Aug 10
Dean = Down Bad
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Dean = Down Bad
The Off Campus tag being filled with criticism for one biracial black actor and barely for the white one over both's political discourse shows the clearest comparative form of white priviledge
(and from what I hear Jalen's is more debatably ambiguous, and Stephen Kalyn is liking pro annoying orange posts...but I didn't go digging through all the details & obviously they're both bad scenarios, so don't mistake this for a defense)
Amor Vincit Omnia - Chapter 6
Amor Vincit Omnia
Show: Off Campus Rating: M Word Count: 5.3k Ship: Garrett Graham x F!Reader Spoilers / Warnings: Same as the masterlist. Garrett's world is rocked as he learns the truth. Dean has issues with Garrett. Red has issues with Dean. Logan has Garrett's back. Logan is a badass. Medical jargon again so give me some poetic license. TW hospital, mob life, violence, gambling, trauma dump. Easter Egg for The Mistake.
Synopsis: Garrett's world is rocked when he learns the truth about what happened the night of the storm. Dean misdirects his anger towards Garrett. Logan acts as a referee. The three of them have to work as a team when a bigger threat arrives at the hospital.
We're at the halfway point for this story.
DEMONS
When the days are cold and the cards all fold And the saints we see are all made of gold When your dreams all fail and the ones we hail Are the worst of all and the blood's run stale I wanna hide the truth, I wanna shelter you But with the beast inside, there's nowhere we can hide No matter what we breed, we still are made of greed This is my kingdom come, this is my kingdom come
Garrett stands frozen in the gravel-strewn parking lot outside Malone’s, his mind spinning out of control. He is still trying to reconcile the impossible reality of it all: the fact that Dean has known you your entire life, the gut-wrenching lie about your mother, and the haunting memory of how shattered Dean was six months ago when he believed you were dead. What the hell actually happened that night?
Heavy, crunching footsteps snap him out of his spiralling thoughts. He wheels around, muscles tensing, only to find Logan walking up with a heavy look of concern on his face.
"It's me, G. Didn’t mean to startle you," Logan says softly, holding up his hands.
“Did Jules...?” Garrett starts, glancing toward Malone’s front entrance. Inside, Allie is staring out through the glass before abruptly turning away and pulling the door shut.
Logan steps closer, placing a firm, grounding hand on Garrett’s shoulder to force his attention back. “Jules shut down the stream completely. It’s scrubbed. Where’s Dean?”
“He took off to find her. Told me to stay put.” Garrett stares out into the empty street, checking his watch with a growing knot of anxiety. Dean has been gone long enough now. Hopefully, he got to you in time.
Logan gives Garrett’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “She’s going to be fine. You know Dean. He won’t let anything happen to her. Did you even know they had a history?”
“No,” Garrett lets out a harsh, almost hysterical laugh, rubbing a hand hard across his face. “I was just as blind as everyone else. What are the astronomical odds of that, right?”
“True.”
A brief, tension-filled chuckle passes between them, but it quickly dissolves under the heavy atmosphere. Garrett lets out a shaky breath, crossing his arms tight over his chest.
“The last time I saw her before tonight was ten years ago.”
“The night you shipped off to boarding school? Right when all of this madness apparently started.”
“I guess so...” Garrett trails off, his jaw clenching as a dark flash of memory hits him—Phil screaming, lashing out at him in a blind rage before Garrett was packed off to school. He scrunches his mouth, a bitter taste rising in his throat. “I don’t know. I was stuck at that prison of a school for months. When I finally came back... she was already gone.”
Logan notices the sharp, defensive shift in Garrett’s posture, but wisely chooses not to press. “So when was the last time Dean saw her?”
“About eight months ago.”
“Right when Dean took off to Maine?”
“Yeah.”
“So Red actually knows Hunter? That wasn’t just bar talk. Wait... Jules mentioned something earlier about a sister. Something went down with Dean’s sister, but... Red isn’t actually his sister, is she?”
“No. Not by blood,” Garrett sighs, shaking his head at the absolute absurdity of it all, though he admits he had wondered the exact same thing earlier. “Dean says he looks at her like a sister. They’re best friends. Have known each other since they were kids. It doesn’t make total sense, but I believe him. He loves her like family. He’d burn the world down for her.”
“So Red’s family has deep ties to New York, too?”
“Yeah. Her family moved from New York up to Boston when she was thirteen. Her mom landed a gig with a publishing company, and her dad worked in high-finance. And for the record... he didn't care much for me.”
“Really? So you two were basically a tragic Romeo and Juliet act?”
“Something like that,” Garrett murmurs, a painful ache blooming in his chest. “And now she’s suddenly back in both of our lives.”
Right on cue, Garrett’s phone buzzes sharply in his pocket. He pulls it out, his eyes scanning the text message from Dean. Logan watches the color instantly drain from Garrett’s face as he rapidly types a frantic reply.
“What is it?” Logan demands, stepping forward.
“Dean found her. He had to rush her to Hastings Medical.”
“Why? What happened?”
“I don’t know! But I have to go right now!”
Garrett turns toward his Jeep, but Logan immediately plants a hand square against Garrett’s chest, blocking his path.
“Give me your keys.”
“Logan, move, I’m serious—”
“Give me the keys, Garrett. Look at your hands. You’re not driving like this.”
Realizing there’s no winning the argument against Logan’s stubborn expression, Garrett rips the ring from his pocket and tosses the keys across. Without another word, Logan catches them, circles to the driver's side, and floors the Jeep out of the parking lot, tires screaming into the night.
Logan pulls Garrett’s Jeep right up to the emergency entrance of Hastings Medical Centre. The ride over had been tense and silent, save for the hum of the engine and the tight, anxious set of Garrett’s jaw.
They rush through the automatic glass doors, quickly confirm information with the front desk receptionist, and head straight for the elevators. Pushing the button for the tenth floor, they step out into the quiet, sterile atmosphere of the Med-Surgical floor.
It doesn't take long to spot Dean. He is pacing furiously back and forth in front of a set of double doors, running his hands through his blonde hair, looking every bit as frantic as Garrett feels.
“Dean!” Garrett calls out, breaking into a jog.
Dean stops dead in his tracks, spinning around. “Garrett! Logan!”
“How is she?” Garrett demands, closing the distance. “Is she alright?”
“She’s going to be fine, G,” Dean exhales, a shaky, exhausted breath escaping his lips. “She’s just suffering from severe exhaustion and dehydration. They’ve got her hooked up to IV fluids and some stabilizing meds. A doctor was just in there talking to her.”
“What the hell happened?” Logan asks, crossing his arms.
“She passed out right in my arms.”
“What happened to her, Dean?” Garrett presses, his voice cracking with lingering panic.
“Why was she running like that?”
“It’s complicated, Logan. And I’m really fucking tired,” Dean mutters, rubbing his face with both hands. He looks completely hollowed out—mirroring the exact kind of shell-shocked agony Garrett is feeling inside.
Garrett glances over at Logan, recognizing the strain. “Logan, can you give us a quick minute? Thanks for the ride over.”
“No problem at all. You guys talk,” Logan says, clapping Garrett on the shoulder. “I’m going to hang out right out here and keep an eye out for trouble—since there’s clearly a hell of a lot more going on here than you’re telling me. I mean... damn. Now I finally get why you two call her Red and Sunshine.”
Logan steps closer to the glass partition of the room and peers inside.
Garrett turns, following Logan’s gaze. Through the open door, you are sitting up slightly against the pillows. Long, cascading waves of golden-auburn hair spill over your shoulders like a heavy, rich cape. You catch Logan staring and offer a shy, tired blush.
A doctor steps out from the room, looking between the three young men. “Are you family?”
“We’re close friends,” Garrett answers instantly, stepping forward.
“Alright. Make sure she gets plenty of rest. And you boys need it, too. Hospital policy dictates only two visitors in her room at a time. I’ll arrange for the counsellor to check in on her in the morning.”
The doctor’s eyes flicker between you and Dean, noticing the protective tension. “Counsellor?” you ask, your voice raspy.
“Just standard protocol given how severely depleted your system was,” the doctor replies gently.
“Right,” Dean nods, swallowing hard.
“Logan?” Garrett calls out.
“It’s fine, go ahead,” Logan says, waving a hand. “I’ll stay out here on guard duty.”
Garrett immediately goes to your side and puts his arms around you without hesitation. You get lost in the moment for a second. Inside the private room, the heavy silence is suddenly shattered as the IV machine begins to beep in a rapid, cacophonous alarm. Red lights flash frantically on the telemetry monitor, and a nurse rushes through the door, her eyes darting to the equipment.
“Is everything alright in here?” she asks sharply.
“Yeah, we didn't touch anything,” Garrett says, hands raised defensively.
“Let me check the lines. I need you to step back, sir.”
Garrett immediately stands up, clearing space as the nurse works with practiced speed, tapping screens and tracing the clear plastic tubing.
“Ah, here it is. One of the IV lines got bent, which tripped the occlusion alarm,” the nurse explains, smoothing out the tubing. She glances down at you. “How are you feeling now?”
“Yeah... better,” you murmur.
The nurse gives a brisk nod and heads for the door. “You can visit for another hour before visiting hours officially wrap up. You two are welcome to come back bright and early in the morning.”
With a soft click, the door shuts behind her.
You look up at Garrett and Dean, your fingers nervously picking at the rough texture of the hospital blanket. “I’m okay, Garrett. Please... come back here.”
“Okay,” Garrett whispers softly.
He steps around the monitors and sits gingerly on the edge of the mattress, carefully keeping clear of the medical lines this time. The moment he’s within reach, you lean forward and bury your face in his chest, wrapping your arms around him. Garrett’s broad frame takes your weight with instant, grounding ease, his large hands coming up to gently card his fingers through your long, thick hair.
Dean watches the two of you from the armchair, a sad, fond smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
For a fleeting second, the chaos of the world fades away. But then, the raw memory of why you ran rushes back. You jolt upright too fast, the sudden shift triggering a violent wave of dizziness. Your vision blurs, and your head starts spinning.
Garrett’s hands shoot out, gripping your shoulders firmly to steady you. “Red! Whoa, what is it? Easy.”
“Give me your phone, Dean. Please. I need to check on Mom.”
“She’s okay,” Dean says cautiously.
“No... she’s not.”
The room spins again, forcing you to lean heavily back against Garrett’s chest. He absorbs you effortlessly, his fingers resuming their soothing rhythm through your hair. Dean stands up from his chair, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed opposite Garrett, gently wrapping his hand over yours.
The frantic rhythm of the heart monitor instantly slows down to a steady, rhythmic beep.
“There you go,” Dean murmurs, rubbing your knuckles. “Listen to Garrett. You don’t want that nurse coming back in here and kicking us out, do you?”
You let out a heavy, frustrated huff of air, resting your forehead against Garrett’s collarbone as you finally give a small nod.
“Is that why you came back to Briar?” Garrett asks softly, his voice a low rumble against your ear. “Is that why you were running?”
“Yeah... I needed money for her surgery,” you whisper, your voice trembling.
“Surgery?” Dean asks, brow furrowing.
“I don’t quite understand it all. They had to move Mom from Spaulding down to Brigham and Women's a couple of weeks ago for more specialized care. She had a sudden setback.”
“Setback?” Dean repeats, his eyes widening. “Wait—that must have been what my dad’s message meant. He told me to get to Cambridge. What happened?”
“I was talking to the doctors this morning... My god, was that really only this morning? It feels like a lifetime ago. It’s just...” You swallow hard, tears pricking your eyes.
Dean shifts closer, using his free hand to gently cup your cheek. “You’re babbling, baby doll. Focus forward. What happened to her?”
“Something about her liver function rapidly declining. Cytotoxins or... or something like that are building up in her system. She coded again this morning, but they managed to bring her back. The doctors said every time it happens, her body takes too much damage. They’re talking about a transplant. I was desperately hoping I might be a match, but... I got the lab results this morning.”
“You’re not?” Garrett asks quietly.
“No,” you sob, the final thread of your composure snapping.
Garrett pulls you tighter into his arms, pressing a lingering, protective kiss to the top of your head as soft, broken sobs wrack your frame.
Dean stands up abruptly, jaw clenched tight. “Let me go call my dad and see what he can dig up at BWH. I wish you had called us, Sunshine. I told you—I’d never let you fall.”
“I know,” you choke out. “I just... I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't put you guys in danger.”
Dean shakes his head, a heavy mixture of grief and fierce determination in his eyes, before turning and stepping quickly out of the room to make the call.
Garrett lingers by your side for a moment, his jaw tight as he processes everything. Gently pulling back, he reaches behind you and rearranges the pillows so you have solid support to lean against. He scoots his chair directly in front of the mattress, reaching out to grasp both of your trembling hands in his own.
“Danger? This all happened the night I left, didn't it?” he asks, his voice thick with a sudden, suffocating realization.
“Garrett... it’s not your fault.”
“Please, just tell me what happened. Why did you lie to me about your mom?”
“I had to keep her safe.”
“From me?”
A flash of genuine alarm crosses Garrett’s features, his chest tightening. Had everything changed so much between you that you couldn't trust him?
You press your thumb consolingly over the back of Garrett’s hand. “No... I should have told you this a long time ago. My dad... he’s a gambler. It gets bad when he drinks.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Nobody did. He kept it hidden well. My mom called him out when we were in New York, and he stopped for a while. But then he started back up...”
“My game against Bridgewater,” Garrett breathes out, the horrifying puzzle pieces clicking into place. “That’s what all of this is about?”
“Yeah.”
“That afternoon after the game... I overheard our dads and an older guy arguing in the rink corridor. It was after you’d already gone home; I’d gone back to find my dad for my mom. The older guy threatened your dad and warned him there would be dire consequences if he didn’t pay up.”
“Your dad bet on my game...”
“He wasn’t the only one.”
You fall silent, watching as Garrett processes the devastating weight of the truth. He stands up abruptly, pacing agitatedly across the small room. You never wanted to detonate his world like this. After everything he had survived with Phil, this revelation could push him straight over the edge. You had come back hoping to stay close, but instead, you were dragging him into the crossfire for good.
“This older guy—what did he look like?” Garrett demands, stopping in his tracks.
“Um, sixties, thinning black hair, a moustache. He wore a really expensive suit.”
“Uncle Patrick,” Garrett mutters, the blood draining from his face. “He came into town to help with my mom’s funeral years ago. You said he threatened your dad? They—”
“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HER!”
Dean lunges forward, forcefully shoving Garrett backward and stepping right into his face.
“What the fuck is your problem, Dean?!” Garrett snarls, shoving him back.
“UNCLE PATRICK!” Dean barks back, his expression vicious.
“You keep acting like that should mean something to me! He’s a family friend!”
“Dean, stop it!” you cry out.
“He needs to know that his beloved Uncle Patrick is a monster, just like Phil! Nice family you’ve got there, Garrett.”
The absolute red mist of fury clears your vision. Spurred by a sudden, violent surge of adrenaline fuelled by the IV and pure rage, you throw off the hospital blanket, swing your legs over the side of the bed, and march up to Dean, planting a hard, stinging slap right across his cheek.
Instantly, the telemetry monitor and IV pumps erupt into a chaotic, screaming wall of sound as your heart rate spikes dangerously.
“I know you love me, Dean, but you DO NOT need to save me from Garrett!” you pant, struggling to keep your balance on shaky, malnourished legs. “I have never been scared of him! He is NOTHING like Phil! I know who he is. He is the man I have ALWAYS loved. He’s just as much a victim in all of this as I am—”
Your knees buckle as a fresh wave of dizziness hits you, the room spinning violently. Before you can hit the linoleum, Garrett’s arms wrap securely around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.
Across the room, Logan’s eyes dart toward the open door. Two nurses at the station are staring down the corridor, visibly alarmed by the sudden cacophony of alarms. It’s only a matter of seconds before hospital security is called.
Logan strides over, grabbing Garrett by the shoulders and steadying you both. “Look, I don’t know what kind of family war just broke out in here, but you’re attracting the wrong kind of attention. I could hear your voices echoing all the way by the elevators. Get your fucking head in the game, Dean!”
Dean glares murderously at Logan, which is precisely the reaction Logan wanted. “Garrett is not the enemy.”
“Yes, he is! His ‘Uncle’ Patrick is Patrick O’Leary—a capo in the Callahan crime family in Boston!” Dean shouts, pointing an accusing finger. “He’s the exact bastard who has been making her life a living hell for the last ten years, Garrett!”
“No... there’s no way. That night...” Garrett stumbles back, looking at you with a pleading, shattered expression, begging with his eyes for you to tell him Dean is wrong. He feels physically sick to his stomach, the horrifying memory of Phil’s abuse bleeding into the sinister reality of Uncle Patrick.
Just then, movement at the nurse's station catches everyone's attention. Two bulky men covered in crude tattoos and heavy leather jackets push past the front desk, raising their voices as they aggressively corner a nurse.
Stephen Kalyn
The only surprising thing is that MORE of the Off Campus cast isn't MAGA. Young men (particularly white ones, but overall young men) are at significantly higher risk of being MAGAts. It's unfortunate, but it's true.