#lostintransist

“What?” He asked defensively, “We know it’s possible to have an unconventional relationship and be happy.”

Kyle and Simon had shared a look before changing the subject.

The final straw for Simon was Mrs. Prince waving John goodbye in a robe and welcoming Nikolai less than two minutes later.

Neither Johnny nor Kyle could talk him down from his chosen path. Gathering up all the documentation, photos, and timelines they had collected Simon marched for war. Kyle and Johnny kept pace and passed looks of concern back and forth. Simon didn’t knock when he arrived at John’s door. The door creaked under the weight of his anger.

Looking up from his computer John lifted a brow at his men.

Without giving him a moment Simon slapped the folder of evidence on the desk. Kyle shut the door, no need for witnesses to this breakdown.

“Well, that was dramatic.” His eyes flicked from the photo peeking out to Simon, “Wanna tell me what this is about?”

“Nikolai is trying to steal your wife from under you,” Simon’s fists clenched, shoulders as wide as they could go.

John lifts the cover, paper resting against his nail. Upon opening it all three men watch his face, his posture for any signs of distress. There are none. A picture of Nik and Mrs. Price laughing at a small cafe is the first thing in the folder. Setting the photo aside John leans back in his chair as he reads the comings and goings of each person.

That paper scanned he flips through each piece of information the guys had pain painstakingly gathered over the last four months. The longer John looked everything over and failed to react, the lower Simon’s shoulder fell. Only when all three men stood with neutral stances did John look up from his desk.

His eyes scanned Johnny’s face, then Simon’s, and finally Kyle’s. Taking a deep breath John brought his hands up, palms flat together to rest his fingers against his lips. The snorting laugh that erupted out of him surprised them all. He quickly settled his mouth back behind his hands.

“Now,” John hummed, fighting back more laughter. “While I appreciate…”

He couldn’t finish his sentence, breaking down into gales of laughter as he covered his face with his hands. The three men were now more concerned for their captain than they were before this whole intervention started.

When the laughter finally trailed off and John sat straight again he found himself besieged with searching, deeply concerned looks. Neatly stacking each of the pictures and papers back into the file folder he cleared his throat his started again.

“Now, while I appreciate you three looking out for me,” he snapped the folder closed and lifted it to point at each of them in turn. “I don’t ask questions about your boyfriends. I ask that you leave mine and my wife be. They like having dates and laughing about me.”

Johnny understood first. He snapped an accusatory and triumphant gaze to his lovers and broke out in full Gaelic as he pointed from Simon to Kyle. Without breaking his stream of incomprehensible words he fired off two middle fingers and let himself from the room.

Kyle bit his tongue, nodded twice as he kept his eyes from connecting with John’s, and followed in Johnny’s footsteps out the door.

“Nothing to say, Simon?”

Lieutenant and Captain clash gazes, the latter waiting for the former to fold and follow the others.

“Not sorry we pried.”

John’s chair creaked as he leaned back in it, folder still pinched in his grip.

“Don’t be sorry for it, son. Don’t do it again though.”

Simon turned on his heel, grateful beyond words for his mask to hide the pink tint to his fair skin.

“Hey.”

Looking over his shoulder at John, he lifted a brow.

“I don’t poke for answers I know, but I don’t make them my business either. You and the sergeants have nothing to worry about from me.”

Nodding, heat from his cheeks attempting to burn his mask off his face Simon left his captain’s office.

John laughed on and off all day thinking about the ‘intervention’ his men staged. Unlocking the front door to the flat he shared with you and Nik, John couldn’t keep a grin from his face.

You had claimed one corner of the couch, a book in your hand, and a blanket over your lap. Nik sat on the other, headphones over his ears plugged into a CD player. Both look at him with a smile when they notice his arrival as they set aside their activities.

“Well Mrs. Price, you won the bet.”

The bright look that breaks across your face has John laughing. Sitting up you high-five Nik.

“Let’s fucking go! It was Nik arriving with coffee this morning, wasn’t it? I knew that would get them.”

“Is that what you left for Nik?” John looked up from untying his boots.

Nik lifted one shoulder before dropping it.

“Coffee sounded good this morning.”

John shook his head, smile tucked into his beard at finding the best of friends for a lover and a wife. No man could be as lucky as he.

Halting those thoughts before you started sobbing again, you flap your hands at your face to keep your eyes from leaking. Your makeup was done lightly today; knowing you would be crying most of it off in John's office after work despite the setting spray.

Three meetings. That is all you had to get through today. You could buy yourself comfort food on the way to the hotel. Might even splurge and rent an overpriced movie. Yeah. That sounded like a plan.

First meeting drags, sending the following two into overtime and you into missing lunch and clocking out an hour later than you originally planned. The idea of putting food in your face makes you nauseus. Everything will taste like sawdust right now.

The first person to notice something is wrong is the gate officer. Office Madida had been letting you on and off base for a few years now. The man's bright smile fit so neatly on his dark skin that to see him without one would almost signal the end of the world.

"Ah! Mrs. Price, here to see your husband?"

Offering a wan smile you nod, "I'm a bit late. Would you call his office to let him know I'm here?"

"Of course! Give me a moment," Madida grabs the phone from its cradle and punches in a series of numbers. He looks you over smile slipping as he takes in the whole of you. "You doing alright, Mrs. Price?"

The title slices at you. It won't be yours for to much longer. Your wan smile is now watery.

"Not really, but I appreciate you noticing."

He holds up a finger as he speaks into the phone. "Yeah, I've got Mrs. Price at the gate. She's asking that Captain Price can meet at his office?" He lifts a brow at you to confirm. At your nod he continues, "I'll send her in now. No, she won't need an escort she's been visiting her husband for nearly a decade."

Fuck a duck, your next anniversry would be ten wouldn't it? A hiccuping sob bursts past your lips. The hand you slap to your mouth doesn't prevent Officer Madida's sharp look as he hangs up the phone.

"Go and park, Mrs. Price. Give me five minutes to get a replacement out here and I will walk with you."

You do as commanded—tears streaking down your face as you settle the car into park. Madida opens the door and reaches in to turn off the engine when he arrives. Thankfully you have nearly sobbed yourself out when he arrives. He walks close to you, deference and defense in his body language.

Officer Madida leaves you after John's voice rings out at your knock. Stepping into his office feels like the first time you did two weeks after you had gotten married. He introduced you around the base, proud to show off his new wife. The same drab brown covered the walls, a blanket you had crocheted him for your first wedding anniversery lay across the couch he kept for naps. The only real change in the room had to be the drawn look across John's face.

For a man who should have been happy to lose a wife and gain a husband he looked dreadful. Deep eye bags and his unkempt beard tell of a hard night. Maybe as hard as yours.

John rose slowly as you shut the door behind you. His eyes searched yours.

"Are you ready to talk now?" The gravel in his voice stings as if you were flung across it.

The lip quiver starts first. "What is there to talk about John? Why would you want me when you have a boyfriend now? We are friends who sometimes kiss and share tax benefits and a flat. That's not much compared to someone who can love you the way you deserve and fills your needs and your bed."

Tightening your nails into your palms and your arms around your ribs, you watch your husband round his desk. John's broad hands settle on you, one at your face and the other on your elbow. Your eyelids drift closed at the familiar, safe, touch.

"Why would I want to trade one love for another?" John whispers, voice breaking.

Lifting a hand to lay across the one on your face you open your eyes and match his tear filled gaze.

"I can't see your boyfriend being okay with you keeping a wife. I can't be the reason you don't get to be happy."

John's hand slide around to the back of you, pulling you into a hug.

You are sobbing now, wrinkling John's shirt with your tears and your grip. Selfish isn't something you have ever been allowed to be. Asking for your parents to show up to important dates in school, graduation, etc were always met with cries of being selfish. Your sibling had an event that day already, or they had a work event. John had been the first to put your first.

"The first thing I did," John spoke into your ear, "When Nik kissed me out of the blue was tell him about my wife. The woman who holds me as I cry and pokes fun at me until we both laugh. My best friend, my soul mate. I told him about our arrangement, and how anything with him could not hurt what I have with you. You're allowed to be selfish."

Being put aside so often by those that claimed to love you it only made sense to step aside before John could do the same.

"No, I'm not. Selfish is always the word people use to say I am asking for to much." Sobbing harder the past pains work their way out through your grip on your husband. "Why didn't you tell me John? I would have understood. I want you to be able to be loved the way you deserve."

"Honestly?" He chuckled a bit, "I was so excited for the two of you two meet that I didn't think it through."

Pulling back from John you give him a look he is expressly familiar with. Sometimes your brilliant, SAS-trained, Air Force Captian was dumber than a box of rocks. At this point, you chalked it up to a function of testosterone.

"You forgot to tell your wife that you were bringing your boyfriend home?" The deadpan delivery has John's ears pinking up.

"Nik also called me an idiot after I explained that you were heading to a hotel for the night. He was looking forward to meeting you. If you're okay with it he is probably outside the office waiting to talk to you," John gives you the softest of smiles.

There is a light knock at the door.

"I want you both, and if there is anything you need from me to keep both of you I will do anything to make that happen." John speaks with the seriousness that made you believe he would fight god and win.

Pressing a light kiss to your lips, John opens the door to his lover. Nik observes you with a cool indifference. The deepening wrinkles around his eyes tell you he might also be nervous.

"Would you like to see my helicopter?" His accent is thicker today than when he introduced himself last night.

You nod, and John offers your hand to his boyfriend. Nik takes your hand, tucking it into the corner of his elbow as the two of you wander further onto base. Passing no one on your way, neither of you is ready to break the silence.

Leaving the building behind both you and Nik take a deep breath. Glancing at him you find Nik looking at your already. Both of you laugh out your big breath of air.

"I hate being in the base buildings for too long. Makes my skin itch," you offer.

"I dislike all the brown," Nik replies in return.

"What did John tell you?" You broach the subject first.

"He told me of his wife. Of her kindness, her self sacrificing ways, of the kisses you share, and the happiness that fills him up so much that I fell in love with coming from you."

No change in his tone or side glance at you. The feet attached to your body would have been rooted to the ground if Nik did not keep careful pressure on your hand, pulling you forward to the helicopter now within sight.

The ache in your chest that had started last night when John called Nik his boyfriend flared to life again—an improperly cared for fire.

"First thing you will need to learn," you cover your mouth with a hand, "Is that you can't say nice things like that to me. I cry if you are too nice to me and you are in love with John so you don't want to comfort his wife."

Nik blinks at you slowly, observing. He gives no inclination as to what he saw but lets your hand fall as you reach his helo. He opens the side door and invites you to sit down with a pat of his hand. Sitting next to you Nik does not say anything for a long time. Swinging your feet you prod at your emotions until you can parse them out enough for words. Your palms wear patterns up and down the thighs of your pants.

"I don't want to lose him, Nik. But he deserves to be happy and I know he will be happy with you. He's talked about you before, for years now, I just never realized he liked you more than as a friend. A word from you and I will file the paperwork today. It's an odd agreement between us. I knew it would end for him one day when he found someone to love and love him in return." Your voice breaks as you fight back the sobs. As if the cliffs could fight back a storm.

He pulls your hand from your lap, threading his wide fingers between yours. Hair dots his knuckes. He does not offer platitudes, or unfounded words, simply holds your hand as you weep.

"You love John. I also love John. Part of the love John carries is for you alone, and it would shatter him to lose you," Nik pauses until your sobbing has slowed enough to hear him again. "Give us a chance to learn to love each other, as friends and as those who love the idiot that is John Price."

Someone else calling John an idiot sparked a bark of laughter.

"I would love to learn to love you Nik," squeezing his fingers tight in yours you stand.

Nik joins you. Releasing his hand from yours he settles both against your face. Placing a kiss to one cheek and then the other, he finally places a kiss on your lips. The two of you share a smile and a nod of understanding. This would be a time of transition and of growth, but you both loved John enough to make room for the other.

The kiss Nik pressed to your lips did not go unobserved. Kyle, with a twisted and complicated relationship of his own he kept under wraps, saw Nik kiss John's wife. Turning and sprinting across the base he found his lovers, Simon and Johnny, reviewing paperwork from their last mission.

"Nikoli is a fucking homewrecker and is trying to get with Mrs. Price!"

That brought all work to a hard standstill.

Part 1 | Part 3 | Bonus

The backdoor creaks as it opens. Glancing over you see Simon shifting it back and forth, assessing. Opening the cabinet you pull everything off the bottom shelf to put your new cans of beans at the back. Now empty you grab the new cans. Simon speaks as your back is to him.

“Why do you have five jars of peanut butter?”

God setting your bed on fire would not have got you moving so fast. Spinning away from the table you cross the space in two steps.

“Don’t touch those!” You grab his hand in both of yours before it touches the jar labeled SETH in your neatest handwriting.

Simon’s eyes narrow and while you feel the barest prickles of unease you squeeze his hand the tiniest bit harder.

“Can I ask you to trust me on this?” You straighten up, pulling your lips between your teeth.

“No.”

With a sigh, you lean back against the counter. Noticing you still have his hand in yours you release him. Folding your arms, to keep them from touching him again, to give them something to do you explain.

“I don’t know which one of them started it and which ones of them have done it but it is possible that the boys all stuck their dicks in their jars of peanut butter.”

Simon sent you the most concerned/confused look you had ever seen on a grown man’s face.

“I don’t understand it, but something about growing up in a healthy and not abusive environment means kids, boys, do weird things.”

The look you share speaks to a level of understanding that you hate that you have. As nice as it is to connect with other children that made it made it to adulthood, it hurts to know that pain built them like it did you.

Unfolding your arms you brush them down your overalls and stand upright. Looking up at him you catch the movement of the hand you had grabbed being shoved in his pocket.

“You didn’t come by to discuss my boys’ odd habits. Did you need something or did you come by for a chat?”

“Uh..no.”

Eyebrows lifting you slid your hands into your back pockets. Simon seemed like one to wait out if you wanted answers. The slamming of a door upstairs and feet tromping down the steps set a rigid shape across his shoulders.

“It’s Seth.” When Simon glanced at you, face emotionless you continued, “My oldest. He’s eleven and loud.”

“Mom! I’m going to the Fishers!”

“Dinner is at six!” You cup your hands and shout back knowing he is likely to slam the door before you finish.

“You let them out alone?” Simon doesn’t sound like he is judging but you give a bit more of an explanation than he was owed.

“My boys know the rules of safety, and everyone around here knows they are mine. As much as I would love to sock some of the old biddies square in the nose I know they would go toe to toe with a bear for my kids. Sam and Darren are wandering the woods currently probably bringing me back a collection of rocks. Reggie is playing video games with a friend of his who moved a few months back, they have a regularly scheduled video call.” You spin around and angrily start stacking everything back in the cabinet. “I know my boys. Every one of them has experienced awful things and knows the rules we set out together are to keep them safe. They don’t stray from those, just the common sense ones like sticking their dicks in peanut butter.”

Simon shifts behind you, his hand appearing with a can. Looking from his peace offering of peas to his face you can’t glean much. He keeps his silence until the only thing left from your grocery trip is a pile of plastic bags on the table. Scooping them up in your arms you head to the door for the basement that sat opposite the back door. A five-gallon bucket with a large hole cut in the center of the lid sat on the top step. You shove the bags in with their brethren and leave them for the demons that haunt the darkness beyond. Basements were scary.

Shutting the door firmly, because if you didn’t it would spring open at the worst times, you turn back to Simon.

He is standing in the middle of your kitchen, boots spread wide nearly touching the fridge, and the toe kick at the same time. Shoulders and curled forward, fists shoved in his pockets.

“I didn’t mean to offend with my question. I know that the world isn’t as safe as when I was a kid.” He glances up at you and then back to the peeling linoleum.

Pushing a breath out through your nose you rub the back of your neck. Seems you might have overreacted. That tends to happen about your boys.

“Apology accepted. You’re new here and I shouldn’t have assumed anything by the question.”

He let out a near-silent breath as his shoulders descended from his ears. Where others would have fidgeted Simon stilled.

“I came by to ask for more of that sweet tea you gave us last time we were over.”

The smile that blooms over your cheeks sends color straight back to the tips of his ears.

“Happy to help. I’m out currently, so why don’t I teach you how to make it and we can sit on the porch while it cools?”

Simon’s single nod carries a lot of weight. Pulling out a saucepan you start explaining every step of making a simple syrup and how long the tea bags would need to steep.

“Now understand if you tell any of the ladies in town how long I steep my bags I will feed you to the basement demons. Steeping time is highly contentious around these parts and I will not be defending my timing choices.” You point at him sternly as you stir the sugar water.

Since he could reach you set him in charge of opening the tea bags and pulling your pitcher down from the highest shelf. Simon’s lips twitched as if he fought a smile. Then nodded all the same.

When all the sugar has completely dissolved you transfer it to the pitcher and add water from the tap until you are pleased with the height. Simon then adds what he deems to be a ‘ridiculous amount of bags’.

“You wanted to know,” you shrugged one shoulder as you settled the tea in the fridge. “Can’t be upset at the knowledge you asked for.”

Once the door sealed shut you paused, handle still in your hand, “Well I guess you can be but that would make you ungrateful.”

Turning with a smile you invite Simon to follow you to the porch. Despite the seating options, you find yourself tucked in close to him on the porch swing. This time you don’t need to ask him before the gentle movement starts.

“You got any family, Simon?” The bunch of his muscles under his jeans is what you watch as you wait for an answer.

It’s a long time coming. The swing never changes tempo.

“Not…anymore.”

A glance at his face, the tears simmering at the corners of his eyes tells you everything you need to know about the answer as a stranger.

“Losing people is hard. The time doesn’t make the hurt less, only that we think of it less.” Patting his leg twice you search for a happier topic and find one that Reggie had stumped you with. “If you could go to any planet and explore which would you choose?”

The time it takes him to answer has you glancing at him.

“It’s Uranus, isn’t it? You an ass man, Simon?”

Creaky laughter bubbles out of him like he hadn’t laughed that hard in too many years to count.

“While I might be an ass man,” he wiped his face, chuckles of laughter still burbling out of him, “I would have to say Saturn. Those rings must be a sight.”

“Interesting. I want to visit Jupiter.”

He glances down at you.

“Well I would have said Pluto but my kids like to remind me that it isn’t a planet anymore.”

There went the unused laughter again, music to your ears. He stayed chatting with you until the tea was ready. Simon didn’t object when you used his knee to stand. The almost smile you got when you presented him with the largest glass you could tell you so much about this man.

Settling back into the swing, that Simon paused for you to sit, you enjoy the silence with him.

“Feel free to come use the porch swing any time you need. Alright?”

He grunts once in reply. The quiet lasts until it’s time to start dinner and you leave him to enjoy the serenity you fought so hard to build.

Boys Masterlist | Masterlist

@lialucis had the tastiest of ideas of Nik and ace!reader going to a movie without John and him being upset™ when he found out because he really wanted to see that one.

When they offered to see it again with him, John declined and took Kyle to see it instead.

We laughed about SimonxJohnnyxKyle being confused and concerned when Nik and ace!reader getting closer and them thinking Nik is being a homewrecker.

@lialucis "Simon about to cut the fucking fuel lines to the helicopter if he sees Nik giving her a tour of it again"

When Nik and reader get comfortable they laugh and chat in a way that just looks flirty.

NikolixPricexreader go to a bar with SimonxJohnnyxKyle and someone touches reader's ass. Nik jumps into action hauling the guy over by the neck.

"You owe my friend apology."

@lialucis "That bar fight Johns the voice of reason trying to fight Nik back from murder and his wife from assault with a deadly weapon. John squared has to body Nik and Simon has to drag wife away like a feral wet cat Gaz has to get the fuck out before he's evocerated in public"

More silly thoughts from @lialucis about the guys not knowing the agreed dynamics between Nik, Price, and Reader. "And then Nik and Wife start fucking with the boys"

Because of course they do.

Ways that Nik and reader fuck with the guys: reader brings Nik lunch, but not John. Reader and Nik sit in the heli's and eat lunch together and gossip like old hens. Laughing behind their hands at the looks they get from Simon, Kyle, Johnny. It gets worse when John joins them.

@lialucis "Did you see wife today? She had the audacity to kiss Nik's hand better where he cut it. Behind Prices back!" "Ends up calling Nik the homewrecker tramp and hussy" "Because we respect wife in this household" "And Nik dies laughing at being called this"

"You're a fucking homewrecker mate." Nik proceeds to fall out of plane laughing. Replies "me? Wife would gut me if I sneezed wrong on her period last week," wipes tears. Starts chuckling again, "homewrecker."

@lialucis threw out the idea of matching bedazzled shirts "Wife wears a matching one with Nik that says 'home' and 'wrecker'"

She would make some for the guys "Good at making bad assumptions"

When Nik and John piss off reader she goes on dates with the Laswells.

Photos of them kissing being sent to the guys literally just to fuck with them. Like a Laswell on each cheek and a wide wife grin.

@lialucis "The girls having matching rings that wife swaps out with prices"

"I'm going out!" "With who!?" "My wives, they listen to me!"

They had argued over who got to sit where and then during the drive over Reggie looked too long at Darren who screamed about the offense. Sam had started screaming that Darren was being too loud and then Seth tried to make them stop, by yelling. The nitpicking and annoyance at the others existing continued into the store. Halfway down the freezer aisle and that much closer to freedom. Glancing down at your list you curse in your head— you forgot about the milk and butter you needed. Of course, those marketing masochists had to put them in the back corner of the building.

As always you made note of where your boys were in relation to each other, the cart, and any other customers. Not many people in the freezer section today; a teenager who slowly read labels through the glass, two old men, shock white hair figuring them to be grandfather age, and the one man in a hat who ran numbers on the calculator on his phone.

Pushing the cart, and all four boys who have lost the privileges of walking without holding on, just beyond the freezer you needed you turned your focus away for two hells-damned seconds. No sooner than the blast of chilled air cooled against your skin than the yelling started.

The crinkle of the vegetable bag below your fingers did not drown out the sound of a different plastic screaming and small, roundish objects hitting the ground. Side-stepping and slamming the door shut you held back the yell by the thinnest of margins.

“Boys!” The mom voice came out in full force. “Enough! Clean up every grape you spilled.”

Four panicked faces stared up at you.

“Now!”

They scrambled to pick up each of what now appeared to be one hundred-plus tiny fruits rolling away in every direction. Movement had you looking up from the offending mess you see every man but one disappearing around the corner. You would call them cowards but you were interrupted.

“Powerful mum voice you have there,” John remarked as he watched your boys pick up every grape flung wide in their tomfoolery.

Glancing at your new neighbor you gauge the sarcasm as low. The tilt of his brows reads more as impressed and slightly annoyed than anything else.

“It’s a talent. My mom voice is stronger than my teacher voice.”

When Sam lifted a handful of grapes, bad intentions in his eyes, you let out two quick hisses of air. All the boys paused and glanced at you. Everyone but Sam turned back to their task as they realized they were not the child in trouble. Eye contact with your boy and a quick head shake were enough of a redirect to avoid further problems.

“Never could quite figure out how my mum could call us all to order so easily. Watching you do it makes me wonder which is stronger, my captain voice or your mom voice.” John has now joined you as the boys scoop and deliver their mistreated goods back into the bag.

A light smile drifts over your lips, even as your chest remains tight.

“I bet the mom voice would work well on your Johnny, and probably Kyle. Jury’s out on Simon,” you wink when John catches your eye. “Bet if I caught you with it I would get a reaction though.”

John let out a belly laugh, big enough to drift. An older woman toddled past the other end of the aisle. Well guess the conversation would be town-wide by desert.

“You know what? I’ll take your bet. What are you offering?”

The boys were nearly done. Thinking fast you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“If I win you agree to man the grill for the neighborhood meetup you can make it to. Next one is in two weeks.”

They were always hosted at your house, which is fine but that meant you were in charge of the grill. Mostly you were in charge of the grill because the last time any of the men had touched it they left it so gross you banned them from touching it again. You hated cooking meat. It freaked you out that everything might not be fully cooked.

Folding his arms John nodded slowly, as if thinking it over.

“Seems like a good offer. If I win I ask for deserts for our next poker night.”

A fair offer. Equal in labor, skill, and expectation as to what you would demand as your winnings.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” offering John your hand, you shake on it.

“Got a good grip there teach,” he patted you on the shoulder.

Something about that interaction tickled your brain. But as the boys were finally finished cleaning up the mess they had made you needed to leave it.

“Good. Hands on the cart,” you fired off the command.

“But mom!” Seth cried, affronted in only a way an eleven-year-old can be.

“But Seth!” You whined back before dropping into a deadpan expression. “Kid we have two things left to grab. You can grab the cart or I can ask John here to take you home.”

Neither looked terribly impressed with the option. They made eye contact before Seth grabbed the wire of the cart with a sigh.

John lifts a brow at you.

“Welcome to small towns John. You can and will be used as punishment by other people’s parenting,” you reply with a shrug and a grin. “Alright boys, let’s go.”

He chuckles behind you as you push your full cart and the four dour-faced children who want nothing to do with the buzzing lights of the store. Once the milk and butter were secured the boys convinced you to buy some popcorn. Shareable snack acquired you were able to direct the chaos toward check out.

This step moved fast. Seth and Reggie both scampered to the end of the second conveyor belt and bagged all the groceries the cashier sent their way. Darren and Sam touch every fucking thing within their limited reach until you threaten them with getting put in the cart.

Mary Ann is your cashier today. She had been one of your students two years ago, passing math and even taking online math courses through the community college two towns over. Her dad, Richard, talked about her going off to a fancy college once her associates were done. You had offered to write her a letter of recommendation if ever she needed or wanted it. Mary Ann was a good kid. She might now be twenty but until you were dead, she would be one of your kids.

“Heard you snapping at the boys in the freezer aisle. Everything going okay?” Her hands don’t stop moving even as Mary Ann asks the question.

The eye roll is unstoppable.

“The hooligans need a nap,” Darren and Sam start to protest but you ignore them and finish your sentence. “There was an incident with the grapes. We got it all cleaned up though.”

“Oh good,” Mary Ann scanned the last item and tapped a few buttons on her side. “Your total is—”

She got cut off by Reggie wailing like a hot brand had been taken to his ass.

Slamming your card against the reader you cursed the heartbeats until it beeped. Reggie was now screaming for you and Seth was yelling. Once the awful beep that always made you think your card declined sounded you were snatching Sam and Darren by the hands and snapping at Seth and Reggie to ‘push the fucking cart and if you don’t quit screaming in here.’

The violence of their voices continues. Reaching the van you turn it on, plug in your phone, turn on the most bass-heavy song you can find in a short glance, and up the volume. Seth and Reggie climb in first, to the way back followed by Sam and Darren who click themselves into their booster seats. They all know that if you are turning on the bass it is to drown them all out and screaming will do nothing but cause you to roll the windows down and turn the volume up even higher.

Was it good parenting? No. But it kept you from wrecking the fucking van so it wasn’t the worst choice you could make. Loading the groceries in the back you give in to your anger a tiny bit and slam the door closed. Angrily stalking the cart back to the corral and sending it careening in also helps a bit.

Parenting is the hardest thing you’ve ever done, and most of that comes from confronting your own damn issues. Sometimes though? It is hard because it’s hard to be near a person learning to be a person.

Each child is given a bag or two to take inside and deposit on the counter before they are free to disappear into the woods or up to their rooms. The absence of them in your space and face lets you take the deepest breath and scream into your hands. The small bones shake from the force of your yelling.

“Okay. You can do this. Fuck, the full moon is tonight and then you should get your children who don’t hate that someone breathed near them back.” Taking another deep breath you start putting everything away, still talking to yourself. “We can have chicken nuggets, mac’n’cheese, and salad. Popcorn and a movie before bed and then a large glass of something for me.”

Face in the freezer as you rearranged everything to fit as Simon’s voice from outside scared you into a shriek.

“Do you always talk to yourself?”

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You had invited John and crew over early to help set up the back yard before neighbors and the like started to arrive. After giving the men their marching orders, John joined you on the back porch.

“Wanna scissors, paper, rock to see who goes first?” You tongued your cheek as he hard blinked at your order of words.

“No, I don’t want to rock, paper, scissors,” John put such emphasis on those three little words, “for it. Soap, Gaz!”

Both men instantly dropped what they were doing and jogged over.

“Yes, Cap?”

“Forgot the meat and watermelon in the truck. Can you run back and grab them?”

Both gave nonchalant replies and started away.

John looked at you, brows raised as he waited for your assessment.

“Mmm, not bad, not bad. I will give you this, they listen to you and can tell when you need them with the quickness.” The smirk toyed at your lips as your eyes trailed Simon across the yard as he moved firewood closer to the fire pit you had dug out of the shed earlier in the day. If nothing else, he was nice to look at. Winking at John, you finished your reply, “Still won’t hold a torch to a mom voice though.”

The men were back soon, and you threw your plan into motion. Actually, you hadn’t meant to pull out your voice at that moment (nearly throwing out your back and falling down the stairs did that to a person). Johnny and Kyle had set their retrieved food down on the steps of the porch when Simon called for some extra help in unearthing some long-forgotten camping chairs from the shed. You nearly stepped on the left behind items—hence the attempted back throwing.

“Kyle Garrick! John MacTavish! Get your asses over here!”

The distance between did not prevent the full-body flinches that rocked both men. They sprinted, nearly tripping as they skidded to a stop before you.

“This is not where food goes; put it in the kitchen and specifically, the meat in the fridge.” You point to the offending items.

A startled chorus of ‘yes ma’am,’ surrounded you like the flutter of pigeon wings before they slipped around you and through the back door.

John scowled as he stamped out his cigarette in the grass. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets as he tromped to where you stood by the table. You pointedly kept your smirk aimed at the tablecloth you were currently fighting with. He saw it anyway. Grabbing one end of the cloth, John walked it back until all the twists straightened themselves out.

“Admitting defeat is not something I normally do.” John helped settle the stretched fabric over the pockmarked and stained folding table. He glanced up at you, mirth clear in his face, “But this once?”

You both started laughing.

“They moved like their asses were on fire!” John guffawed. You would randomly see him laughing to himself all night as he manned the grill as penance for not believing in the power of the mom voice.

“I don’t know why you doubted me, John.” You chuckled as you headed back inside to start laying out trays of ice for food.

Simon stepped to the screen door from the kitchen as you opened it.

“Please don’t do that to me.” His voice scraped out of his throat.

Lifting a brow, you look up at him. “Mom-voice you? No promises it won’t happen by accident, but I’ll be sure to only use my powers for good around you.”

You patted a hand against his far side as you slipped around him to complete your task.

The gesture, so easily forgotten by you, lingered in the bones of one who had not often received such affection freely.

Familiar faces and cheerful voices arrived like clouds floating in on the distant wind. You made introductions as you could. Though it did appear that your neighbors had met many men as they perused the aisles of the local handyman shop for their various needs. Mary Ann spent nearly an hour talking with John as he cooked—running plates and collecting meat from folks as they arrived. Her expressive face pulled your brows tight each time you checked. She had finally drifted from the grill to laugh with Johnny. Poor thing had her drink coming out of her nose after his latest story. Good. Richard, her father, had done a passable job raising her after her mother disappeared into the woods to join one of the cults that marked the trees, but Lord only knows why Mary Ann might be so drawn to one John Price.

Nearly an hour into the party, when everyone had a plate in one hand and a drink in the other, you slipped inside to grab more ice for the chilled foods. The door shut with a click. The sudden muting of overlapping voices had you sighing in relief. A rhythmic creak drifted from the front of the house. Peeking around the kitchen wall and through the front window, you saw Simon—eyes distant and hands limp in his lap as he rocked mindlessly back and forth on the porch swing. He didn’t react when you pushed open the screen door. Nor did he look up when you settled in next to him on the bench, thigh and hip all squished up because the giant man spread like the dick he swung actually needed that much space. Doubtful.

“General overwhelm?” You asked the question to the blue sky that peeked at you past the roof of the porch.

Five creaks passed before Simon answered.

“I struggle with kids since my nephew passed.” His fingers were trembling as they tightened, one atop the other.

“My mom is a narcissist, and I can’t stand going to church because that was the stick she used to beat me into her preferred shape with.”

Simon stretched his thighs, tipping the swing to a height that had you throwing an arm around his neck to keep from sliding right off.

“Don’t do that. If you have a question, ask.” You glared at him, brows bunched up tight and annoyance flashing through your face. “Sharing grief like baseball cards is the most honest way I can connect. Gives people the chance to open up without pressure or at least know the option is open for later.”

He let the swing down with control that spoke of his hours in the gym. Once your feet could touch down, you stood from the seat and turned to stare at Simon as you shoved your hands into your back pockets.

“It’s peaceful here.” Simon at least looked a bit ashamed as he stared at his knees while he replied.

“Feel free to stop by any time and use my porch swing. Seth would love to hang out with you more…if you’re up for it. Whatever chat y’all had in the woods really made an impression on him.” You turned with a step. Pausing, you look back at the man who reminded you so much in that moment of each time you found a child abandoned by the ones who denied them love. “I’ll be gathering the kids up soon to play a game sort of like hide and seek. You don’t need to join, but I think watching them scatter might make you smile.”

Simon gave no reply—once again focused on his knees and the creak, creak, creak of your swing. With a nod, you turned and slipped into the house.

Your yard felt swollen; nearly sixty people, including the kids on your back porch, are over for the monthly BBQ.

Finding some nearly expired stage makeup in the back of your bathroom closet had given you an idea earlier in the day. Each BBQ the kids would play a game in the woods. The name changed from kid to kid, but the goal was to spread out and not get caught trying to make it home by the seekers. No one thought anything about you, a beloved school teacher, gathering all of the kids to the wood of the porch.

Slathering the white makeup over both hands, you told the kids as quietly as you could the plan. Glancing around surreptitiously, you confirmed no other adults were watching. You pressed the marks of your creases and fingerprints to the face of each child. They giggled and joined the fun, marking each other with swipes along necks and arms.

Done, you stood and reminded them of what they need to shout before running. A couple of shushes—and an older sister determinedly slapping a hand over her little brother’s giggling mouth—brought order to the porch.

“Children! We gather to begin our games. Now tell me, whom do you serve?” You infused the words with the deepest tones you could make. It wasn’t low enough, but it would do. The volume, though? That brought every eye to your little group.

Children from six to sixteen, marked as if they were Uruk-hai, all gave war cries in response.

“SARUMON!”

They scattered, running like feral beasts that have only known the woods. Everyone still laughed as you called up Kyle and Johnny. Simon appeared at Johnny’s shoulder with a small nod. Good. That man needed some string tying him back to the ground before he floated away on the river of his own pain.

The three men stared up at you, awaiting your command. The former two had smiles on their lips, and even Simon showed a crinkle at the edge of his eyes. You had noticed him slip around the side of the house and take up a post with a beer in hand next to Johnny as he stood talking to a few of the older ladies from the church on the other side of town, sometime between the seventh and tenth kid you marked.

“Since John is busy fulfilling his lost bet, will you three play seeker? The kids have a few moments to hide, then we call into the woods, letting them know to head on back. Their goal is to sneak past you. If they do, they win. If they get caught, they start to search with you.”

Johnny’s face lights up, “We had a game like this back home.”

“Seems a bit unfair to send us in,” Kyle laughed, slapping Simon’s shoulder as he did. Simon let out a huff of breath, nearly a laugh.

“Well, if we want the kids to know you are safe, the best way to do that is through play,” you shrugged and eyed Simon.

“Alright, let’s give it maybe ten more seconds, then I’ll call ‘ready or not here they come,’ and the kids will know the game is on.”

Johnny looked ecstatic.

“Haven’t played like this since I visited the orphanage.”

The way he said it, like orphanage meant home, pushed the air from your lungs. Instead of wallowing, you cupped your hands and hollered into the woods.

“Ready or not, here they come!”

The three grown men took off at a brisk pace to the cheers of all the parents who watched with drinks in hand. Everyone left, sans John, knew the routine now. Cleaning. With the kids sorted, all of the adults made an effort to clean up the dinner items, passing out to-go containers for any leftovers and starting on the fire. These nights often ended up with roasted marshmallows and tales passed around like the warmth of a bottle.

Halfway through clean up, the first kid arrived. He made it through the woods with Kyle a hair’s breadth from catching him. A local dad, an umpire for the local leagues, called Tyson safe as his foot breached the treeline. He included the arm motions, gaining a laugh from everyone, including Kyle. His lingered, loud and vibrant as he turned back into the woods. If Tyson didn’t escape this small town on a track and field scholarship, you would be shocked. He claimed the only victory this time.

Johnny appeared first, arms bulging under the weight of the…two…three…five children that hung from them. They all giggled as he shook them off, shoulders and fists bouncing forward and back. When some of the kids jumped back up to grab him again, thinking this was a new version of their game, Johnny interlaced his fingers behind his head.

“Oi, we’re done now, we are. Go and find yer parents.” His accent drifted, thick as if he curried heath in his pockets.

Kyle appeared next with a child under each arm and a gaggle of teens trailing behind him happily. Simon arrived last. Three of your boys were so close to him as he walked, it was a miracle he didn’t step on them. Reggie was one of the children Kyle carried. The sour, angry look on that small face had everything in you fighting down a laugh; Reggie was your most distrustful child, and boy oh boy did he let you know he didn’t like you. He shot Kyle a flesh-melting glare when he was deposited on his feet before bolting to the porch to play.

Before you could ask how the game went, you were sucked into a problem of missing marshmallow roasting sticks. It went on and on, problems cropping up as adults and families trickled home with the fading light. When you at last collapsed into a chair, the sky had turned purple, as the bruises on your ribs following a car crash as a teen.

“You host a good party. I haven’t been to something that feels so much like the family events my mom used to host in a long time.”

Lifting your head from where it hung over the back of the chair, you found Kyle slowly swirling the beer in his hand as he stared at the fire.

Johnny sat next to him. He sat on the edge of the chair, feet spread wide and shoulders filling up the space along the back of the chair.

“I don’t know that I’ve ever been at a party like this.” He nudged Simon, who sat on his other side with the toe of his boot. “What about you, Si? Good party?”

“Didn’t hate it,” Simon shrugged. His eyes glanced down at Seth, who sat at his feet, slowly rotating a stick as it burned above the dying flames.

You laughed. “What a high honor. ‘I Didn’t Hate It’,” you dragged your spread fingers through the air as if titling a banner. “With that commendation under my belt, I am going to check on my other boys and see if there is anything left to be doing before I politely tell you all to go the fuck home.”

Standing, you are deeply aware of the smile on your face. Today had been good. Turning and catching sight of Mary Ann sitting in the chair next to John, listening with rapt attention to whatever tale he spun. The man talked with his hands. Who knew?

Neither seemed aware of you until you stepped fully onto the porch. Mary Ann looked at you and smiled, the crinkles around her eyes calling it a truthful one. John nodded your direction. He gave no visible response to the slight narrowing of your eyes. Must have accepted the upward tilt of your lips.

“Mary Ann, will you come help me finish cleaning up?” You tilted your head to the back door as if to strengthen the request.

“Of course! John,” Mary Ann turned and dropped a hand on his thigh, “Thank you for the conversation. I really enjoyed myself.”

John smiled and folded his hands across his stomach as he replied, “I’m glad. I enjoyed talking to you, too, Mary Ann. I imagine I’ll see you behind the cash register next?”

Mary Ann laughed as she stood. “Quite likely. I am about two years from having enough money for my degree, maybe less if I keep picking up extra shifts.”

John stood, a hand settling almost too naturally on the back of her arm above the elbow as he used it to guide her forward a touch.

“You’ll excel at whatever you end up studying. You’re bright. If I don’t see you before you leave, have a good night, Mary Ann.”

The smile on your face turned brittle as you saw John’s gaze dip to the hint of cleavage visible. It was quick. You might have missed it had you not been watching him like a lynx waiting to tear out his throat. Mary Ann had been your student only a few years back. Yes, she was nearly twenty-one, but you could almost guarantee her father would have done almost nothing in teaching her about her body and what men might want from her. John being no exception. Fucking men.

She smiled up at him, big and innocent, as John stepped down the steps to head toward the chair you had abandoned only a moment ago.

Your eye that twitched, thankfully, was on the side furthest from Mary Ann as you both moved into the kitchen.

Once the screen and the door clicked shut, you settled both palms on the counter. Forcing your arm bones deep into your shoulder joints, you fought for the composure to remain calm.

“Whatcha need help with Miss—”

You cut her off with a look.

“I know I’ve told you to call me by my first name, Mary Ann.”

She pinked up a touch in the cheeks.

“I know, but it’s so weird to call you by your first name!”

The laugh that startled out of you gave you the reprieve to shift from your uncomfortable position.

“Well, honey, I’m about to make it so much more weird for you. You’ll thank me one day for it.” Turning on the hot water to one side of the sink, you dumped an appropriately large amount of dish soap into the water. “Now, I’ll wash, and you dry while I ask you some questions.”

Mary Ann, familiar with your house from the few times she had been by to babysit, gave you a funny look as she did so. Once she was posted up at the empty side of the sink, ready to rinse and dry, you hit her with the hundred-mile-an-hour ball to the face.

“Mary Ann, did your father ever give you the talk about the birds and the bees?”

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