respect and enjoy the peace

The general mood grows increasingly more somber, as the three of them work out the plot they’ve all been pulled into. Whoever it is that’s done this had to be close to both brothers, known them somehow during their youth and still to a certain extent now to know that pulling Shadow in would leave them successful in getting Dulce. It’s just as the list of possible names in his head begins to narrow down when he feels Dulce’s hand land on his knee, and he sees he’s worked it out. Covering his hand with his own and giving it a small squeeze, he encourages him to go on, whatever enemy this is, he’s certain the three of them could face them together. 

The thought that Ducle’s father could do something like this to his sons is a hard pill to swallow, to imagine that someone could ever put their own family through this was difficult for someone like him- someone whose family had always had a tight loyalty amongst each other. He doesn’t question Dulce’s conclusion though, not in the slightest, it all made perfect sense when laid out now, even if the answer was such a dark one. 

“I do have to hand it to dear old dad, he really outdid himself this time,” Claudius sighs, before looking up to the two of them. “So then, now that we know whose behind this, what should we do about it now? I suppose simply ignoring him won’t do this time.” 

Shadow remains quiet as the question lingers in the air, because he doesn’t feel like its his move to determine. This was Dulce’s and Claudius’s father, this is their decision. No matter what they choose he would go along with it of course, which is a sentiment he tries to convey silently as his thumb strokes the top of Dulce’s hand where it still laid on his knee. 

“It’s your decision- both of yours,” he says after a beat, although his gaze is fixated on Dulce. He was not afraid of a fight with Bête Noire if it came down to it, but he’s Dulce’s father, he wouldn’t move against him unless Dulce asked him to. “I’ll be by your side no matter what you decide to do.” 

...

He feels infinitely lucky that he has Shadow at his side through this, especially with this difficult realization. His hand covering his own is grounding, and silently reassuring, something that says he’ll continue to be in this through it all, if Dulce wants him there. He’s not sure how he would manage to cope with what’s come to light now, the reality of having to face his father again, and this time likely do the very thing that he and his brother hadn’t been capable of last time, if he was on his own. The circumstances of his life now, even not factoring in Shadow’s presence, are wildly different than the last time, of course, but he’s not certain he’s far enough removed from them that this wouldn’t send him into a spiral of horrible decisions if not for knowing he has someone to hold onto through it. 

It’s clear the moment it’s in the air that it’s a correct assumption, that no one else could be behind this other than their father. A cruel, self-serving plot, just more proof that he’s always seen his sons as objects to serve his own purposes, and not family to love, and look after. It’s not a surprise, but it doesn’t make it feel any better to have the proof that nothing has changed in the slightest. At least their mother seemed to realize the harm she did when they were young, at least she found a way out for them, and found a way to be better, even if perhaps to the outside fostering her son’s career as a supervillain doesn’t seem like good parenting. He’s glad that at least this time it doesn’t seem like their father’s trying to drag her into the mess. No, it’s just theirs to take care of.

But that begs the exact question that Claudius puts voice to, what do they do about it. 

Dulce lets the silence linger for a moment, frowning deeply, considering the answer. There’s no question in his mind of what the answer is, but it’s still not an easy thing to consider. Shadow’s thumb brushing the back of his hand, though, gives him a little more strength in the choice. And he’s offered even more, when Shadow speaks, reaffirms that he’ll be there no matter what the decision is. The words are simple enough, but they nearly overwhelm him, not so used to being given so much, being shown that sort of loyalty, that sort of care.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, looking at Shadow for a moment. He turns his hand over where it rests on Shadow’s knee, so that he can intertwine their fingers, accept the strength offered. He’s known since their last encounter with their father that this is where things would ultimately lead someday, he’s known since that sickly smile his father gave them when they’d managed to defeat him. It doesn’t make the thought any easier to swallow, though, even if he’s been prepared for this choice for several years now. 

“No, we can’t ignore him any longer,” Dulce says finally, with a sigh, eyes moving to Claudius. He can tell that he already knows the answer, too. “We’ll give him what he wants. If he wants a fight, we’ll give him one. Except, unlike last time, we’ll do what we must to make certain he can’t do anything like this again. To anyone.”

It’s nice to know how open Dulce can be, how willing he is to sit here and talk to Danny, how willing he is to give Danny every single side of the story. He would like that, knowing more about everyone around him, knowing how Dulce really felt about things that had happened in the past. Somehow he wondered if a budding friendship with Dulce could make his other friends warm up to the man more than they usually were. He believes it when Dulce says that he’s a good listener, that he’s willing to do his part in all of this. The way he talks about Daydreamer is proof enough of that, because Danny knows those two don’t like each other. It’s an understatement, really. The fucking hate each other, down to the bone. And the problem is that Danny can kind of understand why Daydreamer does – he’s prone to feeling bad for guys that are so scared of having their control taken away from them. 

But Daydreamer also almost blew up a city. So. Dulce’s side of the story is pretty clear as well. “I can believe that.” He says, finally, after the moment of thought. He can see them doing it, sitting and talking again, finding the time to iron out the stray details of their lives. Maybe he should be wary of it, the connection. But he doesn’t have the space to be wary, he thinks. He doesn’t have enough people in his life to be picky, to make decisions based on what other people might think. And it will probably be good for him to make decisions on his own, to look around and see what he really thinks, what he really wants. He doesn’t think that anybody could begrudge him for that.

He bites his lip for a second, and then lets a smile through, comfortable on his face now as he’s coming more and more into himself. “Gosh, I don’t think a jam session was really what Cat had in mind when she paired us up.” But his voice is soft, and strangely hopeful, because it feels like a safe enough way to explore his past, to delve into the might-have-beens and see if any of it rings true. “But I think it will. Be lovely, I mean. All of it.” 

Dulce shifts with him into the more serious tone he takes the conversation into, the weight on his chest that comes hand in hand with thoughts of Gabe. His wayward brother, still so damaged by what had been done to him in the past, still under the control of code and protocols and whatever else Dr. Judgement had done to shore up his faulty systems. Danny wishes it could be easy to get his brother back, he wishes that he could crack through Gabe’s defences in an instant and have him back, have him with life behind his eyes and love, open and clear, on his face. He really was worried that he was overstepping here, by sticking Dulce with a man who could snap and try to kill him if his control ever lessened. But Dulce doesn’t seem to see it the same way – or sees it exactly the right way, knows exactly how dangerous that Gabe can be. He was the one who had been shot by him, after all, who had suffered at his hands. 

He nods  his head at Dulce’s assessment of it, the fact that it was safer to have Gabe where someone could keep an eye on him, where someone strong like Dulce could reach out and take control. “Thank you,” He breathes, and there isn’t an atom in his body that doesn’t mean it. “You’re right. This is the safest place for him, until we can figure out how to make it safer for everyone. Him included.” 

And he manages a laugh, as well. He nods his head again, huffing a little bit. “I can’t blame you for that either. I’m hoping it – I guess, I hope it will go faster with me around. It feels like he was always what I remembered, when I first started… Reaper called it glitching, I guess. Malfunctioning. Coming back to myself. Maybe I’ll do the same thing for him, get through to him.”

...

It’s a nice change to have a conversation that’s so normal, even if the circumstances surrounding it are anything but that. He’s not one of the villains who longs for a normal life, in truth, he’s not really certain he could ever be capable of giving up any of this entirely, given how he was raised, and how he found his own control after such a horrifying childhood thanks to his father, and no thanks to his mother, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t need moments where he can feel something a little more human. It’s different than Danny needing that, of course, his own circumstances much more horrifying, even if the details still seem to be unknown from what Dulce’s heard, but being trapped in code and commands with no free will, and no memory of life before is something else entirely. Still, he can understand how important it is to have the time for this sort of thing, a reminder of humanity, and connection that doesn’t rely on something grander, or much more serious. It’s nice. And he’s more than willing to give Danny the full story of whatever he wants to know, as they continue these conversations after today, especially if it means having this sort of connection with someone else for the first time in too long.

“No, probably not,” he says with a little laugh. He knows, of course, why Catalyst had paired them up, and it had been exactly what had happened in the end, and now exactly the reason why Danny was sitting here having a conversation with him, some sort of friendship beginning between them. He’s fairly certain she won’t be particularly happy to hear that Danny’s first friend outside of her own little group is Dulce, but he does think that she’ll be less annoyed by that fact now than she would have been before the Tower, at least. Likely for the best, considering the strange sort of mutual respect that there is there now; all the more reason not to fuck up whatever it is that Danny ends up wanting with him. “Next time, then, perhaps. We’ll see if you actually played, or were just a wannabe rocker. And if it’s the latter, well, it’s never too late to learn.”

He understands Danny’s worries about leaving Gabe here under his control, not only a fear of overstepping, but also concerns of safety, especially with so many people in Dulce’s house for the moment, so many people who could accidentally say or do the wrong thing and cause some old code to fire to put them all in danger. But Dulce is confident in holding his control over Gabe while it’s needed, even if it is a strain to keep at it constantly. The good news is that he can feel when more is needed, and when less is possible. It’s the little tug in the back of his mind telling him something is fighting against his control, and if it’s a dangerous thing or not. And that makes him certain that this is the safest place for him to be, in the absence of Dr. Green being able to find a way past all of the coding just yet, and Danny still not having been able to get through to him in a way to cause what happened with him to happen to Gabe.  

The gratitude in Danny’s voice is clear, and it’s not something Dulce hears often in his direction, which makes it all the more meaningful. He was already committed to doing what he could to help the two brothers, but now he feels more prepared to be in this for the long haul, for Danny’s sake. “No need to think me, it’s simple the best solution for the moment. I’m certain you being around will make all the difference,” he says with a nod of certainty. He knows nothing about that side of things, of course, only knows what it feels like to keep him under his control, the push and pull of it, the way it’s sometimes worse than others, but he has hope that Danny being around will do just that. 

“It’ll be different, I would think, now that he’s out of the hostile, oppressive environment he was in, now that he can be around you. If the first things you seemed to remember were about him, it feels safe to think the same can be said for him. And it’ll only help that you have Dr. Green on your side to push things along. He’ll be Gabe in no time, I’m sure of it.”

He had no set plan when he came to Dulce’s that night, no concrete idea of just what all he’d do once he got there. So right now, he’s going off pure gut instinct as he stares down at Dulce, waiting for him to make the next move. The hand that eventually meets the more solid aspect of his shadow, trails slowly down his chest- the sensation isn’t quite the same as if he were in his natural form. He can feel him still him, although it feels more like a ghost of a touch, something featherlight that he has to concentrate on to notice. It isn’t an unpleasant sensation, not in the slightest, in fact if he had hair it’d certainly be standing up on the back of his neck as Dulce continued. 

His glowing gaze shifts from Dulce’s hand, still half immersed in tendrils of smoke, to his own when he speaks again, voicing his next desire. He finds himself just as curious as Dulce is, in how that’d feel like for the two of them. Generally when he made physical contact with someone in this form, it was during the midst of a violent fight. His shadow wasn’t used to this, being touched with care rather than anger, and he can feel the urging tug of it to have him follow through with the request. 

Tilting his head, he moves his hand to brush against Ducle’s cheek, before his clawed fingers move to scrap lightly at the side of his head, as his palm cups the side of his face. He couldn’t speak in this form, but he still had lips, and the control to move them. Bending forward, he slips his thumb under Dulce’s chin, using it to tilt his head upward before he meets his ghostly lips with Ducle’s own. The kiss is forceful, because he wouldn’t be able to feel it at all if he allowed it to be featherlight- which he doubts Dulce minds. 

Moving his lips hungerly against his, he lets the two of them linger in that moment, exploring just what they could and couldn’t do while he was in this form, as his free hand falls onto Dulce’s forearm, where it was still braced against his abdomen, rubbing it encouragingly. 

...

He has to wonder what this feels like for Shadow. Behind the desire and the thrill of this moment, there is a curiosity attached to it all, suddenly doing something that he hadn’t truly considered was a real possibility now, after those night spend fantasizing about it when he was younger. It brings up a dozen more questions about his shadow form, what it’s like to go about life in it, what it feels like, how different this must be to most else he does when in it. There’s a split second in that train of thought, even as his hand continues to explore the cool expanse beneath the shadowy tendrils, that he considers the other shadows he met, but his tired mind mercifully catches up before embarrassed panic can set it, knowing that Mathias is with his zombie, and so Shadow’s mother must be, too. It clicks into place that that must be the entire reason he thought to come indulge in this moment at all, and Dulce is very grateful for the strange circumstances allowing this.  

It’s a little mesmerizing, after all, looking up at that glowing gaze, seeing the intensity with which he looks back at him. He doesn’t think he’s reading into it to think he sees some hunger in those eyes, that Shadow and his shadow are just as thrilled by the prospects as Dulce is himself. So perhaps he’s a little breathless as the clawed hand moves to his head, cupping his face, the false sense of danger––knowing Shadow would never do anything to hurt him––just as thrilling as exploring the unknown together. What is the appeal of taking something like a shadow demon to bed if not the thrill of danger, after all?

And it doesn’t disappoint, the way he tilts his chin up, taking the control that Dulce so likes him to in moments like this. When Shadow brings his lips to his, it’s a forceful kiss, something a little rough and hungry, and he finds it very hard not to melt completely into it, having to make himself focus a little not to entirely lose himself immediately. He pushes back with more force, too, following the cue given, assuming that must make it all the better in this form. And it’s even more intoxicating than expected. Cold lips, but solid, clearly, finding his, he presses his tongue forward, curious about what it’s like to taste a shadow, too, in the strangely pleasant sensation of the wisps and tendrils covering him. 

Strangely it makes a certain kind of sense, that Dulce is a legacy. It seems like it would be a lot to be raised with the Collective at the forefront of your life. But from talking to people, it isn’t that uncommon. With three generations of Shadows, and so many others who have been touched by the Collective throughout their lives. Dulce keeps it light, keeps the moment flowing from sentence to sentence. Danny is kind of fascinated by it, by the idea of his life there within the walls of the Manor, about what his family might have been like. Danny has a thing about families now, that he’s desperate to remember all the details of his own, that he’s aching to find the lost pieces of his life and put them back together. He knows that he could build a new family in the Collective, like Catalyst has, but he wants his old one too. He wants his brother, and he wants his mother, and those thoughts will never leave him alone, he’ll never be able to escape the yearning that settles deep in his chest when he thinks about it. 

“Hey, I’ll take it if you’ve got it.” He says, and hes glad for the offer, even if he’s uncertain as to if Dulce means it as a joke or not. He has people he can talk to, but it would be nice to add someone else to the roster, swap someone new in to make sure he wasn’t overwhelming everyone with his endless trail of traumas and hurts, with all of the complex facets of his existence that he’s still trying to work his way through. “At the very least you’d offer a chance for me to get every side of the story. I think Daydreamer is great, but no one can say the kid isn’t biassed about every single thing he’s ever seen.”

He smiles then, at the mention of the violin. He’s genuinely glad that Dulce won’t have to quit it, even just for a little while. Something like that can be so impactful. It can change your whole life. Just listening to music, lately, has made him feel alive. “I’d like to hear you play sometime, if you’re ever up for an audience.” Because that feels like an okay thing to offer, a mild suggestion that doesn’t have to actually be followed up on if Dulce doesn’t want to. “I think I used to play guitar, maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to. I think Gabe used to want to start a rock band.” 

And that brings him back to the elephant in the room, the thought he can never escape. His brow furrows a little bit, his heart gets a little more serious. He looks at Dulce with searching eyes. 

“That’s another reason why I came. I wanted to  know, well. To make sure. That it was okay if I kept coming over.” He looks at Dulce, and though the reason is a blatantly obvious one, he elaborates. “To see Gabe, to try and get through to him and – I mean, if he’s a handful, just let me know, too? Cause I can figure something out with Dr. Green somehow, we can find somewhere safer for him to stay. I don’t want him to accidentally hurt anyone again, but I can’t guarantee that he won’t and…” He trails off, feeling helpless again, once he’s started to think about it. “And if you think he’s dangerous, or if you don’t want him or me here anymore, I can figure something out.”

...

He can tell that Danny is interested in the whole idea that his father was in the Collective before him, seems to have a hint of wonder in his eyes over it, and he can’t blame him, knowing that he likely remembers little about his own family, besides now having his brother around in some small ways, even if he’s not entirely his own person yet again, either. It’s that wonder that keeps him from delving into the less than pleasant reality of what the situation with his father has always been, the way he had left the Collective, what he did to his family once he did, what he’s doing now. There’s no need to get into that trauma during their first real conversation. He has a feeling, oddly enough, that it’ll come up much sooner with Danny, anyway, considering the nature of the beginning of this friendship. And his desire to take that offer says as much. 

“I do, although I know many would argue that’s not the case, Daydreamer amongst them. But I’d be more than happy to give you my side of whatever horrifying stories I’m sure he’s told you,” he says, keeping his voice light, despite his feelings on the boy. “More importantly, though, I am a better listener than I seem.”

It’s a nice thought, having someone to talk to who isn’t Alex or Jase or Zenith, someone who doesn’t have as intricate a history as all of them do, and the sort of outlook that comes with it. Perhaps it’s just as important for him to hear another side to things as it is for Danny. Still, he takes him by surprise when he says he’d like to hear him play sometime. It’s not something he’s shared with another person outside of his family for a very long time, likely since his own days living at the manor, when he would spend every night playing violin, finishing an entire bottle of wine himself. Even then, the audiences were rarely willing, more likely other villains who happened to stumble on his private concertos, or those who liked to complain about the noise, as if it was as bad as anything the younger crowd managed on any given night. He likes the idea of sharing it now, though. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had an audience, but I think that would be lovely. I may have a guitar in one of these closets, perhaps we can see if you remember how to play, too,” he suggests, with a small smile. 

Danny grows more serious, though, turning back to another reason he sought him out today. It’s clear how this has been weighing on his mind, and he can’t blame him, having seen Gabe in action, having been shot by Gabe, and now feeling the pull of his commands against Dulce’s power near constantly. But it doesn’t seem like a question in his mind, so he hopes he can ease some of Danny’s worries on the matter for now. “Of course, it’s alright,” he nods, seriously. “I’m aware it’s not ideal, keeping him under my orders, but it feels safest until you and Dr. Green can find a way to break through his programming. In honestly, I’d feel more concerned for his safety, and everyone else’s if he wasn’t. I can at least guarantee he won’t hurt anyone, and that he’s at peace, if he’s near by, under my command.”

Dulce pauses, tilting his head, before providing a little more honesty. “I’d love to let go of those orders as soon as possible, though, for my own selfishness––I’m not as young as I used to be, using my powers 24/7 is a touch tiring––but until then, I’m happy to have both of you here. I’ll be even happier to have both of you around after he’s found his free will.”

Claudius, unfortunately, doesn’t seem to be taking anything they’re saying seriously. Which on one hand he can’t entirely fault him for, it is a rather bizarre story, and hard to believe that someone would purposefully dupe Dulce into receiving a kill list with his own brother’s name on it. But shortly after Claudius laughs at Ducle’s continued assertion that this all is indeed very much real, he reveals something just as bizarre. 

“You received a list too?” He repeats, although he isn’t really looking for confirmation per say. He hadn’t realized Claudius was a freelance mercenary of some kind, which is his fault for not asking Dulce more about his brother, he assumes. Still though, the fact that Claudius also received a list of his own with Dulce’s name on it, made this plot they found themselves in all the more difficult to determine what the motive is. 

“Was the name Alex Thatch on that list?” He finds himself asking, curious to see his part to play in this was any further connected other than luring Dulce in. “Or a Karim Kazemi?” 

“Nope, sorry, sounds like you were just pulled in to get dear old Tiberius to play along,” he lets out another short burst of laughter before he glances back over to Dulce. “Man, whoever did this knew precisely how to get you involved, huh? All it took was tall, dark, and brooding here to ask you to make the jump, and all you needed to know was how high.” 

He can’t help but glance over to Dulce apologetically as Claudius airs out his own theory just why he was chosen. It made sense, considering Dulce would have never even considered the job if he hadn’t asked, but it didn’t make him feel any better about being the puppet in all of this. 

“So then whoever did this, at least knows Dulce well enough to come to me first,” he starts, trying to piece together what info they now had, “do you think they expected for this meeting to happen between all three of us? I mean they couldn’t have seriously thought that you two would have killed one another.- would they?” 

.

He’s still in such shock, he’s glad that Shadow picks up where he’s stuck immediately, assessing if whoever gave Claudius his list had the intention of involving Shadow or his family any deeper than as bait. And he’s not exactly surprised to hear that it’s not the case, even if he is relieved that it seems he’s not in any added danger here. Dulce hates to admit that Claudius has a very valid point, that whoever it is knew what to do to bring him in without question. He catches Shadow’s eye when he glances at him, shakes his head slightly as if to say he should be apologizing for bringing him into this mess inadvertently. Despite himself, he reaches out and catches his hand under the table, giving a brief squeeze to say as much silently, as he listens to Shadow bring things together.

And it feels like the answer is right there in exactly what Shadow is saying, if they only just look hard enough. 

“Yes, I do. If whoever is behind this knows me well enough to use Shadow to get me to accept, and knows Claudius well enough to know he wouldn’t have possibly told me about things first, that he’s stubborn enough to want to take care of it himself and not worry me, certainly whoever it is would have realized I would do everything in my power to make sure Claudius knew he was in danger,” Dulce reasons out loud, frown only deepening with the assessment. It doesn’t make sense, considering where they are now, considering how close they are at this point in their lives. “Someone who knows that much about us should know that neither of us would kill the other.”

Claudius, finally growing serious, seems to easily pick up on the thought that is brewing in his own mind. “Someone who knows that much about us would know that we wouldn’t kill each other for money now. They would know that they’re a few years, a few bottles, and a rather grand, internationally recognized fight too late,” he corrects, before leaning back in his seat, clearly thinking deeply. “I’m not so certain the point of this is the killing. Nearly makes me feel bad about the names I’d already crossed off my list...”

He could scold Claudius for being enough of an idiot to start his assassinations without having a concrete plan to get his name off of that list, but he’s well aware now isn’t the time to police how he does his freelancing, when he knows how different their tastes are anyway, despite the whole law and order schtick. That’s the thing that sticks in his mind, though, because there aren’t many people at all who could possibly know all of those things about both of them. And it makes him sick to his stomach, considering how right the possibility feels, how him the theatricality of it all would be, something that runs through Dulce’s blood himself enough so that he can practically see the plan unfolding in his mind.

“Perhaps the intention wasn’t for us to see the assassinations through, but it would have been a not entirely unwanted side effect if it did come to that between us. But perhaps the desired effect was exactly this, a covert meeting turned to a mission to hunt down whoever gave us these jobs,” he explains slowly, feeling the headache brewing already. He can’t help but reach for Shadow’s knee under the table, needing to hold onto something, in search of the grounding feeling Shadow always provides as it all hits. 

“Defeating Dulce et Decorum and Fiat Justitia together after we were the ones to send him into retirement is a very good headline. And the Shadow Man, a Collective legend––the Collective, which he hates nearly as much as this one does––joining the fray would simply be an added bonus to Bête Noire.”

Something in Danny flutters a little bit, at the sight of Dulce’s smile. Its a little twist in his stomach, in his chest. But its a very different flutter than the one he gets when Catalyst smiles at him. Distinctly different. Like a different creature has crawled inside him and started moving stuff around. Its a kind of happiness he supposes, because he made someone smile. And the way that Daydreamer talked about Dulce, that was practically an impossibility. He knew from experience that Daydreamer probably wasn’t the utmost authority on the topic, with the way he seemed like an angry kitten whenever someone so much as brought Dulce into the conversation. But it had still made an impact on the way Danny thought about people, in the early days when he was still coming into his own. 

It was nice to know that Dulce could smile. That he would smile at Danny. He’d earned it somehow, through his laughter and the way that he was approaching this conversation himself. Somehow, he felt like he wasn’t messing up. He felt like he was doing a good job. And that made him proud of himself, in a strange way. Because he was doing it, he had taken the leap to talk to someone and make his voice heard, to say some of the things that needed to be said without fear and without too much hesitation. 

Its nice to know, too, that Dulce can joke around. 

Really, people have been selling him short. Danny feels like he should go back to the manor and start defending Dulce’s honor to everyone, start convincing everyone to give the man another look and see that they were probably very, very wrong about him. 

Danny smiles wider at the sigh that escapes Dulce’s mouth, the slightly preformative nature of it. “Damn, you’ve got a point.” He nods his head, a little sagely. “I was kinda freaked out about that sorta stuff when I first woke up, you know? One second you’re worrying about where you’re gonna get the money for college, and the next you wake up and have to start worrying about stray bullets and dudes who can move metal with their minds.” He shakes his head a little, but his tone is light. Genuinely light. “Don’t think that knowing someone can just heal me really makes up for how whack it all is.”

Dulce brings it back around, and Danny feels a swell of gratitude in his chest again. The fact that the man in front of him really is sorry makes him feel all the better about it all, seems like even more proof that Dulce is a cool guy. “Hey, I can deal with the demanding ass act as long as it comes hand in hand with making sure I don’t get turned into a mindless robot butler again.” He arches an eyebrow, and glances at the wrist that had been shot, then. “That’s all better though, right? They really did get you healed up? I’d hate to have someone else steal my whole robot-limb look.” 

...

Of all the things that might’ve happened today, he hadn’t been expecting this sort of conversation in the least, but he finds himself very glad that Danny sought him out to speak to him, even more glad that this is how the conversation is turning out. It feels oddly comfortable in its honesty and vulnerability, in a way that Dulce can’t say he ever feels with people he doesn’t know well. There’s something to be said about meeting someone for the first time mid-mission and having to save his life, and put your trust in him, all the same, perhaps. And it takes away some of the mystery with Danny, too, of course, which he’s pleased to see reveals someone utterly and wholly human, just a normal sort of man, despite everything somehow. 

“As you should be! I can only imagine how jarring that must have been, on top of all the other comic book concerns suddenly forced to the forefront. In truth, I was raised in the business, my father was in the Collective before me, although his powers also keep most of the worry over stray bullets away, so perhaps it does make sense that I’m a little less inclined to take getting shot lightly, too,” he explains, waving his hand vaguely, keeping things light, despite the mention of his father. It only feels fair to offer up a bit of his own person history, since it feels as if he knows a great deal of personal information about Danny just by virtue of the malfunctions that led him to making his presence known. “If you need a saner ear to listen to the new, ridiculous worries, well, you do know where I live now.”

It’s a little bit funny just how easy the entirety of the conversation is. It’s not that he’s not good at talking to other people––he’s an expert at this point in his life of turning on the charm when he needs to and making the connections he wants––but there’s a vast difference between most of his interactions and this sort of thing. This feels like making a new friend, which he hasn’t really done in ages, now that he considers it more wholly, but he does think that that’s what’s happening here, what Danny is offering, what he can give him in return. Clearly, he’s doing a better job handling this conversation than he does conversations with half the rest of the Collective, after all. 

Dulce nods with a small smile. “Fair enough. I’m grateful it seemed to do just that this time around, then,” he says, pleased to see that Danny genuinely doesn’t seem to mind that he had to make that choice to take control for a moment, and do it to everyone around to get them all out of there relatively unharmed. Speaking of which, he looks at his wrist, and Dulce can’t help but unconsciously move his other hand to rub over the spot that bullet hit. He’s not actually sure which of the shots was worse, in the end. Positively terrible with pain, and his own blood as he is, he’d been too close to fainting by the time they made it to the meeting point, and he was able to have both his hand and his palm healed. But the job was thankfully done well. “Ah, yes, entirely healed, I won’t be joining you in the robot-limb club anytime soon hopefully. Although, psychologically speaking, I think my wrists are going to feel a little fragile for a good while. But I can play violin just fine still, so I’ll manage.”

There’s something heavier to Dulce’s voice than she expects to hear, in response to her explanation, something she can’t quite account for or place. Something that says he knows a lot more about feeling out of control than she might have thought, and it seems like that’s something they probably both have in common, however he came to the understanding. They certainly aren’t the only people in the Collective equipped to understand Danny’s struggle on a deeper level than most, but she feels a little more secure, with Danny’s respect for him, with Specter staying here, with all of it, knowing that he understands. 

     “Right,” she says after a moment of quiet, of letting it sink in for the both of them, all of this. “Enough of the touchy-feely stuff, then.”

Because she’s starting to feel itchy about it. Not that she’s someone who completely avoids emotional conversations, or heart-to-hearts, but this is longer than she really wants to stand around and talk to Dulce, even if they are being, for once, mutually respectful of one another. Anyway, she’d said what she came here to say, and that was really all she had. There wasn’t, like, fun gossip she could share with him to keep him talking or anything like that.

     “If you need help with V and Overload and Doppelganger or anything, let me know. I’m going back to the Manor, and I’ll keep trying to keep White off of their track for as long as possible while they all get back on their feet and get out of your hair. But I suddenly have a lot more free time on my hands than I did a few days ago, so, you know…”

She shrugs. Happy to help. She doesn’t really know what kind of thing Dulce might deign to ask her for, but she figures it’s worth making the offer anyway. Basic courtesy, hopefully extending the modicum of mutual respect they both seem to have earned for one another a little bit farther instead of immediately lapsing back into hating each other’s guts.

....

For a moment, they’ve both silent, and he’s glad for the moment of reflection, of understanding found in an unexpected place. It doesn’t change things entirely, of course, but he certainly feels differently about her than he has in the past, a first step, perhaps. And of all the first steps that could possibly lead to that sort of change, this feels a rather enormous one. Still, he’s not quite sure where to go from here, casual conversation with someone he’s never actually had the desire to speak to before now, after a rather unexpected, but genuine heart-to-heart, isn’t the simplest thing he’s ever done.

So when she finally breaks the silence, and says that that’s enough of that, he nods curtly, and picks up his cup of tea once more, to take a sip, as if this were an utterly normal conversation. He’s glad of the moment shared, something like respect born from this understanding between them, as odd as it is to end up in this position with her. It’s not as if they have anything in common, besides now a fondness for Danny, and apparently a knowledge of what it is to feel out of control, neither of which are topics he thinks they need to harp on now. 

Before he can make some excuse to excuse himself, she manages to tie things up nicely herself, offering a hand with the others staying in his home, as well as keeping White from finding out where they’re housed currently. And he is grateful for that, especially considering he’s only actually close with one of his houseguests. 

“Thank you, in truth you popping by to see them had been a help in and of itself. I can keep people safe, but I can’t keep them entertained, it seems,” he hums, with a little wave of his hand. It’s only fair to offer his own extended aid back, although he likes to think it’s already clear to Catalyst that he’s willing to help with this grand mess they’re all in. “And if you need any aid with...the aftermath, well, you know where to find me, now.”

As hectic as things were lately, between the Tower attack and everything that followed, he’s grateful for the small reprieve he gets from the numerous other stresses in his life, to focus back in on the mission he and Dulce had started months ago. It’d been a long time coming, finally getting together in a room with Claudius, but he’s glad they’ve finally managed to pull it off- and with seemingly no questions from Preston yet on just when they were going to start checking off names from the list he’d given them. 

He can hear the small squabble between the brothers through the glass doors that led to the balcony, and he hangs back just a moment, as he lets the two of them sort out whatever they needed first. Once his name is mentioned though, he knows there was no use in waiting any longer, and soon enough steps into the small fray himself once he closes the door behind him. 

He smiles briefly as Dulce leans in to press a brief kiss against his cheek, before his gaze shoots over to Claudius where he was still sitting, looking somehow more annoyed than he already had just moments before. 

“I wanted to do this, it’s alright,” he glances back at Dulce. Covering his hand with his own, he gives it a small squeeze before taking a seat and returning his attention back to their guest of the hour. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Claudius,” he greets, “I’ve uh, heard a lot about you.” Which was the understatement of all understatements, given everything that he and Dulce had uncovered when they first jumped into this thing, but he supposes it was somewhere to start. 

“Well that’s one of us,” Claudius replies curtly, with a tight smile. “I wasn’t sure if I’d be meeting a seven foot tall smoke demon, or some decrepit centenarian, after Tiberius told me his new main squeeze was none other than The Shadow Man.” Claudius gives him a brief once over which he doesn’t bat an eye over. He’s grateful, suddenly, that Roxana had somehow prepared him for a conversation such as this one, where so much of what was really said was spoken between the lines. He’s certain Dulce had filled in on Claudius on what was necessary when it came to him and Dulce, especially since he seemed to have no reservations in displaying his affection to him. Claudius’s frustration, he would guess, likely stemmed more from not knowing just what precisely this was all for in the first place, than anything else. 

“Although I must admit, I am curious just how this little match came about anyway,” Claudius adds before taking a sip of the tea in his hands. 

“Well, I guess that kind of has to do with why we’re all here in the first place,” Shadow offers him, and shrugs his shoulders in Dulce’s direction, figuring it was as good a segue they were probably going to find. The response has certainly seemed to have piqued Claudius’s interests though, as he leans forward slightly, curious as to just how this all was connected. 

“I used to do mercenary work, before I joined the Collective. Which was how I met Dul- Tiberius,” he starts. “I’ve been retired from that work ever since though, that was until a couple months ago when I was contacted about a job- a job which we’d eventually learn had your name attached to it.” 

.

He gives Shadow a little smile, grateful in a way he can’t truly put into words just now for his desire to be apart of this mess that he had gotten dragged into because of his family. The squeeze of his hand in enough to calm some of the anxiety, perhaps a tiny bit exacerbated by annoyance with Claudius, and he follows Shadow to the table, taking a seat next to him across from Claudius. 

Rolling his eyes at his expectations for this meeting, he gives Claudius a look that could cute through glass, even as his brother gives Shadow the up and down. It’s positively ridiculous, but he wouldn’t expect anything less of him, even in circumstances he’s about to realize are rather dire. This is just how he’s always been, and perhaps Dulce’s a hint of the same, although he likes to believe he’s slightly less of a prat. 

It’s a blessing that Shadow is more than able to deal with Claudius’s usual attitude, and less than pleasant comments immediately. It wouldn’t be meeting him, if he had played nice, in truth, never one to turn on the charm that they had both inherited if he was put out by something, which he often was. If the members of the Collective thought that he was insufferable, they never would have been able to deal with the antics of a younger version of Dulce raised to believe he could do no wrong. At least he has the decency to act humble at times. Luckily, it doesn’t seem to matter to Shadow, easily dealing with the comments he makes without even batting an eye, before Dulce needs to interject himself.

Mercifully, he’s able to curtail the speculation, and the call for personal stories, just now to the topic at hand with expertise, and it makes him all the more grateful to have Shadow at his side for this, to make it simpler all around. And he does it well, catching Claudius’s interest in one fell swoop, offering a hint of that story, as well as the entire reason they’re here in the first place. Dulce takes a sip of his tea, savoring the warmth, before following up on Shadow’s start, perhaps only slightly distracted by Shadow calling him Tiberius, rare as it is.

Best to push past and jump straight into things, especially with Claudius silent for once. The sooner he knows, after all, the sooner they can start making plans.

“I don’t know who we’ve pissed off, but the job was clearly requested knowing that Shadow would ask me to play handler to investigate, because when we went to do just that, I was given a list of name for the Shadow Man to assassinate, and yours was amongst them,” Dulce says, frankly, setting his cup down, looking at his brother. 

He’s silent for a moment, frowning at him, before looking at Shadow, seemingly searching for confirmation that this is the truth. When he realizes they’re being serious, the frown turns to surprise, and then he laughs, a bark that nearly makes Dulce jump for how unexpected it is.

“You’re taking the piss,” he says between laughter, out of breath from it all.

“Why the fuck would I joke about something like this, Claudius? Why would I bring you here for a prank, we’re not teenagers,” he scoffs, utterly taken aback by his response. 

“You’re not listening to me. You’re right, we must’ve pissed someone off well, because I was offered a freelance contract to kill you, along with a few other names, and I’ve been trying to figure out how the fuck to get your name off whatever list it’s on,” Claudius explains the laughter dying down to little giggles. 

He almost feels bad, by just how quickly Dulce had bolted up at the feeling of the disturbance, clearly ready to fight off the intruder his body had sensed. He sticks to character though, which he’s rewarded for soon enough, once the alarm that had frozen Dulce’s features melts away into something more endearing. They both know he can’t answer him in the state he’s in, so he plays out his role a little longer, as he stares intensely back at him, before suddenly he dissipates into a cloud of smoke. Breaking loose from the man-like form, he hovers the ground before slinking up the front of Ducle’s bed, and slipping underneath the sheets that were draped across it. 

His smoke-like form blankets both of Dulce’s feet, before he slowly makes his way up the length of his body, the cool wisps of his form lapping against Dulce’s bare skin before he makes it to his chest. He’d never done this before with a partner, so he’s fully just following his gut on how he’d assume Dulce had once imagined this, before they actually became intimate with one another. 

He shifts his form again, once he reaches Dulce’s chest, and soon enough he’s back into his shadow man-like form. Placing each of his clawed hands, on either side of Dulce’s head, he distributes his regained weight between them, as he looms above him, continuing that unblinking stare of his as he looks down to him.  

He realizes then, as he stares down at him, that this was the closest they’d ever been with each other when he was in this state. When they were at Preston’s he’d been standing behind him a good foot or so away, and even back to the first time he’d come to Dulce’s in this form, he’d never made it any further than the base of his bed. And so he casts the glowing silver specs of his eyes down to his own chest, before looking back at Dulce, encouraging him to explore how he saw fit. On appearance alone, he didn’t look like anything solid at all, let enough bear any weight given the smoky appearance his shadow form took. If Dulce did press past the smoky tendrils and to solid form beneath, he’d find it still cool to the touch, and taking on the general form of the shadow rather than the real man beneath it, but far more solid than he looked. 

...

He has to admit that he has imagined this exact fantasy before. When they were both much, much younger, after those nights of Shadow visiting him, there to kill him, but ultimately unable to complete the job, he had considered it more than he likely would have said. And he’s perhaps teased about it a time or two over the years, what it might have been like had the convincing he had done to keep Shadow from killing him, instead making the choice to turn that on someone else, had ended very differently instead of in them not seeing each other for a good while afterward. His heart is still beating fast from waking unexpectedly, thinking there was danger to face, but it’s turning into a very different sort of racing pulse now, as Shadow just stares at him, before suddenly becoming a cloud of smoke, moving towards the bed. 

And it’s much better than he could have imagined it might be, odd of a sensation as it is when the wisps of smoke start under the sheets, moving up his body. It sends an intense chill through him, has him letting out a little gasp at the feeling despite himself, as he leans back on his elbows. It makes it very hard to keep up any coherent thought, as he makes it to his chest, the wisps of smoke moving against his skin. In an instant, though, he’s back to the more humanoid shadow form, weight bearing down on him pleasantly, the exact sort of sensation he had been craving as he fell asleep hours earlier.

For a moment he just stares up at those glowing eyes, adjusting to this new feeling, but wholly unable to keep his heart from racing, a little bit thrilled by the unexpected gift Shadow has decided to give him tonight. Even without words, he can tell what Shadow is suggesting, telling him that he can touch, too, and that has him raising an eyebrow, curious as to what that’ll feel like for both of them. And he does so, reaches a hand up to the smoky tendrils of his neck, watches as his hand half disappears beneath it, surprised to find it lands on something much more solid. Cold to the touch, but certainly there. Dulce lets out a satisfied hum as he lets his hand trail down to his chest, fingertips ghosting along the more solid shadow beneath, as curious as he is utterly unscientifically interested.

Because he has imagined this before, but it was all much less solid, clearly not fully knowing what Shadow’s powers made him into, only having seen this shadow form from at least a little distance in the past. His mind is practically reeling with the possibilities laid before him, and he has a feeling that Shadow is just as interested in exploring them. “I have wondered before,” he hums softly, unable to keep from licking his lips at the thought, hand moving down the cool expanse of his chest, lower, “If kissing a shadow would be possible or not. What it would be like.”

If she’d thought that thanking Dulce, admitting out loud to his face that he’d done something she approved of, was uncomfortable, then receiving praise from him is at least doubly so. She feels like she’s been called into the principal’s office, or something like it, distinctly weird about the whole thing. 

And so she chooses to ignore the compliment for now and stick to the more… tactical side of the conversation, the facts, somewhere where it feels a bit more like they are both on level playing ground. Chooses to ignore the voice in her head that thinks this whole thing feels like one weird condescending pat on the back that Dulce has to give her just because he never once in ten years considered that she’d be halfway decent at the thing she spent her entire adult life doing. 

     “I was surprised too,” she admits. “So was Reaper. He came to me, the night before the attack, and questioned me on it. Asked if I would consider switching the teams up, so that he would go with me instead. And I almost did. I would have, I think, if I hadn’t known that I’d need Jet with me to get me out of the fucking tower at the last second.”

     “I trusted you to get the job done. I trusted you to get him, and whoever else you needed to, out of the tower, because you wouldn’t have gotten this far if you weren’t a capable villain who could see a mission through when it needed to be done. What I wasn’t sure about was how far you would go, if you needed to take control. Because you’re right, I do care about Danny. And he’s clawed his way back to having some semblance of extremely hard-won free will, and I was worried that if that was taken from him, that might be the end of it. But I hoped that you of all people would understand how terrifying it can be to feel out of control of yourself, and that you’d consider that if the need arose.”

Because that had been the thing that had stood out, so much, when Danny recounted it all to her. The thing that had seemed to matter so much to him. That Dulce could have taken control of him in an instant, and only did it when it was the absolute last resort. When it was to stop Judgement from doing the same. 

     “That’s what I’m thanking you for. I don’t know if you fully understand just how important that is to him. I don’t know that I do.”

...

It’s all a little strange, unsurprisingly, these thank yous, and admissions of admiration, after so many years of interactions ranging from lukewarm to downright hostile. But he does want to give the entirety of it the benefit of the doubt, because it does feel genuine, however awkward and uncomfortable it is between the two of them, trying to have such an honest conversation. She deserves that, that seems clear enough. And perhaps he would admit to himself––he’s not quite ready to admit it out loud, though––that he’s been overly harsh at times, that he’s been unwilling to admit that other people can grow and change, too, or that perhaps two halves can coexist, competence with the sort of chaos he doesn’t approve of. What matters is being able to get the job done when it comes down to it, and it’s clear that she can not only manage just that, but lead it to success. 

He raises an eyebrow upon hearing that Reaper had questioned the assignment, since that didn’t seem the sort of thing that Reaper was programed to do, but he thinks that must have been that pesky little thing known as humanity slipping through even then. Of course, he would have wanted to be with her, and Dulce would have assumed she would have done just that, too, but it’s clear that she was thinking strategically even then, with both pairings. And he understands better just how enormous that decision was, too, the hope that she was hinging on it beyond just getting Danny out safely. It means a great deal, in a strange way, that she risked that despite their feelings towards each other. 

“I don’t know if I do understand how important that is to him, if I possibly could, considering what he’s been through, but you were right; I do at least understand how terrifying it is to feel out of control of yourself. I’ve felt it many times before,” he confirms, voice serious, slightly quieter. Not in the way she likely thinks, though. No, he knows all too well what it is to lose free will in a different sort of way, to be controlled by something he had never anticipated, couldn’t wholly see, until someone else helped him out of it. He wishes he could have had someone to command him to stop, but then in a way that’s what Claudius had ultimately done, managed to remind him how to hold into himself. 

He considers adding that, but that feels like a step too far here, when this is perhaps the first extended, civil conversation they’ve ever had, before the past several days. It’s simple enough, anyway. Of course, he would understand, when his powers are all about taking that control away, about knowing how to use that to his advantage. Of course, over the last twenty-odd years, he would have come to understand the delicacy with which something so powerful needs to be used, especially on those who are vulnerable. Best to stick with the concrete, perhaps, no need to stray into the personal, the things that very few people know the full extent of about him.

“Thank you for trusting that I would understand to some extent, when it came down to it. It’s a delicate thing, free will,” he says after a moment of considering things. “Perhaps we can’t understand entirely, but he’s lucky to have someone so intent on trying to do just that in you.”

He’s a little surprised by himself, here. Because he thinks he should feel more insecure than he does. Around some of the Collective members he feels a little caught out, because they’ve known him for so long, so much longer than he ever knew them. Except it wasn’t really him –– not all of him, at the very least ––, it was Reaper that they were comfortable with. It still seemed like a surprise, when it was him that talked to them instead, with the softer set to his shoulders and the different cadence to his words. He wondered sometimes if they might view him as something of an intruder here, a strange thing that has replaced the comforting and consistent presence of Reaper. 

Reaper was more uselful, he imagined. Reaper took care of the Manor, kept guard over all of them. Reaper made sure that no one got hurt, as best he could. You could depend on him in a mission, once upon a time. But now they all had to worry that he would break at a moments notice, that someone else would burst through. Someone who was more scared to fight, who didn’t know how to exercise full control over himself. 

But for some reason, he wasn’t ashamed that all of those things really had happened. It wasn’t shameful, to be reclaiming parts of himself, to be stepping more into his body. Even if it meant that he wasn’t as good in a fight. And Dulce, somehow, makes him feel even better about it. Dulce nods his head, and seems to accept the thanks in stride with everything else. And then he does something that Danny hadn’t been expecting. He makes it sound like Danny being there was a good thing, he makes it sound like he didn’ty fuck everything up completely by breaking through the programming and making himself known. Even if it meant that he wasn’t as strong. Even if it meant that Dr. Judgement wanted to… what, kidnap him and re-brainwash him to add to his hoard of intense rogue villians. 

He manages to smile, because being a good partner to someone sounds nice. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next time,” He says, a little wry. 

And then he’s laughing, actually laughing. It’s a surprised sound, and he looks up at Dulce with some of the tension bleeding away from him. “Shit, I can’t blame you for that, man. But I won’t tell anyone that you have a weakness, your secret is safe with me.” It’s a genuine promise, because he doesn’t have any plans to talk to his friends about Dulce without focusing mostly on how much the man had helped him during that fight. “You did a hell of a lot better than I would have. I may not know much about myself, but I’d probably have been a hell of a baby if someone actually shot me.” 

...

He’s not particularly good at this sort of thing, the offering of honesty, the accepting and offering back of vulnerability, but something about Danny makes it feel a bit simpler than it might with others who he hardly knows. Perhaps it has something to do with their part of the mission, the trust that he had put in him, even before he had had to take control to fight Judgement’s will, the trust he still seemed to offer after. Even if it was a situation that no one could fully understand, likely not even Danny himself, he does understand control better than most people do, understands the importance of letting others have it, and that seems to be at the heart of the struggle that Danny is currently grappling with in relation to that other side of him. 

Still, understanding isn’t the same as knowing how to talk to someone, especially when said person has a good many reasons to be angry about the choices made on his behalf. But Danny doesn’t seem to have any of that anger. There’s something exceptionally soft about him, which is ironic, considering who he is when he’s Reaper, but he thinks makes sense. Even if not all of them are programmed killing machines, in a way that’s a difference they all share to an extent. There’s certainly a difference in him between Dulce et Decorum and Tiberius, even if most people who don’t know him well have no reason to realize it.

The laugh is unexpected, but welcome, makes his own smile grow a little, as he feels a little more comfortable in this moment with Danny, accepting that this is who he is, thinking perhaps they might get along well.

“I appreciate your discretion. I have certain appearances to keep up,” Dulce says with a grand sigh, as if it’s a big issue of his. As if his entire persona isn’t perfected by now, after over twenty years in the Collective. “It’s only fair, though, to be a bit of a baby if someone shoots you, isn’t it? I for one think we normalize getting shot a hair too much in our field. Yes, we have healers to deal with it, but it’s not exactly a pleasant experience.” It’s only partially a joke, really, because it’s the truth. The injuries that others come back with regularly are horrifying in his mind, it makes him glad he’s only had a few run-ins such as the Tower situation. At least Danny clearly feels the same, he has a feeling Reaper can’t feel pain in that way, thanks to programming.

“Still, I apologize for...taking so much control while dealing with that pain. I do, indeed, become something of a demanding arsehole when I’m frustrated. And getting shot twice is fairly frustrating, not that it’s an excuse.”

Dulce is a sight to behold, even with the clear hints of strain around his eyes. It would make sense, if he was tired, when he had opened up his home to so many people over the last few days, and when he had been hurt in such a simply grusome way. A bullet through the wrist. The memory fo it made Danny shudder on his behalf, shudder the way most violence did. He had always been far too gentle for his own good, he imagined. Dulce looks strangely gentle here too, which feels strange to say when he’s clealry one of the strongest people that Danny will ever meet. 

He glances around the room, as he steps inside it. Dulce likes music, that much becomes clear. And it’s nice to actually know something about him, aside from the statistics and the facts Reaper had filed away about Dulce et Decorum. This was different than all of that. The violins made him feel more real, more approachable as a person, someone with interests and an entire life here, in his comfortable home. 

It makes Danny want to know more about him, someday. In the same way he wants to know more about most of the Collective. So he can get a grasp on their realness, demistify them in his own mind. He supposes this is kind of a chance, for that. So he enters the room more fully, knowing he’s welcome. He takes a seat in the comfortable armchar near the piano, and refocuses his gaze on the man of the hour. 

“Please, don’t apologise for that.” He says, and he finds that he means it. The last thing he wants from Dulce is an apology, when he hasn’t really done anything wrong. There was another world, another version of Danny that probably would have been furious with him, for even the idea of taking control for a minute. But he’s not angry. And if he’s honest, he wouldn’t have the encounter go any other way. If he had to pick between joining the ranks of Dr. Judgement drones or having an uncomfortable moment with Dulce et Decorum, he would pick Dulce any day. “You’ve been busy, cleary. A lot going on here. I get that.” 

He pulls in a breath, and considers it all. Where he wants to start, how he wants to say all of this. But it’s important to say it, because hes not sure that Dulce gets the credit he deserves, half the time. “I wanted to thank you, actually. For everything you did in the tower. I know I wasn’t the best partner, that Reaper would have been more helpful. But you got me out of there, and I’m grateful for it.” He shakes his head, a little bit. “Getting controlled by someone like Dr. Judgement… getting taken away from the Collective, losing the parts of me I’ve gained back. That’s my worst nightmare. But you stopped him, so… thank you.” 

...

It’s still something to get used to, the very clear distinction between Reaper and Danny. Since he moved away from the manor years ago, he hasn’t been around much to get a full picture of Reaper. He knew enough, of course, it would have been impossible not to, considering he’s one of his handlers technically, and even when you don’t live in the manor, news of a half-man, half-android, or whatever still manages to get that far. But in his trips back to the manor, he had seen Reaper enough to have an understanding; the way he takes commands as if Dulce’s used his powers to force it, the lack of emotion and understanding of more emotion-based conversations. The lack of humanity. 

Catalyst had told him that there was a likelihood of exactly what happened when they had had their very brief conversation before the mission, that that very humanity might slip through at a very inconvenient moment and render Reaper Danny suddenly, less able to deal with a dangerous situation Reaper was programmed to deal with expertly. Being offered a warning and seeing it in action is different, though. And witnessing it happen in the midst of an already dangerous mission is also very different than seeing the change in his home, where they can have a normal conversation.

It’s one of several reasons he’s glad that Danny sought him out to talk now. Not only does he want to make sure he’s alright after such a jarring experience, that he understands why Dulce did take control, that he wouldn’t do something like that unless it was absolutely necessary, but also because someone in a position like that certainly needs aid adjusting, and he thinks varied perspectives can only help.

Dulce nods in thanks for the understanding as he takes a seat, watching him despite himself. Clear enough that he’s grappling with how to say what he wants to, but he can be patient when needed, and Danny deserves that benefit. Still, it’s another surprise when he thanks him for what he did in the Tower, and admits to his very real fears, fears that were very close to becoming a reality. It’s a deeply personal admission, and it feels rather important that he would share it with him. It’s the sort of thing that makes Dulce want to offer the same back.

“I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. You did fight Specter, managed to make him recognize some of his own humanity for a moment there. That seems like a good partner to me,” he says, tilting his head as he regards him. “But thank you; I was simply doing the job I was assigned. I’m glad that I was able to keep any of that from happening, though. It seems you have many people who would do a great deal to keep those fears from becoming reality, and I’ll gladly do it again, if it comes to it.” A pause, before a slight smile slips over his lips, a wry thing.

“I hope it doesn’t, of course, for both of our sake’s. I’d rather not get shot again, I’m absolutely shite with pain, as you saw.”

Between V and Overload and Danny’s brother, she’s been in and out of Dulce et Decorum’s house more times in the past three days than she’s ever cared to be. 

She can’t remember a single day when the two of them had seen eye to eye on anything before. When she’d first joined the Collective, fresh off of being a hero, of trying to be responsible, she’d swung hard in the other direction, reckless and leaning into the whole you can’t control me side of herself, and it had instantly rubbed him the wrong way. And she thinks Dulce is the kind of person for whom first impressions are the only chance you get, and so even though it’s been a long time since she was the dumb nineteen year old kid who had failed to impress him with her antics, he’s never given her an ounce of respect since.

At least, until now. Because for some reason, he’d managed to see past all of that and actually agree to her plan. And he’d saved Danny, done exactly the thing she’d hoped he’d be able to do in exactly the situation she was afraid of. And Danny won’t stop talking about him so… she’s trying to put that behind her, at least for long enough to have a single civil conversation with him, as she finds herself approaching him as he lounges in his sunroom with a cup of tea. 

     “No, I was….” she starts, taking a split second to bite back the retort that rises to her lips automatically at the sound of his smug, self-assured voice. She’s specifically not here to fight with him, as much as her instincts are telling her otherwise. “I wanted to say thank you, actually. For getting Danny out of there safely. And Specter, too.” And Banshee, though that one feels less important to bring up, right now. 

Is that allowed? she almost adds, almost letting the sarcasm leak back into her voice in place of the actually genuine tone she’d managed as she said it. And she does mean it. As much as she might not like Dulce, she also knows he’s probably the only person who could have faced what he did in the Tower and gotten everyone out safely. And she knows he didn’t exactly come out unharmed, for his efforts. 

     “He tells me it got pretty rough in there.” And he’d been so… genuinely grateful, he’d told her, of the way Dulce only used his powers on Danny when he’d absolutely needed to, to counter whatever manipulation Judgement was trying, to keep him safe. How Danny hadn’t even needed to ask, for Dulce to save Gabe. She doesn’t like the man, but she can’t imagine any of that was exactly easy. 

...

It’s something he’s been expecting, of course. It had been enough of a surprise that she allowed him to be apart of things in the first place, yet alone had assigned him to a partner who was very clearly important to her. Yes, he was aware that quite technically he’s one of Reaper’s designated handlers, but between the options, he knows that he would be last on the list of designated handlers she trusted, and he’s self-aware enough to acknowledge that. After all, he wasn’t particularly confident in her ability to lead such a grand plan himself, a mutual dislike that had started years and years ago with the very clear impression she had made on the manor as a new member. And so even though she had let him into the plans, and he had followed what he was instructed to do, he wasn’t expecting that to change anything about the way they interacted.

So it’s a shock when she says no, immediately, that she pauses and the thanks him, as clearly difficult as it is not to throw back something more like the usual insults. Unexpected, to say the very least. A thank you seemingly without a caveat tacked onto the end, too. 

Immediately, he lets some of his own defensiveness fall away, although it doesn’t leave completely, instinct keeping him from trusting fully that there won’t be a catch that she’s saving for later with all of this, although something tells him that won’t be the case. Because her tone is so shockingly genuine, and knowing the very little he does about her connection with Reaper, or Danny, or both, perhaps, it doesn’t seem like a ploy, but something actually genuine. It feels deserved to give her the benefit of the doubt here, considering his own begrudging acknowledgement that she is much more capable than he thought.

“Ah, there’s no need to thank me, I was simply following the mission you set out for us,” he says, tilting his head a little as he looks at her, with a touch of curiosity. “It was a bit rough for a moment, yes. It certainly didn’t go as smoothly as I would have hoped. Free will is simpler to induce order in than opposing power-driven commands, but working with Judgement for years had its benefits, even if my desperately low pain tolerance spoiled bringing him in as well.”

Not that he thinks she’s likely concerned with the logistics, but it feels like offering a sort of mission report is the best way to keep himself from falling into old habits, and inevitably destroying this moment of seeming genuineness between them. 

“I was surprised, at first, that you choose to put me with someone it seems you care so deeply for. Your strategy was clearly well thought out, though. I appreciate that you understood what would be needed to keep Danny safe, he’s lucky to have you looking out for him,” Dulce says, before pausing to take a sip of his tea, debating his next words. It only feels fair to give her his own respect back. “You led everyone well, it was a very good plan.”

With the manor at least temporarily less than ideal as a safe, neutral meeting point with his brother, Dulce has been fretting over options of the best course of action regarding his brother and the target on his back since everyone (relatively) settled in his home after the Tower. The issue with that, besides being utterly stretched thin between playing house dad to four guests, making certain they’re safe and fed, but also not breaking anything in his home, and keeping the man-slash-robot who shot him twice under his control at all times until Dr. Green can come and figure out how the fuck to deprogram him or something, he doesn’t have a lot of brainpower for critical thinking. 

He’s exhausted, which is why, in the end, as it feels like time is growing thin to take care of this before Preston and his mysterious benefactor send someone after Claudius who will actually kill him, he settles on risking the meeting at the manor, and sucking it up to face White and her displeasure head on, should she find out he’s around and call him into a meeting before he can leave again.

And so they plan the meeting, knowing it’s best if Claudius comes separately, to continue keeping whoever might be watching off the trail that they’re not going to follow through on the list of names for the Shadow Man to kill he’s been given. He arrives early, of course, wanting to make certain they can have privacy––or as much privacy as is possible in a mansion full of eavesdroppers––and tea, knowing how deeply unpleasant Claudius is going to be able having to come here, a place he swore he’d never set foot in, after what it made their father into.

Dulce is already out on the balcony, tea and a very generous assortment of baked goods waiting for Claudius and Shadow thanks to Jay, when he turns to see the very same leading his brother out to him. He gives them a thank you, before stepping forward to meet Claudius. But, of course, the bastard doesn’t even offer a hello in greeting, launching into his complaints immediately, as he steps out onto the balcony.

“You know you owe me. Forcing me to stay with Mum for a week straight, and then asking me to come here. Really, Tiberius, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were trying to send me to an early grave,” he hums, as he goes to sit at the table, clearly not impressed in the least with any of this.

“Oh, I am,” he says blandly, rolling his eyes. “But I have a strong feeling what I’m trying to do for you in that regard is going to cancel that out. Eat a piece of coffee cake, it’ll calm you down. I don’t want you acting an arsehole when Shadow gets here; I happen to like having him around, and I’d rather you not make him regret choosing to spend his time with me.”

Claudius doesn’t look up as he pours himself a cup of tea. “I don’t like coffee cake. Too sweet,” he corrects. “What a way to meet your first boyfriend in fifteen years.”

“Then eat a bloody scone, Claudius,” Dulce hisses. He’s about to go on, object to the fifteen years part, and to remind Claudius this is serious, even if he knows full well his brother will stop with the theatrics once they get down to business, when the door opens again, and he looks up to see Shadow. He heaves a sigh of relief, and crosses to him. “Speak of the devil.”

He doesn’t bother tempering the need for touch here, even if he knows Claudius will, indeed, be a littler brother about it. But he needs the brief moment of contact, pressing a kiss to Shadow’s cheek, giving a small embrace. “I apologize in advanced for him. Our family has never been good at first impressions,” he mutters, as he pulls back, hands staying on his upper arms just for a second. He can practically hear the eye roll behind him. “Thank you, for doing this now. I know it’s still not a good time for any of us.”

Going from living utterly alone, to having four covert houseguests, only one of whom he actually knows well, meaning there are a half a dozen people coming and going constantly to visit them, is an adjustment to say the least. With Shadow’s own unexpected new live-in guest, he doesn’t feel like it’s fair to escape to Shadow’s townhouse to take refuge from the chaos overnight, and that’s without considering, of course, that he had promised to play security for the defectors, and so play security he has. All of this, and he still hasn’t managed to figure out a good time and place to meet his brother to discuss the still very real target on his back, considering the manor no longer feels safe, thanks to his own involvement in the grand Tower happenings, and White’s well-founded concerns over that.

Peace isn’t really possible in the house any longer, even if there is enough space that it’s possible not to see any of the others for hours at a time. Overload’s always been terribly loud, though, and there seems to be a constant sting of coming and going of people visiting his houseguests, or the more independent of the four leaving, against his advice, to meet others elsewhere. Mostly, though, they don’t directly bother him, besides Overload, which he’s glad for, thrilled to have her around, even if she could use some work on boundaries, and the odd need to force Specter into taking care of himself with a command or two since it still feels too dangerous to let him free of his command entirely.

So it’s no shock that, sitting at the table in the sunroom at the back of his house, doing a bit of light reading, with a cup of perfectly brewed tea, enjoying the very brief moment of silence, that it’s interrupted just as he brings the cup to his lips for the first sip.

He looks up, expecting Overload, but is greeted by Catalyst instead, apparently stopping for a chat for some reason, instead of leaving immediately after her visit with whichever of the four refugees he was currently housing in his guest wing. With a little sign, he puts down his cup of tea, ignoring the way his wrist twinges with the motion, both wrists still feel just slightly wrong, despite the healing, the phantom sensations of the gunshots very much sticking around. He doesn’t very well feel like having this argument now––in fact, he was hoping that she might be busy enough with the fallout of her almost annoyingly, certainly impressively well-executed plans that she wouldn’t have time to find him to pick a fight. But nothing is simple, as evidenced by literally everything that’s happened in the past several weeks, so he doesn’t bother to try to put it off any longer if that is what she’s seeking just now.

“Has the time come to listen to the list of complaints regarding how I handled my part of your mission at last?” he asks blandly, folding his hands over the book sitting in front of him on the table.