#gralloway

Fletcher: "For real? Why, thank you, Peter."

Peter: "For real. We're here to serve whether you sit at the bar or at a table."

Fletcher: Well, wasn't this just awkward. He took his beer and stared at it. "Mixed?"

Peter: He nodded. "That's your usual."

Fletcher: "Ya know ya don't need to do that," he said quietly, leaning in for only Peter Graham to hear.

Peter: "That's your usual," he repeated, lowering his voice as Fletcher did. "Everyone's entitled to their usual here unless they desire something else."

Fletcher: He swallowed. "You good?"

Peter: Pete nodded. "Good as I can be."

Fletcher: "Which is how good?"

Peter: "There's no imminent danger of a breakdown or crying jag, so for me that's progress."

Fletcher: "Progress because - right. MJ."

Peter: "For the most part."

Fletcher: "Has he seen you yet?"

Peter: Pete studied Fletcher for a few long moments. Had he been watching him when MJ had visited? Was he asking to see if he'd lie?

"He has."

Fletcher: "Good. Thought he'd just stop with the sheriff." Tongue flicked to moisten lips and he took his beer. "Am I t'stop watchin' ya again? I only watch every other day."

Peter: The sheriff? MJ had stopped to see Brett? Why?

He grabbed a glass to clean before Fletcher could see the questions and confusion in his eyes. "Nope, he didn't stop there. I saw him." And then some.

"You can do whatever you like. It's not like he's going to stay."

Fletcher: "So you want both of us to protect you. Got it," he muttered, heading towards the back of the bar.

Peter: Pete sighed internally. "No such thing as too much protection," he said quietly, mostly to himself. Question was, who was going to protect him from all these emotions?

MJ: Text: Hey, babe. Get in the kitchen.

Peter: Speak of the devil (or vampire) and he shall appear, Pete thought as he looked down at his phone. He told Luke take over the bar and headed into the kitchen.

MJ: Behind the shelves, past the stove, down the hall towards the pantry, the vampire was leaning against the wall with a grin on his face.

Peter: Despite the soup of emotions, despite Fletcher's presence just a few feet away, Pete couldn't help but smile at MJ. He was the moth and this beautiful vampire was his favorite flame.

"Hey you."

MJ: "Thought I would sneak in and steal kisses. I can't stay long - dunno who's a ghoul and who isn't."

Peter: "Steal them in my office. More privacy."

MJ: "Fine. Gotta sneak out the window again."

Peter: Pete dug a key out of his pocket and handed it to MJ. "Use the back door and head up the stairs. This time of night you won't be seen."

MJ: MJ leaned in for a kiss. "Might as well be a weddin' ring," he grinned, turning and heading for the backdoor.

Peter: It was given gladly. God, he'd missed this man so much.

"I'll be up in a minute," he called after MJ, returning to the bar proper to officially put Luke in charge. "I'm gonna go take care of some things up in the office. You good?"

Luke nodded at his brother as he made a sidecar. "I'm good, brother. Go do boss things."

Fletcher: Fletcher sighed into his drink and stared off into the distance. For once with no clue as to what was climbing the stairs up to Peter Graham's office.

Luke: "What's on your mind, Fletcher?" Luke asked.

Fletcher: "How much product you put in your hair."

Luke: "An appropriate amount."

Fletcher: "That hair in inappropriate."

Luke: "This hair is neat and very appropriate."

Fletcher: "No. The 80s are gone, man. Gotta move on."

Luke: "Yes. And my hair is not exclusive to the 80s. It's eternal."

Fletcher: "You're out cha damn mind."

Luke: "I'm perfectly in my mind."

Fletcher: "D'ya always say opposite of what someone says t'ya?"

Luke: Luke smiled. "I'm a lawyer, it's my job."

Fletcher: "You're awesome." Twas a test.

Luke: "Yes, yes I am, Fletcher. Very astute observation."

Fletcher: "Ah, so ya do have a limit."

Luke: "I agree when it's to my benefit."

Fletcher: "Yep. Lawyer no one can trust."

Luke: "I'm one of the only lawyers you can trust."

Fletcher: "See, sayin' opposite again." He shook his head. "No wait, sayin' what ya want others t'hear t'get money."

Luke: "I'm simply telling the truth, not pitching my services. Although if I was, I'd offer you a 'I've known you my whole life' discount."

Fletcher: "Ya wouldn't help me."

Luke: "Sure I would."

Fletcher: "Your brother hates me."

Luke: "If he hated you he would've thrown you out. He's done it before to people he hates."

Fletcher: "Yeah, well. Maybe that, maybe he hates me enough not to give a shit."

Luke: "When has Pete ever internalized hatred or anger?"

Fletcher: "He can. I promise you he can."

Luke: "For whom?"

Fletcher: He sipped his beer. "Few people," he finally said.

Luke: "Far as I know, he lets the people he hates know that he hates them. Loudly."

Fletcher: But what if he loves them, too? No, not so grand. Liked them. Maybe liked them long ago.

He shrugged.

Luke: "You know I'm right," Luke said just before June came up to the bar and placed a drink order.

She beamed at Fletcher. "Well hi there! Didn't see you come in."

Fletcher: "Hi, Ms. June," he said in his politest tone. Luke would think what he did with the limited information he had, and Fletcher would believe in his theory based on his experience. It would go nowhere until Peter opened the curtains.

June: "How you been, how's business?"

Fletcher: "It's going. Picks up around the holidays. Especially after Christmas."

June: She laughed. "Lots of people trying to get rid of ugly Christmas presents?"

Fletcher: "Mhm. Ones that they can't exchange back some way or another."

June: "Anybody ever bring you anything worth any serious money?"

Fletcher: "Cars, bikes, jewelry. The classics."

June: "My brother-in-law got my sister's engagement ring at your shop."

Fletcher: How classy, he thought. "Yeah? What was his name?"

June: "Robert. He scraped together enough to get her something really sweet and pretty." June sighed dreamily. "She loved it."

Fletcher: "Ah, didn't he get her one of the mermaid rings? Like, it had a shell?"

June: She nodded. "Yep, that one! And they got married at the beach and Callum put those beautiful flowers everywhere." Another dreamy sigh.

Fletcher: She looked smitten. He wondered if she was living vicariously. "What kind of weddin' d'ya want someday?"

June: "I wanna get married at Father Patrick's church and have the reception in the town square. Lots and lots of flowers and tulle and a fairytale princess dress."

Fletcher: "Have a man in mind?"

June: "Oh, well." She blushed.

Fletcher: "Who would I tell?" He smiled.

June: June leaned in closer. "If I tell you will you swear on that?"

Fletcher: "No, June, I'll stand up on the table and yell it out."

June: "Well I gotta make sure, don't I? I've kept this close to my heart for a very long time."

Fletcher: "C'mon, June," he grinned. "Men aren't that bigga gossips." Yes they were. Just a different breed.

June: She gave him a look.

Fletcher: Bigger smile?

June: "All right, I'll tell you." She leaned even closer. "Brett Parker."

Fletcher: "WHAT?!"

June: And again, June blushed.

June: "What do you mean what? He's nice and handsome and sweet."

Fletcher: Oh, he's more than that. "But he's...not your speed."

June: She tilted her head. "My speed?"

Fletcher: "You're... Paramore, and he's Bob Dylan."

June: "One, I'm not a Paramore girl, and two, even if I was that doesn't mean I can't find him nice and sweet and handsome. Brett's a good man."

Fletcher: "He is. He's a good man. What I'm sayin' is he's shy. He ain't gonna talk to ya like that. Like, ask ya out. Ya'd have to do it yourself."

June: "Oh, I know." This time her sigh was far less dreamy. "He's never looked at me like one would look at someone they want to go out with. He looks at me like Pete does."

Fletcher: "Well, ya could always ask him and get it outta your system. Otherwise, you're gonna live with the what ifs."

June: "What if I ask him and things get weird between us?"

Fletcher: "I don't think he would, June."

June: "Maybe, but he'd still probably turn me down."

Fletcher: "You're so negative. You're named for a happy, optimistic month."

June: "I'm not being negative because I want to be. I'm just going off what I've seen and what I've seen is that he looks at me like Pete does. I mean, he pats me on the head every now and then."

Fletcher: He smiled. "Guess you're right. No point in it. Guess you'll have to find a Parker 2.0."

June: "I'm having a hell of a time trying to find one, let me tell you. Maybe one day Brett will wake up and think 'you know what? I'd like to take June out to dinner'." See, there was a tiny bit of optimism there.

Fletcher: "I can give ya a bit of advice on that."

June: "Oh yeah?"

Fletcher: "Stop takin' guys with tattoos on their forearm and cheap pleather jackets."

June: June gave Fletcher a tiny frown. "Having forearm tattoos and pleather jackets doesn't make someone a bad person."

Fletcher: "No, but name one man that ya dated that didn't hurt ya."

June: "There was...well...hmm...."

Fletcher: "Hmm."

June: Surely there had been at least one man in her life who-- "Donnie Hanson!"

Fletcher: "Where now?"

June: "Remember, he went to school with us for a while. Family moved here from Virginia."

Fletcher: "Ya were a baby when I was in high school. I dunno who that is."

June: "I wasn't that much younger."

Fletcher: "Babyyy," he grinned.

June: "I'm only like seven or eight years younger."

Fletcher: "I coulda changed your diapers," he laughed.

June: "Nuh-uh! You would've been too young."

Fletcher: "An eight year old could do it! I was mature."

June: "Maybe you were but the average eight year-olds aren't."

Fletcher: "Maybe it's a sign."

June: "A sign?"

Fletcher: "Yeah. Ya need a man ya can see bein'a mature eight-year-old."

June: She smiled. "Maybe I do."

Fletcher: "I'm... keepin' ya from work."

June: "It's a slow night, you're fine."

Fletcher: Meanwhile, upstairs, MJ had someone precious in his arms. "Hey, I missed you," he said.

Peter: Pete snuggled in so close it was like he was trying to burrow into MJ's skin. "I missed you too."

MJ: "How's the work night?" he asked, kissing Pete's head.

Peter: He hummed. "Blessedly slow."

MJ: "Surprised considerin' it's after Thanksgiving." He didn't care. That meant more time with his human in his arms.

Peter: "People are in food and shopping comas."

MJ: "Mm. Hey. I love you."

Peter: "I love you, too," he murmured, pressing even closer.

MJ: "How long do I have you for?”

Peter: "I told Luke I was doing paperwork so a while."

MJ: "I pay a visit and you're already bein' bad."

Peter: "I'm the boss, I'm allowed."

MJ: "Looks so bad. You're so bad."

Peter: "For all he knows I really am doing paperwork."

MJ: "It's Luke. He'll come check on ya."

Peter: "I locked the door."

MJ: "Ya just have this bein' naughty shit pegged."

Peter: "Oh yeah, I'm a pro."

MJ: "Shaddup and kiss me."

Peter: "Well if you insist." Pete pulled away just enough to lay his lips on his vampire's.

MJ: "Mm," he purred. "Goddamn, I love that mouth," he grinned.

Peter: "You're in luck then." Pete grinned back. "Because it loves you."

MJ: "Mm," kiss, "ya ain't told anyone I'm here, right?"

Peter: Pete pulled away just long enough to give MJ another kiss. "No one."

MJ: "Awesome. Think I can sneak to your place tonight, stay in your bed, keep ya cold?" he smirked.

Peter: "You'll have to sneak quietly. Luke's not the heaviest sleeper." Just one more kiss. Okay, two. "And maybe I'll keep you warm instead of you keeping me cold."

MJ: "It'll take a lot of heat. Ya got one of them electric blankets?"

Peter: "I am an electric blanket."

MJ: "Prove it tonight."

Peter: "Then sneak quietly."

MJ: "I'll try my best, babe. I got here, I can do anything." He'd try because he owed it to Pete.

Peter: Pete smiled. "Yes, I believe you can. And if all else fails, I'll sneak out and we'll go make out in my backyard."

MJ: "What are we, teenagers?"

Peter: "Says the man who sneaks in through my window to make out with me."

MJ: "I don't like doors. They announce too much."

Peter: "Yep, they announce 'hello! here I am! love me'."

MJ: "No, I don't want everyone to know. Just you."

Peter: Pete nuzzled MJ. "Then the window will tell me all those things just fine."

MJ: "I should go before I press our luck - my luck."

Peter: "No, stay." Pete wrapped his arms around MJ and held him tight. "We can get away with it for a few more minutes."

MJ: It had been months; how could he say no? He nuzzled in. "Ya get five more minutes."

Peter: "Ten."

MJ: "Seven."

Peter: "Nine."

MJ: He chuckled. "Eight, baby."

Peter: Pete grumbled but cuddled in closer. "Fine, eight."

Fletcher: Downstairs, June had been re-released to the sea of drunks. Fletcher reflected at the bottom of his glass. It had been a rather normal conversation, his first in ages. No death, preternatural, not Pentex. Then again, nothing should have been normal about the abuse the waitress had endured. He realized then, taking his last sip, that he'd never watched over her. No Samantha had ever visited June Lujano's house.

Luke: Unware of the direction of the man's thoughts, Luke set a bowl of pretzels and nuts in front of Fletcher. "Want another beer, Goodman?"

Fletcher: "...Yeah." Glance was given to the food. "I don't need that. That should be for the actual bar."

Luke: "The whole place is the actual bar and you're in it, so you get food."

Fletcher: "Ya know what I mean, Hairdo."

Luke: "Pretzels and nuts aren't just for the people sitting at the bar, they're for everyone. Not like we're gonna run out."

Fletcher: "Go bother someone else, dude."

Luke: "All right, I'm going. I'll send June over with your beer in just a bit."

Fletcher: That he didn't mind. "Alright."

June: It took a few minutes and a great deal of false giggles, but June managed to extricate herself from the table of drunks in the corner and deliver Fletcher's beer.

"Sorry that took so long."

Fletcher: "I-It's fine," said Fletcher, smiling half-heartedly.

June: Unlike the ones she'd given the drunks, the smile June gave Fletcher in return was completely genuine. "You doing okay over here? Can I get you anything else?"

Fletcher: "Just...feelin' tired s'all. Ya doin' alright? Anyone I need t'punch?"

June: "Not tonight," she chuckled. "Guys over there are a little irritating but they're behaving mostly."

Fletcher: "Mostly? What they doin'?"

June: "Hitting on me, making dirty jokes, the usual."

Fletcher: "Which one's hittin' on ya?"

June: "All of them except the bald guy, and with varying degrees of creativity."

Fletcher: "Seriously? Did ya tell em no?"

June: June nodded. "Yep. Especially because half of them are wearing wedding rings."

Fletcher: "What d'ya think would make em stop?"

June: "Less alcohol and different personalities."

Fletcher: "What if ya had a boyfriend they wouldn't fuck with?"

June: "I should be so lucky."

Fletcher: "I'll play your Charlie."

June: June blinked in surprise. "You'd do that for me?"

Fletcher: "I mean, would it get em off your back? Maybe."

June: "Yeah, maybe but...why?"

Fletcher: He shrugged. "Just bein' nice. Nothin' better t'do. Not like m'datin' anyone for real."

June: A giant, grateful smile bloomed across June's face. "Fletcher Goodman, you are a doll of a man."

Fletcher: "S-So...?" He laughed, "Does that mean we're "datin'"? Because if that's the case I should ask formally."

June: She nodded. "Yes, that means we're 'dating'."

Fletcher: "Alright, well, Ms. June Lujano, waitress at Pete's, will ya go out with me?" He was grinning from ear to ear.

June: June giggled and nodded again. "Mr. Fletcher Goodman, pawnbroker, I will."

Fletcher: "Think if ya hug me they might get the picture?"

June: "I think that'll do it." June moved around to the other side of the table and wrapped her arms around Fletcher, hugging him tight.

Fletcher: His arm wrapped around her waist and he squeezed, cheek against her shoulder. That felt...that felt nice.

June: And immediately, the men at the table in the corner collectively scowled at Fletcher.

Fletcher: "I think our point got made," he whispered to her.

June: "Good job, us." She hugged him again, just for the hell of it. She always did have a soft spot for Fletcher.

Fletcher: "Alright, don't neglect the assholes; if they get offended I'll be here."

June: "I better go wait on them," she sighed, pecking Fletcher's cheek before moving off to refresh drinks.

Fletcher: Fletcher smiled. Without meaning to June had made his night. For a few minutes, he didn't have to think about Peter Graham.

June: It soon became apparent that their little display didn't work on all the men with June in their sights. One in particular seemed especially determined to have her for his very own.

"Hey there, baby, didja miss me? You did, didn't you?"

Fletcher: Gray eyes watched from a distance, not quite ripe for coming to her aid. He needed to be prompted, asked, given permission. Not something he often sought, but this wasn't gathered intel with a broken toe; this was real, something that needed a real world reaction.

He sipped his beer and watched.

June: Knowing Fletcher was just on the other side of the bar and was helping her went a really long way toward helping June feel safer and more confident.

She gave the man a polite smile and turned to the rest of the men. "Can I get you guys another r--"

"Come on, now, don't ignore me, sugar. What'dya say you and me get out of here and go have ourselves a grand ol' time?"

"That's a very nice offer, sir, but I'm working."

"Come ooooooooon."

June shook her head and took half a step back. "Again, thank you but no. So is there anything I can get y--" She was cut off by the man standing and grabbing her arm, making to yank her closer.

Fletcher: Luke could have stepped in but didn't need to. The men around the table, any of them could have stepped in to remind their friend of his absent manners, but there was an equal absence of bravery and morality by his comrades.

His beer and table abandoned, Fletcher appeared by his pseudo girlfriend's side. He didn't want to overdo this. There had to be a manner of tact and maturity, so he grabbed the louse by his wrist and fractured it, twisting his arm behind his back.

"Don't you ever, ever touch a woman without permission, fuck face."

Dudley: The moment Fletcher got the asshole to release her June hid behind him, doing her best to ignore that awful sound of bone cracking and grinding together and the cry of pain that followed it.

"SON OF A BITCH, YOU BROKE MY FUCKING WRIST!"

Fletcher: "Remember that the next time ya sexually harass someone, Dudley. Your wrist will fuckin' survive." He wasn't allowed to stay. No, the idiot would need to go to the hospital. He could have the displeasure of explaining why, and Brett Parker would probably get involved, but in this moment he wasn't thinking of self-preservation. He was thinking of June as he kicked her harasser to the curb.

Luke: The entire bar--including Luke who burst out of the kitchen when he heard yelling--stopped to stare in stunned amazement as Fletcher bodily removed June's harasser.

He landed on the sidewalk with more yelling and vicious curses, threatening to go after Pete, Luke, Fletcher and everything they owned. "JUST YOU WAIT, ASSHOLE! BY THE TIME I'M DONE YOU AIN'T GONNA HAVE NOTHING, YOU HEAR ME? NOTHING! YOU CAN KEEP THAT PRISSY LITTLE BITCH I DON'T EVEN WANT HER!"

Fletcher: Fletcher pulled out his phone and pulled up his camera, clicking record. "Say that again. Keep talking. C'mon. Let's hear s'more!"

Dudley: "YOU WANNA HEAR SOME MORE? I'LL GIVE YOU SOME MORE! WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STICKING YOUR GODDAMN NOSE IN MY BUSINESS? I DIDN'T FUCKING SEE YOUR NAME WRITTEN ON THAT BITCH WAITRESS!"

Fletcher: "You sexually harassed her and there are witnesses. What are you, fucking stupid?" Keep talking, bud. Keep talking. More for Brett Parker.

Dudley: "Fuuuuuuuuck you!" His volume lowered only because his throat was starting to hurt. "Since when is flirting with a waitress fucking harassment?! I was just talking to her! She was the one being fucking difficult!"

Fletcher: "So you thought it was alright to touch her against her will?"

Dudley: "I just touched her arm! Why's everyone making such a big fucking deal!?"

Fletcher: Fletcher turned to Luke. "Wanna go get your boss now, or just gawk?"

Luke: Luke gave Fletcher the go-ahead signal. "By all means, finish letting the moron incriminating himself. Oh, and in case it isn't obvious," he added to the guy on the sidewalk, "You're blackballed. Come in here again, lay another hand on June, and /I/ will be the one to take everything you own."

Said moron found his voice again. "AND HOW THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GONNA DO THAT, ASSHOLE?"

Luke grinned. "I'm a lawyer, dipshit. Now beat it."

Fletcher: So, no one was going to get the owner? No one was running for the office upstairs? He supposed that was fine; he and Luke were teaming pretty well in this. He would remain recording until dickless put distance from the pub.

Luke: It was another five minutes before it occurred to the guy to pick himself up and leave, spitting obscenities the entire blessed way. When he was gone, Luke turned to the table of men that were still staring.

"Any of you pulls any shit like that, you're gonna follow after your pal. Whether that includes a beating from Fletcher over there is entirely up to you. So, are you staying or going?"

They all nodded and muttered 'staying'.

"All right. From now on, Rita will be waiting on you. Mess with her she'll claw your eyes out with those foot-long nails."

Fletcher: Fletcher saved the recording with time and date and the dickwad's name. Frank fucking Dudley. Pocketed, he turned to June, hands to her shoulders.

"Ya alright, honey?"

June: June gave Fletcher a tiny smile and a shaky nod. She'd been very nearly plastered to his side during that little scene, but even with it over she still didn't feel quite steady. It had been a while since someone had gotten in anything worse than an ass grab.

"Y-yeah, I'm...I'm fine."

Fletcher: Fletcher wasn't actually sure whether or not she was shaking because of Dudley or because of what he had done to the bastard. Hands were pulled away, distance put between them.

"Alright. D'ya - D'ya wanna go home?"

June: Rather than answer right away, June closed that distance between them and squeezed him tight. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much."

Fletcher: Oh. Okay, so...that was for Dudley, then. Maybe she was just being nice. Maybe he was thinking too much.

She was so impossibly warm and petite. He believed if he squeezed she'd break.

"Don't thank me. S'what boyfriends are supposed to do."

June: She gave a humorless chuckle and squeezed tighter. "Believe me, Fletcher. Most of the men I've known wouldn't do what you just did for me for their own mothers."

Fletcher: "What, facture someone's wrist because they touched someone inappropriately?"

June: She nodded. "I've known a lot of bad men."

Fletcher: "I know. A lot of us know, June. Ya got people lookin' after ya."

June: June sniffled and nodded again. "I know."

Fletcher: "So...that walk home. Ya want it? Ya done with tonight?"

Luke: "Yes, she is," came Luke's voice from behind them. He draped her coat and scarf on her. "Go on home, June. I'll explain everything to the boss."

"Okay. Thanks, Luke."

"Don't mention it. Stick close to Fletcher now."

"I will." To prove it, she put her coat on properly and took Fletcher's arm.

Fletcher: In just one decision Fletcher now had a responsibility that weighted him to this place, to this young woman. Weight to Luke and to his brother.

With his hand over her arm, he began to wonder how the owner managed to ignore the rumble downstairs.

"Ready?"

Peter: Pete had grown so accustomed to the sound of yelling and bar fights that he didn't pay much mind to the muffled commotion he could hear downstairs. Whatever it was, Luke could handle it. All he cared about right now was prolonging his stay in his vampire's arms.

June nodded. "I'm ready. Let's go."

Fletcher: Fletcher turned his attention to her scarf; he was tying it and touching her - not touching, not really - and it felt surreal, as though he was riding someone else's dream.

"D'ya walk home? Ya ain't got a car?"

June: "I usually drive, but I let my brother borrow my car because his is in the shop. Bobby was going to take me home at the end of my shift."

Fletcher: "Which one's Bobby?"

June: "Our cook."

Fletcher: "Ah, right. No wonder I don't see him then."

June: "Yeah," she said with a nod. "He's usually holed up in the kitchen. Doesn't come out unless we're slammed or there's a lull."

Fletcher: "I don't come every night. I dunno. Feel like I've been missin' shit."

June: "I can promise you have. Never a dull moment in the bar. I think we know more about people's sex lives than they do."

Fletcher: "And I thought The Brig was a big deal."

June: "That's just because they have a pool table. We've got the live entertainment."

Fletcher: "I like the pool table though."

June: "Doesn't it start like...at least one fight a night?" she chuckled.

Fletcher: "Not always, not so long as people pay up when they gamble."

June: "That's the problem though, isn't it? People don't always wanna pay what they owe."

Fletcher: "Don't date those. Pawnbroker I can tell ya they're the worst."

June: "I learned that lesson the hard way." One of many.

Fletcher: "Well, ya won't be datin' shit like that again, right?"

June: "God willing, no," June said with a heartfelt sigh.

Fletcher: He wanted to ask more questions, but she did just have a busy evening. He waited a few minutes before starting again. "What d'ya wanna be when ya grow up?" he grinned.

June: June grinned back. "Would you believe me if I said I didn't know?"

Fletcher: "Well, ya don't wanna be a waitress your whole life."

June: She shook her head. "No, I don't. I started working at Pete's to pay the bills and I guess I've kinda...stuck around."

Fletcher: "Ya like it?"

June: "I do, actually. The assholes make it a little hard sometimes, but I like being around people and being in the chaos."

Fletcher: "There's gotta be other jobs for ya, somethin' t'be in the center of attention without gettin' touched."

June: "The not getting touched part would be nice. Only thing I'm really good at is talking to people. And balancing drinks on trays."

Fletcher: "What 'bout cookin'? Ya any good at it?"

June: "I'm very good at it. No one makes better soup than I do."

Fletcher: "Why not make a caterin' business?"

June: "Go into business? Me?"

Fletcher: "Of course!"

June: "But I don't know anything about having a business."

Fletcher: "You can learn. Can't be too hard."

June: "What if I suck at it? What if no one wants to hire me?"

Fletcher: "Ya gotta prove yourself is all."

June: June nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right," she said, wondering if she could hack it as a caterer.

Fletcher: "Plenty of other things, too. Decorator, communications. Wedding planner. Whole world of stuff."

June: "And you really think I could do it?"

Fletcher: "Be somethin' other than a waitress? Yeah, June."

June: She smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked. "Thank you for that," she said softly.

Fletcher: "For what?"

June: "For...for being you. For rescuing me tonight."

Fletcher: "Ya coulda punched 'em."

June: "If I was bigger and stronger maybe."

Fletcher: "Just gotta know where to punch."

June: "Where should I punch? For next time."

Fletcher: "Kick em in the balls and punch em in the throat. Boom fuckin' boom."

June: She nodded. "Duly noted."

Fletcher: Fletcher turned to face her, offering his hands. "Hit one."

June: June blinked at him before giving a short laugh. "What, really?"

Fletcher: "Well, yeah." He waved his hands. "C'mon."

June: "All right then. Fair warning though. The 'hit like a girl' expression was specifically written about me." She could, however, make a proper fist.

Fletcher's hands were given a few light jabs.

Fletcher: "Alright," he laughed. He didn't expect a macho smack from her. The fact alone that she could make a fist was impressive. "Peter teach ya form?"

June: "Him, my dad, my brothers, Mike Tyson."

Fletcher: "All these people and ya hit me like I'm made of glass. C'mon, mean it."

June: "I'll try." June put more weight behind her punches this time, but still being very careful not to hurt Fletcher.

Fletcher: "OW!" he screamed.

June: "Oh, hush," she laughed. "I'm not even hitting you that hard."

Fletcher: He grinned. "Ya gotta put your body into it. The power starts with your legs. Or ya know, whatever."

June: "That why boxers always bend their knees?"

Fletcher: "I mean, standing at attention doesn't feel the same. C'mon, try that and feel the difference."

June: June nodded, attempting what she thought of as the classic boxer pose: knees slightly apart and bent, fists raised. "Like this?"

Fletcher: "So fierce," he praised. "Go for me. I'm Dudley. Smack this hand like it's his chin."

June: It wasn't hard to motivate herself with that jerk as a mental image. All she had to do was picture his Neanderthal face where Fletcher's hand was, think of all the gross things he'd said to her, and do what she wished she would've done.

June took a deep breath and went for it.

Fletcher: Finally, a smack that had meaning to it. He could feel it in his wrist and he was proud of her.

"I should start listin' assholes that've wronged ya."

June: "Your hands would be beat to hell by the time we got through it."

Fletcher: "I got boxin' gloves at home. Could start makin' this a thing between us."

June: "Combo self-defense/de-stressing sessions?" She considered that, smiled. "That's not a bad idea actually."

Fletcher: "De-stressin'. With me?"

June: "Of course!"

Fletcher: Fletcher was having a hard time with that concept. "I mean...wouldn't - de-stress, really?" Nope.

June: "De-stress, unwind, decompress, relax, whatever you wanna call it." Some people did yoga, some went to the batting cages, some went out shooting. Why couldn't they practice self-defense?

Fletcher: "Alright, then...I guess I'm your...trainer now?"

June: June beamed at him. "Yep! I guess you are."

Fletcher: "Trainer, boyfriend, bodyguard." Nice list.

Fletcher: "Ah, and escort."

June: That was a nice list. Just two hours ago she hadn't had any one of those things.

"You're filling a lot of roles for me." Her smile softened. "Thanks again."

Fletcher: "So, where's your house from here?"

Fletcher: He didn't want to think about that smile, that it was meant for him.

June: "Two blocks straight ahead and three to the right."

Fletcher: He offered his arm to her this time.

June: She took it gladly, guiding them to her house.

Just last year she'd finally saved enough money to be able to afford to move out of her small, hot apartment and into a duplex. It was probably small by most people's standards but to her it might as well have been a mansion. She even had a tiny backyard, which was always a plus in her book.

Fletcher: Fletcher would only go as far as the door. His hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes to the floor. He wasn't going to ask to come in. He wasn't going to flirt. She was home safe and that was the point.

"So, um..."

June: "Thanks for the dozenth time," June said as she unlocked the door. "Have you had dinner? I made beef stew yesterday and I got some of that really nice French bread Laura has at the bakery."

Fletcher: "I-I haven't but I-I didn't even pay for my drink at Pete's. I should...I should probably go back and...do that."

June: "Oh don't worry about that. It's on your tab." June smiled and nodded inside. "Come on in and have dinner with me."

Fletcher: "First date?" his smile was weak and apprehensive.

June: June's, on the other hand, was bright enough to rival the sun. "Yep! Or just a dinner between friends if you want."

Fletcher: "Well I... Wh-What do you want?"

June: She gave a small shrug. "All I want is to share a meal with you. The context is what least matters."

Fletcher: Well, that was unexpected. "Alright..." What the angle was he couldn't tell. Maybe just a thank you for fracturing Dudley's wrist. At any rate, he was about to have dinner with a pretty girl.

He smiled. "So, stew, huh?"

June: "Damn good stew," she said, returning his smile as she led him back to the kitchen. "And I found some Irish butter at the market that tastes amazing on this bread."

Fletcher: "Sounds good. Hey, I'll be right back, alright? I just gotta make a call real quick."

June: June nodded. "All right. I'll warm up the stew and the bread."

Fletcher: "Okay." He smiled again, something more formal and polite before rounding the corner.

Peter Graham's phone rang while Fletcher pulled his shoe off.

Peter: With MJ gone, Pete was back behind the bar when his phone rang, serving drinks and keeping a watchful eye on the table Luke had warned him about when he'd returned downstairs.

He was too focused on making gin fizzes to read the display before answering. "Hello?"

Fletcher: "Hey, Peter. Don't wanna talk long. Just wanna let ya know that June got home safe."

Peter: "Oh hey, Fletcher. Good, thank you. Luke told me what happened, so thank you twice. Once for taking June home and once for tossing Dudley out on his sorry ass."

Fletcher: "Thought ya'd be mad at me."

Peter: "Mad, why? You did what I would've done, what Luke would've done if Bobby hadn't scalded his arm with chicken stock."

Fletcher: "Thought ya'd be mad at me for doin' your job, that's all." There was a hair of breath between his words and a hiss of pain.

Peter: ".... Excuse me? "

Fletcher: "See ya around, Peter."

Peter: "Now wait just a goddamn minute! Fletcher Goodman, I swear to god if you hang up on me Imma walk over there and beat your ass!"

Fletcher: "Walk where? Where am I? Am I lookin' at ya right now, home, or at the airport? Ya dunno where I am."

Peter: "You said you just walked June home so I'm gonna assume you're near her house. And if you aren't, I'll scour the damn town to find you and ask you what the ever loving hell you think you mean by calling me and telling me that you did my job for me!"

Fletcher: "Ya know exactly what I mean, ya lazy ass! That shoulda been you downstairs! Why am I doin' your job? Why does she feel scared at work? Why am I teaching her how to throw a punch? Why am I playing bodyguard for this girl? Where's your head, Peter?"

Peter: Because he knew himself, Pete went into the kitchen before responding to that. The yelling was going to start real goddamn quick.

"Lazy!? Lazy?! Is that what you call trying to run my business? Fuck you, Fletcher! You help June out one time and you think that gives you the right to bitch at me? I protect that woman every single day! I've broken jaws, noses, arms, and egos for her and I do it because I love her like I do my flesh and blood sister so don't you dare try to insinuate that I don't."

Fletcher: "Ah, right, right. Of course you're doing your job. Ya do your job so fuckin' well, Peter! Ya can't hear what's happening downstairs!" He knew he needed to tone it down before June came outside to investigate. He took a breath.

"What ya do at work - it's meant to be a reflection of your integrity, and ya fuckin' suck at it, Peter. I can count on both hands and feet how many times a month ya leave to go hide in your office, or go hang out with Callum, or go suck face with MJ and I'm not even there all the time! Now he's back, and what a fuckin' coincidence ya don't hear it."

Too fucking far. He knew it was too fucking far. He hated himself for it, enough so to smack his phone against his forehead. Stupid. Stupid!

Peter: Pete felt himself pale, though it was impossible to tell whether it was with shock or rage. This was his life, his livelihood, his legacy and Fletcher really just....

"GO FUCK YOURSELF, GOODMAN." He no longer cared who heard him or who gossiped about him because of it; he wasn't going to stand by and let the very core of who he was be insulted.

"You have some real fucking nerve, you know that? Calling me to tear me a new one for not being there to take care of Frank Dudley when what you really wanted to do was throw MJ and my personal decisions in my face. Is this why you wanted to watch me? So you could stand there on your high fucking horse and crucify me for being human? For needing time away from the drunks and the drama every once in a goddamn fucking while?

"Go. Fuck. Yourself. I am so very sorry that my human need to feel loved meant that you had to put forth the effort to step in to help a sweet girl that doesn't deserve all the shit that gets thrown her way! Next time I'll just grab my crystal ball and be there to relieve your fucking burden! Fuck you to hell and back, Fletcher!"

He threw his phone against the wall.

Fletcher: "Ah, there it is. Did he really 'tear your heart out of your chest and squeeze it to a pulp'? What makes it so easy to leave ya? Ya asked me that day ya stalked me, followed me into the water, cryin' because of that dick. Ya came t'me and I knew this would happen. I knew it and ya proved it. This is why, Peter."

Why were there tears in his eyes? They were warm and they stung.

The phone had been thrown. Too late to say it to Peter. He said it to nothing and no one at all.

"She didn't make the flowers go away, Peter...you did. So fuck off."

Peter: Long minutes passed while Pete tried to catch his breath. When had he lost it? He had no idea. The roar of blood in his ears and the red haze in his vision made it hard to focus on much. He could feel the tears building, though, but he was damned if he was going to let them fall, just like he was damned if he was going to let Fletcher's words get to him.

What makes it so easy to leave ya? This is why, Peter.

"Fuck you," he whispered to himself, ducking into the employee bathroom to splash cold water on his face.

Fletcher: It took Fletcher several more minutes to collect himself (and his Samantha) before breathing in, tucking away his phone, and heading inside. His eyes were still read, cheeks still warm. The empty smile he offered her only made it worse.

"Sorry about that," he called.

June: "It's all right. Did you take care of--what's the matter?" The moment June had turned away from the stove and toward Fletcher, had taken in his expression, the concern seeped into her own.

Fletcher: "Don't worry 'bout it." His hands remained hidden, eyes now to the floor.

June: "Okay, well..." He wasn't looking at her anymore; she didn't want to push her luck by prying. Best to take a page out of her mom's book and distract.

"Stew's ready. Still wanna have dinner with me?"

Fletcher: He nodded. "If you'll still have me?"

June: Her face softened as it only ever did for Fletcher Goodman. "Darn right I will."

Fletcher: She's so kind. She's so gentle and easy to take advantage of. He sees every one of her abusers in her smile and he hates the world. He already hated it; she just made it worse.

"Are ya ever mean t'anyone?" he asked, sitting.

June: "It doesn't happen too often, but yeah, I am. Some people just deserve it." She set a bowl of stew and a plate of bread in front of him.

Fletcher: "I can't imagine what your "mean" looks like."

June: "I tore a clump of Piper Coleman's hair out once. Scalp and all."

Fletcher: "Kids?"

June: "Nope, this was like....six months ago? Maybe seven."

Fletcher: "Why?" he laughed.

June: "She likes to pinch and slap her husband when he doesn't do things exactly the way her twisted mind wants them done. Or used to like, I should say." June's smile was all smug satisfaction. "She's been discouraged from that particular form of expression."

Fletcher: So, she could have a spine with other women, but men she was just a dope? Didn't sound right, but what would he know?

"He left her?"

June: "Far as I know they're still married. She's a lot nicer to him though, as she damn well should be. John's a good man."

Fletcher: "He's gotta man up though. I mean I know we live in a society where women can get away with that shit, but goddamn."

June: "I get the feeling he stays with her for their kids. Although my dad says he should leave her and take their kids with him. He said a lawyer like Luke could get him custody."

Fletcher: "Does she yell and hit him in front of em? Does she yell and hit em too?" He could look into it, make her life miserable. Ah, that was an idea.

June: "I honestly don't know." June sat opposite him with her own bowl and plate. "They seem like normal happy kids when they're out with him or their grandma, but when they're with her they're all serious and standing at attention like little soldiers."

Fletcher: "Not a good sign," he said quietly. "Piper Coleman," he echoed. He might have a chance to play vigilante again.

June: "Yeah. Horrible woman with her horrible haircut. It's a miracle to me how anyone lets her cut their hair."

Fletcher: "The horror!" he gasped.

"This food is great, by the way."

June: "It is a horror!" she said with a laugh. "Her hair looks like two rabid cats had a fight in it."

She beamed at him. "Why thank you. It's a favorite recipe of mine."

Fletcher: "I like makin' breakfast for dinner," he said. "And gravy. All kinds."

June: June made a happy sound. "I loooooove gravy. I can never get mine to be as good as my mom's. She has a gift."

Fletcher: "The key is in the black pepper and flour."

June: "I always add either too much pepper or not enough."

Fletcher: "Well, my opinion is there can never be too much."

June: "Believe me, there can. If you can almost feel your lips burn off, you've crossed that line."

Fletcher: "Black pepper can't do that to me. Now, white pepper on the other hand..."

June: "Oh that'll definitely burn you," June chuckled. "It's so good though. I don't make chicken anything without it."

Fletcher: He was having a normal conversation, and barely any sense of self-doubt! How long will this shit last? Huh.

"White pepper belongs in chicken and dumplings and chili. All the chili."

June: "It's been a super long time since I've had good chili."

Fletcher: "Ya put beans in it?"

June: "Hell no, that is not of God."

Fletcher: Another exaggerated gasp. "I love you."

June: June's laugh was pure delight. "What kind of unenlightened people have you been hangin' out with that put beans in their chili?"

Fletcher: "My dad, for one, and all of his friends."

June: "Poor souls. They need to be brought into the light."

Fletcher: "Some people are set in their ways."

June: "They are, bless their hearts."

Fletcher: "So..." He wanted to know more about her, but he couldn't think of...anything. He was too busy staring into his bowl, dwelling on her boss.

June: "So." June studied him, decided to continue with the distraction tactic. "Have you ever heard a guy named Mark Lowry?"

Fletcher: "Uh..." Scanning files annnd, "Nope."

June: "He's this guy that does Christian music which isn't really my thing, but every once in a while, he also does comedy and he does a bit about Southern cooking that I think you'll really appreciate."

She pulled up the video on her phone and spun it around to show it to him.

Fletcher: Her phone was being used to watch comedy, stand-up comedy. The comedian was good, but the laugh that escaped him was that of a lifeless man, a man holding back that warmth in his eyes again. Fork prodded into stew as he listened, keeping his eyes away from the phone.

June: That wasn't entirely lost on June, but she chalked it up to whatever had happened with that phone call. It never occurred to her that this was bringing to mind a now painful memory.

"Isn't he great?" she asked when the video ended.

Fletcher: "He's pretty good. Never hadda sweet potato crunch except like potato chips. Nothin' like a southern meal."

June: "Right? Someone needs to teach those people up North how to cook a proper meal."

Fletcher: "I think we're one of the last states t'be able t'bitch like that," he said with another more genuine smile.

June: She laughed softly. "I think we are. And thank the good lord for it. I wouldn't wanna live anywhere else."

Fletcher: "Somewhere with less dickweeds?"

June: "There are dickweeds everywhere. Better to boot them out than try to get away from them."

Fletcher: "Can't get em all. Some ya just gotta," sigh, "live with."

June: "Unfortunately. But that's life. Like the Stones said, you can't always get what you want."

Fletcher: "Don't I fuckin' know it."

June: "On the other hand, they also said that if you try sometimes, you'll find you get what you need."

Fletcher: "So I guess we need each other then, huh?"

June: June smiled. "I guess we do."

Fletcher: "I'm...I'm sorry. I know m'bein' shitty right now."

June: "No, don't be sorry." She reached out to give his arm a squeeze. "Believe me, I know what shitty looks like. You're not being shitty."

Fletcher: "Ya got your Brett Parker... I got my own. My whole life I didn't give a shit. I thought...what I thought. I dunno what I thought. Just gets t'me."

June: June squeezed again. "Happens to the best of us."

Fletcher: "It's not fair and it hurts so goddamn much and - and I only made it worse."

June: "What makes you say that?"

Fletcher: "It was...pretty fuckin' obvious what I did was..." Fletcher shook his head. "S'not your problem."

June: "Doesn't mean I can't be sympathetic," June said gently.

Fletcher: "If ya found out that this entire time Brett Parker was in love with ya - but he only told ya after his last lover gave him the boot. Ya'd be pretty fuckin' suspicious, right?"

June: She considered. She'd be over the moon if Brett Parker showed even the tiniest bit of romantic interest toward her, but if that only came to the surface after he ended things with someone....

"I don't know if I'd be suspicious. I'd be happy. I'd also feel...haunted? by the fact that I only got him because someone else left. But then again, I'd also be grateful that they left, which sounds awful, I know, but if them leaving meant he and I finally got our chance..."

Fletcher: "I didn't believe...them. Felt like they were rushin' into it. Didn't think they meant it. That they just wanted t'have that hole filled."

His bowl was pushed aside. "I was right. I was right and it pissed me off. Ya have no idea how wrong I wanted t'be."

June: June had no idea who Fletcher was referring to, but her heart went out to him just the same. That kind of hurt wasn't easy to bounce back from.

"Sometimes we rush and fumble the things that are important to us. I don't think we mean to, not all of us anyway, but we're human and our emotions are messy on their best day. Did whoever it was tell you something that proved you right?"

Fletcher: "They didn't have to say it." His laugh was everything bitter. "They went back to the fuckface that left em. ‘I wanna see where we stand. They hurt me. Ripped my heart out.'" Another laugh. "Meant jack shit."

June: The bitterness in that laugh broke her heart. "Just because they went back to that other person doesn't mean they didn't mean the things they said to you."

June sighed. "I know I'm the last person on earth that should be giving anyone advice about relationships, but I do know this. Some people...they're born flames. Other people are born moths. And sometimes, no matter how many times a moth has gotten burned by a flame, they keep flying toward it because--just for a while--it's magical and beautiful and good."

Fletcher: She was the last person he imagined turning to, yet he was listening. "I'm not...a moth. I ain't a flame. I'm a wet log ya can't light."

June: "Being a moth sucks." She would know. "But I imagine being a flame sucks, too. A wet log though?" June gave Fletcher a gentle smile and shook her head. "I don't think you are one. You're more like a tree. A big, beautiful tree."

Fletcher: "A tree? C'mon, June. Look at me." Who was she kidding? He knew what he looked like. He knew his problems. Surely even one as flawed as this little moth could see it.

June: "I am, Fletcher. You're a tree. Steadfast and quiet and lovely and comforting."

Fletcher: Tell that to Peter Graham. "Heh." Palm rubbed against ear and he sighed. "Not good enough, but ya know what? S'fine. If it were meant to be it woulda happened."

June: "That's what Professor Hunter always says."

Fletcher: "Hm?"

June: "Tristan Seger's mother. When I was in her class up at the community college she used to say that if something was meant to be or meant to last, it would have."

Fletcher: "What were ya in college for?" Seemed a more important subject piece.

June: "Communications." She smiled. "Told you interacting with people's the only thing I'm good at."

Fletcher: "What stopped ya. Ya said before bills. Ya couldn't get on that financial aid shit?"

June: "Oh no, I finished." June pointed at the opposite wall, where she'd proudly hung her Associate's degree. "Community college was all I could afford after I got out of high school."

Fletcher: "And you're a waitress? C'mon, June. M'sure ya can do somethin' with that."

June: "The only jobs I could find at the time that had anything to do with communications were call centers. I didn't wanna sit in a cubicle every day listening to people yell at me about their phone bill."

Fletcher: "Well, there's that other stuff we were talkin' 'bout. Your road ain't a dead end."

His phone was given a glance and yet another sigh fell from his lips.

"I should go before it gets later."

June: "That's still really nice to hear," June mused, glancing at the stove clock. It was getting late.

"Guess you should. Want some stew to take home? I made plenty to go around."

Fletcher: "It's alright. I don't wanna take all your food, June. But uh, maybe I can see ya again tomorrow?"

June: "You'd hardly be taking all my food, but I'll leave it up to you. And yes," she added, beaming at him. "I'd like that."

Fletcher: "Alright... Maybe leftovers tomorrow?"

June: "Deal."

Fletcher: "Alright." He leaned over to kiss her cheek. "I need some rest. Was nice hangin' out with ya, girlfriend."

June: The kiss was returned. "Same goes, boyfriend," she chuckled.

Fletcher: The walk home was taken slowly and quietly. Visibly that's what it seemed. Internally, the Samsa was screaming. It had been an unplanned night, unexpectedly beautiful on one spectrum and absolutely disgusting on the other. Rounding the corner from Pete's, he had no idea what was in front of him. With his mind astray and eyes to his feet, he was left vulnerable.

Peter: Fletcher had an excellent sense of timing. It being the middle of the week, everyone had cleared out earlier than expected and Pete and Luke were taking advantage of it. They were going to go home and maybe go to bed at an hour a normal person might.

"So you gonna tell me what's wrong?" Luke asked as they locked up.

Pete shook his head. "Not worth mentioning."

"Whatever it is has that vein in your forehead coming out to play so obviously it is worth mentioning, Peter."

"Let it go, Luke."

"You know I'm gonna get it out of you eventually, right?" Luke turned toward his brother, spotting Fletcher across the street. "Oh hey, there's Fletcher."

A muscle in Pete's jaw twitched as he followed his brother's gaze. "Hmph."

Fletcher: Fletcher couldn't help but look up when he heard murmured voices from across the street. Had he lagged in crossing the street then he would have slammed into them. The last fucking thing he needed was that confrontation, but there he was, standing and staring at Peter Graham from the front of his store.

Luke: Luke looked between his brother and the man standing across the street. "Okay, I'm sensing some heavy animosity. Something happen between you two?"

Pete stared at Fletcher. "He called me to chew me out for being up in my office and not downstairs when Dudley grabbed June. And also for my life choices and to criticize my integrity, so yes, you could say something happened." Oh no, he wasn't raising his voice in hopes Fletcher could hear. That would be immature.

Fletcher: Oh yeah, Peter Graham? Have my middle fucking finger, dickbag. Yeah, that walk totally cleared his damn head.

Peter: "Real fucking nice, Goodman," Pete muttered, turning away from Fletcher and toward his car. Luke, meanwhile, was still very confused. He jogged over to Fletcher.

"You wanna tell me what's going on between you and Pete? You were getting along just a few hours ago."

Fletcher: "It's not really your business. Just kiddy drama, okay? Why don't ya ask him."

Luke: "I did and we both saw what happened and how you reacted."

Fletcher: "Well, doesn't that make it between me and Peter?"

Luke: "I would leave it between the two of you if you were communicating in a meaningful way instead of exchanging 'fuck you's"

Fletcher: "I was fine, he had to bitch. I just retaliated."

Luke: "So you didn't call to yell at him or make him cry?"

Fletcher: "He cried?"

Luke: Luke nodded. "He didn't tell me he cried, but he's my brother. I've known him my entire life, and I know when he's been crying. His eyes are red, his nose is pink, and the vein in his forehead is visible. That's his tell."

Fletcher: "It's... It's between me and him, Luke. I-I don't want ya involved, man. No disrespect, I swear. It's a fuckin' mess, lawyerman, and it's not - it's not your war."

Luke: "Okay, well..." Luke sighed and scratched the back of his head. "Whatever it is, can you do me a solid and resolve it like grownups? I don't like seeing my brother cry. I've seen enough of that to last me five lifetimes."

Fletcher: "We're both fuckin' emotional, Luke, and you're askin' me t'be the grownup. I don't see ya askin' that of your brother."

Luke: "I'm gonna tell him the same thing when I get in the car with him."

Fletcher: "What d'ya want me t'do, Luke?"

Luke: "For now, give him some space. Pete doesn't do well with emotional conversations when his temper's flared up."

Fletcher: "Space. Right. Fucking space! He always has space! He gets everything he wants. He even gets to be mad the way he wants!"

Luke: "All right, all right, easy, Fletcher. I'm not your enemy on this, man, I just want the peace to reign. What is it that you want from Pete? A conversation, a fight, to deck him?"

Fletcher: "Yes! All of the above! Either we get it out of our systems or I - I don't fuckin' know! It's his goddamn fault for bein' a fuckin' idiot!"

Luke: Luke was speaking in his most calm, diplomatic lawyer tones. Apparently these two were in high need of it. "Why is he an idiot, Fletcher? What did he do? Is this about June? Because if it is, she's okay, you saw to that. You helped her, you made sure she was safe."

Fletcher: "Ya don't get it and you're supposed t'be his brother. Ya don't know shit. I can't do this right now, dude. Just..." Hands were thrown before turning to the stairs leading to his front door.

Luke: "Fletcher, wait--damn." He sighed as he watched Fletcher go. It probably wasn't a good idea to follow him; if Pete's temper could run its course, so could Fletcher's. That's what was best for them right now.

Luke slid into the driver's seat since Pete was sulking in the passenger's seat. "All right, here's what's going to happen. You and I are going to go home and you are going to tell me everything that has happened between you and Fletcher Goodman to get you both to this sad and angry state of affairs."

Pete said nothing, just stared out the window.

"You don't wanna talk? Fine. Save it for home." He pulled away from the curb.

Fletcher: Fletcher climbed up the steps to his above store apartment, locked the door behind him, tossed his phone, and made his way into the bedroom. It was an empty room, deserted save for the sheet-less bed and dingy dresser. It was a reflection of himself, he often thought. Melodramatic, he knew, but it didn't matter. It wasn't as though he was explaining himself to anyone.

He pulled from the closet a suitcase and set it on the bed, opening it. It still smelled like his father's tobacco.

"I can't do it."

June: While Luke pulled teeth with Pete trying to get him to talk about Fletcher, June was tidying up her kitchen and contemplating the lovely evening she'd had with Fletcher Goodman. The lovely, unexpected evening she'd had with him.

For some reason, him coming to her rescue touched her in a different way than it did when Pete or Luke rescued her. It was enough to make her want to spend more time with him, talk to him more, make him smile. And it was also strong enough to have her calling his shop when she finished cleaning.

Fletcher: Fletcher looked to the clock. It was nearing two in the morning. His only assumptions were that of his mother or Peter Graham.

He made his way into the kitchen where he kept his landline. The red button was flashing in time with the rings. He picked up the receiver and clicked it.

"Goodman."

June: "Hi, Fletcher!" came June's happy, bubbly tones. "I'm sorry to call so late. Did I wake you?"

Fletcher: "No, was still up." There was a pause. "I was just...thinkin' 'bout goin' t'bed. What's the matter? Ya alright?"

June: "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just wanted to thank you again for what you did for me tonight. It meant...it meant a lot to me, Fletcher."

Fletcher: "Anyone shoulda done it. It shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry that it did."

June: "You and everyone else, including me. Luke called to apologize, Pete called to apologize." June chuckled. "Important thing is, it's over and done and I'm fine."

Fletcher: "I'm glad you're fine, June. I...really am." This was a man laden with depression. Depression based on the life of a Samsa, based on a Samsa pretending to be human, with human problems and human drama. He was tired. "Ya should get some sleep now. It's late."

June: She nodded. "Yeah, we both should. I just wanted to say thank you again. I'll see you tomorrow?"

Fletcher: "Yeah. Yeah, ya can see me t'morrow if ya want."

June: "I really do." June took a deep breath. "Well, good night, Fletcher. Sweet dreams."