So, you defend Bucky (Rightfully so, defend my boi!), and you do so with. A LOT of energy (a good thing, duh)
...anywho, my point is I'm wondering how petty you consider writing a 3000 word meta to fuck with somebody, and I'm asking you bc. Respect for your meta writing skills
The context is the person hated on a ship (Winteragent), tagged it as that ship, hated on John in it, and then doubled down when called out for mistagging it. And then claimed John had no trauma at all. And also did the same thing again several times.
So I. Might have started writing a Winteragent meta just to reblog their thing with to fuck with them by forcing them to see that content bc they pissed me off with all that (And by forcing I just mean putting it in their activity lol.). And then I got into it. And then it became 3000 words, mostly about John, and I still have to write a part 2.
Soooo. How petty would you rank that?
...especially if the original plan was to write fanfic explicitly about Bucky helping John out with his trauma bc they complained about that-
I say do it! But to avoid Ao3 issues mark it as "inspired by" the previous work. That way the op will get a notification but you won't get into trouble.
That's actually not petty- well maybe a bit but the other person was being just as bad. Like Sam Stans self-righteously condemn other ships as "toxic" without understanding how toxic SamBucky is, or at least their perception of it.
There was a post a couple weeks ago where someone shared their headcanon of Bucky having to ask Sam's permission for forming his own team and grovelling to him begging forgiveneess for staying with the Thunderbolts.
That isn't romantic, nor it is sweet. That isn't a positive or healthy relationship- that's disgusting. And this isn't just a matter of personal taste or opinion because the actions they were glorifying are what happens in abusive relationships- particularly those which involve coercive control.
You lose your right to judge other people's ships when you start romanticizing actual *abuse*.
I read this on Reddit today:
"This post is dedicated to the brave and wonderful women who stood up to Neil Gaiman in order to warn and protect others. Feel free to send them a message in the comments and I’ll make sure they see them, let’s show them love and support. Go!"
https://www.reddit.com/r/neilgaimanuncovered/comments/1i3054l/this_post_is_dedicated_to_the_brave_and_wonderful/
Content warning: Several of the people who commented, speak about their own experiences with SA, coercise control or abuse. Please be careful if these topics are hard for you to read.
TW: child abuse (skip flashback to avoid), financial abuse, coercive control tactics
Chapter Fifteen: Give Yourself a Chance
Tommy had been looking forward to spending a few more days recuperating at Aunt Gina’s house before they drove back down to LA but after Tony and Gina went to Dad’s house to get some stuff for Naomi, it seemed to him like it would be better to get Naomi down to LA as quickly as possible. Tommy caught Evan’s eye and motioned with his head towards a quiet corner of the living room.
Evan helped Tommy up from the floor and Tommy crutched over to where they could talk quietly between the two of them. “I think we should drive back to LA tomorrow,” he said.
Evan nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced across to where Naomi was still sitting at the dining table with the frozen eye mask covering half her face. Mikey sat next to her, speaking softly. Tommy had gotten a peak of Mikey in “Dad mode” with Annie and Cassie at the Fourth of July barbeque and he seemed to have fallen into that with Naomi now. It was refreshing to see usually anxious, neurotic Mikey snap into caretaker mode. Whatever Mikey was saying seemed to be helping Naomi calmed down. Her posture relaxed as much as possible for someone who’d nearly had their ribs kicked in.
Tommy wasn’t sure he’d be able to replicate that. Sure, he could get a total stranger to stop hyperventilating long enough for to get them to safety, but that was work. This was personal.
Maybe Naomi would be better living with Mikey, someone she’d grown up with, someone who wasn’t a virtual stranger like Tommy. Someone who actually had experience with taking care of someone rather than someone whose first instinct was still to run away at the first sign of things getting too hard or too real. Sure, he hadn’t let himself give into that instinct in a long time, not since that first, disastrous date with Evan, but what if he did it again with Naomi. What if he failed her?
God he should have kept in touch better, kept the door open for his siblings to flee through should they need to.
“Hey.” Evan’s hand found its way onto his shoulder, fingertips digging gently into Tommy’s muscle. Tommy’s thoughts quieted immediately and he leaned into the touch, almost forgetting that he couldn’t put weight on his broken leg.
“We’ve got this,” Evan said. “We’ll keep her safe, help her find her feet.”
Tommy nodded. “I just wish it wasn’t like this,” he said. Looking at Naomi’s bruised face made his own nose throb with the memory of his own Dad-given broken nose. “I wish she didn’t have to go through the same shit I went through.”
“At least she won’t be alone like you were,” said Evan with a sad smile. It still made Tommy choke up thinking about how Evan had cried when Tommy had finally come clean about his past. How Evan had been the first person to listen to Tommy blame himself for leaving his brothers behind and instead of blaming Tommy too, he’d thanked Tommy for making it out alive.
“Yeah, I guess there’s that,” said Tommy.
Read more on Ao3 or below the cut
“So, we’ll leave tomorrow morning, then?” Evan asked. “Will you be up for that?”
Tommy nodded and leaned against Evan. He wished he could’ve gone with Gina and Tony – a show of force and all that – but what use would he have been with a broken leg and a hole in his thigh, not to mention all his other scrapes and bruises. Not exactly who you’d want backing you up if it came to a fight.
God, he hoped it wouldn’t come to a fight, that the next phone call one of them got wouldn’t be from a police station.
Over the next fifteen minutes, they put the ice packs away to refreeze and moved Naomi from the dining table to one of Gina’s very comfortable armchairs in the living room, propping her upright with a variety of embroidered cushions. “Those ribs will be a nightmare to sleep on,” said Tommy, who’d had his fair share of bruised and broken ribs from the army, the job, and Muay Thai. “It might be a good idea to sleep sitting up for the next few days.”
Naomi nodded numbly. “Thanks,” she muttered, voice raw from crying. It was hard to tell what she was thinking since her face was all distorted from the swelling and bruising.
“Can I get you anything?” Tabitha asked. “There’s twenty-four-hour convenience store a couple blocks away. I could get you some ice cream.”
Naomi shook her head. Her bottom lip quivered and for a moment Tommy thought she might succumb to another bout of tears, but she didn’t, biting her lip as though forcing it into stillness. And he remembered what that was like too, feeling like he needed to hold back his tears because tears were a sign of weakness and there was nothing worse than being weak. “I just wish Mom was here,” she said.
Tommy’s heart squeezed in his chest. He knew that feeling all too well: being bruised and bloodied and afraid and wanting nothing more than for his mother to come and make everything better, at least for a little while. At least Naomi’s mom was alive.
“I could call Veronica,” said Mikey, getting his phone out of his pocket.
“Don’t,” said Naomi sharply. She winced. The forcefulness of her words must have jostled her ribs. “Don’t,” she repeated. “She’ll just make some excuse for him.”
And God, didn’t that just make Tommy want to storm over to his father’s house, cast and all? Because he knew that feeling, knew what it was like to have a mother he absolutely adored but with whom he could never feel entirely safe because, in the end, whether out of love or necessity, she’d always take Dad’s side.
1999
Tommy was supposed to be at football tryouts.
Instead, he was in the ER waiting for an X-ray, trying not to cry from the pain in his arm, which was probably broken or very badly sprained.
Mom had told the triage nurse that he’d fallen off his bike because that was the lie Tommy had told her. The lie he knew she hadn’t believed, but she hadn’t pressed for the truth. She knew what had happened, but Tommy knew she’d never tell anyone the truth. Neither would he for that matter, because he knew the idea of what would happen if the truth got out terrified her.
Which was the same excuse she’d given three trips to the ER ago when Dad had “accidentally” broken Tommy’s nose by shoving him hard into a wall. At least, Mom had always said they were accidents. Tommy had stopped believing that a while ago.
Just like he’d stopped believing that his father loved him.
Because Dad clearly didn’t, not like he loved little Tony. Dad actually played catch with Tony, whereas Tommy had always had to insert himself into games of catch between his friends and their fathers.
The only reason why Dad ever took Tommy hunting with him was because Dad wanted him to “man up.” Not that Tommy minded. There was something peaceful about getting up early, before the sun and finding their spot and just being in the woods. It was one of the few times when he could be with his father and not worry about being berated or yelled at or criticised because Dad would want to risk spooking whatever it was, they were after. Tommy actually looked forward to those hunting trips. They made him feel like he had a somewhat normal relationship with his father and there was something satisfying about having a skill that meant putting extra food on the table.
And now, Dad had broken his arm and not only was football out for this year, but Tommy probably wouldn’t be fully healed enough to go deer hunting with Dad either. And somehow, it would all be Tommy’s fault, because it was always Tommy’s fault.
Tommy’s fault Dad had to marry Mom in the first place.
Tommy’s fault Dad had to join the police force instead of doing whatever it was he’d wanted to do instead.
Tommy’s fault Dad drank too much.
Tommy’s fault Dad lost his temper.
Not that Mom would ever say outright that Tommy brought the beatings on himself. No, she’d say that Tommy needed to understand that Dad was under a lot of stress, that they needed to be understanding and supportive, that Dad didn’t mean to hurt them.
Only Tommy didn’t think that was true.
Dad liked hurting Tommy. There’d been a gleam in his eye, a certain sick joy, as he’d shoved Tommy hard off the front porch. Tommy could’ve sworn he’d seen Dad smile at the crack of his arm breaking.
And Tommy hadn’t even been able to cry because that would only make Dad climb down the steps and lay into him again. Instead, Tommy had climbed to his feet, dusted himself off and gone back inside, waiting in his room until Mom got home from work, gritting his teeth against the pain in his arm.
“I think it’s broken,” he’d told her when she’d come in to tell him dinner was ready. But he hadn’t cried. She wouldn’t have liked that, and Dad would have liked it even less.
“I’ll take you to the hospital after I get Dad his supper,” she’d said, because it wouldn’t have mattered to Dad if Tommy was dying, supper was served exactly at six or else there’d be hell to pay.
Tommy had nodded and waited until he’d heard the scraping of cutlery on his father’s plate and then he’d snuck out of his room and out of the house to find his mother waiting in her car.
And now here they were, a lie that no one believed weaving it’s way into his medical history: a history of clumsiness and carelessness and unfortunate accidents.
At one point, the triage nurse got up to help one of the other nurses and Tommy leaned in to whisper in Mom’s ear, “what if we ran away?”
Mom sighed and shook her head. “We can’t do that, Tommy,” she said. “How am I supposed to raise three kids on my own? And what about your dad? He needs us.” But she didn’t sound convinced. If anything, her words were flat and rehearsed, her expression flat and weary. “He doesn’t mean to hurt us.” It was like if she said the words often enough, she’d eventually believe them.
Tommy didn’t understand how Mom could keep making excuse after excuse.
2025
Veronica was the same as his mother, Tommy knew, and now he understood the psychology of abuse a bit better than he had as a teenager he even understood why she stayed. Didn’t mean he liked it for her any more than he’d liked it for his own mother.
“Maybe she’ll finally open her eyes to the type of person your father is,” Tabitha suggested.
Tommy hadn’t met Tabitha before tonight, but from what he’d seen, she was a calm and stable presence. He was glad Aunt Gina had a friend like that. Glad Tabitha was here now to ask the questions Tommy hadn’t thought to ask. It was fucking brilliant the way she’d documented Naomi’s injuries before letting Tommy and Evan patch her up to the best of their limited abilities. Which reminded him, “I’m gonna call Howie and have us meet us at the house when we get back tomorrow.”
Evan nodded. “Good idea. If she doesn’t want to go to a doctor, a paramedic is at least better than nothing.”
“Who’s Howie?” Naomi asked. Everything about her tone, expression, and posture screamed caution, like a cat with its back up, ready to hiss and scratch and run as needed and God, Tommy remembered being exactly like that.
“My brother-in-law,” said Evan at the same time Tommy said, “One of my oldest friends.” They smiled at each other and Evan nodded for Tommy to continue.
“He’s one of the best paramedics I know,” said Tommy. His leg was really starting to ache. In all the excitement he’d forgotten to take his next dose of pain meds, but his own pain didn’t matter next to what Naomi had just gone through. “And he’s also one of the best people I know and very accepting. You’ll be safe with him.”
“You mean, I can be Naomi?” she asked. As far as Tommy could tell under the swelling, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and disbelief.
Tommy nodded. “If you only want to be Naomi from now on, we can help you make that happen,” he said. “We can help you get insurance and find a trans friendly primary care physician. I don’t know everything that goes into transitioning, but anything you need, just ask.”
“That goes for me too,” said Mikey. “I may not know much, but I know I want my little sis to be happy.”
“Thanks, Mikey. Thanks, Tommy.” Tears rimmed Naomi’s eyes and Tabitha passed her a tissue box.
“Do you have any clothes that you feel comfortable wearing?” Tabitha asked. Again, asking all the practical questions that no one else seemed to be capable of asking. Maybe it was because she had some emotional distance from the situation or maybe it was because she was a mother or maybe it was just her core personality.
Naomi shook her head. “I was too scared of Dad finding anything,” she said. “I had a plan. I was gonna save up enough for my share of the rent with one of my bandmates and then I was gonna start socially transitioning. Guess that can happen sooner now.”
“Rent,” said Evan frowning. He crossed his arms. For a moment, Tommy thought his fiancé was going to raise the issue of how Naomi would contribute to the household finances once they got her settled down in LA and now was not the time for that. But before Tommy could say anything, Evan asked, “Who cosigned your bank account when you opened it?”
Naomi frowned. “My mom. Why?”
Evan bit his lip as though he’d had a thought he wasn’t sure he should share. Which meant it was probably something upsetting. Finally, he sighed. “When my sister left home, my parents closed her bank account,” he said. “They thought it would teach her a lesson, but it only made it so she had no one to rely on but her abusive ex. They probably would’ve done the same to me if my account hadn’t been overdrawn when I ran away.”
“Your parents did what?” Tabitha stared, eyes wide and disbelieving, the first sign of negative emotion she’d allowed to slip through her façade all evening.
Evan shrugged. “They weren’t the best parents, but they’re trying to make up for it.” Tommy had opinions on Evan’s parents but he mostly kept those to himself unless it was just him and Howie and sometimes Eddie sharing beers after pick-up basketball. Evan shook his head and continued his line of thought, fixing Naomi with those big blue eyes of his. “You should get as much cash out as you can while you can, just in case.”
Naomi’s eyes widened. “She wouldn’t do that would she?” She glanced between Mikey and Tommy as if looking for some kind of answer.
Tommy didn’t know Veronica well enough to know if she was the kind of person who’d cut her own child off financially, but he knew for a fact that their father was exactly that kind of person. “Dad might make her,” he said.
Mikey sighed. “Tommy’s right,” he said. “I don’t think your mom would think to do something like that on her own, but if Dad tells her to, I think she would.”
Tears spilled down Naomi’s swollen cheeks.
Tommy was better with tears than he used to be, but that was from his soon to be niece, not a six-foot-one young woman who’d been beaten half to death. Luckily, Tabitha seemed to know exactly what to do. She knelt in front of Naomi and took her hands and said, “hey, baby, it’s okay. We’ve got you. Do you have your bank card with you?”
Naomi nodded. She shifted, groaning as she reached into her back pocket and pulled out a worn, black leather wallet.
“That convenience store I was talking about earlier has an ATM,” said Tabitha. “It’s not midnight yet, so you should be able to withdraw your daily limit today and then again tomorrow. Keep doing that until the account’s empty or you can’t access it anymore.”
“I can’t go out like this.” Naomi gestured to the dark purple bruising and swelling around her eyes and nose. “People will ask questions.”
In Tommy’s experience, it was rare that people actually did ask questions when they saw bruises like Naomi’s. It was like there was some sort of human instinct to ignore the obvious signs of abuse, pretend like there was nothing to be done, or hope that someone else would do something about it.
“Then, if you trust me, you can give me your PIN and I’ll go make the first withdrawal now,” said Tabitha. “But only if you trust me.”
Naomi sniffled and nodded. “I trust you.” Tommy wondered how much time Naomi had spent with Tabitha. He’d been under the impression that Gina didn’t really interact with Dad’s new family all that much, but maybe Gina’s house had become something of a safe haven for Naomi as it had been for Tommy and his brothers.
Tabitha smiled gently and leaned forward so Naomi could whisper the PIN into Tabitha’s ear. “Do you know your withdrawal limit?”
Naomi shook her head.
“It’s probably somewhere between five hundred and a thousand dollars,” said Tabitha. “Do you know how much you have in the account?”
“Maybe fifteen hundred. Maybe a little more,” said Naomi. “I’m trying to save up a few months rent, but Dad started making me pay for my own food once I graduated and gas is expensive, and my car needed new tyres.”
“The ATM receipt will have your balance on it.” Tabitha nodded and gave Naomi a kind smile before grabbing her purse and driving off in her Prius.
Tony and Aunt Gina returned before Tabitha got back and Tommy heaved a sigh of relief after looking Tony over for any signs of an altercation and finding none. “Dad still alive then?” Tommy asked. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. Not that he wanted his little brother to assault their father, but one of these days, it might be refreshing to see Jonathan Kinard get a taste of his own medicine.
“For now,” said Tony. “Did Tabitha go home?”
“She went to get some cash out of Naomi’s account,” said Tommy. “Wouldn’t put it past Dad to convince Veronica to drain the account.”
Tony groaned. “God, why is he such an evil mother fucker?”
“Generational trauma,” said Gina. “I don’t know what you remember about my father, Devil take his soul, but he’s why I believe in evil.” She pursed her lips as though she had more to say on the subject. “How’s Naomi?”
“Still hurts,” Naomi answered.
“It’s probably time to start icing again,” said Evan glancing down at his watch.
“I’ve got it,” said Mikey.
Eventually, Tabitha returned with five hundred dollars cash and an ATM receipt, both of which she handed to Naomi along with her bank card. Tabitha went home shortly after that. Mikey and Tony both wanted to stay to help look after Naomi, but Gina shooed them out of her house like they were wayward geese. “Go home and sleep,” she said. “There’s nothing you can do that two trained first responders can’t do better.”
Tommy appreciated the show of faith though he wasn’t sure it was warranted.
Naomi fell asleep not long after and Tommy was honestly dead on his one good foot. Evan herded him to bed and helped him get changed before getting Tommy his meds and a glass of water to wash them down with.
“How are you feeling?” Evan asked as he slotted in next to Tommy, arm draped over Tommy’s chest. His hair tickled Tommy’s throat and his unshowered, end-of-day scent might have driven Tommy to ask for a more vigorous end to the evening if he wasn’t so wrung out.
Tommy wrapped his hand around Evan’s forearm, pulling him closer until Evan hook a leg over Tommy’s hip. “Sad, mostly,” he admitted. “Simone’s going to be all alone in that house now.” The thought of that bright-eyed, cheerful young girl being left to fend for herself made him feel strangely guilty, but it wasn’t like they could just sweep in and kidnap his half sister.
“Hey,” Evan said. “That’s not on you. That’s on your dad.”
Tommy sighed. “I know,” he said. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck.”
#
In the morning, Tony came over with bagels, coffee and concealer?
“For the bruises,” said Tony, he gave Tommy a sceptical look. “You do martial arts, don’t you ever need to hide a black eye?” A little smirk came over his face as his eyes flicked to Evan, who was yawning into his cup of coffee. “Or a hickey.”
Tommy chuckled, because Evan had given him some truly memorable hickeys that his team had given Tommy no end of shit over, but he’d never felt the need to cover them. As for any black eyes – “I’m in a pretty macho line of work,” he said. “People don’t really question mystery bruises too deeply.”
“Yeah, well, people might question why you’re road tripping with a teenager who looks like she’s come straight from Fight Club,” said Tony. Naomi winced as Tony clipped her hair back and started dabbing on the flesh-coloured liquid with something that looked like a foam egg. It looked like they’d done this together before.
And didn’t that thought make Tommy just want to wrap Naomi in cotton padding so that nothing could ever hurt her again. But odds were that something would hurt her again. Tommy may not have been super engaged in the queer community, but he was engaged enough to know that trans women got the worst of things. And that made him anxious for Naomi’s future. Not that he wouldn’t support her one hundred percent, but maybe that support would involve some sessions in the Muay Thai ring once he was off crutches and done with whatever rehab he’d need to do to get back to active duty. In the meantime, maybe Evan could teach her to throw a punch if Tony hadn’t done that already.
Tommy hobbled over to the dining table and set his crutches aside so he could sit. Evan brought his coffee and an everything bagel with cream cheese, and they ate together. “You good to do the whole drive by yourself?” Tommy asked.
“Yeah,” said Evan. “Don’t forget, I used to live out of my Jeep.”
“That was over a decade ago, Evan,” said Tommy.
“You calling me old?” Evan asked with mock offence.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Tommy gave his fiancé a chaste peck on the lips. Evan tasted of cream cheese and coffee and Tommy deepened the kiss, seeking Evan’s natural taste under the flavours of his breakfast.
For a moment, there was nothing in the world apart from Evan and those luscious lips opening under his. A warm wet tongue pushed into his and—
Gina cleared her throat.
Tommy reluctantly pulled away from Evan’s kiss but laid his head on Evan’s shoulder to give his aunt a challenging look. Evan squeezed his thigh under the table, just a bit too high to be suitable for polite company.
“You two have gotten far too comfortable in my house,” she said.
Tommy chuckled. “We’ll be out of your hair in an hour or so,” he said.
“Maybe I like having you in my hair,” said Gina with a fond smile. “But you’re right, you have lives to get back to, can’t go lingering in your old maid aunt’s house forever, now can you.”
“Hey, hopefully you can drop the old maid part soon,” said Evan. “Send me any matches you get, and I can give you tips for what to say in your messages.”
“Evan, you are not playing wingman for my aunt,” said Tommy. “We have a wedding to plan.”
“I can do both,” Evan pouted.
Tommy shook his head and bit into his bagel.
“As much as I appreciate the offer, Evan,” Gina began, “I do wonder how your skills will translate to wooing lesbians.”
Evan shrugged. “Flirting is flirting, right?”
“Okay, I think that’s as good as it’s going to get,” said Tony, siting back from Naomi to survey his work.
The bruising wasn’t completely covered, but it didn’t stand out as much. A pair of dark glasses and a ball cap, and no one would really be able to tell she had two black eyes and a broken nose. “Thanks Tony,” Naomi smiled. Then she pushed herself out of Gina’s armchair with a groan and shuffled over to the dining table where she snagged a plain bagel and coffee for herself.
Tony checked his phone. “Damn, I’ve got to get to work, but text me with updates.” He leaned down and kissed the top of Naomi’s head, ruffling her hair as he pulled away. He met Tommy’s eye. “You protect her.”
Tommy nodded. “Cross my heart and hope to die,” he said.
That seemed to satisfy Tony who left after giving Gina a quick hug.
“Well, I suppose you’ll be heading off soon,” said Gina settling in at the head of the table with her own breakfast.
Evan nodded. “We should get going if we want to avoid the traffic.”
“Well,” said Gina. “It was lovely to have you both as guests even if the reason for your visit was less than ideal and the reason for your leaving so soon is even worse. I hope that some day we can have a proper visit without any drama or injuries.”
Tommy chuckled. “Not really how the Kinards like to do things though, is it?”
Gina sighed. “You’ll keep me posted as you get settled in?” she asked Naomi.
Naomi nodded.
“Good,” said Gina. “I’ll go visit your work tomorrow and explain what’s happened to your boss. Do you want me to get your last pay check mailed to you?”
Naomi nodded again.
Tommy wondered how long it would be before she’d feel safe enough to truly open up and be herself. Tommy knew better than anyone that coming to terms with your identity and wanting to broadcast it to the world were often two separate and equally messy processes.
After breakfast, Evan helped Gina tidy and then loaded their stuff into the SUV he’d rented (someone had tracked down Tommy’s duffle back at camp and brought it to Gina’s). Tommy and Naomi sat in silence, staring at each other. Tommy sense that Naomi had questions, and he wanted to give her the space to ask them on her own terms rather than pushing her to speak.
Finally, she said, “you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I can figure something else out.”
And Tommy remembered what it was like to be like that: broken and lost and afraid and still unwilling to ask for help and reluctant to accept it when it was offered.
Tommy reached across the table and laid a hand over Naomi’s. “Hey,” he whispered. “Evan and I want to help you. I want to help you.” Maybe if he showed her a bit of his vulnerable side it might help her accept how serious he was about helping her. “Honestly, being able to be here for you like this feels like a second chance. A chance to not repeat the mistake I made with Mikey and Tony.”
Naomi frowned. “Like a do-over?” she asked. With the swelling and the discolouration of her face it was hard to discern her expression, but she didn’t sound overly pleased.
“Not a do-over,” said Tommy. “I can’t go back and change the way things happened with them. Believe me if I could, I would, but I can’t. What I can do, is make sure that you are never left alone like they were.”
Naomi nodded. “I just don’t want to be any trouble.”
“You won’t be,” said Tommy. “You’re family. And I know, we only met a couple months ago, but I love you, Naomi. You’re my sister and I want to help you.” And that was the absolute truth of the matter. There was something about Naomi during that first meeting, her quiet caution, the way she sat on the fringes and observed the world before taking action and speaking that had burrowed its way into Tommy’s heart and blossomed into a deep and undeniable affection.
Naomi smiled and ducked her head and didn’t say anything else about how unnecessary his help was.
Once the car was loaded, they said goodbye to Gina and piled in.
Tommy claimed the back seat so that he could stretch his leg along the bench, which left the front passenger seat for Naomi.
“Wanna choose a playlist?” Evan asked.
Naomi nodded and connected her phone to the car via Bluetooth.
That was another thing to add to the list, Tommy realised. They’d need to get her on her own phone plan because Dad would definitely cut her off when he realised she wasn’t coming back. He’d bring it up when they got back to LA though.
For now, he closed his eyes and let Naomi’s pop rock playlist wash over him.
He spent more of the drive than he’d planned asleep, waking only when Evan pulled off at a rest stop to fill up the tank or get them some food or to take a nature break. At one of their stops, Naomi went to the atm and got out another five hundred dollars while Tommy attempted to stretch his back without overbalancing.
She had a little frown on her face when she came back to the car.
“What is it?” Tommy asked as she tucked the cash inside her wallet.
“Won’t Dad be able to trace the ATM withdrawals to find me?” she asked.
Tommy hadn’t thought about that. “We can ask Athena about that when we get to LA,” he said.
Naomi gave him a confused look.
“She’s a police sergeant with the LAPD and married to Evan’s boss,” Tommy explained. “If she doesn’t know the answer, she’ll know someone who knows. We’ll ask her about getting a restraining order against Dad too.”
“Will that even do anything?” Naomi asked.
Tommy shrugged. “It might help you feel safer,” he said. But that didn’t feel like enough. “Look, I know it’s not the same situation at all, but if it makes you feel any better, Dad never bothered looking for me after I left for good. Maybe it’ll be the same.” What did it say about their father that it was better for him to be neglectful than it was for him to take an interest?
“Maybe,” said Naomi. “But Mom will.”
Tommy sighed, not sure if there was anything he could do that would offer any meaningful level of comfort to his sister.
“And I keep thinking about how Simone’s going to be all alone,” she said. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
“Did you text her?” Tommy asked.
Naomi shook her head. “I don’t know what to say,” she said. “I just don’t want to disappoint her.”
“You won’t,” said Tommy. Though he knew from experience that that was a lie. Hadn’t he disappointed Mikey and Tony with what he’d done? He knew that Naomi’s situation was different than his. She was still technically a minor for one and her only income was from a minimum wage dishwashing job whereas Tommy had been a few years old and had his army earnings. But Naomi was broken now, just like Tommy had been and feeling guilty over leaving Simone behind wouldn’t help her heal.
“You can’t know that,” Naomi snapped. “What if she doesn’t want a big sister? What if she hates me?”
Tommy sighed. “I don’t know Simone at all really,” he said. “And I was pretty messed up on pain killers when we met, but she seems like a really sweet kid. I’m sure if you explain that being Naomi is what makes you happy, then she’ll understand.”
“I don’t even know if being Naomi does make me happy,” she said. “So far, it’s just gotten me made fun of and beaten up.” There was a tinge of humour in her voice though, enough that Tommy felt comfortable offering a joke in return.
“Yeah, well, baby steps,” he said. “Give yourself a chance to be yourself and then you can decide if it makes you happy or not.”
Naomi nodded.
Evan returned with an armload of fast food bags and after gulping down greasy burgers and soggy French fries, they got back on the road.
#
Night had fallen by the time they reached the house, but Howie was waiting inside, having let himself in with his spare key.
“Maddie figured you’d be hungry after the drive,” Howie said.
Evan sniffed the air. “Maddie made pot roast?” His eyes lit up.
“Still not beating those golden retriever allegations, I see, Buckaroo,” said Howie. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Okay, where’s the patient?”
Tommy gestured for Naomi to come further into the house from where she was hovering in the front hall. “Howie, this is my little sister Naomi,” he said. “Naomi, this is Howie, Evan’s brother-in-law.”
“Is that all I am to you?” Howie joked. He plopped his medical kit on the dining table and pulled out a chair gesturing for Naomi to sit. “Let’s take a look at you, Naomi.”
Naomi hesitated, but eventually put her backpack down and sat.
“I’m gonna need to take the concealer off,” Howie said, squinting at the discolouring peeking through the thick make-up. He fetched a wet wipe from his kit and gently got to work. Noami gripped the edge of the chair, the only sign she gave that she was in any discomfort.
“Oh, yeah, that’s a broken nose,” said Howie. “Looks like you set it?” He sent a questioning gaze Tommy’s way.
Tommy nodded. “We got ice on it as soon as we could too. Haven’t been able to do much icing during the car trip though.”
“Well, the good news is that it’ll heal straight and there’s not a lot of swelling,” said Howie.
“What’s the bad news?” Naomi asked.
“You got punched in the face,” said Howie. He waggled his eyebrows. “What? Do want worse news than that?”
Naomi rolled her eyes.
“Keep icing it on the regular for the next few days,” said Howie. “Buck also mentioned your ribs are bruised?”
Naomi nodded and lifted her shirt enough to reveal the deep purple bruising on her sides.
Howie sucked in a sharp breath. “Jesus, Tommy, I really hope the guy who did this is in jail,” he said.
“Unfortunately, the guy who did this is our dad,” said Tommy.
Howie shook his head. “And I though I drew the short straw when it came to dads,” he said. He looked at Naomi. “Did you sleep on these?”
Naomi shook her head. “I slept in a chair.”
“Good,” said Howie. “Cuz they’re definitely broken not bruised. Keep sleeping upright on them and don’t do any strenuous activity, we don’t want them to shift and puncture a lung. Definitely keep icing them.”
“Should I bandage them?” Naomi asked.
Howie shook his head. “No, that’ll just increase the chances of things going wrong. Just take it easy for a bit and they should heal on their own. Though you really should go to a doctor.” He started packing up his kit.
“Thanks, Howie,” said Tommy.
“And what about you, man?” Howie scanned Tommy’s visible injuries. “What’s your recovery timeframe looking like?”
“Let’s just put it this way, I’ll probably still be in a walking boot for the wedding,” said Tommy.
Howie smacked his gum. “Uh oh, Buck’s not going to be happy about that. How much do you wanna bet that he’ll track down someone who makes walking boots that match your colour scheme.”
“We don’t have a colour scheme yet,” said Tommy. He frowned recalling that there might have been some discussion about that while he was watching Julia Roberts finally stop running from love. “Or maybe we do. I don’t know. The last few days are a little hazy.”
“We do,” Evan called as he emerged from the direction of their guest room. “There’s a towel in the guest bath if you want to shower,” he told Naomi before wrapping his arms around Tommy’s waist.
Naomi nodded her thanks and scurried off down the hall towards the guest room.
“So what’s our colour scheme?” Tommy asked.
“Gina and I decided on blue and gold for the colour scheme.” Evan yawned, no doubt exhausted from everything that had happened and then having to drive the entire seven hours since neither Tommy nor Naomi had really been up for it. Which reminded Tommy, they’d need to sort out getting Naomi’s car to LA. Maybe Mikey or Tony could bring it down. Then again, he didn’t even know if the title was in Naomi’s name or not.
There were so many little logistical things to keep track of. Maybe Evan would have to break out his clipboard.
Tommy was kind of too tired to care just now so he settled on giving Evan a kiss on the cheek.
“Well, that’s my cue,” said Howie, grabbing his kit. “Let me know if you need anything else to help her get settled.
“Thanks, Chim,” said Evan. “And tell Maddie thank you for the food. And give Jee and Baby Kevin hugs and kisses from me.”
“What am I, a carrier pigeon?” Howie let himself out.
Tommy chuckled and leaned against Evan.
“You must be exhausted,” said Evan.
“I want to eat first,” Tommy replied.
“Why don’t you pull a movie up and I’ll fix you a plate,” said Evan.
Tommy begrudgingly released Evan and used his crutches to transfer to the living room. He plopped down on the sofa, propping his broken leg on the coffee table with a cushion underneath. Evan brought him dinner not long after and Naomi emerged from the shower wearing a clean pair of sweats and a tee shirt. She gingerly lowered herself onto one of the chairs.
“You want something to eat?” Evan asked as Tommy paused the Netflix reality dating show they’d chosen to unwind to.
Naomi nodded.
Evan sprang up to go fix her a plate, leaving Tommy and Naomi alone again. Tommy suspected that they’d be spending quite a bit of time together for the foreseeable future, given their injuries. He watched his younger sister as her eyes swept through the room taking in the framed photos and nick knacks, Evan’s record collection, one of Tommy’s paintings. “This is really nice,” she said.
“Thanks,” said Tommy.
“Tommy did most of the work himself,” Evan began, pulling a TV tray up and putting Naomi’s plate down so she wouldn’t have to awkwardly balance her food in her lap. Then he launched into the story of how Tommy had transformed the dingy little bungalow into the house they shared today.
Their home.
Tommy sighed and closed his eyes, letting himself drift to the sound of Evan’s voice.
I used the SP goth kids to show coercive abusive relationships
They did it, it was their last song.
They put the payment on their house, they were moving in this week.
Henrietta couldn't believe she was going straight from the stage to a house in Denver with her friends like they always talked about.
Firkle was starting Colorado University, he was a protege that skipped several grades and graduated early. His parents paid his way as long as he stayed in school, he had every scholarship imaginable. Henrietta remained quite touched he chose Colorado University to stay close. He didn't want to give up on the band.
Pete and Henrietta were starting their jobs afterward, she wasn't looking forward to it. She guessed she didn't know what else she was going to do, and it was nice of Pete to make sure she was set up.
Maybe she just was ungrateful. It must have been left over from her parents.
The lights dimmed over her and Firkle. It was the encore already? She was hardly aware of what song they were on.
Firkle was unplugging and stripping down equipment. He nodded at Henrietta.
Henrietta picked up what he had packed and followed him out the back door.
He handed her a flask and pack of cigarettes as soon as they stepped out.
Henrietta accepted graciously.
"Thank you." She said taking a drink and digging through her jacket pockets for a lighter.
It was too warm out for her leather jacket, but she hated how her arms looked in a tank top.
She took a deep drag and extra swig out of the flask before passing them to Firkle, and loading the rest of their stuff in the van.
"God, I'm glad to get off the road." She lamented collapsing in the back seat with a cigarette. She kept the door open, mindful of the smell.
"You sure you're ready to go home with food daddy forever?" Firkle raised a brow.
Henrietta scowled. "Stop calling him that!"
Firkle rolled his eyes. "Every time you guys get together you start bickering now, I miss when we were all chill and just friends before--" Firkle cutting himself off.
Henrietta sat up on her elbows. "Before?" She prodded.
"You got sick..." Firkle said quietly. "Pete got obsessed with it, it's changed both of you a lot."
Henrietta blinked her gaze down. "I know, I'm sorry..." She muttered, sitting up.
"I'm not mad, I just miss my friends." Firkle squeezed her shoulder. "You'd tell me if Pete and you had problems, right?"
Henrietta snapped her head towards him. "What do you mean?" She asked quickly, her heart hammered in her chest.
"Well... I just noticed how much more distant you are. You're our best friend, too, Henny... If something's going on don't be scared to come to me or Michael, we know how he is..."
"He's awesome! It's fucking Pete!" She said, motioning her arms to the door.
"He's just as much my friend, dude, but that's why I can admit when he sucks, and you used to, too!" Firkle pointed out. "You tiptoe around him like crazy, you didn't even get this quiet when you just had a disorder!"
"Shut the fuck up, I'm not a coward ass little bitch-ass football player wife!" She shot narrowing her eyes. Offended Firkle would think of her in such a light.
"You said it." Firkle muttered.
Pete and Michael exited through the back door. Pete pulled Henrietta up and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her.
She pulled away exchanging a look with Firkle. She sent a glare that told him to shut the fuck up. She loved Pete, she was happy!
"There it is." Michael said pulling up to an older house on the outskirts of Denver.
They piled out of the SUV. Michael's parents gave it to him as a graduation gift.
Pete and Henrietta started at a bar at the end of the week, and Michael got an off season job cleaning airplanes. His dad worked on planes in South Park, it was seasonal and gave him plenty of time to handle everything going on with their band, which was generating enough to pay rent and a few bills every month by this point.
Firkle made several logo designs, and Michael was figuring out how to sell merchandise. Their plan was pretty solid, and they weren't off to a bad start by any means.
"Let's bring our beds in, we don't have to take the truck back until Monday and I just wanna sleep." Pete grumbled.
Henrietta's heart fluttered and she hoped that meant they weren't going to have the cum-swallowing fight tonight.
Firkle and Henrietta immediately started taking frames and headboards in.
Pete and Michael carried in mattresses.
There were four bedrooms, but Pete only brought three beds, and set a queen up in what Henrietta assumed would be her room.
She swallowed the feeling down. They were a couple and they loved each other, they needed the other room for their instruments and equipment, anyway. Why was she always finding something stupid to complain about?
She sat on the bed in their new bedroom. She was actually getting excited about decorating when Pete barged in tossing sheets and a comforter on her mattress.
"We made it Hen!" He said flopping down and pulling her with him.
She laughed. "Yeah, kinda... I'm still just a bar waitress, though..." She sighed.
"You're eighteen, you're supposed to be." He cupped her chin and pressed their lips together. "They're gonna headline our band when we're not working, I think you'll really like this place. Give it a chance."
Henrietta sighed and nodded. "I'm just nervous, it's been a lot of change really fast..." She said chewing her thumbnail.
"I'll be there the whole time, and I always stay exactly the same." He said flipping his bangs, dyed with the exact same brand since junior high.
Henrietta laughed, and ran her fingers through his hair. "Fair point." She said, she let him kiss her, and kissed him back hard.
"We have our very own room all to ourselves." Pete grinned, trailing kisses down her chest.
Henrietta froze, it was too difficult to read Pete's mind and figure out what he wanted. When she thought she knew he changed it. The only consistency was that she absolutely had to swallow or he wouldn't ever 'really get off'.
She figured it was the least she could do for how much she's been there.
They all wanted this house, and this life together. She needed to enjoy it or she was going to be the one that fucked everything up.
"Let me serve you." Pete breathed out, pulling her shirt off. She would, but she had to admit she was getting bored of going along with everything he wanted all of the time.
It would be fun to have her own requests fulfilled but he insisted she should be happy he makes her cum so much.
And he absolutely did. Pete was so gorgeous, so smart, and so good in bed. She had no idea why she got so frustrated with him.
Her phone buzzed, and she took it out of her pocket to check it. Pete frowned and shot her a look.
Henrietta instantly felt reminded. Anytime it didn't go how he wanted he pouted so bad it was insufferable.
Dad: Hey, give me a call sometime, poodle. Miss you.
Her eyes widened, Pete looked disappointed.
"It's my dad!" She explained haughtily, pressing dial.
"Poodle!"
"Dad!" Henrietta said. "I still haven't heard from mom! I got a house with my friends! I just packed up and moved on, dude! It's like neither of you had the decency to tell me I was kicked out!" She vented out in one breath.
Pete watched on with his chin on his fist, discontent.
"Baby, I'm so sorry..." Her dad sighed. "I know we let you down really bad, sweetheart, but I want to catch up, where are you?"
"Denver." She answered.
Pete scoffed. "Don't tell them!"
She silently shot him a confused look.
"I can make it there, when are you free? Mondays good?" Her dad asked hopefully.
"That's fine." Henrietta sighed out, running a hand through her hair. "I wish you would have told me what was going on more, last year was hard."
Pete's head dropped and he shot her another look.
"I'm so sorry, poodle. I want to talk all about it, I'll take you to lunch on Monday? Three o'clock good?" He asked.
"Yeah, that's fine." Henrietta agreed.
"Good, baby. You doing alright? Pete taking care of you?" Her dad asked.
"Yeah, he's great... he's been there." She jabbed.
"...That's good." Her dad said quietly. "I'll see you Monday."
"See you." Henrietta said, clicking off before either of them had to decide if they should I love you, or anything normal.
"Just forget them, I'm here. They ditched you with me, remember!" Pete huffed.
Henrietta glared.
"Are you going to kick your mom out of our house if she shows up?" She challenged.
"That's different!" Pete narrowed his eyes. "My mom can't help it and she loves me! Your mom beat the shit out of you! You're still covered in scars." He lifted her arm in front of her face, angry pale raised lines that scattered her arm came close to her vision. She ripped her arm away.
"My mom didn't scar me on purpose, we fell into a china cabinet." Henrietta rolled her eyes.
"While she was fucking strangling you!" Pete countered.
"We strangled each other!" She corrected firmly, "and that was my dad, anyway."
"Who just paid my dad to take his daughter." Pete grumbled.
"I'm grateful for everything you and your dad did for me, baby, but I still want to see my dad and figure out what was going on." Henrietta said flatly.
Pete sighed out of his nose. "I know that, princess, but I don't want to see you hurt again." He protested, he started rubbing her shoulders and she stiffened. Parent baggage and Pete's advances didn't mix.
"Baby, I just called my dad." She pinched the bridge of her nose.
Pete pulled his arms back. "God, you always take all of your shit out on me." He slammed his back against the mattress and crossed his arms over his chest.
"No I'm not." Henrietta winced at how pleading and broken her voice sounded. "I want you, I really do, just not right this second..."
"We were about to, and you already promised me move-in night." He pouted, pulling her back.
"Pete--"
"Seriously!? One stupid conversation and you ruin all our day and you want to tell him to come over and bring all that shit back into our lives?!" Pete hissed.
"Dude! I just want to talk to my fucking dad!" Henrietta shot back, she didn't want him to have a say in this decision.
"Don't call me 'dude'!" Pete scowled. "It's a bad fucking idea! Your parents gave you an eating disorder! They're fucking abusive, and you're better off with me!" Pete's voice was starting to raise. Henrietta's heart thudded in her chest. She figured living with Michael and Firkle would make the fights stop but one was building up on move-in day.
"You help me have an eating disorder." She narrowed her eyes.
"You make me help you!" Pete growled back, leaning forward. "You never say anything about that when I buy you bronkaid, or hide your purging from Michael and Firkle. You bring it up as soon as you can use that against me! I'm not helping you be sick, I'm just making your life easier than fighting with them all the time!"
"We wouldn't fight all the time if you didn't demand I had to swallow your cum five times a month!" Henrietta spat.
"I don't demand anything!" Pete countered. "That's not even fucking fair! You're going to reach that far!? How many times did you cum tonight?"
"You're not even grateful when I do it! You just act like I'm a piece of shit for not being able to every day!" She argued.
"You'll throw up all day long but god forbid your boyfriend wants you to do something nice for him." Pete grumbled.
"Jesus! Do you hear yourself!" Henrietta hissed.
"I've gone down on you so much the little slit on my tongue has split open! I have to beg you to go down do you have any idea what that's like?! You wouldn't because I actually make you feel wanted!" Pete's voice cracked.
Henrietta grimaced. "Baby--"
"All I want is for you to feel beautiful, but you don't want me at all." Pete's voice shook, and he let his head drop to his knees.
Henrietta flinched and scooted towards him, reaching her arm out to stroke circles on his back.
"Please don't feel like that..." Henrietta started quietly.
"I gave up everything to make you happy, I make sure you eat, I'm always here when you need a shoulder to cry on, I let you cum as much as you possibly can, anytime I want something you treat me like I'm a piece of shit! You act like I'm a fucking rapist!" He was near tears now, and Henrietta recoiled at the last word he used.
"I don't think that! I've never said anything like that!" Henrietta sneered, disgusted. She'd never accuse anyone of something they didn't do!
"Well, that's how you make me feel!" Pete ran an arm over his face.
"Baby... I'm sorry... I don't want you to feel that way." Henrietta soothed.
"...Then will you this once?" He asked tentatively.
Henrietta sighed, and closed her eyes slowly, inhaling sharply through her nose.
It was just two minutes of work, and it would make Pete feel better.
"Real quick..." She tied up her hair, and Pete's tears seemed to drop immediately as he slid out of his jeans.
Experiencing a trauma bond is rough because ten years will pass and you'll generally be happy again, but then one day you'll be clothes shopping and your reflection will suddenly betray you with a "he wouldn't like this outfit, you better change before—"
