#prods-fics

“We don’t want to spook them into relocating, so we were discussing the possibility of an undercover ops mission to shut them down,” Ana explained, sliding two manila envelopes across the table. “This is my official proposal that the two of you cover the mission while Torbjorn, Reinhardt and I continue to lead the charge against some of our more frontal threats.”

Gabriel and Jack high–fived, sharing a grin. “I think it goes without saying that we vote in favor,” Jack said, grabbing his own envelope, already digging through the papers inside. Sure special ops was more Gabe’s specialty than his, but he’d kill for a change of pace right about now.

Ana nodded. “Torbjorn? Reinhardt? What are your thoughts?”

“Sounds excellent! Best of luck to you both, my friends!” Reinhardt said eagerly.

Torbjorn nodded. “Aye.

Ana smiled, folding her arms on the table. “It’s unanimous then. The two of you will spend two weeks undercover in ‘Littlevale’. I’ve already taken the liberty of contacting the seller of a home there, as well as preparing cover identities for you both. Everything we know so far is in those files. Remember, as far as anyone there will know, you are Gabe and Jonathan Smith.”

Jack flipped through the pages of the mission file absently. “Why do we have the same last name? Are we supposed to be brothers or something?”

Ana raised an eyebrow. “Of course not. Who’d believe that? You two are married, of course.”

“Cool,” Gabriel said, absently paging through his own files.

“Wait, what?” sputtered Jack, his neck burning as color began to rise in his cheeks. “Why are we married? Who’s going to believe that?”

Torbjorn laughed into his hand, elbowing Reinhardt. “Hah! Can you believe that? Tell them what you told me.”

Reinhardt shrugged, grinning sheepishly. “When I first met you two, I thought you were married. You must admit, you two are rather convincing as a couple!”

Jack dropped his face into his hands, as if he could hide how red his face had turned. “Gabe, can you believe this? We’ve been betrayed! Tricked!”

“Calm down, Jack,” Gabriel said bemusedly, pouring himself a mug of coffee. “I’m not going to screw you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Rolling his eyes, Jack folded his arms. “You’re all ridiculous. What, do we have children too? No, you know what, you wanted us to be married, so now we’re gonna adopt some gay kids.”

“Shut up, Jack,” Ana said, smirking. “You already voted for this mission. Now, you’re going to want to pack.” She paused, regaining her serious composure. “On that note, Torbjorn, can you show Gabriel how to work the transmission codec? If these terrorists send any messages in or out of their base, we need to know.”

As they spoke, Jack leaned back in his chair, staring fixedly at the ceiling. Sure, he and Gabriel flirted sometimes, but it was always as a joke. They’d been friends for so long, it would just be weird if something happened now, right? Well, there was that one time at the SEP when they had to share a bed. It had been pretty nice, actually. Gabe had such soft skin. And he smelled like coffee grounds, and discharged pulse munitions. They had just laid there in the dark, listening to each other breath. So close.

“Hey.” Jack blinked, sitting up as Gabriel cuffed him lightly across the arm. “It’s just a cover. You don’t have to make that face.”

“Face?” Jack said, stifling a smirk. “I wasn’t making a face.”

Gabriel grinned, raising an eyebrow. “No? Not this one?” He stuck out his tongue, dragging down his eyelids with an exaggerated look of exasperation.

“Shut up,” snorted Jack, pushing Gabriel away. “That’s it, I’m divorcing you. We’re getting divorced.”

Gabriel grinned, leaning in close. Really close. Jack paused, trying not to stare. “I guess I’m just too badass for you.”

“Nice try, ‘My Chemical Romance,’ but I’ve seen the little doodles of skulls you draw on your arm with pink highlighter,” Jack teased.

“That was one time,” Gabriel protested, folding his arms moodily. “If you don’t stop bringing it up, I’ll rip off your arm, Morrison.”

Jack laughed. “Funny, you told me that the last ten times.” It felt so good. Right. Constantly teasing each other, bickering over stupid things, always having each other’s back. This was the way things were meant to be. This was perfect.

He picked up the mission papers, skipping ahead to the info on their new identities as Jonathan and Gabe Smith. Couldn’t have chosen a more generic last name, huh? Married four years, just returned from a yearlong work trip in D.C, and looking to settle down for a quiet family life.

Jack glanced up as Gabriel walked away, starting to talk with Torbjorn at the door. He found himself smiling, though he wasn’t really sure why.

Never mind this, he had a mission. Undercover or not, he wanted to make sure they would be armed and ready. Maybe he’d talk to Mercy, see if she could upgrade his biotic field, just in case things went south. Standing, he tucked the mission file under his arm. He paused a second, biting back a grin. As he passed through the door, he firmly smacked Gabe across the butt. “See you in Littlevale, babe.”

                                                .    .     .    .    .

“Can you believe this? We’ve got the tech and know how to fabricate completely new civilian identities on a whim, infiltrate the most high security organizations, fight an entire army of super strong, super angry omnics—but SOMEHOW it didn’t occur to anyone that this wallpaper is damn ugly?”

“Oh come on Gabe,” Jack said, leaning his suitcase up against a wall. “You’d probably decorate this room like a poster for some edgy teenage band, or a thirteenth century torture dungeon.”

Gabriel folded his arms, huffing. “You’ve got no taste Jack Morrison. I bet you think that floral print couch just looks great, huh? It looks and smells like crusty old mustard!”

“Calm down, it’s only for two weeks. Plus, we’re only using the house to station the surveillance equipment, it’s not like we’re going to actually grow old together here,” Jack snorted, pulling the living room curtains shut.

“Damn right we aren’t,” Gabriel grumbled. “If you were actually expecting me to live here, I’d divorce your ass in a heartbeat.”

“Not if I divorce you first,” Jack said, throwing one of the onion green pillows at Gabriel’s head.

Gabriel stumbled in shock, giving Jack an exaggerated look of furious betrayal. He lunged forward to grab a pillowy weapon of his own when—

Ding–dong!

The two shared a cautious glance. After a moment, Jack walked over to the door, opening it up. “Um, hello?”

Outside stood a tall, square–shouldered man with curly red hair. He wore a casual sweater vest, carried a small sleeping baby girl, and held a wicker basket under one arm. When the door opened, he split into a wide, white smile. “You must be the new neighbor! It’s really just great to meet you. My name is Andrew Miles. I live in the house next door with the wraparound porch.” He held out the basket, filled to the brim with fresh fruit, and neatly tied down with a red ribbon. “I figured I’d swing by and bring you a little house–warming gift. I grow the fruit in my own backyard, so it’s fresh off the tree. It’s really just my way of welcoming you to the neighborhood!”

Jack quickly smiled, shaking Andrew’s hand as he accepted the huge basket. “I’m, ah, Jonathan Smith. But you can call me Jack.”

Andrew laughed, bouncing the little baby lightly. “It’s really just great to meet you Jack!” he said, smiling. “So, besides being incredible handsome, what do you do for a living?”

Jack blinked. “Excuse me. What?”

“I asked what you do for a living,” Andrew said brightly, brushing a curl out of his eyes. “I coach the kids’ soccer team. It doesn’t pay a lot, but it’s really just fun seeing the kids so excited, you know? You?”

What did he do for a living? He knew it was in the identities they’d planned and the legal papers, but suddenly he couldn’t make himself think.

A warm, strong hand grabbed his shoulder tightly. “My Jackie here is a real estate agent,” Gabriel cut in, leaning in close. “I’m Gabe Smith, his husband. Nice to meet you.”

“Well Gabe, you really just won the lottery, didn’t you?” Andrew chuckled, offering Jack a wink. “I was just welcoming Jack to the neighborhood.”

“Great. Fantastic,” Gabriel said.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence, falling over everything like a thick sheet of snow. Finally managing to grab a hold of his senses, Jack coughed, cutting in quickly. “It’s been nice meeting you, Andrew. Thank you for the fruit basket.”

“The pleasure has been mine, Jack. Hey, there’s a neighborhood barbecue tonight. Would you like to come? You can bring your husband, if you want,” Andrew said.

“We need to unpack,” Gabriel said quickly.

“We’d love to come,” argued Jack, elbowing Gabriel. “Thank you for inviting us, we’ll be sure to come.”

The door was barely closed when he turn to Gabriel, glaring. “Come on Gabe, what was that about? You were being weird!”

“What was that about? I was keeping you alive, you idiot! We don’t know who could be involved in this terrorist group, and now you just want to go partying around to some stranger’s barbecue?”

Jack groaned. “I’m not partying around! I’m trying to find opportunities for us to investigate, Gabe! Plus, it’s not like anyone would shoot me to death right there in plain sight of the entire cul-de-sac!”

“But he was hitting—“

“So what if he was hitting on me! He’s kind of cute, okay? Maybe I liked it! And just because he was flirting doesn’t mean my guard was down. I can protect myself just fine!”

Gabriel let out a frustrated yell, dropping down on the couch. “Look, I don’t care if redheads are your kink, Jack! As far as anyone in this neighborhood is supposed to know, you and I are happily married. We have a cover to keep up! You can’t just—“

“Alright, alright! I’ll try and avoid it next time.” There was a long pause, and Jack sighed, slumping down on the couch next to him. He sat close to Gabriel, nudging him lightly. “It’s not my fault I look the way I do.”

“You’re right,” Gabriel said, sinking into the couch cushion with a small smile. “No one would be so ugly and disgusting if they could help it.”

Jack smiled at the joke, grabbing Gabriel’s hand. The touch was like a spark, and they both fell suddenly silent, not meeting eyes. For a moment, he wasn’t sure whether or not to regret it. No, it was fine. He was doing this to let Gabriel know he cared, because that’s what friends did. Just… friends. “I’m not going to promise I’ll be safe. You know neither of us can.”

Gabriel leaned in close. Jack’s breath caught. He was warm. He smelled like coffee grounds and pulse munitions. He was so, so incredibly close. “I know. But you’ll at least try to be careful, right?

Stan looked down at his hands, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t know... not at first. I didn’t want to hurt any of you. I thought I could just leave or—something. I shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be talking to me.”

Dipper kicked his feet into the earth, stopping himself. “You’re wrong.” Finally, Stan looked up. To his surprise, Dipper was biting his lip, tears in her eyes. “You’re still our family. It really freaked us out when you just walked off into the woods. I–it’s weird, and I’m mad you didn’t tell us, but you’re still our grunkle. You’re still a good person.”

Stan forced a small smile. “Y’know, the hardest thing is I... I don’t really want to be a good person. And I don’t mean shop–lifting and lying, I’ve always done that. I mean...” he looked towards the sunset, the fake smile slipping away. “I don’t want the hurt I went through to be anyone’s punishment. I...” he clenched his teeth, hoping Dipper wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes. “I finally did something good in my life. I finally did something right. I don’t want that to be his redemption. He doesn’t deserve it. He hurt Ford, he hurt you, your sister—he was going to kill you guys!”

“But you’re different!” Dipper said fiercely, pushing to his feet. “Last summer, you told me what it means to be a man—to do what’s right even when no one agrees with you. Maybe you don’t agree, but I think you’re a good person! Grunkle Stan, I don’t care about any of this. I mean, I do, but I care about you more! You have to come home!”

Stan chuckled slightly, shaking his head. “You’ve really grown up, huh? L–Listen, I’ll come back for three days. If things work out, maybe—”

“Two weeks,” Dipper interrupts firmly. “There’s no way three days would be enough. Mabel and I have to leave in a little more than that. You have to stay at least that long so we can prove it doesn’t matter.”

Straightening up, he nodded, hesitantly. “Fine. It’s a deal,” he said, holding out his hand to shake on it.

Dipper, however, flinched back, shoving his hands into the pockets of his vest. “Could we maybe just... do a verbal agreement,” he asked, looking a bit hesitant. “I’d rather not... y’know.”

Stan paused, quickly closing his hand. He’d only meant it as a turn of phrase, hadn’t even given it a thought. “‘Course, right. I was just—just, never mind about that.” He could feel it in his bones that this was a bad idea. If he hurt his family, he’d... he wasn’t sure what he’d do. But he couldn’t bring himself to say no. It was only two weeks. He hadn’t promised to stay forever.

Coughing awkwardly, Dipper pushed past the swingset, looking back to make sure Stan was following. They walked through the forest quietly, their awkward silence broken only by birds arguing in the trees overhead.

“Stan?”

“Yeah, kid?”

Dipper stole a glance at Grunkle Stan, biting his lip. “So what is... ‘this?’ I mean... I sort of get it, but, maybe it could help to know more? Did it start after—”

“No, no, it wasn’t the whole erasing thing,” Stan interrupted. “I mean, not exactly. I still don’t understand all of it, y’know? It’s all been coming kind of slow but...” he paused, lifting his glasses so he could rub his eyes, squinting at the sunlight shining through the trees. “Ever since it all ended last summer, my memories have been coming back fine. Except... there’s been these extra ones. Ones that aren’t mine. Memories of places I’ve never been and things I’ve never done. Except I have been those places. Dipper, I–I have done those things. Really, really bad things.” Stan paused, a spacey look in his eyes. He let out a long, tired breath, slumping down on a fallen log.

“The worst thing is, I keep getting this feeling. This feeling that it’s all familiar, that it’s always been there. Ever since finding out... I’ve felt more and more sure that it’s not just him inside me. It feels like he is me. Maybe he always has been.”

Dipper chewed his lip, holding his wrist. His face was hidden in the shadows when he looked away. “We’ll figure something out,” he said, his voice flat and weak.