“Hey, did I ever tell you about Doc’s undead husband he keeps locked away? I just remembered that recently, we should probably do something about that.”
“Doc’s WHAT!?” Scar shouted so loudly that Cub jolted awake with a soft snort from his place nestled against Scar’s chest. Scar apologized profusely, rustling Cub’s hair in some desperate attempt to soothe him back to sleep or perhaps knock him unconscious until Cub grunted, grabbed Scar’s hand, and forced it to his side. Cub did not let go, and internally Scar was very pleased. “Sorry, Doc’s what. You did not tell me about this.”
“I’m like, pretty sure I did,” Grian’s voice came slightly muffled over the phone, like she was trying to remember when she’d supposedly said anything about this to Scar at all. “Couple-a months ago, maybe.”
“You’ve known about this for a couple months?” Scar stressed through grit teeth, not that the time to be quiet had already passed.
“So have you? At least I remembered it.”
“I did not know about this!”
“Mmm, pretty sure you did. Anyway, we should probably take care of that soon. Tomorrow maybe, or the day after? I’m being supervised tonight,” Grian spat the word like it was bitter, “and this isn’t a job I want to be scrutinized for. Might be messy. And you’re off, right?”
“I— I am off tonight, yes, but this feels urgent, doesn’t it? A kidnapping or— domestic something or another, probably still kidnapping. I’ll alert the—“
“No, absolutely not, Scar. Hardly anyone else in this city has the gumption to do more than the bare minimum when it comes to Doc, and you know the governing body is especially egregious about keeping their own business and Doc’s business separate whenever possible. At most, whoever gets sent in our place will give away the element of surprise and walk home empty handed. Doc likes the both of us anyway, that will make this whole debacle a tad easier.”
Scar snorted. “Doc doesn’t like anyone, especially not me and apparently not his undead husband— which, I’m learning for the first time, resurrection is possible, and I’m assuming this isn’t a zombie situation.”
“No, don’t think so. But it’s Doc. Who knows.” Grian was quiet for a long moment, and Scar felt the weight of unsaid words. Scar was very familiar with this kind of pause; Grian nor Cub were the kind of people to think before they spoke, so when they did stop, it usually meant they were tiptoeing for a reason. “I think Doc might surprise you.”
Scar grimaced as he caught the potential meaning, one he didn’t care for in the slightest. He didn’t know how or why Grian and Doc had got to talking all that time ago, only that Grian was happy to take Doc’s words at face value when they supported her outlook on the world. Doc was a criminal, he had about a thousand reasons to lie about involvement with Scar’s prosthetics whether that meant special treatment or attachment that Doc could use to his advantage, and it— it was just frustrating. Grian had plenty of reason to hate the system they both worked under, and Scar absolutely had his problems with it, but he just wanted to do his best with the cards he’d been dealt, not revolt against it.
Scar couldn’t revolt. He didn’t— he didn’t even want to. He owed so much to the people who’d worked tirelessly to save him, who’d given their time, blood, sweat, and tears. Whether or not Scar thought the sacrifice was worth it was another matter, but the engineers that remade and maintained his body didn’t make that call.
Scar was here now. He had some semblance of a family in his work life, and off the clock. He was happy. He didn’t want any wrenches thrown into the cogs by self-serving criminals and gullible friends.
Suddenly, the idea of putting off this rescue sounded much more appealing.
“We’ll go tomorrow then.”
…
Grian had to try very hard not to dislike Skizz, because honestly, if she wasn’t nitpicking, there was nothing to dislike. He was just a friendly, outgoing guy, extroverted and excitable, and that was great, Grian just had trust issues and didn’t like cars. Like, the main issue was that Grian didn’t like cars, and Skizz was Scar’s driver, so they were aversively connected in Grian’s brain.
She technically didn’t have to be here, in the car, but Scar always begged that they travel together on a shared mission, and as much as Grian loved to say no to him, somehow she still ended up in the backseat. Scar’s magic touch, she supposed. Not even she was immune.
Regardless, if owning a car was Skizz’s biggest crime, Grian had absolutely no excuse for feeling so on edge when he was around. She knew that, she knew it, but no amount of repeating the phrase in her head made her fists unclench, jaw loosen.
Unbelievably frustrating. Unpleasantness stacked on the already unpleasant experience of Being In A Car.
Though, inexplicably, today wasn’t as bad. Grian did not feel so trapped, and she suspected it had something to do with how unusually quiet Skizz was today, eyes glued firmly on the road. He was even curt with Scar when on a normal day the two of them would jabber on all the live long day at volumes not suited for casual conversation, so it was quite strange and perhaps a little worrying, but not unwelcome. Scar looked worried. Grian didn’t like how that made her feel. She spoke up in an effort to distract him.
“So let’s make some semblance of a plan, shall we? Personally, I would love to do a lot more snooping around Doc’s crazy mansion while you distract him— you’re probably better at distracting him anyway, you can talk forever and I’ll just end up admitting what I’m here for if I run out of things to say..”
“We’re splitting up?” Scar looked mildly surprised, but Grian was relieved to sense he wasn’t opposed to the idea.
“If it’s a covert mission, I think that’s best. You enter first, and I’ll fly over the gate and find a way in after you. The longer it takes for Doc to discover I’m there, the better.”
“No!”
Grian startled, and Scar made a soft eep! of fright, but in the aftermath of their mutual surprise, neither could identify who had spoken. Skizz’s white knuckle grip on the steering wheel tightened.
“Musta been the wind..?” Skizz tried, and Scar gaped, but he didn’t get a chance to cut in before the human shaped lump beside Grian began to wriggle.
“You can’t split up,” Cub said, though he was still struggling to escape the mass of blankets that had enshrouded him— how— You know, in hindsight, maybe the human shaped lump was suspicious.. “We were going to do this together.”
“Cub!?” Scar shrieked, both Cub and Grian covering their ears in response, “What— How did you— This is a top secret mission!!”
“You weren’t being very secretive,” Cub mumbled drily, not without some amount of affection.
“And how did you sneak into the car without Skizz’s noticing!?”
A beat of silence passed, and then another.
“It’s not my fault!” Skizz cried, caving immediately, while Cub shook his head in solidarity. “He’s just so— assertive! With a strong presence of leadership I can’t help but want to follow!”
“We’ve come to be good friends,” Cub offered, still wrapped in blankets and looking awfully content.
“Since— Since when are you two even talking?”
“Last night.”
“Cub—!” Grian cut in, unable to stand listening to this any longer. “You can not come with us on this mission. This isn’t— Quite frankly, I don’t have to explain to you why we’re turning this car around. Skizz. Take Cub home.”
“No.” Cub’s voice held a grave weight, impossibly contrasted with his being wrapped tight in a human burrito. “We’re going to Doc’s and rescuing his undead husband. Together.”
Skizz made a strangled sound, which pitched up an octave at the incredulous glares Grian and Scar threw at him. “Don’t look at me!”
“Skizz!” Scar’s voice cracked in his disbelief, “Take Cub home!”
“I don’t want to go home, Skizz.”
“He doesn’t want to go home!” Skizz cried, like surely this assertion would make Grian and Scar understand.
“Cub..” Scar started, and an insufferable bout of gentle parenting was so clearly about to take place that Grian had to cut him off.
“I don’t care what you want, your life isn’t a game we’re going to play with, Cub, we are going home.”
“No.”
“He said no..” Skizz mewled, and Grian was certain her head was going to explode.
Scar’s gentle parenting turned on Skizz, but it was becoming increasingly obvious nothing was going to change, and if Grian had to be trapped here, she might as well make herself useful.
Cub was pretty well wrapped; Skizz had clearly assisted him in hiding, but Grian could do a better job, and quite frankly, needed to do a better job as revenge for all the times she’d been burrito’d in the past. Cub was perfectly content to hang limp as Grian manipulated his body into the perfect straitjacket, the two of them ignoring Scar’s protests at the lack of seatbelts in the backseat.
It was at the point that Grian began securing Cub with various lengths of rope she found laying around that he began to Understand, but at this point they were already pulling into Doc’s estate, and no amount of wriggling would circumvent Grian’s expert knot tying. She buckled him in for good measure.
“Skizz!” Cub squealed, a rare, brilliant sound out of him. “Help me!”
“Skizz.” Scar’s voice was hard, snatching a frightened-looking Skizz’s attention, “You’ve seen the damage Doc has done to my body before. You’ve driven me screaming to the hospital time and time again thanks to his machines. Cub isn’t like me. They won’t be able to put him back together. Do not let him leave this car.”
“Just take him home.” Grian hissed over Cub’s whining, but Scar shook his head.
“We don’t know how long this will take. Once we have Ren, we need to be out of there before Doc notices. Grian, you get Ren to the car, all three of you can leave, and I’ll catch up with you later.”
Grian swallowed a retort, unable to suggest any better solutions. Scar liked Skizz for a reason; his loyalty extended more to Scar than their mutual bosses, and any other drivers might be touchy about Doc or unreliable in other ways. Scar had plenty of horror stories to share— just another reason to ditch cars altogether, but unfortunately it was more than likely Doc’s undead husband could not fly.
“Right. Let’s go then. You first, Scar.”
Scar nodded, sliding out from the front seat. Skizz made a show of driving away for the cameras that were most certainly there, hopefully giving the impression that Scar was on a solo mission. Grian struggled to relax in the backseat despite the fact that Cub had gone quiet.
“This isn’t fair.”
Apparently Grian had spoken too soon.
“Why are you acting like such a child?” She whirled on Cub, but was harsher than she’d meant, and Cub’s flinch tore a little hole in her heart.
“Whatever,” he mumbled, closing his eyes, closing himself off, shutting a door Grian suddenly wasn’t ready to slam.
“You aren’t a superhero, Cub,” she tried, gentler, but when Cub opened his eyes, the look was sour.
“Neither were you, until recently. You’re not indestructible either. You can still get hurt. Just like me.”
“But I’m— You and I just aren’t a fair comparison, Cub, I don’t—“ Grian struggled to find the words, not because the reasoning wasn’t sound, but this just hadn’t been an issue before. Not even in therapy. More than anything, she was confused. “Cub, where is this coming from? I don’t understand, I didn’t think this— I mean, I know there’s a lot about this that you don’t like, but the injuries, the danger..”
“Of course it bothers me,” Cub was so quiet that Grian barely heard him, but the silence was too heavy for her to break. Cub closed his eyes. Opened them. Looked down. Then out the window. “I’m sorry. That’s not what this is about. Just an excuse.”
He seemed unwilling to say what was bothering him, and Grian didn’t know how to ask. She wished it was easier. She wished she was someone else, someone better.
“I’m looking for something..” Cub spoke, again, so softly, so unsure of himself. “A feeling. I’m trying to capture this feeling. I almost had it. It was almost fun, to be here, the three of us, a little banter, nothing serious, something we could laugh about later. But you weren’t laughing. Neither was Scar. Or Skizz. I’m sorry, Skizz. It’s not fun. I didn’t.. I didn’t want to stress anyone out. I just— I— I don’t know what I want—“ Cub’s breath caught, and immediately Grian lunged to release him, undo the restraint, give him room to breathe.
She didn’t understand. She wanted to. More than ever, her wings felt too big for this space.
“Sometimes I want adrenaline. I want to be part of something insane, somewhere I have no place,” Cub spoke like he was running out of time, and Grian had no words to soothe him. “I want to be funny. I don’t believe bad things will happen. I don’t care when they do, if it was fun. I want to be a unit. Grian, Scar, and Cub. I feel like we’ve gotten so close, but every time it falls apart. We can be Cub and Grian and Grian and Scar and Scar and Cub, but never all three of us, never for long. I want to be friends. I want to have a good time. I have these fleeting moments of goodness, where we’re all together, and it’s rough around the edges but it’s fun, but so many times the memories are just.. something always goes wrong. Isn’t that horrible? What’s— What’s wrong with me?”
“I don’t..” Grian had to trail, stalling for time to find the right thing to say. In therapy, it always felt like she had more time— “I don’t think it’s you, Cub. I think.. Genuinely, I think we all just like. Kind of have a lot of baggage? And that makes it harder. And it’s not.. none of us are especially talented at reading the room.”
Cub sniffled, but said nothing. Maybe he didn’t have the words. Maybe Grian’s words weren’t good enough. The distance between them felt immense. Would it be okay to touch him?
“What kind of ice cream do you two like?”
Both of them looked up. Cub reacted before Grian even processed they were in a Dairy Queen drive-through.
“Cookie dough.”
Skizz looked at Grian expectantly. She fumbled in her panic to respond in a timely manner, “I— uh— I mean, is chocolate okay?”
“Whatever you’d like!”
“I’ll have chocolate.”
Skizz paid before Grian got the chance to offer. She would— she would have to tell Scar to reimburse him. The silence felt fuzzy through the motions of pulling up, receiving their ice cream, passing it back.. It felt normal. It felt strange.
Grian closed her eyes, the cold against her palms a more pleasant sensation than the assault of the rest of the world.
Maybe Skizz was alright. Maybe Skizz was even a good guy, despite his sin of owning a car. Maybe there were more than a few good reasons why Scar liked him.
“I’m sorry,” Cub mumbled. “I’ve just been in a weird place lately.”
Well. Wasn’t that just the story of her life. Grian snorted a small laugh— she couldn’t help herself, “Don’t I know it..”
She caught the ghost of a smile on Cub’s lips, and felt content enough to take her first bite.
Aaid is the acronym for my first ever online username.
And back in like... 2011?? When I created my first Tumblr account I didn't realise the title meant username and I just typed out hurrhurrr. And got stuck with that username for years.
Feel free to go check out all my hetalia sins, I got locked out of the account so it's now just a legacy of my past.
i am going to sound deranged but does anyone remember Nora answering a question about how the ravens celebrated halloween… with something unhinged and Jean-related.. did i hallucinate this
