Can you make another one of the albert Shaw, but can it be a continuation from the neighbour when he meets her?
AN: Sure ♡ Enjoy :)
Drabble: Albert’s pretty neighbor - part 2
Fandom: The Black Phone (2022), Pairing: (AFAB) Reader x Albert Shaw/The Grabber
Ratings: Mature
Warnings: Older man x younger woman, attractive neighbor, giving you a free life hack in this, mutual attraction but neither dare act on it, crushing on a villain/the bad guy, thigh clenching, Reader likes Albert’s dog Samson.
The sun was beating down on your exposed skin. You were pulling weeds, dirty nails clawing at the earth, when you heard a soft whimper. Glancing up, you saw Samson, Albert’s hulking cane corso, watching you with those soulful eyes from the other side of the flowerbed. He was separated only from you by your neighbor’s fence, but looked like he would have jumped upon you if it hadn’t been there.
"Hey there, big guy," you cooed, wiping sweat from your brow, the sun a relentless predator above.
"Seems like Samson has taken a liking to you," came a deep, gravelly voice. Albert stood a few feet away, his chestnut hair tousled, grey-blue eyes gleaming under the falling sunlight.
"Does he now?" You chuckled, standing and brushing off your hands on your thighs. You edged closer to the fence, fingers lingering on the wooden slats. Samson's tail wagged, a slow thump against the ground.
"He's usually wary of strangers," Albert confessed, taking a step forward. His gaze never left you. "But you're different."
"Perhaps I'm attracted to the dangerous types,” you teased. The way Albert's eyes darkened, just for a second, made your skin tingle.
Had you said something wrong? Or right?
"Or perhaps he senses kinship. He wants to be a good boy, I want to be a good girl," you quickly said, feeling a flutter in your stomach.
"Perhaps," he murmured, almost to himself. He cleared his throat, shaking off whatever thought had gripped him. "How’s the garden coming along?"
"Slowly but surely," you sighed, glancing back at the tangled mess of plants. "Seems like every time I make progress, these weeds pop up."
"Gardening is a battle," he said softly, a strange warmth in his voice. His hands, rough and calloused, gripped the top of the fence. "But it's worth it. Beauty for all that effort."
"Yes, exactly." You smiled, feeling a connection, something unnamed sparking between you both. His presence was magnetic, drawing you in despite the age gap, despite the unknown shadows in his eyes.
"Need any help?" he offered, tilting his head, a lock of greying hair slipping over his forehead. He looked almost boyish, and you couldn't help but imagine what his touch might feel like, strong yet tender.
"That's kind of you, Albert, but…" you began, but he cut you off with a raised hand.
"Please. It's no trouble. Neighbors should help each other out." His voice was firm, authoritative, but there was an underlying softness that made you relent.
"All right then," you agreed, heart pounding as he slipped through the gate into your yard. Samson followed, a silent shadow at his master's heel.
"Let’s start over there," Albert suggested, pointing to a particularly stubborn patch of weeds. You nodded, feeling the heat of his body as he moved past you, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of cologne mixed with sweat.
"Thanks, Albert. You're very kind,” you said, kneeling down beside him. His smile was warm, but his eyes, those piercing eyes, held secrets. You wished you knew what thoughts made them darken with desire. Was it you? Your presence?
You suppressed a slight shiver. Having him near, smelling his scent, and feeling his hot skin next to your own was enticing.
"Just being neighborly," he replied, his tone light. But you couldn't shake the feeling that beneath the surface, something darker lurked. Something dangerous.
"Well, I appreciate it," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. As you worked side by side, the distance between you seemed to shrink, the air thick with unspoken words and hidden desires.
"Anytime," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. You couldn't help but wonder what lay behind that charming facade, what shadows hid within his heart.
But for now, you let the moment linger, enjoying the rare closeness, the fleeting connection. Even if it was built on a foundation of lies and darkness.
"Anytime," he repeated, almost like a promise. And you couldn't help but hope he'd keep it.
A sudden, sharp clatter came from within Albert's house. You both froze, your breath catching in your throat. Your eyes instantly flicked to the side. Samson was there, wagging his tale, happily circling around the two of you as you worked on the flowerbed side by side.
So it wasn’t him. But Albert lived on his own, right?
A burglar?
"Did you hear that?" you asked, instantly rising from your knees.
The sound seemed to have come from his basement. A tiny window that you hadn’t noticed before, situated behind the back, lay at the source of the sound.
"Probably just Samson knocking something over," Albert said quickly, standing up and brushing off his hands. His smile was tight, eyes flickering with an uneasy light.
“Samson’s right here,” you reasoned, trying to peer through his basement window. "It sounded like it came from downstairs." Your heart pounded harder against your ribs, curiosity mingling with unease.
"Must have been the ironing plank,” Albert pressed, blocking your way before you could peer through the bars of the tiny window located slightly above the grass line. You would need to go on your hands and knees for that, but Albert prevented you from doing that, holding out a reassuring hand to signal everything was all right.
And he must be right. If he wasn’t worried, why should you be? A burglar? Unlikely. Nothing as exciting as that had happened in Denver for ages. You were scaring yourself now for no reason.
“Did some of my ironing there earlier today,” he explained in such a calm voice that you felt the tenseness leave your muscles. You slowly started to relax, noticing the delighted spark in Albert’s eyes as he watched you visibly getting less tense.
“It probably fell over. Might not have set it against the wall properly," he insisted, his tone firmer now.
"How about coming inside for a drink? It's awfully hot out here."
You considered for a moment, then nodded. "Sure, why not?"
Albert led the way into his house, his demeanor shifting from tense to overly casual. You followed, eyes darting around, taking in the neatness of his home. He clearly lived here on his own. No signs of belongings of anyone else. Not that you expected it. You knew he was a bachelor in his fifties, working an ordinary job and living an ordinary life.
Plus, you had seen his home before. He often invited you over for a drink. You figured it made him feel less lonely, that it was nice for him to talk to someone. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to be near him. You took every opportunity to be by his side – to hear more about him, listen to that deep and dark voice, watch those bright blue eyes roam over your body, and fantasize that there could be more between you.
Yet… Everything is in its place, but too perfect. Too controlled.
Samson padded behind you, tail still waggling with delight. You flashed him a small smile before looking back at Albert who had come to a halt and was waiting for you to catch up.
"Make yourself comfortable," he said, gesturing to the living room. He disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with two cans of soda. He handed you one, fingers grazing yours for just a second longer than necessary.
"Thanks," you murmured, taking a sip. His kitchen lacked a certain variety, you mused silently.
You watched him how his eyes darkened, unreadable, as he took a long sip.
"So? Ironing eh?" you said. “Share?”
"Not much to tell," he replied with a shrug, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of something deeper. "Did the laundry.”
“You don’t seem to wear anything that needs ironing. Not a lot anyway,” you said, feeling the heat rush through you as you realized you were looking him up and down. His pants perhaps, you thought.
“I wear shirts,” he said in his defense, to which you sputtered and stifled a laugh.
“Hang them to dry on a clothes hanger. No ironing needed, guaranteed.”
The thoughtful expression on Albert’s face made you laugh openly now.
“What? You never thought of that before?”
“Not yet, no,” he reluctantly admitted, but with that small curl of his lips that indicated he enjoyed this banter. His fingers curled tighter around the can he was holding. The fact you noticed this betrayed how you fixated on him.
“I’m just an average guy, trying to get by," he murmured, voice low and not average at all. Not with the way he made the heat rush between your legs, squeezing them together and silently wishing he hadn’t noticed. You clung a little tighter to your own soda can as well, hoping the coolness of the can would cool you down as well.
"Somehow, I don't believe that," you teased, leaning forward slightly. "Everyone has their secrets."
"Maybe," he said softly, his gaze locking onto yours. "But some things are better left buried."
"Is that what you think?" you challenged, feeling a thrill run through you.
"Absolutely," he replied, voice dropping to a whisper.
A silence fell as you tried to think of something clever to say. Your eyes rested upon him, curious, filled with want. You wanted to know more about him, wanted to know why he seemed to have this dangerous edge to him when all he had shown you to be was a nice and helpful neighbor. Attractive too.
Was it all just in your mind?
That was when you noticed Albert sat frozen. His lips parted, his fingers twitching. And only then did you realize that Albert's hand hovered above your knee, fingertips trembling. The air between you thickened, charged with unspoken desire. Your breath hitched, heart pounding like a wild drum.
You wanted him to touch you, needed it.
But just like that… he pulled back, eyes flickering with restraint. He didn’t allow you the time to interpret what it was that you had seen in his eyes, for he turned away from you, twisting his torso as he set his can aside. His gaze shifted, catching on the clock on the wall.
"Damn," he hissed, low and urgent. "I have to go."
"Work?" you asked, voice tinged with regret.
"Yes," he said, standing abruptly. The spell shattered, reality rushing back in.
You knew he had traded a shift with one of his colleagues. He had told you earlier when you were both working in your garden. So, for him to announce he had to leave shouldn’t have come as a surprise.
You followed him to the door, each step heavy with unmet longing. You watched as he picked up his vest on the way, throwing it on, grabbing a bag he must have prepared earlier with… dinner?
Then he pushed the door open, holding it for you. He turned, his usual charm slipping back into place. “Ladies first,” he gallantly said, making you smile.
You accepted the gesture and stepped outside, instantly feeling the hot summer sun beat down on you.
"Have a good day at work," you said, smiling.
"Thank you," he said, smiling softly in turn. It was as if your smile had been infectious. His eyes twinkled with something. Mirth? "Take care of yourself."
"Always," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.
"And how could I forget you!” You almost exclaimed, leaning over to signal Samson to come closer. The dog padded over, tail wagging. You felt Albert’s burning gaze. Was he studying you?
“I’m gonna miss you,” you mewled. “Be a good boy, okay?” You petted his back, then rose again and nodded once more to Albert – a silent sign saying ‘thank you’.
He returned the nod. “We’ll have to do this again, sometime,” he said. And was that a rasp in his voice?
You couldn’t help but smile brightly, excited at the promise of being close to him again. “Of course,” he hadn’t even needed to suggest it. You’d take any excuse to hang out with him.
His eyes locked with yours, dark and swirling with a silent storm – all sorts of emotions you had difficulty naming.
"See you soon." Albert murmured, patting the dog's head. But his eyes were fixed on you, sending a delightful shiver down your spine.
"Yeah, see you soon," you said, stepping away from his porch. The door closed behind you, and you heard the click of the lock. With another wave, Albert made his way to his van. You watched as he drove away and finally let out a deep sigh.
Then you turned away, walking back to your own garden, the memory of his hovering hand burning in your mind.
warnings: smut, Stockholm (that's for pretty much any fic about him lets be real), implied kidnapping, aggressive spanking, creampie
a/n: can't believe I'm finally writing for him. if you all enjoy this, feel free to request more from me. I will write it as soon as possible, I work a lot though lol. I also did not feel like writing a whole backstory scene about the reader getting kidnapped, we all know how it goes by now.
word count: 1,971
~~~
"Are you ever going to sleep?"
You shook your head a firm "No."
The silent treatment. For some reason in your sleep deprived state you decided this was the game you were going to play with your captor today.
He stood in the doorway holding a tray consisting of scrambled eggs and a glass Sprite. God... you hated scrambled eggs now. For what felt like nearly weeks you had been locked in the dingy basement only being fed those stupid fucking eggs once a day. You weren't sure how long you had been down there, but you knew it was too long. You gave up counting after the first three sunrises that would barely peak through the window. No matter how hard you forced yourself you could not get a good nights sleep. The dirty mattress was no helping. But being held captive was the biggest thing. You were a grown woman sleeping on a mattress too small for you.
He huffed loudly. The tray slightly rattled as his arms tensed in frustration. He stepped further into the room, finally you could make out more of him. It was hard to see when the light of the hall blinded you. That stupid fucking mask, again? His head cocked to the side as he saw you staring firmly at his mask. He wore it every time, this time without the top half. Just that bottom half with the stupid toothy grin. He acted like you had never seen his full face. The only thing that was hidden during your first encounter was his sharp blue eyes.
Those eyes.
They stared at you now. Anytime he was in the room his eyes did not leave you. You held eye contact with him as he placed the tray on the floor in front of your feet.
"If you aren't going to sleep, at least eat." He gestured with his hands. You rolled your eyes. Not a single sound left you. You could tell it was slightly bothering him. You usually were mouthy anytime he entered the room. You always did run your mouth no matter the circumstance. You grabbed the drink, kicking the rest of the tray away. It slid across the floor barely between the two of you. He squatted against the wall playing with his own hands. You could see his eyebrows furrowing. More emotion showed when the top half of the mask was missing.
"Feeling feisty today I see," he raised his eyebrows in frustration. You did not move an inch, just holding the stare you two shared. Oddly enough, you enjoyed looking at him. You knew it was crazy, you knew you were going crazy. The veins on his arm were constantly present, you could not help but admire them. He held himself more confidently then the younger men you were usually around. College age boys are so immature.
"What do you think about while you're up all night, sweetheart?" He asked. You knew he was trying to get you to say something, anything. You stared at him with heavy eyes. You were exhausted. The silence in the room echoed in your ears. He nodded slowly, "Is this how you're going to behave today?"
He stood, arms swinging limp at his sides. "There is no pleasing you... bring you a hand prepared meal and you throw it back at me..." he folded his arms in front of his chest. You mimicked his stance, crossing your arms in front of you. He scoffed.
"You're so fucking childish," he grumbled under his breath. You turned your head to look away from him. You refused to look at him now. Pretending to admire the room you were in. He stepped closer to you, hopping your eyes would dart to the side to glimpse at him. You did not budge.
"What do I have to do to get you to talk to me?" His hand caressed your cheek.
You eyes stayed fixated on anything but him.
"Wanna play a game?"
Silence.
"... I'll let you upstairs with me..."
A lie. You knew he was lying. Silence.
"We can watch a movie... I'll make something besides eggs... Just fucking say something..."
Silence.
He grabbed your cheeks with one hand, squeezing harder then you'd ever been squeezed there. "STOP. IGNORING. ME," he loudly growled. He leaned in to be nose to nose with you not letting up on his grip, "Didn't mommy and daddy ever teach you manners?"
You felt crazy. But you weren't crazy, maybe just stupid. You continued to ignore him. Only holding as much eye contact as you could. He shoved you away onto your back, "Speak when you're spoken to... roll over." You felt your face turn pale. You slowly shook your head in denial. "Do it or I'm going to make it hurt," he gritted through his teeth. You felt your mouth fall open and your lip quiver. It did not matter if you wanted to respond now, your body would not let you. You did as you were told for the first time today. You rolled over on all fours on the mattress, presenting your ass to him.
He growled with pleasure. You weren't sure if it was in response to you obeying or to seeing your ass up in the air to his mercy. Maybe both. He pulled your shorts down to expose your bare ass. His finger ran along the line of your panties. "You're so pretty, Y/N, especially when you behave," he praised you. You could not deny it went straight to your core. You felt dirty, but you didn't really care either.
He spanked your ass hard. You had to fight back the yelp that almost escaped you. It did not matter the situation you were currently in, you weren't going to talk. Not yelp. Not groan. Not make a sound. You were so fucking stubborn. He exhaled loudly before spanking you again. You jumped with each relentless clap of skin, but no sound left you. You bit into your lip hard, you swore the skin would break any second.
"SAY," another smack, "SOMETHING!"
For some reason his desperation made you unwind. You fell forward on your arms, letting out a pornographic moan. He stopped. There was no sound or movement between you for what felt like a lifetime. You were embarrassed. Your face was completely hot and red. Why did you do that? Were you fucking stupid? Oh God, what if he's mad?
One of his hands went to your side, encouraging you to roll over and face him. You did so. He was stiff in front of you, his hand went to your chin. You stared up at him, his eyes were blown with lust.
"I want to hear you do that again," his breath was broken and needy.
"Then make me," you finally spoke words to him.
He pounced on you, grinding his bulge into your core. You threw your head back with a moan. "Such a pretty girl," his hand framed your exposed neck. You could not help but smile at his words. This was so wrong and you knew it. But if you were going to be stuck here with him might as well have some fun.
"You want me to fuck you, gorgeous? Huh? Do you?" He used an almost mocking tone. You nodded in your blissful state. "Beg me," he gritted, "I wanna hear that pretty little voice you were keeping from me... come on."
You glared at him. You hated being mocked, but in this moment he was unbearably sexy to you. His hand put a slightly firm grip on your neck. Your eyes rolled back. "Please..." his name should have went there, but you realized he never told it to you, "Fuck me..."
You saw his eyes squint up in approval. "More. I'm not letting you by that easily, you better sweet talk me or I'll leave you down here begging," he spoke with so much power.
"I need you to fuck me. Please, I need you inside me. I'll behave from now on, promise. I won't ignore you ever again, please... please... please... I need you," you moaned at him. He exhaled an almost broken breath. "You sound so pretty begging me," he grinned under the mask wide enough you could see it in his eyes. His free hand went to his zipper. You stared with wide eyes as his freed his cock. He pumped his member in his hand a few times, "Take your underwear off." You swiftly did as you were told. He sighed as he saw your opening. He grabbed your panties from your hand and tucked them into his back pocket, "I'll keep those safe." He winked. Your face flooded with embarrassment and arousal.
He pressed his tip into your opening, you jumped. He chuckled at your movement. In one swift thrust, he bottomed out inside you. He held your hips, keeping you still. You moaned, "Fuck."
"Dirty mouth, Y/N," he leaned down slightly. You blushed at him. He began thrusting his hips slowly. Before you could fully adjust to him, his pace kicked up. He was slamming into you. You were moaning uncontrollably. "That's it, let me hear more," he sounded pleased. You began thrusting to match his movements. He groaned loudly, grunting each time your hips met.
"Tell me who you belong to," he growled.
"Y-You... only you," you moaned.
"Good girl."
You felt the coil in your stomach begin tightening. He was hitting every spot inside you perfectly. You were pulsing around him, so close to your edge.
"You think you're gonna cum without asking?"
Your eyes shot up to his. He tilted his head chastising you.
"Please..."
His finger went to your clit, rubbing tight circles on it. You could feel yourself about to come undone.
"Beg me."
"Please-Please-Please! I wanna cum, please let me cum." You whined.
He nodded, "Of course."
With that you came undone around his cock. He did not slow his rhythm as you fluttered around him. You threw your head back, your body going slightly limp. He leaned down, placing both hands on either side of you. You were staring directly into his eyes, panting. He continued thrusting inside you until he came. He slumped onto you slightly. He did not stay in that position long. He stood quickly, tucking his cock back into his pants. You whined when his weight left your body. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling loudly. He was attempting to catch his breath.
"Well... I have to go now," he began for the door.
"WAIT!" You called out to him. He froze slightly. "You're just gonna fuck me then leave? Wha-What the hell, man," you crossed your arms in frustration. He turned to face you again. His eyebrows were furrowed in frustration. "I have things to take care of and I've stayed down here long enough... I'll be back later, Y/N," he promised. "But... I don't want you to leave," you got teared up. He could see the tears forming in your eyes.
Something tugged in his chest. When did he go soft? Why did you bring out that side of him? Fuck.
He walked back over to you, placing a hand on your cheek. "I'll come back soon, I have things to take care of, doll." You pulled him into a hug. His body became stiff. What were you doing? He swallowed loudly, one of his hand went to your lower back pulling you closer to him. "We can do this again later when I have more time," he whispered into your ear.
He stood once again. "Try and get some rest. You should sleep better now," he chuckled to himself.
And with that he was gone. The loud door slamming behind him.
~~~
[END]
Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this consider following me or joining my tag list! Inbox is always open, thank you for your support! <3
If you are taking requests I was hoping that you could write about the Grabber making something other than scrambled eggs because their s/o is allergic to them.
Little drabble with this idea~ about 400 words. This shows how I think The Grabber would react in this scenario ^^
The Grabber x Reader - Eggs for breakfast.
No warnings, short drabble. Canon-typical kidnapping stuff.
Link to my writing masterlist. There's some more Grabber stuff on there. Reblogging is very appreciated! Have fun reading <3
.
The kidnapper set down the tray in front of where you sat on the filthy mattress.
“Thank you,” you started, feeling pangs of hunger gnaw on your insides, “but I can’t eat eggs, I-”
“What?” His voice was sharp enough to make the hair on your neck stand on edge.
“I’m allergic. If I eat eggs, I’ll get really sick or go into shock.” Your voice was thin, scared.
The man cocked his head, eyes hidden by the mask. The smile of the mask seemed even more menacing now that you refused his kindness. You shivered, and that seemed to flinch him out of this uncomfortable staring contest.
“And here I thought I was doing a good deed, but ahh,” his voice trailed off. He motioned as if he was throwing something away. “Well, if you don’t want it, I’ll just feed it to the dog.”
.
Eggs. Why’d it have to be eggs? It could have been so many other things he could have given you. It felt like an eternity before the door opened again. It must’ve been more than a day, the sun rose and fell since then. The man appearing in the doorway, he flicked on the lights. He stepped closer.
“I’ve got something else now,” he started, voice softer than the previous time. “I’m sorry about before. You can’t help what you’re allergic to.” Despite the apology, the air was thick with tension. His tone was off, he wasn’t done testing you.
He came closer than last time, and set the tray down next to you on the mattress. The plate held two slices of toast, one of them a little burnt, both with sugar sprinkled on top.
You thanked him, heartfelt. Your stomach groaned at the sight of it. “Thank you… My mom used to make this whenever I felt sick,” you say, idly, and reach for the plate.
“You like it?” he said, cheerful.
Nodding, you took another bite.
His grin resounded in his words as he stood back up, and said: “Very good.” With that, he left, casting a last glance over his shoulder before locking the heavy door again.
Summary: Leaving your shift from the hospital, you stumble across a man in need of some help. What you hadn’t considered was the fact that talking to strangers in this town was a deadly idea.
Warning(s): UNDER 18 DO NOT INTERACT. Language, blood/violence, large age gap (reader is 26), kidnapping
Masterlist: X
A/N: Fic title inspired by the song Tag, You’re It by Melanie Martinez. Let me preface this by saying I do NOT condone the acts of The Grabber AT ALL. More details on this rant on the Masterlist. I hope you enjoy!
“See you tomorrow!”
You waved goodbye to your coworker as you left your unit for the night. It had been another rough day at the hospital and you wanted nothing more than to return home to your apartment and enjoy a cheesy movie, a warm dinner (with maybe a glass of wine or two), and a nice relaxing bubble bath. You loved being a nurse, caring for your patients, and making a difference but at the end of the day- you were only human and needed some solitary relaxation in order to recharge for your next shift.
Before leaving the hospital, you had changed out of your stuffy white uniform and into your “street clothes”: a t-shirt, zip-up hoodie, jeans, and converse. No need to look cute on your way home. You were painfully single at twenty-six and you truly felt like a spinster at your young age. You had never met anyone up to your standards in college or while working at the hospital and on your days off from work you were so tired that the thought of going out to socialize sounded tedious and exhausting to you. You figured your time would come eventually, but for right now- you were content.
You began the search for your keys before slinging your duffel bag over your shoulder and heading outside to the parking lot. You took a deep breath. The night air was crisp and fresh compared to the stuffy air of the hospital.
You had just reached your car and threw your bag into the passenger seat when you heard a loud fumble and a gruntled voice come from behind you.
“Ah shit!”
You turned around to an exasperated man on his knees, surrounded by cardboard boxes and a pile of papers scattered across the asphalt.
You didn’t skip a beat.
“Oh, let me help you with that!” You offered, stuffing your keys into your pocket and bending down to help the man.
“Gah, I’m such a klutz. Thank you,” the man spoke, his face hidden from view as he began frantically picking up sheets.
“You should see me on a daily basis,” you offered awkwardly, following his movements as he placed the sheets back into the boxes.
The man looked up at you and gave a kind, wide smile. The top portion of his face was obscured by a large pair of sunglasses, which you honestly found pretty peculiar; considering it was nighttime. He was older than you, appearing in his late forties or early fifties. His greying brown hair was cropped at shoulder length and was adorned by a small black top hat. Despite his older age and not being able to see his eyes, you actually found him quite handsome.
“I hate to bother you, but do you mind helping me lift these boxes? I slipped a disc in my back recently and my doctor would kill me if he knew I was powerlifting these and making things worse.” His voice had a light playful tone.
You stifled a smile.
“Say no more, getting on a doctor’s bad side is no fun- believe me, I know.”
“Oh, so you’re a nurse here?”
“Yessir. And trust me, if you’re seeing your doctor here- chances are I know him. Your secret is safe with me. I saw no powerlifting here tonight.”
You lifted the heavy cardboard box into your arms and followed the man to his vehicle.
You took notice of the man’s ride- a large black van with teal blue lettering on the side reading ‘Abracadabra: Entertainment & Supplies’. He unlocked and opened the back doors, offering a hand out to you to drop the box in the back.
“Magic, huh? You a magician?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he bowed gracefully, tipping his hat off to you. “Would you like to see a magic trick?”
In all honestly, you were drop-dead tired and just wanted to head home for the night. You gave an apologetic smile.
“Thanks, but I really should probably head home.”
“Sure, sure of course. Well I hope your family doesn’t hate me too much for keeping you, they must be waiting for you!”
You stifled a chuckle.
“If you want to count the Brady Bunch, then yeah sure.”
“Well, I’ll be…a pretty thing like you with no mister waiting at home for you? Curiouser and curiouser…”
You felt a blush creep your cheeks. The man was bizarre, but he was definitely cute.
The hat-wearing man rested his hands on his hips.
“Anyways, thanks for helpin’ me. Say before you go, would you mind pushing that box back just a tad further? If it’s too close to the door it’ll just all fall right back out when I get home.”
Without a thought you nodded, turning back to face the van and shoving the box further against the carpeted interior. The box brushed past a bundle of black balloons.
Huh. Well, that was definitely odd.
A tight grip suddenly slinked around your waist, pulling your body backward and flush to the man. You attempted a yelp before a worn rag was brought to your face. Your eyes instantly stung and a sickly sweet aroma filled your senses. You managed a muffled cry as you struggled, staggering backward with the man still gripping you tightly. You immediately tried going slack in his arms in an attempt to slink downwards and out of his grasp, but the man’s large arms managed to hold your weight. You quickly fumbled for your keys in your pocket, managing to pull them out into a makeshift brass knuckle of sorts. You gripped the keys between your fingers and jabbed your hand backwards, making contact with the flesh of his neck. You dragged the metal in your hands downwards in a fast motion. The man yelled, releasing his grip on you and the rag around your face. You couldn’t see, your vision was blurred and your eyes were pouring hot streams down your face. Despite your lack of vision, you could tell a hot sticky liquid that you were very well versed with as a nurse covered your hands. You immediately lurched forward and attempted to run in any direction you could away from him. You stumbled a moment, making it a few feet before tripping over your own two feet.
Well, you had stated you were clumsy.
You felt a hand grip your ankle, dragging you back towards him. Your body scraped hard against the asphalt. You went to scream again but before you could he was on top of you, flipping you over to face him. A ringed hand gripped tightly around your throat. You struggled to breathe, seeing black stars form in your vision as you writhed beneath him. The cloth was brought back to your face, and the last thing you saw was the man’s blurry silhouette as you faded into unconsciousness.
*~*~*~*
You startled awake, opening your swollen eyes to the sound of heavy rain on a nearby window.
You felt the rough fabric of what felt like an old mattress beneath you and the air felt damp and cool, giving off an earthy mildew smell.
Your blood ran ice cold. Where the hell were you? What happened? You were sure as hell not at home in your bed.
You blinked your blurry eyesight away and focused your eyes on the wooden ceiling above you, the room illuminated only by a single pull string light fixture.
You sat up as quickly as your body would allow, taking in your surroundings. The mattress springs squeaked beneath you in a rusty manner. You were in a basement. A fucking basement, God knows where. Your memory was fuzzy as to how you had gotten here. Your head began to pound with the force of a thousand bass drums.
“You’re awake.”
A male voice made you whip your head around fast enough to give you whiplash. You averted your eyes to the owner of the voice- a man crouched in the dark corner of the room. He rose slowly, tilting his head as he looked you over. He wore a disturbing pale mask that resembled a demon with an expressionless face.
The memories of the night before slowly pieced back together. You had helped a man in the parking lot as you were leaving work before he attacked you. You naive bitch. You couldn’t believe you fell for that. You were fucking kidnapped. And this freak was watching you sleep.
“You…you’re the one they’ve been talking about on the news. The Grabber.”
Your throat felt hoarse and it was likely bruised from the force of your attacker. The man remained silent, looking you over carefully.
You weren’t his typical targeted population. You had seen a few missing people from around the area, but never a young woman like you.
Still, you could’ve been more cautious. Maybe being a nurse made you try to see the good in everyone. Fat mistake that was.
Still ignoring you, he took a few steps closer.
“You know, that really fucking hurt- what you did to me.” He stated plainly, gesturing to his neck where you had struck him with his keys. His voice had changed from the friendly tone he had with you the night before. It was dark, low, and gravelly. “I should slit your throat for what you did to my neck. Maybe then we’d be even.”
You swallowed nervously. You wish you had better aim and had struck his carotid artery. Maybe then you wouldn’t be in this situation.
Your eyes began to water.
“Please,” you whimpered. “Please don’t kill me. Just let me go.”
The man in the mask tsked and approached you on the mattress. He knelt down, placing one of his large ringed hands on your cheek, wiping away your now streaming tears.
“There there, sweetheart. I didn’t mean what I said. I was just angry, is all.”
You wanted to slink away from his touch, but you literally already had your back against the wall.
“I know you’re scared. But I’m not going to hurt you anymore,” he paused before adding darkly, “Unless you give me a reason to.”
You noticed now that he was this close to you that he had piercing blue eyes. They bore into yours, staring dangerously from behind the mask. This man was going to murder you. You just didn’t know when.
“Now,” he gestured to his neck, caked in dry blood. “Why don’t you help me clean this up…so it doesn’t get infected, hm?”
You stared at him incredulously. You didn’t know what suddenly came over you, but now your tears had turned into angry ones.
“You expect me to do something to help you? After what you’ve done? Are you fucking crazy?”
“You’re a nurse, don’t you take some sort of Hippocratic oath?”
“I don’t think there was a code of ethics listed on kidnapping,” you bit back.
The Grabber stared at you blankly, his icy eyes narrowing slightly. You swallowed. Not like you had many choices.
“Fine.”
He quickly stood from the mattress and looked down at you huddled against the wall. He reached a hand down to grasp your chin, tilting and forcing your face to look up at him.
“Don’t you go anywhere…”
The masked man gave a dark, sardonic chuckle and released his grasp on you. He approached the rusty blue metal door- the only exit to your new hell, and closed and locked it behind him. Now you were alone in his cold, dark basement.
Been a little while, but the next chapter's up- with the added bonus of Max (and Samson)!! Will make a chapter index soon once I can be arsed 😅
For now, Chapter 1 here, Chapter 2 here
Detailed tags and the whole fic if you prefer over on AO3.
Chapter 3- House Guest(s)
The stygian abyss of a dreamless slumber was broken by an intense, blinding whiteness, waking you unpleasantly from your peaceful sleep. Your sore eyes adjusted slowly to the sun-drenched bedroom, the late morning sun forcing its way through the gaps of the curtains. It was sweltering, and you were dripping in sweat. A throbbing headache had already begun to cluster at your temples, and your eyes felt puffy. A night of sobbing and crippling anxiety will do that to you. Was that the cause of the groggy feeling in your head and rancid taste in your mouth as well?
You hadn’t woken up feeling this terrible in a long while. Maybe last month, after an ill-conceived night of whiskey and a game of ‘Truth or Dare?’ with Al. A game you had lost, of course. You’d nursed the mother of all hangovers the following morning. Funny, how your mind instinctively coursed towards that happy (albeit wobbly) memory, rather than those other mornings. The ones where you’d woken with a dull ache in your head, littered with bruises and possibly a concussion from the violence inflicted on your body. A multitude of occasions where you’d stirred into consciousness to find yourself still trapped in that hellish basement by the Grabber.
You rolled onto your side, feeling like you might puke. Both from the splitting headache you currently had, and from the memory of the Grabber that had dared to wriggle itself free from the confines of your mind. Along with the wave of nausea, a sense of unease also washed over you: Al wasn’t here. Luckily, as you turned in bed you spotted a glass of water and a couple of Tylenol capsules on your nightstand. Al had left you to sleep off your worry, to rest after a draining night, but his calming, attentive presence was still felt keenly. Watching out for you even when he wasn't there. You felt better even before bringing the water to your dehydrated lips.
You threw back the tablets along with most of the now-tepid water, drinking in eager gulps, before dragging yourself to the bathroom to brush the putrid taste from your mouth and shower the perspiration off. The self-loathing- that was harder to scrub away under the cold spray of the shower. As the water warmed, the heat of the rising steam helped unblock your thoughts, but a tug of resentment pulled in your stomach like a fish hook caught painfully in your gut. For his brother, Al was going to hide the worst parts of himself, concealing his dark, dormant half and just being Big Brother Al. Your obfuscations were of pleasantries. Not just hiding, either, but actively mangling those memories into a mutilated version of themselves. It all felt so rotten, so unfair. You just had to remind yourself of the necessity of the hateful narrative you were going to tell. It isn’t real. It’s to placate Max. It’s to protect Al. Your mom, she was a wonderful person. Your stepdad was supportive. Jonathan was, at one time or another, your lover and your best friend. You wouldn’t forget that, even if your mouth contradicted those facts.
After trying (unsuccessfully) to wash away your melancholy reflections in the shower, you figured a mundane type of day might help you feel more relaxed, or at least a little less nauseated about the approaching evening. Cleaning, cooking, watching TV- the banalities of the day might lull you into a sense of normality. A little humdrum might trick you into forgetting the worry and tension that gnawed at your mind, strained your muscles, threatened to pull more tears from you. An ordinary day- that’s what you needed. Or, you thought as you dressed and traipsed down the hallway away from the bedroom, as ordinary an existence as was possible.
Things HAD been ordinary, relatively speaking of course. You weren’t so madly infatuated with your abductor that you couldn't see the wrongness in all of this. But you did love him enough that the rightness of it all eclipsed its dark counterpart, banishing it to a distant corner of your psyche. So lost in the gray matter of your mind as to be almost forgotten. And the routine that you and Al had slipped into helped to validate what you had, made you feel like a normal person in the normal world. Almost.
The long, languid weeks of late summer had breezed by in a heartbeat, but nothing felt rushed. It was effortless, as easy as being swept out to sea on a rip current. This life felt so dream-like, but you had an unsinkable clarity that kept you afloat- a belief that you could really have this, that idea cementing itself as fact with each day spent with Al. The routine of it all solidified that. The soft mornings, waking each other with delicate kisses and showering together before Al left for work. The meals where you talked endlessly, and Al usually listened, savoring your words along with the meals you’d cooked. Evenings spent listening to old records or watching black and white movies together. And nights, where you made love under the silky sheets, or occasions where Al donned the mask and brought out the belt. The game itself was unpredictable, and Al always had a new trick up his sleeve when he dusted off the mask to play again at your request. But the certainty of it was unwavering, and its inevitability brought as much comfort as any soft kiss or shared meal. It was part of the routine just like everything else, and it fit perfectly, the different parts of your life slotting together like cogs and gears to make a whole mechanism; a well-oiled machine whose components thrummed along synchronously. Perpetual and unstoppable. It was atypical, but it worked. If it worked, then it couldn’t all be wrong. If it worked, there was hope.
But would Max’s presence change that? It could be a disaster, a spoke in the wheel that derailed everything. So many ways for it to go wrong, for the carefully crafted thing you and Al had created to be dismantled and broken, revealing the sins and secrets hidden beneath the surface. One crack of the perfectly polished exterior could cause all sorts of things to come tumbling out. But your days of happy domesticity with Al had kept alive the optimist within you- and you wished more than anything for things to go smoothly, and maybe even get better. Though better than perfect felt a little far fetched. But, you would have to suffer another day of uncertainty. Not knowing was agony. Like a serpent slithering through your gut, weaving its way across your chest and constricting around your heart. It would depend on Max’s reaction whether it would release its hold or choke you completely.
All this zipped through your mind during the short trip from the bedroom to the kitchen. Shuffling into the room, you were stunned to see the clock on the wall stuck with its little dial stretching up towards the XII, the minute hand not far behind. Several incredulous blinks didn’t change the time on the canary yellow clock face, and a cursory glance to the clock on the wall in the living room confirmed it really was almost midday. You let out a stunned exhale- last night must have really taken its toll on you, body and mind, for you to have slept more than 12 hours. At least there was less of the day stretching out in front of you now. Less time to fret, you mused.
Putting on a fresh pot of coffee to brew, you rested with your back against the counter, trying to let the hum of the coffee maker silence your still-intruding thoughts. Your eyes lazily perused the kitchen, when an unfamiliar flash of white made them dart to the breakfast bar. The usually empty vase had been filled with a cluster of Sweet Alyssum blooms, a small folded note propped against it.
I’ll try get home early tonight little dove. Don’t worry, it will all be peachy. Max is gonna adore you!
Al x
P.S. –OJ and fresh milk in the fridge.
A blithe smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you read the note before slipping it into a back pocket of your shorts. Al’s kind reassurances managed to linger long after he had gone. Yes, things would be peachy, you inwardly agreed, smirking at the playful words he’d purposefully used. The lies you would tell would be worth it, the momentary pain only fleeting, and worth the payoff of a reconnection in Al’s life. And for your troubles, he would chase away that bitterness later, with tender caresses and sweet nothings. He would banish the pain. He always did.
After eating and clearing away breakfast (or, more accurately, lunch), there seemed so little to do around the house. The shag carpets were recently vacuumed, the windows streak-free. Hell, even the oven and stove top were polished to a reflective shine. You cursed Al for being neat as a pin, the house clean and tidy from his ingrained, meticulous habits. Your plan to lose yourself in playing housemaid wasn’t going to while away nearly enough hours. Only so many times you could dust the figurines on the mantelpiece, rearrange Al’s records into a perfectly curated catalog, fluff up the couch pillows. You were too distracted to read and not tired enough to nap. You even considered giving yourself a little self-care. Touching yourself might relieve some pent-up tension, and while away a little time. But you knew you were too busy fretting to feel even a little bit aroused, so decided against it.
Why were you so nervous? Al had reassured you as much as he humanly could last night, barely leaving your side as you came to terms with the lies you were weaving. That was the crux of the matter, you supposed. The lies. You didn’t lie. You were an honest person who wore your heart on your sleeve. Even for Al, from the very beginning, you’d shown nothing but honesty. You’d told him your name out of fear, and out of anger had told The Grabber he was a piece of shit for the crimes he’d committed. You weren’t sure what emotion made you tell him about your friends and family with surprising candor. But you had always clung to the truth. From the time between viewing him as that sadistic monster, to later down the line when you had blurred that image in favor of focusing your eyes on Al Shaw, an ordinary man. The both of you slowly dismantling the wall between you, brick by brick with each visit, each conversation, each meal and gesture and touch. Jesus, even when Al had first taken your body, you didn’t lie and said that you’d hated it, even if you should have. You should have spat in his face and told him what a monster he was. But that would have been a lie, so you told him the truth about how he made your body tremble at his touch. At that seminal moment, who was it you told those truths to- Al, or the Grabber? Because they were different. They had to be. If you told yourself that, it must be the truth. Because you were an honest person- except this one occasion, when circumstances forced your hand.
You switched on the TV for some background noise, hoping for a distraction to muffle these thoughts. Thinking certainly wasn’t going to ease your worry anytime soon. When the TV hummed to life, the saturated picture of the sitcom with its stilted laughing track accompanying it, you groaned. Of-fucking-course. Three’s Company. What other program could possibly be showing right now? It all felt strangely prophetic. Still, as you sunk into the couch, you secretly hoped things would be like they were on the TV screen in front of you: lighthearted and lively. Max sounded like a good person, and he wanted to come visit, even stay a little while. Maybe after the initial dread, things would really be ok after all. That didn’t stop your worry completely, and you spent the rest of the afternoon trying to imagine your life as a character on a TV sitcom, without the notion of worry or dread inside of you. Your mind tried its best, but it didn’t stop you wearing down a section of the shag carpet with your nervous tapping foot, or save your fingernails from being bitten down until nearly bloody.
Just as promised, Al came home earlier than usual. As he stepped through the door, you glanced up towards him. Your usual greeting of running into his arms had been abandoned, and you stayed rooted to your seat, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. An understanding, sympathetic look appeared on his face and in two long strides he was sitting on the couch beside, pulling you into his arms.
“How was your day, little dove?”
“Oh, perfect, Al. Reeeeal fuckin’ swell.” you crooned. Even with the acerbic tone, your sarcastic comment was a deflection and the tears soon followed. As Al brought your head into his chest, you weren’t sure whether the sound you made was a sob or an incredulous laugh. Still, your arms circled around him instinctively.
“I’m sorry Y/N.” Al said, still holding you close to him. His hand held steady at the nape of your neck as he applied small, comforting kisses to the top of your head.
“It’s not-” the words ‘your fault’ didn’t quite form themselves on your tongue- because, in a roundabout way- it was. You knew it, he knew it. It was Al’s actions that had led to this. But the last thing you wanted was to place direct blame. Al was worried and tense too, you could sense that easily enough- and you weren’t about to guilt trip him. Everything was shared now, even this burden. “It’s ok, Al. Your note helped a lot.”
“It’s true, what I wrote. Who’s not gonna love you?” he hummed. You still had a painful uncertainty juddering in your body, but Al’s presence, his calm, made you feel better than you had all day, even if tears were streaking down your cheeks right now. If his brother was anywhere near as understanding and kind, maybe it would be ok. You both sat there in silence for a while, Al’s arm hooked around your waist and a hand clasped in yours. So quiet you could hear the low buzz of the refrigerator running from the next room. Both savoring your final moments (for a little while at least) where it would just be the two of you.
— — — — — —
As peaceful as yours and Al’s expectant, silent waiting was, the first moments of Max’s appearance were in stark contrast, marked by a ruckus of shouts and knocks, clatterings and barks. Like a sudden rumble of thunder ripping through a serene summer sky. A hammering on the front door seemed to put even Al on edge, and you watched from the safety of the couch as he opened the door to the new guest. The door swung inwards and Al stumbled back several steps in (perhaps horrified) surprise as Max lumbered in with suitcases, bags, and a huge black dog in tow. Make that new guests, plural.
“AL!” the slightly shorter, wiry man boomed, dropping his bags with a heavy thud at his feet and throwing his arms around his brother with gusto. Al, though shocked and obviously less enthusiastic, returned the hug with a quiet ‘hey Max’, though his eyes darted around his legs, where the dog was sniffing ardently at his scent. Breaking the hug, Al began to gesture towards you, attempting to introduce you as you rose gingerly from the couch.
“Max, this is-”
“I hope you don’t mind about Samson? Listen, I know I didn’t tell you, but I thought you might say no if asked to bring the dog, and hey- better to ask forgiveness than permission, right? So-”
“Max.” Al said, a little more sternly now. His big brother mode worked, and Max actually ceased his mile-a-minute rambling. Al continued, gesturing towards you with a nod of his head. “I’d like you to meet Y/N.”
“Oh, shit- I mean- jeez, of course!” Max lurched towards you, tripping over a bag but managing to catch himself before falling headlong into you. Righting himself, he stopped for a brief second, his head tilted and his deep brown eyes seeming to twitch in recognition of something, but the lapse in fervor passed as quickly as it began. Max ignored your outstretched hand, bringing you in for a hug just as eager as the one given to Al a moment ago.
“I-it’s a pleasure, Max.” you wheezed, a little breathless from the tight embrace. Max released you and stood back with a grin as you felt a warm breath at your knuckles where the dog also seemed to have taken a liking to you.
“This is great, really, just great.” Max smiled from ear to ear, his straight white teeth gleaming beneath his dark mustache as his head pivoted from side to side, trying to simultaneously catch up with his brother and find out everything about you. In the first five minutes of his arrival he said more than Al usually might have said in a couple days. The wry smile he gave as he babbled was probably because he noticed the very obvious age gap between his brother and you, his eyes volleying between you both, though he didn’t say anything on this topic. Maybe he was more tactful than you had anticipated; a good sign for when you’d eventually need to tell him about the delicate situation into which he’d entered.
The younger Shaw brother spoke so differently compared to Al. Whereas Al spoke in those low, velvety tones, Max tripped over his words, flitting between bursts of non-stop rambling and pausing in places to find his footing, his train of thought having derailed a sentence or two back. His gestures were wildly frantic too- and though Al had a flair for the dramatic, he was usually fairly relaxed, but Max had none of the same cool composure. It was endearing, how earnest and guileless he was, though you had to wonder- if this was Max NOT on drugs… Even if his speech and body language was erratic, the dark pools of his chocolate-colored eyes and his small, dimpled smile were genuine and warm, exuding an almost child-like innocence about him.
Somewhat sidetracked by these observations, you hadn’t realized that at some point Max had actually ceased talking, and was now looking straight at you, wide-eyed and stock-still. It took another moment before you realized that Max had repeated your name. Your full name. You hadn’t told him your full name. Panic gripped your body, your blood freezing in your veins. The only movement you could manage was darting your eyes desperately towards Al, who was already stomping over to his brother. Seeing you, he gave a resolute nod.
“You’re missing. I mean, obviously you’re not if you’re here. But it IS you, right? I saw your picture on the news-”
Grabbing the back collar of Max’s garish Hawaiian shirt, Al yanked him a little to the side, depositing him roughly onto the armchair in one swift motion. Standing in front of his brother, arms crossed and looming over the smaller man, Al blocked the line of sight towards you.
“Alright Max, Y/N is going to tell you something important. This isn’t easy for her, ok, so will you pay attention? You’re NOT going to make her repeat it. So listen. Up.” Max seemed on the cusp of saying something, but the warning look from his brother was enough for him to clamp his mouth closed, and nod promptly. It seemed Al's dominant, persuasive nature extended farther than just you. Al turned, grasping your hand firmly in his before pulling you to sit next to him on the couch. Max’s face, displaying a look somewhere between concern and utter confusion (not to mention the fact that he was basically a stranger) had your stomach roiling, and you felt a fresh layer of tears forming a wet film over your eyes. But glancing to your side, Al gave you that soft, reassuring smile, his eyes crinkling at the temples. His firm hands, one clasping yours, the other on your knee to stem the jitters, provided you with a fresh wave of courage that lapped in your chest. Steadying, calming currents. You swallowed down the fear, licked your dry lips, and took a deep breath.
It was a well-rehearsed speech, but the familiar soliloquy didn’t feel any less unpleasant on your tongue. You supposed one good thing about the real tears that slid down your reddened cheeks was that they made the lies all the more believable. The words were false, but the agony was real. Finishing your story through hiccupped, staccato sobs, Al thumbed away a teardrop on your cheek, and you both looked towards the younger Shaw brother for a response. The hushed air between you was palpable until he finally broke his silence.
“Woah.” Max reclined on the armchair, huffing out a long, dramatic sigh. He rubbed the back of his already-tousled black hair with a hand; a little awkward, as if trying to find the right words. You could almost hear the gears spinning in his mind, trying to unpack the baggage you’d just heaved on him. “That was…heavy. I mean- shit,” He tripped over his own tongue, but his eyes didn’t break from yours. “So, that was a one time deal then? Like, we’re just gonna move on?”
“That was the deal Max.” Al stated plainly.
“Ok, sure- I mean, you got dealt a shitty hand and that sucks, but everything's ok now, right, Y/N?”
“I- yeah. Everything's great.” you said on a relieved sigh, a little incredulous that he didn’t have any follow up questions.
“Awesome! Ok, now we’ve got that out of the way, I do have one important question.” There it was. You knew it was too good to be true. Was he going to ask about your supposedly awful childhood, when one more lie might cause you to snap, like a tightly-strung wire ready to snap? Or was he, God forbid, going to connect the dots between your disappearance and The Grabber? You squeezed Al’s hand until your knuckles were white, anticipating the worst as Max asked the question.
“Are we getting takeout for dinner? Cause I would literally kill for some Chinese food right about now.”
If someone had been listening in on the conversation, they might have thought Max a little obtuse, so blunt in his decision as to be rude. But the look in his eye was knowing and intense. And he’d spoken as if he knew how it felt to not want to dredge up the past. It seemed that Max had a different side to him, hidden beneath the wacky, extroverted exterior. Not quite the dark side that Al possessed, but a sympathetic part of him that knew pain. No-one but Al had ever melted away your worries quite so quickly and decisively as Max had just now. It was a Shaw thing, you joked inwardly.
As Max made himself comfy in the spare room, unpacking bags and fixing up a place for Samson to sleep, Al pulled you into his lap, hugging you more tightly than even his brother had, which was a feat in itself.
“You did so good, Y/N. You’re amazing, you know that?” he said through the kisses plied on your cheekbones and jaw.
“So is Max. He just got it. You too, Al. I don’t think I could’ve said all that without you there.”
“It was all you, dove. You-”
You leaned in to kiss Al hard on his lips. Sometimes his self-deprecation just needed to be put on mute.
The rest of the night felt so comfortable, so relaxed as if Max had always been a permanent fixture in the house. If Max was still curious about your past, it didn’t show on his sunny grin. Though it was easy to forget about yourself for a while with his endless chatter, like his own stream of consciousness had been unbottled every time he opened his mouth. What he’d been up to the last few months, the endless spate of jobs he’d tried his hand at, different places he’d stayed and people he’d come across. It seemed he never stayed pinned down for too long, drifting from place to place without any real purpose. You felt a twinge of pity for him, who you guessed might have been lonely as Al once was. But Max’s enthusiasm and rampant optimism had rubbed off on you. Hopefully, this could be a fresh new start for him, you mused. He was clean now, and had his brother (and you!) nearby. Maybe Max could lay down roots back here in Denver. Al wanted the same- you could read it on those small nuanced expressions you’d come to learn so well. You had thought things getting better seemed a far-fetched notion, but ‘better than perfect’ suddenly felt like an attainable path ahead of you. You’d help make it happen.
For now, though, you felt it important for Al and Max to reconnect without you. Plus, if Max had any burning questions, it was no longer your responsibility to dig into that pain- Al would see to it that they would be kept at bay. Feigning tiredness, you gave Samson a scratch behind the ears, peppered a small kiss on Al’s cheek and said goodnight to Max, who jumped up for another one of his now-familiar hugs before you left the Shaw brothers to their conversations.
— — — — — —
As his dove said her goodnights and the door to the master bedroom clicked shut, Al looked expectantly over to his brother. Surprisingly, Max hadn’t pounced or blurted out some gauche comment, but the smug look and slow shake of his head meant Max definitely wanted the details, as if Al had been hiding Y/N away from him. Which, to be fair, Al reflected, wouldn’t be a complete lie. He wasn’t forthcoming with the discussion, instead choosing to eye his little brother as if daring him to start. Max was more than happy to take Al up on his challenge, leaning in with his elbows resting on his knees. Hunched forward and hungry for details he obviously craved, but was too afraid to ask in front of Y/N.
“So, come on man, spill. I wanna know everything.”
“Were you even listening? We won’t be going over it-”
“No no no, dude. I wanna know about- you know…” Max left a pause, which Al did not furnish with a response. “You and her. She’s awesome. Where the hell didya snatch her up?”
Al obviously wasn’t about to openly admit he actually had snatched his little bird off the streets- ‘Yeah Max, I bungled her into my van and kept her in my basement until we fell madly in love’- though he thought Max would actually find that ‘joke’ pretty funny. He opted to answer his question with one of his own:
“What, I can’t just meet someone nice?”
Max snorted. “Seriously, Al, come on. Where’d you meet her? She doesn’t seem…your type?” Al supposed Max changed his comment to a question to sound a little less stinging. A raised eyebrow at the question had Max backpedaling, changing tact and instead asking if Y/N had been living with him for long.
“I guess since we first met, pretty much. It was a little rocky at the start, but things are good now.” He wasn’t lying, per se, and though he wasn’t proud of the way he’d twisted his words, it was nice to talk to his brother about his relationship. Someone who (although not privy to the entire truth), had accepted the parts of Al and his little dove’s story they had shared, had met it with a seeming strong comprehension and firm acceptance.
“Glad to hear it man, I mean, fuck, that wasn’t easy for her. I get not wanting to talk about that shit. But it’s not like it didn’t sound a little familiar right?” Al winced slightly at the statement flung around so casually by his little brother, but he was grateful for the general sentiment. He had worried about leaving his little thing with Max, but felt a little easier about that necessity after their discussion.
Al moved the conversation swiftly on when Max started asking about putting a ring on it (which was skating just a little too close to dangerous territory, given that Al had already traded rings with his dove as a promise for all sorts of things he was NOT going to discuss with anyone else, ever). Instead, they chatted a while about Max’s plans while in Denver, with Al agreeing to help him find his footing as best he could. He was his big brother, after all, and had to look out for Max. Al had feared this rekindling with his brother would be awkward and stilted, but it felt natural, familial to Al in a way it never had before. So strange and foreign in how normal it all seemed. Well, almost normal.
Al had surprised even himself when he admitted his feelings about her to Max, actually saying the words “I love her”. He hadn’t shied away, but had actually beamed at his affirmation. Max had beamed right back, his infectious smile reminding Al of that buck toothed grin he always had plastered on his face as a young kid. His little brother had said Al had never seemed so happy- because he never had been before. It had worked out, after all the doubts and misgivings, it was going to be ok. More than ok, he asserted. Just peachy. The house, which had housed so much death and decay, had suddenly come to life once more, warm and loud and full.
With Max finally heading to bed and Samson curling up on his bed in the corner, Al made his way with purpose to the master suite. She’d done so well, his sweet little thing. Had made the most sacrifice and risk to allow this to happen. Al hadn’t wanted to put her through any more torment after the things he’d done, but she’d done them anyway, for him. It was only fair that he returned the favor. After all, good girls deserved rewards.
