), The Eternal Empire (Rakatan), Depersonalization, Dehumanization, Weaponisation, no pronouns, it/its (freeform), Coping Mechanisms, #how to function as a Force Hound, Love at First Sight, Possession, Unrequited Love at First Sight, Misunderstandings, Misunderstood Intentions
Language: English
Words: 1,212
Summary:
Peth is only Peth, slave and weapon, until one day it goes elsewhere with it's master.
Notes:
TW: Cannibalism, dehumanization/depersonalization, NO pronouns/pronouns are it/its
Bloody Hearts Bingo Community Event: I'm Yours (yellow/platonic)
@juneofdoom: Day 3: Misunderstanding
Bingos:
Force Hound Bingo: Master's Choice (Culture Building)
August In Space 2026: Friendly Aliens, <<Better that way>>
Color Bingo: Wisteria
Love Bingo: Love at first sight (not quite), Free Space (Misinterpreting Signals)
Taboo: Cannibalism, Culture Shock
OC soup bingo: Blood, Obedience
Show Your Love: Random Affection (is it tho?)
Romance Bingo: Forbidden Love, One-sided Love, Love at First Sight, Forced Proximity
Dead Dove: Cannibalism, Isolation, Torture
@6lytherinn: Forced Proximity, miscommunication
@souliloquyyy: what are feelings?
@Multifandom-flash: Halloween: Hunter of His Own Kind (Force Hound)
@julybreakbingoevent:
2026 5x5: "When was the last time you had something to eat?"
2026 6x6: Word: (1) Dangerous - Antonyms: Safe, Wholesome, Secure, Certain. (2) Word: Sour - Antonyms: Sweet, Bland, Appease, Placate.
2026 7x7: Ravenous, Hungry Man
2026 1x5: Feelings developed while being tortured together (onesided)
@fandombingo:
Mini: Their Instincts Are Fundamentally Broken or Missing
KCC Blue Card: Blood On Their Hands, Misunderstood Intentions
@fandom-free-bingo:
Reunion 3x3: Neglect (unknown), Awkward Encounter (onesided)
Reunion 5x5: Obedience Training (via torture)
Virtues & Vices 5x5: Obedience, Unrequited Love (Immediate and Onesided: Peth @ Cresh)
@bingorin:
3x3 v1: "I would burn the entire world to the ground to find you. Don't ever question how much I love you. There is no one who could ever compare to you." (one-sided and Love At First Sight)
3x3 v2: Banquets and Feasts
@squarebysquare:
Cold Hands Warm Hearts: Misread Signals (Cresh probably doesn't actually like Peth), Alone No More
July/Aug 26 v1: Villain's Perspective (subjective), Different Point of View (different culture)
July/Aug 26 v2: Unexpected Narrator, Break Your Own Writing Habit, A Story Told Differently, Try A New Trope
@elitehunter:
Green Card: First Meeting, "I didn't ask for this."
Blue Card: The Day Everything Changed
Red Card: Danger!, Surprises
Prompts Filled: @whumpmasinjuly-archive Day 9: “That’s not what I meant.”, @julybreakbingo N1: Making a Promise or Breaking a Promise, @badthingshappenbingo O1: Don’t Leave Me, @fandombingo Kisses, Chaos, & Catastrophe Bingo: I2: Moral Compromise For Love, @fandombingo The Blooming Hour Bingo: O3: Love as a Ritual Offering
Fandom(s): Gravity Falls
Pairing(s): Bill Cipher/Ford Pines
Rating: T
Warnings: Abusive Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Human Sacrifice
Prompts Filled: @whumpmasinjuly-archive Day 6: Bloodbath, @julybreakbingo B2: Mine, @fandom-free-bingo Reunion Edition: G3: Genital Mutilation, @fandombingo Crime & Mystery Bingo: Never Just One Victim, @bingocardsforfandom Domestic Horror Bingo: Middle: “I did it for you.”
Fandom(s): Gravity Falls
Pairing(s): Bill Cipher/Ford Pines
Rating: M
Warnings: Major Character Death, Blood and Gore, Abusive Relationships, Emotional Manipulation
Rating: Teens
Universe: Avengers Assemble
Pairings: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Other Avengers
Warnings: (Mild) Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Injuries
Major Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Some Humor, Established Relationship, Caretaking, Post-Mission, Tired Avengers, Tired Tony Stark, Sleepy Steve Rogers, Annoying Clint Barton, Tony Stark is So Done, Natasha Romanov is So Done, Hurt Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, POV Tony Stark
Word Count: 700
Summery: Another hard-fought battle against the Cabal. They were all wishing the Avenjet would go quicker so they could return to the Tower faster, but none more so than Tony.
For the:
✦ @.cap-ironman Stony Bingo 2026 prompt - UNIVERSE: Animated Verses [T3]
✦ @eclipsingbingo prompt - Taser [D4]
✦ @fandombingo prompt - Tucking Someone into Bed [E1]
✦ @.JulyBreakBingo - Pre-July Break 2026 - Writing Format: Short Short (Between 500 and 1000 words) [A5]
Read below or on AO3 >HERE<
Yawning, Tony flexes his stiff, aching fingers against the edge of the flight console.
The Avengers had just finished apprehending an Asgardian who'd come to Earth with the intention to 'conquer and rule' when the Cabal opportunistically enacted their own plans for domination.
Exhausted, the fight with the Cabal lasted longer than it should have.
Tony was looking forward to a hot shower to soothe his muscles and a long nap curled up beside Steve. They'd be back home at the Tower soon. But not soon enough.
Temptation was to let JARVIS fly them home. And he could, JARVIS was very capable. But it was best to have more than just JARVIS watching out in their line of work. Everyone was tired, but he at least had the protection of the armor, so he was taking watch this time.
He hears a soft noise beside him. Tony looks over to find Steve asleep in the co-pilot chair. It seems Steve had finally lost the battle against exhaustion.
"Take over for a moment, would you, JARVIS?" he asks softly.
A light to his left flicks amber, indicating that JARVIS has assumed control of the jet.
Tony gets up from the pilot chair and makes his way towards the back of the jet.
Natasha sits toward the front, eyes closed. Outwardly, she looks to be asleep, but Tony'd bet money that she's ready to spring into action if needed.
Clint sits in the center, watching something loudly on his phone. It doesn't look like the archer is really taking in what he is seeing, just noise as a distraction.
At the back, Thor was snoring, head resting against the back of the seat, hammer clutched close in his lap. Sam sits beside him, awake but barely, listening to music with his headphones.
It was the Hulk's day off, so he wasn't here. Though Tony wished otherwise, they could really have used him today.
"Turn it down, please, or get yourself some headphones like Sam," Tony says as he passes Clint.
When he reaches the back storage, he pulls a blanket out of one of the compartments and heads back.
Clint hasn't turned his volume down.
"I mean it, Clint," he says. "We're all tired. Please."
Clint mumbles something Tony couldn't pick up as he reaches the front of the Avenjet.
With care, Tony drapes the blanket over Steve. Gently tucking in the edges to keep him warm, taking care to be extra careful with Steve's bruised left side.
Finished, he takes a moment to stare at Steve's sleeping face. Dirty and bruised from the battle, but soft and lax in sleep. Wishing he could take away Steve's hurts and keep him safe in the Tower.
He reaches forward, caressing Steve's cheek, right below the gash there. Slowly, he leans in, pressing a kiss to Steve's forehead.
A loud, low-quality soundbite of an explosion, followed by a sad trombone, fills the space.
Tony tenses, holding his breath as he watches for any sign that Steve had been woken by the sound. But Steve sleeps on.
He lets out a slow breath and turns to Clint.
"Clint!" he grounds out, trying to keep his voice low as his frustration rises. "I'm serious. This is your last warning: keep it down."
He waits for Clint's acknowledgement, staring down the archer.
Clint rolls his eyes and sighs.
Somewhat satisfied, Tony sits back down in the pilot chair, taking over control from JARVIS.
For five blissful minutes, he thought Clint listened.
Then there's another loud explosion from the phone.
"Clint..." he whispers, hands clenching the jet's yoke tightly, patience wearing thin.
A triumphant trumpet and a cheering crowd.
A soft moan beside him on his left.
He turns to see Steve slowly blinking his eyes open.
Tony stands. He was done.
"JARVIS?"
"Taking over, Sir."
He makes his way towards Clint.
"Wait! Sorry!" Clint says, quickly tucking his phone into his pocket.
As he passes Natasha, she hands him her Widow Bites to taser Clint, looking as grumpy as he feels. Maybe she really was asleep earlier.
Clint cries out as Tony descends on him, body contorting with the dampened shocks. "Help! Sorry! I'll keep it down!"
THE END
What Clint mumbled under his breath that Tony didn't catch: "Pretty sure we all could sleep through anything, we live with the Hulk."
Rating: Mature
Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairings: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark
Characters: Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Steve Rogers
Warnings: Implied/Referenced Sex, Swearing
Major Tags: Canon Divergence AU, Coffee Shop AU, Humor, Pre-Relationship, First Meetings, Bad Flirting, Awkward Conversations, Light Miscommunication, Teasing, Fantasizing, Secret Identity, Identity Porn, Bets & Wagers, Press and Tabloids, Avengers Don't Exist Yet in this Universe, Tony Stark as Iron Man, Somewhat Fresh From the Ice Steve Rogers, Embarrassed Tony Stark, Awkward Tony Stark, Awkward Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers Is Not Okay, Pre-Avengers 2012, POV Tony Stark
Word Count: 1,600
Summery: Tony meets up with Rhodey at a late-night coffee place. Their discussion moves to an article published about Tony and his dwindling public romances… things go downhill from there.
For the:
✦ @anyfandomaubingo prompt - Restaurant Worker AU [N4]
✦ @eclipsingbingo prompt - Shattered Confidence [B4]
✦ @fandombingo prompt - "You think this is a date?" / "You think this isn't?" [A2]
✦ @.cap-ironman Stony Bingo 2026 prompt - Dares/Bets + NSFW: Oral Sex + AU: Coffee Shop + Candle Light + Identity porn [S5, T5, O5, N5, Y5]
✦ @tonystarkbingo - Hold my beer [Adopt] - Card 9034
Read below or on AO3 >HERE<
"Nah, Tones. They have a point."
Tony stares at Rhodey across the table in disbelief. He can't be hearing that right; Rhodey was agreeing with the article? "You're shitting me?!" he says, "I thought if I had anyone in my corner, it'd be you!"
"Okay, calm down. It was just some puff piece. No one cares."
"I care!" Tony cries, gaining a few looks from the other patrons. "I'm not some fuddy has-been."
Rhodey takes a slow sip of his coffee. "You're giving it more credit than it banks. It's just some student journalist, writing some opinion piece to gain experience."
"It was an article about trend setters, Rhodes! I'm a trend setter of the now, not of the past. I'm cool!" He was getting more looks, looks that were growing increasingly judgmental. If they couldn't see the importance of the situation, Tony couldn't help them.
"You've got style, yes. But you don't have that game... anymore."
"I do!" he cries. His knee hits the underside of the table, nearly knocking his coffee into his almond and hazelnut croissant.
Rhodey's hand shoots up to steady the candle in the table's centerpiece from falling over.
"Man, look," his friend sighs, "You do loads of good as Iron Man, but it's taken up a lot of your time. It hasn't exactly given you much time to hone your game."
Tony scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. "You don't need to hone your game," he says.
"Everyone needs to hone their game, Tony."
Tony throws his hands up. He couldn't believe this. "I have so much game. More game than I know what to do with! Then anyone would! I'm game rich, Rhodey! I define game!"
"Alright, alright. Cool it, Casanova."
"This is an outrage," he whispers angrily.
"It's not. Tony. It's barely anything. It's a nothing burger with an extra serving of nothing on the side. I don't see why this is bothering you so much."
"I'm bothered because it is wrong!"
"Uh-huh."
"Scandalous lies! All of it!"
"Alright. If you're so confident. Pick someone up in this cafe," Rhodey says, "show me how much game you have, man."
"Done deal. You chose 'em. I don't want you to think I just picked out the easiest catch I could find here. Pick away, Platypus!"
Sitting back in his seat, he watches as Rhodey casts a sharp eye over the other patrons.
"Him," Rhodey says, gesturing discreetly to someone somewhere over Tony's left shoulder.
He turns around in his seat to see who Rhodey has picked.
A blond guy, sitting alone at a table towards the back of the cafe, hunched over a small book, engrossed in what he was scribbling. His posture is stiff. Not angry, just uncomfortable maybe.
The table is fairly bare, only a cup resting on a plate with a scrunched-up napkin; he's obviously here alone, which works in Tony's favour.
Not that he's worried about his ability to pull. He hasn't lost a lick of his charms, despite what Rhodey and the article think.
Tony turns around, looking Rhodey in the eyes as he stands up from the table. He takes one last sip of his coffee, lubricating his weapon for his upcoming charisma attack. "Watch my drink for me," he says, then leaves, making his way over to the man's table.
The guy doesn't look up at Tony's arrival. It gives Tony a chance to plan this out. And to take a peek at the man's book. An artist, fairly good from what he could see.
He knocks on the table, getting the guy's attention. "Mind if I take this...?" he asks, gesturing to the unused chair.
Striking blue eyes lock with his, before quickly darting around the room. "Uh, sure. Go ahead?"
As Tony sits down, the man straightens up in his chair, giving Tony a confused look. As if Tony hadn't just asked to sit. Maybe he was just shy.
God, sitting up straight, the guy was huge. Broad shoulders, broad chest. Tall with massive muscles. His poor, abused sleeves could barely contain his forearms as his muscles flexed with his movements. He wonders if they're real. How he hopes they were real.
And his face! Cheekbones that could cut glass and a strong jaw. the pinkest lips he's ever seen, with captivating blue eyes framed by a set of impossibly long lashes. The light from the candles makes his hair appear golden. A handful of freckles ties the whole masterpiece together. He's gorgeous.
Tony shakes himself, focusing himself back on his mission.
"Hi there," Tony says, giving the man one of his classic smiles. That never fails to get them swooning.
"Uh, hello?" the guy says, quickly shutting his book and pulling it towards himself. "Can I help you?" he asks.
Tony laughs. He leans forward, resting an elbow on the table. "Yeah, I was just wondering. Do you come here often?"
The man stares at him in silence for several beats. Then gestures to the tag on his shirt. A name tag. "Yes, I work here."
"Oh," Tony says, wincing internally. That's okay. That's fine. He's got this. At least he now knows the guy's name.
"So, Grant, how'd a handsome guy like you wind up working here. I should think you'd be modeling."
Grant tenses. Looking away quickly. Tony watches the muscles in his jaw flex. He's struck with the desire to like this face. To kiss his way down his jaw, all the way to those pecks begging to be freed from that shirt.
"Gotta make ends meet..."
Tony bites back a sigh. Looking the guy over, he notices two lapel pins on his collar. The first is a gold circle with a familiar eagle and shield crest in the center, a black border frames the crest with the words 'United States Army Veteran'. The second pin is two golden bars signifying a Captain's rank.
"You're a soldier?" he asks. Trust Rhodey to pick one. "When'd you return?"
"Few weeks ago," Grant says, looking more uncomfortable.
"Suppose you don't want to talk about that stuff, huh?" he says, "I get that."
"Yeah," Grant says, adding nothing else.
"Uh..." Tony tries to think of something to say. Something to keep the conversation going. He fights the urge to fiddle with the tablecloth or to mess around with the centerpiece candle.
Did Rhodey pick this guy knowing he would be particularly challenging? This guy was a hard nut to crack. But that meant nothing, because he still had his charms. He was going to woo this man, proving Rhodey and everyone else wrong.
The silence stretches on.
Grant's posture grows tenser, his shoulders slowly hunching up around his ears.
This wasn't meant to be this awkward!
Grant clears his throat softly, picking up the spare serviette sitting beside his dishes and passing it to Tony.
Tony takes it, confused.
"You've got a little..." Grant a tiny aborted gesture towards Tony's face. "Um, a little coffee foam in your mustache."
"Shit," he mutters under his breath, cleaning his face with the offered cloth.
When finished, he sets the balled-up serviette on the table and looks up. He catches a hint of a smile on Grant's face, eyes sparkling with mirth in the candlelight.
Tony nearly jumps for joy. There it was, that crack in the defenses. He could do this. He had to make a move, do something to break through the wall of ice the guy had built up around himself.
Maybe smooth wasn't working. Maybe he had to be more direct.
Grinning, he leans back in his chair, watching the way Grant's eyes briefly flick down to his chest.
Tony licks his lips and says, "Would be considered workplace harassment to offer to blow you, Gorgeous?"
Grant freezes. Any softness Tony won had been lost, buried again under Grant's impenetrable shield. "Yes, it would," Grant says.
"Ah," he says, trying to salvage this. A small blunder, but it's fine. It's still salvageable. "Would-... What if I caught you after work? What time do you finish here?"
"Ummm..." If it's even possible, Grant looks more uncomfortable.
It's a shame that he didn't accept the offer because he knows Grant would look a lot more 'comfortable' with Tony's mouth wrapped around his dick.
"You don't have to answer that," Tony says, reaching into his top pocket. "Here, take my card if you reconsider. My offer stands."
He lays the card on the table. But Grant doesn't reach for it, doesn't even look. Instead, he stares at Tony with an odd expression.
"What is it?" he asks.
"Nothing..." Grant shakes his head, looking away. "You just reminded me of someone..."
"Yes," Tony says, pushing his card forward until it's right in front of Grant. "I'm Tony Stark."
"No."
"No?"
"S-someone else. Uhh, sorry."
"R-right. Well..." Tony says, unsure. That's a first. "Uhh?" Tony slowly gets up from the table. "I'll be looking forward to our second date, Mr Stevens."
Grant huffs, eyes narrowing at Tony challengingly, "You think this is a date?"
Panic grips his chest. Why was nothing going right? "You think this isn't?"
"Harassing me during my break at work, offering to blow me? That's what you consider a date?"
"When you put it like that... It sounds... a little... bad? How about a do-over? Keep the card and think about it, okay?"
Tony leaves quickly, rushing back to Rhodey.
"Wow, that was impressive. I don't think I've ever seen anyone that smooth. You're right. You should change your name to 'Iron-Game'."
"Shut up," Tony moans, dropping his head into his hands.
Miles to Go Before I Sleep - Chapter Three
I Took the One Less Travelled By
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> James "Bucky" Barnes x Original Nonbinary Character (Soldierbug).
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Gen.
Some stops are forced. Others are chosen.
Sometimes it's harder to still than to continue.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
The Road Not Taken - Robert Frost.
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 1469.
𝐀/𝐍 -> Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Masterlist can be found here.
<- Chapter Two
Prompts -> - “You Still Hesitate Before Sleeping.” - @fandombingo (Bleach);
- “You’re Still Here. That Matters.” - Fandom Bingo (Bleach).
Late afternoon began to fade into early evening, Mars’ soft snoring and whatever their cell phone decided to play next acting as the soundtrack to my drive. I had assumed, when I’d planned the trip, that there was a danger of becoming lost in the darkness of my own thoughts. But their occasional shifting and new songs I didn’t recognize but rather enjoyed kept me grounded, metal fingers drumming idly on the wheel.
It was peaceful.
They stirred when the sun dipped low enough on the horizon that it shone through the windshield and onto their face, scowling against the light as they sat a little higher. Instinctively, I reached over and flipped down the visor, earning a grateful grin that had my lips twitching back.
“I fell asleep,” they noted, guilt in their voice, and I let out a low chuckle.
“Yeah.”
“Did I snore?”
“Only a little.”
“… Did I drool?”
I glanced over at them, my mouth compressing into a thin line to hold back a snort. “… Only a little.” They let out a groan, and I laughed, unable to bite back the sound any more. “Ah, it’s fine. It’s been a while since the truck had a good wash.”
The groan intensified, their head disappearing into their hands. “Kill me.”
“I’d rather not,” I replied evenly, eyes flicking back to the road with a chuckle. “I’m quite enjoying the company.”
They looked up at that, their dismay quickly forgotten and eyes alight. “You are? Even though I fell asleep?”
With a smile, I nodded softly. “Hey, you kept your promise. I got at least three hours of awake before you passed out,” I tease lightly, grinning when they snorted.
We settled into a companionable quiet once more, with Mars commenting intermittently on the road and the surroundings.
“Are we stopping for the night at some point?” they asked when the sun had begun to inch below the horizon, and I hesitated. “We don’t have to,” they pressed, noticing my pause. “I was just wondering.”
My intention, when I’d planned the route, was to simply push through; it wasn’t like I slept well anyway. I’d rather drive through the night than stare at the ceiling for hours — or worse.
But the idea of stopping didn't seem as wrong as it usually would.
“Sure,” I replied after a few seconds. “I’ll keep an eye out for a place.”
It only took a few minutes to start seeing signs for a motel just off the highway, and we decided it was worth a look. Small and unassuming, it was the sort of place that came a dime a dozen — a neon sign that declared ‘VACAN Y’, and a handful of cars in a largely empty lot. Nothing special, but clean enough, and seemingly quiet.
I checked us in — and paid for the room, before they could inevitably attempt to offer — while they waited by the truck. By the time I returned a few minutes later, they’d pulled their hoodie tighter around themselves against the cooling night air.
We stood a moment, looking at one another uncertainly, the key clasped in my hand.
I wondered if they were also realizing that this would be the first time we shared a private space that wasn’t going somewhere. That we would just be… Existing, alone together.
I wondered if they had also become hyperaware of their heartbeat.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been alone with someone like that, other than Steve. Couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept — or tried to — with someone else in the same enclosed space.
My mouth felt too dry.
Snagging the bags over the edge of the truck to cut the moment short, I cleared my throat. “Come on. Room fifteen.”
There were — as requested and mercifully fulfilled — two queen beds. I took the one nearest the door automatically, while they claimed the one nearest the window, immediately setting about making the space feel more lived-in — phone charging, crochet on the nightstand, their hoodie coming off and draped over the back of a chair.
I ordered pizza from my cell — without difficulty and much to their surprise, they informed me with a grin. When silence descended, it was a little more awkward, a little more heavy, than it had been with the road running beneath us — but they filled it readily enough, making comments on the room, the drive… and how weird it was being somewhere new with someone they didn’t actually know all that well.
I snorted at that, the atmosphere effectively lightened.
Over pizza, with little else to distract us, the conversation deepened naturally.
Mars didn’t push, but asked questions without flinching away. They asked about the drive itself; they wondered why I’d decided to drive, rather than flying or simply shipping the box. I answered honestly, explaining the things I felt both Steve and I had missed out on — many of which would be impossible to replicate in any way.
“But I can do this,” I noted quietly, chewing thoughtfully. “Always figured I’d be driving out somewhere to see him — some fancy school, maybe. It feels… Right, doing it this way. Like a correction.”
I didn’t go into detail about the worst of things, but I didn’t shy away from all of it. I observed, softly, how strange it still is sometimes to have ordinary days. They didn’t try to offer platitudes or some misguided attempt at fixing things, but simply nodded.
“That makes sense.”
They fell quiet again after that — but it didn’t feel like heaviness, or grief, or pity. It just felt like space being offered, in case I wanted to say more.
I didn’t — not then. But the fact that it was held at all meant more than they could know.
After the food was eaten and the boxes thrown out, I stepped outside for a little air before I turned in, leaning against the side of the truck and breathing deeply.
I didn’t explain to them that, after everything, I wasn’t good at staying in one place for too long. Especially if that place was an unfamiliar enclosed space. They didn’t ask as I headed towards the door; I found that it didn’t surprise me. They had a tendency to simply… Notice. To understand.
It also wasn’t a surprise when they joined me a few minutes later, resting their forearms on the edge of the truck bed. I gazed out at the dark road out the way we came, while their head tipped back, eyes on the stars; I tried not to think about what our actions said about us.
In the quiet, I thought about all the nights that had come before. All the times I would have driven straight through without hesitating, even if — or perhaps especially if — the other option was to stop somewhere with someone else.
Nothing made me stop at that motel. Not Mars, not orders, not a mission. I’d simply looked over and seen them tired, and I hadn’t wanted to keep driving only to avoid being still.
It was a choice that I’d made of my own volition, and it felt like that mattered more than I was truly aware of yet.
Mars hummed under their breath beside me, seemingly content with whatever mysteries they’d discovered in the heavens, and turned to lean against the side as I did.
“This was a good day,” they murmured at length, gazing out into the darkness, the words coming almost absently.
I glanced toward them, quiet for a long moment before replying. “… Yeah. It was.”
Back in the room with the lights dimmed, Mars mumbled something about turtles as they slipped into sleep once more, a stuffed panda tucked without any hesitation beneath their chin. Their project rested on the blanket beside them, and I couldn’t help but smile softly as I rolled onto my back, gazing up at the ceiling.
I wondered if I’d ever feel normal about something like this — sharing my space with someone else, stopping when I didn’t have to. Someone existing beside me without it feeling like either a threat or an obligation.
But for the first time in longer than I cared to remember, glancing across the narrow gap between our beds at the slow, steady rise-and-fall of Mars’ breathing, tomorrow didn’t seem like something I would simply need to survive.
It was something I was actually looking forward to.
My eyes closed, and I fell asleep without fighting it.
Rating: Teens
Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairings: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Nick Fury, Steve Rogers, SHIELD Agents and Staff
Warnings: Swearing
Major Tags: Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Back Together, Reunions, Injury Recovery, Role Reversal, Healing, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Capsicle | Steve Rogers Frozen in the Ice, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Nick Fury Has a Heart, Fix-It of Sorts, Coda, End Scene of Movie: Captain America: The First Avenger, POV Bucky Barnes
Word Count: 900
Summery: It's the day Bucky's been dreaming about… and awaiting with mounting dread. Bucky's getting Steve back.
For the:
✦ @eclipsingbingo prompt - Injury Acting Up [C1]
✦ @fandombingo prompt - Hiden Scars [E5]
✦ @.JulyBreakBingo - Pre-July Break 2026 - "If you ever see me for who I really am-"‚ "Then what? You think I would leave?"‚ "Yes‚ absolutely." [A2]
✦ @stuckybingo Round 7 prompt - “I thought you were dead.” [June Adopt]
+ June Monthly Challenge - Ice (Freshly defrosted from the ice Steve!)
✦ @wintershieldbingo prompt - Lost [D3]
Read below or on AO3 >HERE<
Approaching the Government SUV, Bucky's hands clench in his pockets. He reminds himself to breathe.
Bucky opens the door, careful not to crush the handle in his trembling grip as he steps inside.
"You ready?" Fury asks, starting the car and leading them off to SHIELD's New York City headquarters.
Bucky finally lets go of the breath he'd been holding. "Not like I've much choice," he says. Sighing, he massages his left shoulder, digging his fingers into the scars and tight muscles. The stress of the past week and a half has seemed to aggravate the pain he's accustomed to into an insistent throbbing ache. It's the tension he's carrying, he knows. But it was all Bucky could do but worry about how this would go.
"You don't," Fury responds. "You'd kick yourself for missing this."
It should be a miracle by all accounts. But it also feels like a curse.
It's been so long. Unimaginably so. And while Steve had been suspended in time, frozen, preserved as he was... Bucky was not. He had to change and adapt. He'd lived.
He wasn't the same.
Bucky turns, looking out the window to avoid Fury's gaze. "I know," he says, "But if he ever sees me for who I really am. Who I am now-"
Beside him, Fury scoffs. "Then what? You think he would leave?" the director asks.
"Yes‚ absolutely," he says. "I'm not the man he knows anymore."
"I don't think that matters. Not to him. Certainly not right now when he needs you."
Bucky doesn't respond. He wasn't sure if he knew the man Steve needed any more. If he would be unrecognizable to Steve.
He shivers as the phantom feeling of creeping ice that's haunted him since he learnt of Steve's discovery and retrieval makes itself known again.
A call comes through to the SUV.
"Answer call," Fury commands. A small beep comes from the dashboard's screen.
"There's a situation, Director," comes an agent's panicked voice over the line.
"What?"
"Code 13 has been called on Rogers."
"Shit," Fury mutters. The steering wheel creaks in the director's grip, and the car speeds up significantly. Darting past the other cars with their escorts following swiftly behind.
Bucky fights not to laugh. Or cry. Either or. It was nearly relieving to hear evidence that the man he knew was still in there. Even if Bucky wasn't.
"Well, have you locked the damn doors?" Fury asks, squeezing the SUV through a gap between a bus and a taxi.
"Sir, uhhh? It's a little late-"
Fury groans. Bucky turns to see him take one hand off the wheel and drag it down his face. His features were aging before Bucky's eyes.
"He's left the building?" Fury asks.
"Yes. Up West 47th and Broadway, towards 7th Avenue and Times Square."
Before the agent has finished, Fury is adjusting course.
In less than a minute, they reach Times Square.
The air leaves his lungs in a rush as he catches sight of Steve. Picture perfect to his memories. In the middle of the intersection, lost, twisting around as he takes in the world he's found himself in.
The SUV comes to a fast stop.
The rest of their fleet circles in, surrounding Steve, who studies them all with visibly mounting panic.
Fury is first out of the SUV. The director approaches Steve calmly and purposefully, doesn't rush in like the other agents.
Steve turns, facing Fury fully, pinning Fury as the leader. Bucky watches Steve try to shove down the panic, trying to project 'calm and collected'. But his chest rises and falls rapidly with his breath. Watching Fury, waiting for him to speak.
The wait isn't long. "Look, I'm sorry about that little show back there, but... we thought it best to break it to you slowly."
"Break what?" Steve asks. His voice rough and choked, but nothing- nothing- has ever sounded more beautiful to Bucky in all his long years.
"You've been asleep, Cap. For almost 70 years," Fury explains.
The look of dawning devastation on Steve's face at Fury's words finally wills Bucky into action.
There's a short lull in the conversation while Bucky battles the seat-belt into submission and gets out of the SUV. He shuts the door and stops beside Fury.
Steve has turned around, looking down the bustling New York streets.
"You gonna be okay?" Fury asks.
Steve turns back around, spotting him. Whatever he was about to say is forgotten as he locks eyes with Bucky.
"Hey, Punk!" Bucky says, stepping forward.
"Bucky?"
"Who the hell-" he chokes, fighting back against the lump in his throat to speak. "Who the hell else you expect, Pal? Know any other guys willin' to chase you to the end of the Earth?"
Bucky closes the distance between them and pulls him into his arms.
“I thought you were dead,” Steve whispers wetly into Bucky's shoulder.
He runs the fingers of his right hand through Steve's hair, keeping his metal one on Steve's clothed back. "I thought you were, too."
The hidden scars deep in his heart ache as they ever do, but they finally begin to heal. Properly. Things were far from right yet, but... he had hope. This world that seemed so cold suddenly seems to open up before Bucky, kinder and with possibility.
He had Steve in his arms again, and he wasn't going to let go.
Prompts: @fandom-free-bingo Fandom-Free Build-A-Bingo • June2026: Lyric; "The Script It Called For Rain"
@fandombingo Kisses, Chaos, Catastrophe; Only One Bed
AO3
Note: I love writing guys it's been too long since I've gotten to share something like this too. This is a test run/practice for writing a newer Stardew OC of mine, Sage Austin! Hope you enjoyed this brief little introduction to them!
"This weather is terrible," Maru commented, looking out the front window. Even with how dark it was out, you could still see the falling rain splatting against it.
Her shift had ended hours ago, the clinic was technically closed. But it was pouring buckets outside and walking home seemed like a terrible idea.
"It's definitely quite the storm," Harvey agreed, flinching slightly as the sky light up with a flash of lightning.
It had been like this since the afternoon, and showed no signs of letting up.
"I'm never going to get home at this rate," Maru commented with a small laugh.
Harvey was about to respond, before both were caught off by loud knocking against the front door.
"What on earth…?"
He hesitantly unlocked the clinic door and carefully pulled it open, now faced with the local fisher. Their clothes were soaking wet, their hair drenched. They had a fishing rod clutched in their hand and the handle of a small cooler in the other, and still an oddly chipper smile on their face.
"Hey, can I come in?"
"Sage — yes! Please get inside," Harvey insisted, ushering them in while struggling slightly to push the door shut against the strong winds blowing in rain.
"Yoba — Sage what are you doing out in the storm?" Maru questioned.
"Fishing," Sage replied with a shiver as carefully set down their stuff a took off their coat. "Woo, It's so much warmer in here."
Maru took off her own, much drier coat and draped it over Sage's shoulders, pushing their wet hair behind their ears.
"Why? You're going to catch a cold working in weather like this."
"Rain's good for fishing," they explained with a smile. "I was under a tree by the river for the most of it, wasn't too bad. But after stepping out, I realized I probably wasn't making it back to my place. Saw the light on here — hope you don't mind Harvey."
"No, no. I much rather you come here than try to make it all the way back to the docks," Harvey insisted quickly. "Uh… come back with me. You shouldn't stay in those wet clothes, and I probably have something that'll fit you. If you don't mind, that is."
"No, I'd really like that," Sage said, looking down at their own wet clothes. "Thank you."
Sage and Maru followed Harvey up toward his apartment, finding it slightly warmer up their with a small space heater going that Sage immediately put themselves in front of.
Harvey opened his wardrobe and searched through his clothes. He pulled out two button up shirts, a dark green and a lighter blue, and showed them to Sage.
"Either should fit, did you have a preference?"
"Oooo, the blue one," Sage picked eagerly.
"Perfect. Oh… I'm not sure if I've got any pants that'll fit you though…"
"I have a spare skirt in my bag, " Maru recalled. "One I'd just picked up from Emily after she fixed the pockets, it might work. Maybe a little short…"
She hurried it off and grabbed her work bag she's left in the waiting room, bringing it back into the apartment and pulling out the simple, purple skirt.
Maru handed it and the shirt from Harvey to Sage, Harvey pointed them towards the bathroom.
"Thank you both!" They said, returning Maru her coat before they hurried into the bathroom.
Soon, they were back in the apartment, in Harvey's shirt and Maru's skirt looking significantly drier. Their hair was still quite wet, but seemingly they'd attempted to wring it out.
"I just left my clothes on the bath tub, while they're all soaking," Sage explained while joining Harvey and Maru on Harvey's couch.
"That works, yes," Harvey confirmed, both he and Maru sliding over to make room for Sage.
"Still raining," Maru commented with a yawn, leaning against Harvey.
"It'll probably keep going all night," Sage assumed with a yawn themselves. Harvey slid his arm around them to allowed them to lean against him as well.
"… You're both more than welcome to stay here for the night. Even if the rain does light up, it'll be quite dark out."
Sage's eyes lit up as they sat up straight again.
"A sleep over! Oh, I haven't had a sleep over since I was fourteen!"
Harvey and Maru laughed softly at their enthusiasm and newfound energy.
"Can we watch a movie?" They asked, looking over at the blank TV in front of them.
"We can, but I only have a couple DVDs," Harvey admitted, making sure Maru was off his shoulder before standing up.
He knelt in front of the old wooden stand his TV was placed on, looking through the stack of DVDs.
"Hmmm… looks of documentaries… Don't think that's what we want right now… I have a few Disney movies, for whenever kids are have to say overnight in the clinic. Would one of those work?"
"Sounds good to me," Maru noted as Sage nodded eagerly.
"Great, just put on this one then…"
Harvey slid the old DVD into the player before returning to the couch with the remote.
They watched the movie, Aladdin, with little conversation. Apart from the associational singing along, the trio was content in cuddling quietly as the movie played.
Sage yawned widely as the movie came to an end. They looked around Harvey at Maru, whose eyes were shut.
"Maru? You still awake?"
"Nope, already asleep," Maru muttered back, her eyes still closed.
"Suppose it is quite late," Harvey noted. "Probably best to turn in…"
His voice trailed off, looking around his apartment for available sleeping locations. The couch, the bed, that was really it. There was other beds in the clinic… but he doubted a hospital bed was where any health person wanted to spend their night.
He was so focused trying to solve this problem, he hadn't noticed Sage and Maru had both leaned in closer to him.
"Oh… are you both alright?"
"I'm cold," Sage replied. "And you're warm."
"Yeah," Maru agreed quietly.
"It is still a little cool, even with the heat on," Harvey noted.
"What's the plan now?" Sage asked, stretching out their arms and legs as they sat back up. "Sleep?"
"Yeah, I was just thinking about that," Harvey said. "Just, where everyone might be able to sleep."
"Is your bed an option?"
"Uh, yes. I don't mind if you would like it, if Maru is alright with the couch, I could head downstairs-"
"I meant with you in it too."
Harvey could feel his face turn red at Sage's words, wondering if he'd even heard them correctly.
"Sorry… what was that?"
"They want to share the bed," Maru clarified as she forced herself to sit up as well.
"It's just sooooo cold," Sage said dramatically with the back of their hand pressed to their forehead. "I don't know if we'll all survive the night if we don't huddle for warmth."
Maru gave a small, sleepy laugh at their showmanship, taking hold of their hand with the other on Harvey's shoulder.
"Makes perfect sense to me. Harvey?"
Harvey gave a small nod, his face still quite red.
"Yeah… perfect sense."
Sage was the first to stand up, practically pulling Maru to her feet while Harvey got up himself.
He took the time to head downstairs, confirm the door was locked and all the lights were off. He returned to the apartment and turn off the TV and the main lights, leaving just the lamp on the beside table. Maru and Sage had already climbed into bed. Harvey turned off the last lamp before climbing in with them.
It was a little cramped with all three of them, sure, but they didn't mind being close. Sage especially seemed very content with being sandwiched between the other two.
"This is nice," Sage whispered quietly.
"It's is," Harvey agreed.
Maru, though hardly awake, gave a small noise of agreement herself, sliding even closer to Sage. They slid their arm around her, their other reaching for Harvey's hand and pulling his arm around them.
Despite the raging storm outside, the very weather that brought them together, it was probably the best night of sleep any of them had had in many years.
Prompts Filled: @juneofdoom Day 19: Regret, @fandombingo Kisses, Chaos, & Catastrophe Bingo: G1: “You don't get to decide that.”, @anyfandomangstbingo I2: Alcoholic Parent
Fandom(s): Gravity Falls
Pairing(s): Bill Cipher/Ford Pines
Rating: M
Warnings: Past Dubious Consent, Abusive Relationships, Gaslighting, Past Drunk Sex
Additional Tags: Pre-Portal Incident (Gravity Falls), Angst, Morning After, Memory Loss, Loss of Virginity, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Word Count: 1,541
Summary: Ford feels uneasy about what happened during karaoke night. Or, well, he thinks he does. In all honesty, he doesn't really remember it, but surely Bill would never take advantage of him.
