Vincent is overly delicate with you since he's so used to handling his sculptures, and god knows he hardly touches Bo at all. He knows how easy it is to break a wax finger off; what if the same thing happens to yours? You'll have to be slow with him and push his limits a little bit at a time to show him that you're tougher than wax.
You can handle tighter hugs and harsher kisses. He can play with your hands and your ears and your hair without fear of you falling apart on him. The two of you can stay out in the sun for as long as you want. If you melt, it'll only be because of how sweet he is to you, and he'll make sure that you're comfortable.
I agree so much! He’s so calculative and careful with his movements; everything he does is deliberate and thought through before he does it. He’s always in control and he’d treat you like you’re made of glass. His hands flit over your body, fingers wiggling but never landing in one place for long before they’re off again. You wonder if he knows how butterfly-like his touches are.
When you realise how gentle he is, it’s almost amusing because by then, you’ve seen how he is with tourists to Ambrose. The contrast is astounding.
“It’s okay, Vincent. You won’t break me.”
He shakes his head in disagreement, but he doesn’t move away.
“It’s okay, Vinny. I promise.” You hold him tightly, trying to show him how to touch you, how to hold you.
You don’t push him, but you do assert how you want him to do certain things. You have to be patient, logical, and you have to do it in love. If you push or get impatient, Vinny’s walls are gonna come back up so fast you won’t even know he had them lowered in the first place.
When the day comes that he hugs you so tightly that the breath is knocked out of your lungs, you could have cried.
Vincent is overly delicate with you since he's so used to handling his sculptures, and god knows he hardly touches Bo at all. He knows how easy it is to break a wax finger off; what if the same thing happens to yours? You'll have to be slow with him and push his limits a little bit at a time to show him that you're tougher than wax.
You can handle tighter hugs and harsher kisses. He can play with your hands and your ears and your hair without fear of you falling apart on him. The two of you can stay out in the sun for as long as you want. If you melt, it'll only be because of how sweet he is to you, and he'll make sure that you're comfortable.
I agree so much! He’s so calculative and careful with his movements; everything he does is deliberate and thought through before he does it. He’s always in control and he’d treat you like you’re made of glass. His hands flit over your body, fingers wiggling but never landing in one place for long before they’re off again. You wonder if he knows how butterfly-like his touches are.
When you realise how gentle he is, it’s almost amusing because by then, you’ve seen how he is with tourists to Ambrose. The contrast is astounding.
“It’s okay, Vincent. You won’t break me.”
He shakes his head in disagreement, but he doesn’t move away.
“It’s okay, Vinny. I promise.” You hold him tightly, trying to show him how to touch you, how to hold you.
You don’t push him, but you do assert how you want him to do certain things. You have to be patient, logical, and you have to do it in love. If you push or get impatient, Vinny’s walls are gonna come back up so fast you won’t even know he had them lowered in the first place.
When the day comes that he hugs you so tightly that the breath is knocked out of your lungs, you could have cried.
LOOK AT HIIIIIIIIIIIIM ~ omg beautiful, pretty Vinny😭😭😭😍😍😍
hhhhhhhh I cooed & nearly cried when I saw this oml thank you for helping me pick a new icon!!! I love Vincent no matter what but his unmasked face makes me drop all my uwus omg please I love him smmmmm🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💗💗💗💗💗💗
Every bit worth it // Felix x Bo; personalised fic 🥰✨🌸💗
Summary: You love Lester and Vincent, but Bo has your heart and he knows it. It was a long, arduous journey to get to such a point where either of you felt fully comfortable in what you had built together from the ground up, but it was every bit worth it. Bo can’t let you down, let you go, or envision a life without you; Felix Sinclair.
Or, I paint your life with Bo, give you a backstory and maybe even some more daydream fuel.😉
Written for @houseofheelshire; for always being so kind, gentle, helpful and for constantly making me drop my uwus whenever we discuss the Sinclairs. You’re such a lovely person and I wanted to show my appreciation for you, so thank you for letting me write this! I hope you enjoy and that it feels like it’s You And Bo, which is my goal even though this has been in my drafts for nearly a month😳!!!!! Thank you for everything.🥺🙏💖
He/him pronouns; fully personalised with permission!
TW; Bo’s his own warning (said with love), SWEARING (within the narrative & by characters), SMOKING/cigarettes (Bo), CANON TYPICAL DARKNESS/VIOLENCE, mentions of toxic co-dependency between the twins (canon compliant). There may be implications of Stockholm Syndrome in here but that was NOT INTENDED. I always like to write it as a genuinely found connection because I’m soft & the Sinclairs deserve lots of love. I don’t take criticism on this.🥺💖
(He’s adorkable omg please.🥺💙)
Word count: 7, 058 (THIS IS WHY IT TOOK ME SO LONG😩😭)
In years to come, you won’t have any idea how the hell you managed to find yourself in Ambrose, but you’ll be forever grateful for it. You knew the logistics of it - you had been walking down a backroad, trying to find the advertised House of Wax sign which you had passed maybe a mile or so back, but then a clearly well loved truck had pulled up alongside you and drove at a crawl pace to keep up with you. The stranger was handsome, with dark sweaty curls hidden underneath a baseball cap. A deeply scarred wrist hung outside of the truck window and a thumb caressed the outer door slowly as the man chewed on his inner cheek, considering you. “Y’lost?”
You paused, weighing it up. “I’m looking for the House of Wax which I saw advertised,” You gestured behind you vaguely, and the man perked up, literally sitting up straighter in his seat. His hands were almost white-knuckling the wheel, his fingers flexing. Trying to find control, perhaps... or grounding? There were so many things you were noticing and you wanted to learn everything... as your curiosity rose, you wondered why this stranger intrigued you so much.
“Y’like that kin’a stuff?” He sounded genuinely curious, his eyes fixed on you even though you couldn’t see them, hidden were they by the lid of his cap.
“Yes!” You grinned and right there and then did Bo make a snap decision, though you knew not his name, because he could feel your genuine enthusiasm for a topic you had barely broached, “I especially love sculptures of bodies, nude paintings and stuff like that.”
Oh, Vincent was gonna love you. “Well, uh,” The man took his hand away from the car door and rubbed the back of his neck in contemplation with an awkward chuckle. As he did so, he pursed his lips, and you couldn’t help but to notice them. Oh, but they were so beautiful. The hand which rubbed the back of his neck then took off the baseball cap and set it on the dashboard, so that you could look at the handsome stranger fully in the face for the first time. But certainly not for the last. You loved his eyebrows too, and you could feel your face heating up under his intense gaze. Oh, but his eyes were so blue. They reminded you of icebergs and you wondered how much lay beneath their depths. “I c’n - “ He drummed his thumb against the wheel in consideration, “M’headin’ that way, I c’n drop y’off?”
“How far?” Something wasn’t sitting right in your gut, something was telling you that there was more to this man than met the eye and not in a good way, but you really wanted to visit the museum and if he was offering you a free ride, well... who were you to say no to such a handsome stranger?
The stranger squinted up at you before he smiled; you noticed it didn’t meet his eyes. “Jus’ a couple miles. C’mon, hop in, I’ll take ya’ up. Ain’t far, and s’quicker than walkin’.” His voice was confident, as if he didn’t think you were going to say no. As it was, you had the feeling you were being told, not asked, but you walked around the back of the truck all the same to reach the passenger side. The stranger smiled at you as he leaned over to unlock the door from the inside and this time it did meet his eyes. With his arm still outstretched, he said as you opened the door, “Name’s Bo.”
“Felix,” You smiled, and in that moment, as your hand touched Bo’s and you shook his hand, the both of you began to fall just a little bit in love with each other. It was the very birth of serendipity on that particular spot on the road, and it would become in the very near future, your favourite date destination as a reminder of where you had first met, and of how far you had come in the time you had known one another.
"So, uh,” Bo took his hat off the dashboard and put it back on his head, tugging it down at the back, “Where’re y’comin’ from?” He was scoping you out and you both knew it, but something in you was giving you red flags just as much as it was telling you that you could trust this man, that he wasn’t going to hurt you. Either way, you answered his questions and asked him some of your own; you noticed that he deflected questions about himself but answered after only a brief pause questions about the town. It was an observation you kept to yourself; you were quiet usually but this kind stranger had gone to such an effort and you felt like it was the least you could do to continue the conversation with the limited topics available to you; namely Ambrose and the Wax Museum.
“Off the interstate - “ You filled Bo in with details of your trip, though you were careful to not give him so many specifics that he would be able to track you right to your hotel room. Curious? Yes. An idiot? Never. “Not really feeling like home is home anymore so I was wandering and found the sign.”
“Go explorin’ while y’think,” Bo looked over at you, as if he was after confirmation as to your line of thought. When you nodded, he did too. “Yeah, I - I get that.”
As promised, Bo drove you right up to the House of Wax but neither of you moved to get out of the truck. You noticed how quiet the town was and already were suspicions rising, though you didn’t put the pieces together just yet. How could you? It was so beautifully composed, so lovingly put together and so patiently maintained as a town, as an illusion, and the brothers worked hard on their momma’s legacy, though you knew that not yet. Just as you began to feel awkward, Bo cleared his throat and you took that as your cue to get out of the truck, thanking him profusely for the lift and for the conversation. There was something in his eyes which you couldn’t place, but you found yourself wanting to. You were so excited to see inside the Wax Museum, but just as you turned to ask Bo if he wanted to join you, he was driving away, going up towards the house on a small hill.
You shrugged and went inside after trying the door. Vincent heard the door clang shut (though he could tell that you had taken care to shut the door manually instead of letting it slam like most others did, and for that he was appreciative) just as his phone lit up with a message from Bo, which read: y’might wanna go say hi; I found ‘im on th’ road. Said ‘e’s into all the wax stuff an’ was on ‘is way down ‘ere when I picked ‘im up. Ain’t hurtin’ ‘im.
Vincent didn’t bother responding to the message and instead went to go see what the big fuss was about, calling Jonesy to him with a single hard tap to his outer thigh. She was a good girl, well trained and he knew she wouldn’t give him away unless she deemed it necessary. He had worked hard on her and it had paid off from the very get go. All three Sinclairs adored her; she was such a sweet girl and she made them think of simpler times, though they weren’t by any means happier. Just... simpler.
Vincent remained in the shadows and watched you explore the museum, your hands lingering over the sculptures but never touching, your eyes so appreciative and your hushed noises of awe and whispered, “holy shit”s making him smile underneath the mask. You had a buzzcut, your hair and eyes both brown, and Vincent had to wonder just what you and Bo had discussed in the truck on the way into Ambrose for his brother to decide that you were truly a guest, though you still wouldn’t be leaving the town ever again. He wondered if you knew that.
You were so at peace, despite being all alone in a new place (and surrounded by corpses, though, again, you didn’t know that yet), and Vincent took out the camera he carried in his apron and began to film you, your awestruck expressions and the way you kept catching yourself and not letting yourself touch even though you obviously wanted to. He captured you just in time to hear you say, “this is incredible!”. Vincent was very much used to hearing people say his works were ‘cool’ or ‘great’, but no one had ever said it with such reverence, and Vincent instantly felt connected to you.
Vincent decided to do what his brother had suggested, and he stepped out from the shadows, almost having to stomp just so that his boots would make a noise on the wax floor. He didn’t want your first impression of him to be fear and though you startled just a little when you caught sight of him coming towards you, he was pleased to note that you seemed not afraid. When he was in your line of sight, he gave you a wave which was barely visible, his fingers only just poking out from his black hoodie sleeves. You took in the confident stance of a man who was walking around like he owned the place - and in this case you suspected that that was literal - the wax encrusted onto the tips of his hair, the way he smelled just like your surroundings, and you smiled as your sharp and analytic mind put two and two together. “Hello, Vincent.”
The man’s chin tipped upwards - a question.
“Your, uh - your art is signed.” You gestured uselessly to one of the signatures but Vincent’s eye never left yours, limited vision did he have and he still didn’t wholly trust you. He trusted Bo with his life, but that didn’t extend to those whom Bo brought back with him until they had proven themselves. A pause as you moved away from the oil paintings and closer to the sculpture manning the counter, with Vincent’s eye tracking your every move. He was foreboding, but he gave off a very similar vibe that Bo had; red flags and reassurances in the same vein and you knew not which one you would listen to, and then, “This is amazing. How do you do it?”
A hand dipped into his apron at the front and Vincent withdrew a small notepad. He scrawled a quick but neat thank you, name?
"Felix.”
Vincent scrawled on the notepad again, thank you, name? Felix.
“You’re welcome.” It didn’t escape your notice that he hadn’t answered your question; he was very much like Bo in the way he deflected questions he didn’t want to answer. You accepted that and didn’t push; you had only just met the two and there was so much left to see, to explore and to learn. All would be revealed to you in time, though in years to come would you often look back on this moment and think about what would have happened if you had run away from Ambrose and listened to those red flags you had picked up. But in the end, you would always be grateful for the part of you which you told you stay even with all those sirens within you blaring.
Both you and Vincent were quiet people when you barely knew someone, but there was so much in the air between you. He, a sculptor who usually only received compliments from Bo, and you, someone who was more outgoing with those you knew well. Vincent wanted to ask you what kind of sculptures you loved and you wanted to ask him what his favourite works were. But those conversations would come later - for now, the both of you simply walked around the museum together, and if Vincent had anything he desperately wanted to say - such as to show you his own personal, smaller works - then he would scribble it down and there would you go together. It was, without a doubt, the strangest guided tour you had ever had, but you loved it all the more.
In just one afternoon, you fell completely in love with Ambrose and its inhabitants felt the beginnings of the same for you.
Bo came looking for you and Vincent once it grew dark and he found the both of you where he suspected he would - right where he had left you.
“You two kids havin’ fun?”
You watched as Vincent made a hand gesture to Bo. It wasn’t anything you recognised, a code was it between the brothers in case anyone who came into town did recognise ASL (and so would their nefarious plans be even more complicated than they already were), but it made Bo crack a smile and this time you did see it meet his eyes and you felt your face heating up in a blush. Oh, but he was so beautiful. You couldn’t help but to notice it every time you looked at him.
“All right, well,” Bo’s voice got a little bit louder and you recognised it to mean that he was now talking to you and to his brother, “I got some dinner cookin’ up at the house. S’gettin’ late an’ I know hotel rooms ‘round here have a check-in curfew - “ a blatant lie. You and he both knew it - “S’did ya’wanna’ stay wit’ us?”
“That’s,” You smiled nervously as three eyes looked at you with the same burning intensity. You realised that they were twins and wondered how you had missed it before. Today had been a day of new beginnings, new relationships and chances taken, it seemed. “Really kind of you, but I couldn’t possibly - “ Something in Bo’s stance changed. He stood up just a little straighter and you saw his thumb twitch just like it had when he had pulled up beside you. Your gut instinct kicked in once again and you changed tact, now not outright refusing but making it seem like you just didn’t want to intrude, “Get in the way of your evening. That’s for family time and I only wandered in to see the - “
Bo’s stance didn’t relax and you felt your forehead begin to heat up from the inside in the beginnings of fear and panic. You hadn’t even looked at Vincent yet, but you didn’t need to. He was just the same as Bo and you were once again reminded of all those red flags you had picked up on. But at the same time, you felt safe with them. They had been so kind to you - though you had to wonder how much of it was just a facade, more in touch with their inner darkness were they than most other people - and it was getting late; it was completely dark outside now and you would have to walk all the way home in it, with the hours getting later, the temperature growing cooler... you didn’t have much of a choice.
This had been orchestrated, your sharp mind put together, though perhaps the offer to see the Wax Museum had been a genuine one. But then you had stayed and spent hours here and, clearly, motives had developed in that time. You had been in the spider’s web the entire time and not known about it while they were closing in, but at the same time, they hadn’t hurt you yet. They would, in time, if you kept refusing, but then you looked at Bo and the stirrings of something warm in your chest, and you couldn’t say no to your own curiosity.
“Actually, I - “ You took a deep breath and Bo leaned forward, as if to move suddenly, whereas Vincent stood up straighter. Oh, holy fuck, they were so attractive. “Dinner sounds great.”
Bo squinted at you as he tried to work you out, just as you had been trying to work he and his brother out. The journey in your brown eyes as you assessed the situation and your choices had played out across your face and both brothers had been intrigued by the way you were somehow so open and yet so sharp and quick to think things through. You were not to be underestimated and neither were they. A tentative friendship over a dinner offer, then, and everything else could play out as it wanted to.
Bo plastered a smile on his face - again did it not meet his eyes, and you wanted it to. You wanted him to really smile again, for you had a feeling that he only really smiled properly around Vincent. He nodded, accepting your words - though he was as wary as Vincent was. This was such a strange interaction with many a layer and things left unsaid, but you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards the brothers. He turned, then, and whistled sharply. You winced from how shrill it was but Vincent didn’t react to the noise, he only began to look around him, his head tilted and long dark hair falling across his mask as he listened. The skittering of paws and then a white and brown dog came running from nowhere, coming to a stop in front of the brothers.
You “awwh’d” out loud - always so soft were you - and Bo smirked over at you as he dipped a hand into the chest pocket of his black shirt.
“Name’s Jonesy. She’s a beaut, ain’t she? Real good dog. M’brothers love her.” You heard him say ‘and so do I’, but it was more subtext than anything. To Jonesy, he gave a sharp order to sit, and this time the smile on his face was genuine as he gave her a dog biscuit and bent down to stroke her in one solid, smooth motion from the dip between her eyes to the very tip of her tail. She licked his hand when he went in to repeat the same motion a second time, and he chuckled, his baby blues soft as he gazed at her. Yeah, he loved her, too.
There you were, the four of you stood in the foyer of the Wax Museum, interacting in such a strange way which was making you dizzy trying to make sense of it all. You weren’t fully in control of the situation but you could tell that the brothers liked you, and even with what you had realised thus far, you liked them, too. You wanted to get to know them more.
When Jonesy was done, Vincent bent down to stroke her too, and she jumped up and licked his wax mask. You heard a muffled huff of amusement and he pressed the mouth of his mask to her forehead, as if giving her a kiss. He stroked her a second time and she licked his hand; the brothers were so alike and it warmed you to the core. They couldn’t be all bad if their capacity to love was this strong, right?
You smiled awkwardly at Bo and then, “May I?” You nodded towards Jonesy and Bo looked at Vincent, the two of them holding eye contact for just a second too long. A conversation.
Vincent tapped Jonesy’s face gently to get her attention, then tapped his thigh twice and pointed at you - go on. Jonesy trotted over, her tail wagging. Oh, help you, but you got right down in there and gave her some genuine lovings, ear scritches, coos as you called her a pretty girl, the works. It made Bo cough to hide his laugh but you barely registered it. You had no idea how long you were down there but eventually, you remembered where you were and who you were with, and noticed the brothers having another of their eye conversations, though Vincent had that notepad in his hand again too.
When you stood up and got yourself together, Bo took that as his cue to shepherd you and Vincent off to the truck while he locked up the Wax Museum. More pieces of the puzzle fell into place, as did Jonesy into your lap once Vincent opened up the back of the truck and you climbed in.
“You said ‘brothers’ earlier.” You broke the silence in the truck as Bo pulled away and began to drive up to the house. It was really close to the Wax Museum so you knew not why Bo was driving you, but you figured it was just a matter of convenience for the morning to have the truck right there outside the door.
Bo glanced at you through the rear-view mirror. “Yeah. I got, uh, Vincent, he’s m’twin, and then there’s Lester. Bit younger than us. Y’ll love ‘im.”
You had a feeling that he was probably right, especially if Lester was even vaguely similar to his elder brothers. Dinner that night was something simple but filling - convenience was of importance in the house. You offered to do the dishes in return for the meal and it was accepted by Vincent, who had only tilted his head at you and then grabbed a towel off the side to help you. Bo, for his part, had switched on the television. It was an old classic horror film from the eighties and the excitement you had expressed had further broken down barriers. The dishes took even longer that night because you, Bo and Vincent were having discussions about what was going on, how the blood was just a shade off colour, how the screams weren’t accurate - you had raised an eyebrow at that comment from Bo and he had only grinned wolfishly.
It was a start, though. In days to come, you would realise that you had gone from stranger to acquaintance to tentative friend in just one night, though your relationship with Bo took even longer to develop. He had walls up so high that even he couldn’t see over them most of the time, but you were so soft and so full of love, and it was infectious. Bo often found himself rubbing his chest when he was around you, his heart aching even if he didn’t know - or, if he did, he just wouldn’t accept it - why.
The next morning - you had been given a guest room and you had gratefully accepted - Lester had swung by and you had just as much fun deciphering him as you did with his brothers. Bo had said something cryptic while Lester had been cooking breakfast - “don’t ask where he found the meat” and you had, again, put two and two together and quietly despaired over the way these brothers lived. You wanted to help take care of them, though they were more than capable of doing it themselves, you wanted to get to know them all more and, help you, but you wanted to spend more time with Bo.
You hadn’t told Bo which hotel you had been staying at, but you had been invited to check out of the hotel and come to stay in Ambrose for a bit. It had been worded like a courtesy but after last night’s close call you knew that it wasn’t. You accepted more readily this time, and Lester had driven you the fifteen or so miles into the next town over to get your things from the hotel. You had been quiet around Lester, but then he had made a pun so dry that it had taken you just a second to realise that it was, in fact a pun, and you had cracked one of your own through laughter, and all the ice melted away. Lester was easier to get along with than the twins, though you had the feeling that he also wasn’t one to piss off.
When you returned to the washed out road just around the corner from Ambrose a few hours after you had left the small town, it was to the feeling of coming home after a long day. You had all of your possessions with you, and you had barely a thought for the life you had already left behind. You had signed up for a new one the second Bo had offered you a lift and you had accepted.
“Lester?”
“Yeah?”
You got out of the truck to help him flip his hubs into four wheels and posed your next question. “What do you think are the chances I’ll be allowed to stay?”
“Stay, as in...?” Lester trailed off, his brown eyes fixed on you and your body language.
You nodded to the bed of the truck where your bags and such were laid on top of a tarp to prevent any animal mess from getting on them. “Stay. I told Bo yesterday that home wasn’t feeling like home so I was exploring and thinking on it all and I... I think I wanna stay in Ambrose.”
“Y’only got here yesterday,” Lester chuckled, the four wheels sorted so he could get his beloved truck through the road comfortably. “Y’sure about that?”
You shrugged, “can’t hurt, right?”
As Lester carried on driving, he looked away from you and out of the dirty window beside him. The mirror on his side of the truck showed a look on his face which told you that it could. It really, genuinely, could hurt to stay in Ambrose.
But it didn’t. Oh, help you, but it didn’t. Bo had agreed after careful consideration and a family meeting outside on the porch (with Lester and Vincent advocating for you and Bo being the voice of caution. But he couldn’t say no, especially when Vincent pulled out the camera to show Bo how you had behaved when you had thought you were alone in the wax museum, and then reminded Bo of how you had stroked Jonesy even though you had only just met her). The first few weeks of you staying in Ambrose were rocky - really rocky. Bo didn’t know what to do with someone else in Ambrose, and you took up such a role in the town that you helped out wherever you could because you didn’t want to feel like you were being a burden on their resources or annoying them in some way. You liked most of all to sit in the garage with Bo while he worked or to sit beside him on the sofa while he watched a horror film and you did some writing or drawing. It depended on what you felt like each day.
You spent the most time with Bo because he was the Sinclair you were the most drawn to, though of course you loved all three brothers dearly. Bo had quickly grown fond of you; it was so easy for him to get lost inside his own mind, for him to be unable to shut any of his thoughts out, and for him to be able to look up and see you sat behind the counter quite happily sketching or drawing while there was gentle acoustic music or blaring heavy metal playing filled him with warmth and reminded him to breathe, to really take in a breath and let it sit in his lungs until he exhaled and the world felt just a little better. Bo always let you pick the music, because once he focused on his work, so hard working was he, he couldn’t hear a damn thing anyway so acquiescing to your wishes seemed like a no brainer. He’d never tell you that it was because he loved watching you when you were lost in your own task; you looked so serene when left to your own devices in the garage with him that it made his heart ache.
A few months after you asked to stay in Ambrose - though yet you hadn’t realised just how many close calls you had had with the brothers before you had gotten your way out of it just by being you, not even realising the danger you were in during every second of your visit to Ambrose - you found out the answer to your question. The one Vincent had deflected and not answered: how he did the sculpting. They had planned to tell you and for you to then run, but the very opposite had happened once Vincent had quite literally shown you just what went into the sculptures all around town.
“That’s so fucking cool!”
Bo, Vincent and Lester had all worn identical expressions of disbelief (though you hadn’t been able to see Vincent due to the mask, his disbelief was coming off him in waves and you knew him well enough now to be able to read the air around him) and Bo’s lovely eyebrows, one of the first things you had noticed about him, had almost shot into his hairline.
“Y’serious?” Bo’s thumb twitched, Vincent stood up straighter, and Lester took a step back. You had seen this display before but now you were able to better appreciate the puzzle before you as more and more things fell into place.
You nodded. “Yeah! It’s impressive! I mean - it’s twisted, don’t get me wrong, but you do all this just with three people? That’s amazing! Vincent, this is... your work’s incredible.”
"Well, I’ll be damned,” Bo had chuckled and given you an appreciative hum as he inhaled greedily on his cigarette, turning his head to exhale so that the smoke didn’t touch you or his brothers. His love language was a silent one but you knew how to hear it by now, having long since learned to tune your ears into it. Bo took you at your word - you had no reason to lie, especially now that he was sure you were aware of how close you had come to meeting the same fate a few times - and his brothers followed suit. It was clear that there was something in the air between you and Bo, something borne from love, and the two brothers wanted their eldest brother to be happy. So tormented and tortured had they each been by the world that even a hint of happiness was to be protected and cherished at all costs. “So, uh, wanna - know th’ ins n’ outs? Could get’cha to help when we get visitors in, if y’want. A friendly face.” It was somehow both a test and a genuine question, so complex yet so devastatingly human was Bo.
“Aren’t you the friendly face?” You quickly put the pieces together, yet again, and it took the brothers by surprise, a sensation they were getting used to when it came to your sharp mind. “Lester offers them help because he’s sweet,” You smiled at the youngest Sinclair, who blushed and mumbled something you didn’t catch, “and drops them off here, you’re the friendly face, the mechanic, to put them at ease, separate them off so it’s easier for you and for Vincent,” You smiled, feeling love for all three Sinclairs (though Bo had your heart the most), “and Vincent is the tracker; he hunts them down and picks them off one by one and does the beautiful artwork. I don’t know if the roadkill pit is used to dump any discarded victims, but... it’s really cool how you do all this by yourselves.”
“Holy fuck,” Bo breathed, “Y’re sumthin’ else, Felix.” He dropped his half consumed cigarette and stomped on it to put it out, his boots scuffing the concrete.
Your brown eyes had met Bo’s blue ones in that moment, and something between the two of you had shifted but then settled back into place. There was something in him which called to you, just as there was something in you which called to Bo, and neither of you could deny it or yourselves anymore.
“That’s... good, right?”
Bo looked at you, long and hard. The tip of his ears were bright red but then he nodded his head and licked his lips, “Yeah, s’good. Real good, Felix.” In front of his brothers, he had clapped you on the shoulder, fingers squeezing, and said, “welcome to th’ family.” He fixed his brothers with a look which said, ‘not a fucking word’, and it was with mutual grins all around (Vincent’s mask shifted upwards slightly, which gave it away) that you become an unofficial-official Sinclair.
That night, you and Bo were playing pool together. You were both extremely competitive and Bo was glad to get an actual challenge within the house; neither of his brothers were very good at pool, but even if they had been, they didn’t like to put up with his competitive nature so they usually bowed out.
There was something in the air between you, something which had been left unspoken ever since you had just... accepted the nature of Ambrose and the natures of the Sinclairs, and even been complimentary in doing so. Bo was sure now that the ache in his chest, the want to spend with you late in to the night even when he was bone deep exhausted, the way he had deliberately given you the bedroom right next to his (and Vincent’s bedroom was on the other side of Bo’s, so close did the twins need to be at all times), and the way he always made sure to grab you a snack he knew you liked while he grabbed his own and his brothers’, all pointed to the same thing: He wanted you, all of you.
He had been fighting it for so fucking long, ever since he had heard you compliment Vincent’s work sincerely had he started to pay more attention to it (and more when he had heard how you had helped Lester with his truck the day you asked to stay, and then more and more and...), but he couldn’t deny it anymore. When you bent over to line up the pool cue after putting the pool chalk back on the table, Bo stepped up so that his hand overlapped yours, his hips just ghosting over the back of you as he adjusted your grip.
You glanced back at him and went to tell him that you knew what you were doing, but you caught the intense look in his eyes which made his baby blues seem darker somehow, and the words died in your throat. You turned in his grasp and Bo let you, his face oh so close to yours. “Bo, what’s - “
“Shush,” Bo shook his head, his hands still on yours. He moved your joined hands so that they were clasped between you, and he ducked his head, seeming to be almost shy before blue met brown once again. “I... listen, I, uh - y’mean a lot to me. Y’came in here, you were nice to Vincent, kind to Lester... m’brothers are m’world, you know that. Y’re so good to ‘em and y’re good to me, always helpin’ me down at the shop and your fuckin’ art is... really incredible, Felix. S’real nice to have you stayin’ wit’ us an’ all, but I...” Bo cut himself off.
You hadn’t heard him say this much all at once for the longest time, and you were intrigued as to what he was trying to say, your heart pounding in your head. You squeezed his hands and interlaced your fingers together. “Talk to me, Bo. What’re you trying to say?”
Bo wanted to scoff, rip his hands out of yours, and finish the game. He wanted to leave the room until enough time had passed that he could get away with pretending like it never happened. But when you were looking at him like that, your brown eyes so fuckin’ soft as you looked at him, he found himself wanting to be open and, dare he think it, vulnerable with you. What the fuck were you doin’ to him?
“I, uh - y’re special to me, Felix. An’ I - “ Bo stepped just a little closer so that he could rest his forehead against yours. You sucked in a breath and he smiled, a hint of that wolfish smirk you knew and loved so well. “ I want more’n what we have. Want you.” He squeezed your hands just as you had done to him, and in that gesture did everything finally, finally click into place for you and Bo.
You wondered what stopped him. Bo had never let anyone stop him from getting what he wanted before, but he was being so damn sweet and uncharacteristically vulnerable with you in this moment, and it made you realise that he was really trying to show you his feelings as much as he knew how. You had to help him, this you knew, and it was only too easy to say, “I’m here, Bo. M’not goin’ anywhere. I asked to stay, remember?”
“Yeah,” Bo hummed, “Y’did. Always wondered why.”
You ducked your head to nose at his jaw and Bo tilted his head, which allowed you to nuzzle your face into the warm, welcoming crook of his neck. Fingers released and hands dropped, your palms and spaces between your fingers feeling cold with the ghosts of Bo’s touch. Arms wound around you like a boa constrictor and pulled you close, brought you home. Touch was your main love language and you melted into Bo. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his nose lingering in the dark strands which resided there. “When I got here with Lester, it felt like coming home.” You brought your arms up and around Bo and you hugged him back so tightly that he grunted a little, and it made you grin. Fuck, but you were so soft for him that it hurt in the best way. “M’so proud of you.”
Bo froze. He didn’t even breathe for several seconds which seemed to last for an eternity, and then it was his turn to suck in a breath and he stepped even closer to you, as if he was trying to sink into your body and never resurface. It prompted you to say more.
“You’re so important to me, Bo.” There were words right on the tip of your tongue and just behind your teeth but you hesitated in saying them. It was only when warm and dry lips pressed into the top of your head again that you felt compelled to tell all, “I want you to know that none of what happened to you was your fault. Not ever. You were a child and you needed help, not... all of that. You didn’t deserve it and I want you to know that you’re capable of being loved, and - “ You pulled back, pulled away, so that you could cup Bo’s face in your hands. You had met him several months ago, but, fuck, it felt like he had given you the world when he let you stay in his town. “You are loved. So much. By your brothers, by Jonesy...” Your last hesitation. Bo’s eyes were misty, his hands trembling and his every nerve on fire as he gazed at you with all the concentration of a hawk. “And by me. Please, Bo, you have to know, I - “
Right there, your back pressed almost painfully up against the pool table at gone midnight, you and Bo had your first kiss. His lips were gentle at first, exploring and not daring to quite believe, but then your hands had gripped at his black shirt and you had tugged him into you and Bo had moved to stand between your legs, his lips now hard and heavy against yours, hands exploring your body but never staying there for long before they were off again; he was so full of nervous energy and things were so intense that you felt dizzy.
A mutual, “holy fuck” passed through both of your minds when you pulled away from one another, both of you dazed from the kiss and from the emotions which had been spilled out this night.
“I’on know what I did ta’ deserve ya’, Felix, but I - I’m real glad y’stayed. Y’make m’brothers happy and I - aw, hell. M’soft as shit but I love ya’ to pieces.” Bo was getting pissed off with himself for not being able to say those three words back to you in the way he wanted to (sincerely and without making a single joke), but this was such a massive step for the both of you and so much had happened in one night. You both needed to breathe and process, but that was okay. You had the rest of your lives together.
“I love you too,” You grinned and then Bo grinned with an exhale of relief and oh, fuck, the two of you were a right mess but neither of you wanted it or each other any other way. “How does ‘Felix Sinclair’ sound to you?” You rose an eyebrow in a challenge, and Bo rose to it perfectly, as he always did, with a wolfish grin as he maintained his grip, with your body caged by his own. You had never felt safer.
“I reckon that sounds mighty fine to me, darlin’. How ‘bout we go ta’ bed first, though? Burnin’ the candle both ends won’t do us any good.”
“Don’t you wanna’ finish the game?”
Bo barely glanced over your shoulder at the abandoned game. “S’not goin’ anywhere. Jus’ leave it. Some other time.”
“It’s a date.”
The first of many.
When you went to bed just moments later, Bo could barely let go of you. He was so touch starved, as were you, and the only thing either of you wanted was to love and to be loved. Those pieces within each other which had been calling to the other person had finally received a response, and slumber came easily to the newly discovered soulmates in Ambrose.
