EVERYTHING, BY EVERYONE.

Face buried into his hands, Pico’s grumbles and huffs of humiliated protest had to be muffled enough for John to ignore them completely, either that or the man simply got some fatherly kicks out of mortifying his son with the universal humiliation of baby photos. Scruffy, chubby little runt, with his messy hair, gap-toothed smile and signature ‘lights on yet nobody’s home’ stare, and yet John certainly seemed to cherish all those rare snapshots of who Pico had once been, however embarrassing Pico found them.

“ You done yet, or do ya wanna go show everybody ya see too? ”

Of course, John would never truly be done, and some part of Pico didn’t want him to be. Those fuzzy feelings of nostalgia and reminiscence lingered, no matter the bittersweet ache that lingered in his chest.

ㅤ...At least, that was what he used to think. But there was no 'past Pico' and 'broken Pico', no true distinction to be made. He was just... Pico. And that sweet, intelligent, curious, confident boy was alive and well, even if buried under layers of attitude and mental illness.

ㅤThat didn't stop him from feeling like he'd missed out on something important. But, they found ways to make up for lost time. Like engaging in the time-honoured tradition of embarrassing the hell out of his kid with baby photos.

ㅤ“ Oh, trust me, son, I already do that. I got copies of all your greatest hits in my wallet. ” He nudged Pico with his elbow. “ If it helps, most of the photos I show off are from after I adopted you — you'd shed all your puppy fat by then... Almost all of it, anyway. ”

More seeming to be joking than actually asking, unaware of just how correct he was, Pico couldn’t help but laugh a little harder. He’d recklessly pushed himself through injuries before, to his friends’ frustration and John’s mutters of ‘you’re gonna gimme a heart attack someday, kid’, at least this time around he was getting some amusement out of it, though unfortunately not without the familiar sting.

“ Yeah, bet. I’ll rest up n’ then whoop your ass, just don’t let your pride get too bruised when I take you down easy, yeah? ”

Stubborn and headstrong, plainly confident in their abilities (even to a fault), like father, like son. At least John had a bit more sense about him, unlike his little fire-starter of a kid. Scraped and bruised hands taking hold of the pack and lighter just a little firmer than usual, not wanting to embarrass himself in dropping his precious cigarettes, the redhead was quick to purse one of them between his lips before lighting the end. Raising a brow slightly, he spoke around the filter before taking a drag, unable to help an amused snicker.

“ Stealin’ and everything, shame on you. ”

Right, as if though he hadn’t done so much worse.

ㅤIt was true, though, that Pico was undoubtedly better than him in a one-on-one fight. John had him beat in sheer physical strength and mass, but the kid was faster, more agile, on top of having a right hook that could make anyone see stars. When they were holding back, though, just sparring for a little fun and practice, it was pretty exciting.

ㅤAt Pico's comment on his theft, John merely smirked. He sat down at the desk, chair pulled back so he could face Pico. He squeezed the filter before taking a drag, eyebrows twitching up in surprise at the unusual, but not unpleasant menthol flavour. He could see why Pico liked these things.

ㅤHe hummed thoughtfully. “ Steve is... How do I put this... Well, you've got that little knife-happy friend of yours, Nene. Imagine if she was 240 pounds of mostly muscle, and growled at you like a dog instead of talking to you if you forgot her birthday. ” He chuckled. “ All my boys are on their best behaviour when you're watching. Steve's a real fuckin' character, though. Even on the battlefield, drenched in blood from whatever poor fucker he just went to town on, he'll still be all 'aw, cheese and crackers' like he's in elementary school. ”

ㅤHis imitation of Steve's higher, more nasally voice was pretty on point, if he did say so himself.

“ It, uh-…Yeah. Dunno why, nothing even happened, I didn’t get jumped or shot or— I just—…I got worse again. S’ stupid, I shouldn’t-... ”

It’s the closest thing John would get to an admission of weakness out of Pico, not that struggling with trauma as mounting as his was even something to consider weak. The kid carried the world on his back, and then wondered why he ached.

ㅤ“ You know it's not stupid, kid, ” he interrupted, still speaking gently. “ It ebbs and flows. Hits you out of nowhere, even when things are going well. Happens to my boys all the time — and let's be real here, they've got it easier than you do. ”

ㅤ( Oh, but it doesn't happen to him. Of course not. He's invincible, and definitely doesn't get nervous around fires larger than his palm. )

ㅤJohn reached up with his free hand, gently wiping away the leftover moisture from Pico's freckled cheeks. He studied his boy's face for a moment, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

ㅤ“ You grew up too fast, y'know that ? ”

ㅤIt was a more layered observation than he intended, but it was just… true. Forced to mature too quickly by his horrendous circumstances. Only spending a few years under John's care before he was old enough to go out into the world by himself. Too fast.

ㅤ“ You turned out pretty handsome, though. Just like your old man. ”

“ Easy, I could still shake you up, ol’ man. ”

Regardless of whether the threat was hollow or not, the unique sort of fondness in Pico’s voice lingered all the same. Lifting his exhausted and dazed gaze to loosely follow John’s movements as he both handled and discarded supplies, the redhead managed a chuckle, however much his bruised ribs ached.

“ Mmh, y’know, some dumb fuck couldn’t keep his mouth shut, tryna start shit. Shut it up for him. Prolly be eatin’ through a straw for a while. ”

Hands with all their bruised knuckles and scrapes fumbled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from one of the many pockets along his cargo pants, though those same hands couldn’t seem to find a lighter along with it. Huffing in quiet annoyance, the pack was tossed aside to land somewhere on the desk, joining the various medical supplies laid out.

It would be all fun and games until Pico got seriously harmed. But, John would be there to make it all better, no matter what.

ㅤ“ Hah ! We haven't sparred in a while, now that I think about it. Maybe once you're not stitched up like a Raggedy Andy doll, you could help me shake off some rust. Steve hasn't been interested in roughhousing lately — crazy bastard must be mellowing out on me. ”

ㅤ( Not that Pico ever really saw Steve's more feral side — 'Uncle Steve' was always on his best behavior with the kid. )

ㅤJust as he finished putting everything away, the cigarette pack landed in front of him. He raised an eyebrow, then picked it up, examining the packaging. Camel Crush. Right, Pico did like those ones with the flavor capsules.

ㅤ“ You lose your light in that scuffle ? ” John teased. “ Ah, what the hell. Here. ”

ㅤJohn reached into his jacket with his free hand, taking out his own lighter. He stole a cigarette for himself — without a hint of remorse — and lit it before passing both the light and pack to Pico. His hands lingered for a moment longer than normal, in case the poor kid managed to drop them.

“yes, because the car’s paint job is what I’m worried about.”

she glanced back at the trail of destruction, turning to look at him a bit incredulously. “frankly, i’m just hoping the entire thing isn’t a write-off. going forward and being tough are all it’s good for, but there’s only so far ‘being tough’ can get something when someone decides to take it for a high speed joyride like the big brother with anger issues to a bumper car at the state fair. last i checked, the grease monkeys can perform miracles not necromancies.” of course, if it was at that point, she was perfectly fine with letting them prove her wrong so long as the two of them could get the damn thing in their shop in the first place. he had more of a plan then she did so defer to him she would; not to mention her own practical little sedan would be laughably unsuited for the task. “well, lead the way then and we can both hope it doesn’t decide to try and take out your undercarriage with it for our effort.”

admittedly, a funny thought in theory.  admittedly, a headache inducing thought in practice.

ㅤ“ If it's a write-off, it's a write-off. The bigger concern is the asshole who made this mess in the first place. Don't know how we'll find 'em, unless we decide to line up every dipshit nursing a hangover this morning. ” He grinned. “ And hey, if that hunk of junk takes my junk down with it, it'll make for a funny story, at least. ”

ㅤNot like he was doing much with it, anyhow.

ㅤHe turned to start walking, gesturing for Calhoun to follow. His car wasn't exactly close, but the walk wouldn't kill them.

ㅤOnly a momentary silence passed between them before Captain opened his mouth again, making conversation for its own sake.

ㅤ“ Gotta say, you're taller than I thought you'd be. Whenever I heard about you, I pictured one of those 'tiny but mighty' types, but here you are. ”

ㅤThey were very nearly the same height, with Captain having just a couple of inches on her.

the slightest hint of recognition tugged at the back of her mind as she gave him a quick once-over. whether that was because she had actually met him before or because she was mistaking him for someone similar remained to be seen. a tall guy with black hair wasn't exactly a rare breed on base. her eyes flitted from his face to the patch on the placket of his jacket—three curved chevrons, same as her own—and then to the name tape to the right of it. she did a double take as she saw the name embroidered into the fabric.

huh. so he was a real person. the name ‘sergeant captain’ had been thrown around once or twice in passing, sure, but she’d never given it much thought. chalked up to just some in-joke or a gag that started to the tune of ‘someone walked into a bar’ that she only ever caught the punchline of. it was an unfortunate name to have in the military, especially if he was ever keen on climbing the ranks any higher. ‘captain captain’ wasn’t the kind of title someone would quickly forget—or hold any speck of esteem to. tamora wasn’t about to go vocalizing those thoughts so the only outward indication of them was the way her eyes lingered for half a second too long on the patch before she quickly refocused her attention back on the lenses of his sunglasses. her face scrunched slightly at the question. “hah—you think? all he did was barge in the second i peeled my sorry ass out of bed and told me there was a ‘situation’ i had to handle,” she groused before, in a slightly lighter tone, added, “i can certainly agree with you on that. though if the only people you can think need a little ‘character building’ in your squad are the rookies, you’ve got yours better behaved than mine.” not from a lack of trying on her part, of course. definitely not for a lack of trying.

“speakin’ of your squad; any of them happen to know their way around some power-tools?” she turned to look at the car again, something resembling a solid plan forming in her head. “my first instinct says we just tie a rope to it and another car and give ‘er. my second instinct says it might just decide to take a whole lot more of the hangar with it if we do that.” the thing had already managed to stay upright despite getting a vehicle rammed through it, after all. approaching the situation with a scrap of delicacy would hopefully let it stay that way. “chipping off the edges should let us wiggle it out without fucking anything up more.” theoretically, at least. she wasn’t exactly on the payroll for knowing the finer mechanics of ‘extraction of vehicle(s) from base infrastructure’.

ㅤCalhoun herself wasn't exactly an unknown presence, either. Though, her 'claim to fame' was far less amusing than an unusual surname. Insecure men grumbled about a woman who could take charge, and more whispered conspiratorially about her tragically deceased fiancé. Luckily for her, Captain couldn't care less about either.

ㅤOf course she wasn't told anything. Why should they expect more ?

ㅤHe chuckled at her suggestion. “ I'd be more worried about the car getting scratched up to hell and back. It's impressive that it even managed to break through the wall in the first place, instead of just crumpling. ”

ㅤEither the hangar needed its structural integrity reassessed, or their mystery drunkard was driving ridiculously fast. Either way, it was a miracle that no one was injured.

ㅤ“ I'll just get my pick-up, and we'll yank it out. I should still have a tow rope... ”

ㅤ( Not his first time getting a car unstuck, though it was the first time it had been stuck in a steel wall. )

when tamora had been awoken by her commander informing her that there was a ‘situation that needed to be dealt with’ and that she was the one assigned to do so, she had expected a lot of things—a fire, some broken plumbing, hell, maybe even some private who’d accidentally shot themselves or someone else in the foot during a training exercise—but it certainly wasn’t this. someone had apparently, through some kind of likely drunken wisdom, decided late the night before that it was an excellent idea to take one of the armored cars for a joyride around the base. the trail of destruction that had ensued wasn’t hard to follow. chain link fences folded in half, other vehicles with smashed bumpers, deep gouges dug into the grass by the tires, smaller objects and fixtures completely decimated and even one of the floodlights that overlooked some of the runways toppled onto its side and shattered into a dozen pieces where it had hit the ground. the trail and its victims—thankfully all intimate objects and not actual people—zigzagged its way through about half the base before stopping when the perpetrators' vehicle had finally ended its reign of terror and came to a rest… …by smashing itself halfway through the wall of a hangar.

she took half a second to mourn the fact she hadn’t even been able to grab herself some breakfast before turning to look at the slowly growing crowd of onlookers. “alright, i don’t know why you all think this is some peanut gallery but anyone still gawking within the next 20 seconds is going to help me clean up this mess whether you like it or not. now move it or lose it.” the threat was sufficient enough to make everyone disperse, no doubt to either head to the mess hall or go attend to the duties they had gotten distracted from, and soon the area was clear of people once again. all except for one person, apparently.

ㅤHe'd been told, in quite impatient terms, to go deal with the mess outside, get what remained of the stolen car and figure out who was responsible. He hadn't been told he would have a partner, but, he supposed, the grouchy woman currently staring at him probably wasn't told either. Odd, for them to assign two people who'd never worked together. Perhaps they just happened to be the two unlucky sergeants with the least busy schedules this morning.

ㅤWell, he knew the culprit wasn't any of his boys. Most of them knew such tomfoolery would end with them cleaning the bathrooms for a month, and Steve was very responsible on his illegal joyrides.

ㅤ“ Hell of a morning… I'm assuming your superior also didn't tell you how to prepare for this, ” Captain spoke conversationally, turning slightly to observe the clear trail of destruction. “ Feh. Least the shit work can be left to the rookies. Build a little character. ”

ㅤHe was not spending all day cleaning that up. Getting the car out of the wall would be agonizing enough, let alone figuring out who crashed it. He wasn't told it would be like… this. Ugh, he'd probably have to go get his pick-up, and a tow rope…

ㅤ( He hoped whichever dipshit did this was also drunk enough to leave their ID on the front seat. )

That sounded way too similar to what he was familiarized with. It could not be a coincidence. ❝ So it's normal? ❞ Just... without the mail. Whether that was weird or not did not cross his mind. Maybe military bases did NOT allow mail to begin with. Huh... A pause. ❝ I get it. ❞

What other conclusion could have Pump drawn from that? It sounded normal. No strings attached, no bells and whistles, just busy parents working busy jobs involving lots and lots of boring paperwork.

Needless to say, he found the explanation to be satisfying. And the sergeant had given him an idea that could work.

❝ I'm going to call them next time I'm awake during the witching hour. ❞ Yes. He said that with a straight face. ❝ It has to work. ❞ He... was a very persistent little one. ❝ That's the time when witches cast curses and cults sacrifice people. ❞

Looking at the bright side, it looked like he was back in a good mood! If he had posed a potential crisis, then said crisis had just been averted.

Except that-- ❝ Do soldiers fight zombies like in the movies? ❞ --he, technically, still had questions pertaining to the other's job. There HAD to be something interesting about it, right?

ㅤSpeaking of which. Zombies ? Alright, he was sick of boring truths for tonight. Time to put a bit more pep in the boy's step. Couldn't hurt, right ?

ㅤ“ Hah ! Obviously ! What do you think all the training is for ? I must've shot hundreds of zombie heads right off their shoulders by now. ”

ㅤAh, the time-honoured dad tradition of telling outrageous lies to kids... Except, now they were approaching the supermarket, so perhaps the boy's thoughts could pivot to something a little more realistic. Like vegetables.

meme.

its the aroace + autism combo (pico hasnt figured it out yet be patient /j)