#slasher-verse

Everything was white and gold. Suddenly soft and warm.

An angel kneeling over him.

His angel.

He felt tears fall on his cheeks, raining down on him from above.

Even in such pain, he was beautiful.

Peace washed over him, and he let himself go.

Darrell's distant voice and visage fading to black.

"No no no no! Baby please stay with me!!" 

A plea that could no longer be heard.

He felt himself float in the ether, carried by strong yet gentle arms.

A soft surface.

A mask.

Blinding lights above him.

Everything was engulfed in white light.

He saw himself and his mother, his real mother.

He went to hug her, and she said something to him that he could not entirely hear, he was confused.

Suddenly, he was falling, the white fading to black as he fell for what it felt like ages.

He started feeling, first he could hear the machines beeping. Then the pain and sting on his arms from his wounds. 

A warmth on his hand, as if it was being held by someone else's.

Then his eyes fluttered open. 

AN: a little drabble of Red going to heaven for a split second then coming back to life

Taglist: @rottent33th @slaasherslut @the-pinstriped-hood @ajarofpickledtears @capybar00 @mintgalaxia @goldrose-star @bluecoolr-main @probably-a-plant-thing

—

He tried to think as rationally as he could, though he was seeing red despite the sterile blue fluorescent light that filled the pharmacy. If he agreed to have a drink with Angel and answered all his questions, he would hopefully leave him alone.

"One drink," Darrell said.

Angel nodded enthusiastically. "No more."

Darrell's lip curled at Angel's puppy dog eyes and eagerness.

He raked his hair back and heaved an exasperated sigh. It was impossible to keep the damn thing out of his face. Germaine, who had been intently following their conversation, dutifully held out her wrist to him. There was a delicate looking scrunchie sitting there, embroidered with white daisies.

Darrell's stern expression softened at the gesture. He slipped the scrunchie off Germaine's wrist and tied his hair back. He grabbed the little paper bag from the counter and, bright-eyed, turned to Angel. "Well, come on then," he said, but not before thanking Germaine.

Darrell walked ahead of Angel. Back straight, shoulders squared. He put the pack of Reds in his breast pocket. The Tylenol, he tucked away in an inside pocket.

"Know any good watering holes?" asked Angel.

"Just the one." Darrell ripped his lip balm out of the pack. Angel watched, rapt as he dragged the tip of the tube across his lower lip.

They walked all the way over damp, frosty roads to Devil's Paradise, the only bar in town. There were about five patrons already deep in drink when they came in. The place smelled of smoke, sweat, and spirits.

"A Budweiser." Angel told the bartender as he straddled the stool. "Please."

Darrell sat next to him. "Whiskey straight," he said. The bartender nodded.

"That should keep ya warm," remarked Angel cheerfully as their drinks were served.

Darrell said nothing. He ripped the plastic cover from his cigarette pack and clamped his lips around one. He looked over the counter and reached for a book of matches on the bartender's side.

"So, the tough guy with the red hair," Angel began, "He your boyfriend? Where did that start, eh? The Marines?"

Darrell replied with an icy glare. The voice inside him snarled; You know damn well where "that" started.

He solemnly lit a match and held it to the end of his cigarette.

Angel's frivolous, mocking tone faltered at that, but he tried to salvage the joke. "I could imagine… cooped up on some boat for months at a time… all guys…"

"Ain't it th'same in the Police Academy?" Darrell asked pointedly, smoke seeping out of his mouth and nostrils.

Angel was struck dumb. He had hit a nerve.

"Your cigarettes taste like shit."

"How can you stand American Spirit, though?" Angel chuckled.

Darrell felt an ache where his heart should be.

"I haven't smoked those in ten years."

I've smoked them ever since you left. They were your cigarettes. You taught me how to smoke with them.

He looked down at the glass of whiskey and frowned. The ache in his chest wasn't going away. It was like an unpleasant tingling, like a thousand traveling pinpricks. It was spreading, running up his arms, down his thighs, to his toes and ears. The pain didn't anger him as much as the fact that Angel didn't remember or didn't care to acknowledge.

"Last career I would've pinned ya down for. Figured you'd be a preacher like your daddy," Angel stated and took a sip of beer.

Darrell's tone was acrid. "Coulda said the same for you, Texas City. Whassamatter? Got tired of being a delinquent so ya decided to put the others away?"

He took a mouthful of the whiskey and wordlessly asked the bartender for another. The bottom of the glass hit the bartop with a clap.

"Ok," said Angel, "I'm sorry. It's just been so long. I don't know what to say."

Darrell's fingers tightened around his glass.

Angel lowered his gaze. "It feels like I don't know ya anymore," he said softly.

On that, Darrell agreed. He turned in his seat, his glass raised in a half-hearted toast. They tapped their drinks together and took deep swigs, allowing the truth to permeate through them.

Then came the questions - "Strictly off the record," Angel swore: How many tours did he do for the Marines? How had he come to Louisiana? Did he like it there?

And Darrell obliged him, although he didn't disclose more than he should. He was unwilling to let Angel back into his life. But did he ever leave, really? Angel was in part, if not wholly, responsible for all Darrell ever was and became. All that ever happened. All that never did.

No, Angel never left. He was with him every step of the way. Down to the cigarettes he smoked and the music saved in his phone. Life was split before and after Angel, and yet what was Darrell? Some half-forgotten face, shaved to the bone by time, that Angel tried to brush of like a sad joke.

The jukebox, which was brough to life by a bored regular, derailed the unpleasant train of thought. The greasy-faced boozer fed coins to the slot and played a Poison song. "Something To Believe In". Darrell liked it but found it depressing. It hit a little too close to home.

He began to mouth the words through Angel's rambling, feeling more and more like shit the longer he listened.

"Hey!"

The boozer at the jukebox turned to him in surprise.

"Turn it up!"

"Turn it down?" asked the boozer, squinting to hear better.

"Up," Darrell mouthed. He gestured upwards, and the boozer understood.

The music drowned out most of what Angel was saying. However, Darrell clearly heard him mention "help people" and "like you who couldn't get justice" when he talked about why he pursued a career in the police force.

Darrell's legs were trembling. He had enough composure to get up and put space between him and Angel. He made it as far as the jukebox.

When Angel mentioned Vicker, the blood drained from his lips. His insides grew cold and he felt the urge to vomit.

"Surely, there could be a way to bring something so serious up to the Chief of Staff?"

Angel carried on, despite Darrell's pleas for him to stop. "We could reopen the case," he proposed.

Darrell's resolve finally snapped. It went off like a shot in his head and he flew into action. He placed both his palms on Angel's chest and shoved him back as hard as he could.

"Get the fuck away from me!" he said through gritted teeth.

Stunned, Angel teetered on his feet with his mouth agape.

"I've spent years trying to make peace with what happened to me, and you bring it up like it's the goddamn weather!"

"I-I'm sorry," stammered Angel. "Darrell, please."

"Please, what?!" Darrell snapped. "What? Y-you want me to sit here and… and validate your guilt? 'It's ok, Angel. It ain't your fault. I'm all better now.' You show up here after all these years and tell your sob story about wantin' to make the world a better place and bait me into saying things that'll make you feel better about yourself. D'you know how fuckin' unbearable you are?"

Several patrons had put themselves between Darrell and Angel.

"Ya got some fuckin' balls to put the weight o' your self-blame on my shoulders!" Darrell yelled. The tears he could not stop seared his cheeks. "I've carried enough to last me a lifetime!"

He roughly batted the patrons' arms out of the way, jabbing his finger in Angel's face. He wished he could fire a bullet right at him; Blast a hole the size of Texas through his brain. "Don't you ever fuckin' talk to me again," he snarled. "I don't ever want to see your fuckin' face again."

Pushing past him, Darrell stormed out into the cold. He dashed the tears from his face and strode off to nowhere in particular, long legs taking him quickly through town.

Don't cry. Don't do it.

Breathing hard, lungs burning, Darrell stood rigid. He clenched and unclenched his fists.

It ain't worth it. He ain't worth it.

He took handfuls of his hair and tugged, desperately trying to keep himself grounded. A choked sob forced its way out of his throat. No matter how hard the stubborn voice tried to keep him in check, he folded. He stood on the empty sidewalk, softly crying into the palm of his hand.

His free hand searched for something familiar, but his 8 ball wasn't dangling from the belt loop of his jeans. Desperately, his hand moved up and felt the smooth surface of his jacket. A welcome distraction.

The brown leather was in need of conditioning. He supposed he could pick up a bottle in town.

Gonna tag some moots who might be interested! @rottent33th @slaasherslut @the-pinstriped-hood @kalid-raven @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @allthingsblood

Can I offer you a meme after this very angsty update?

The Devil's Paradise after Darrell stormed out:

It was finally time to head back from Ambrose to Devil's Prick, Red couldn't complain about his stay at all, he had gotten to eat Ellie's delicious food, jam and rock out with Ava, and Percy had been nothing but pure motherly love towards him the entire time; something he couldn't dare to admit out loud is how much he had missed that kind of connection.

But above all, he got to sleep cuddled up with Darrell for his entire stay. He loved the closeness and clung to him at night, but he wished the two of them had more privacy to… explore each other.

It was dead cold on the ride home. Occasionally, Red would playfully go past Darrell on the empty highway, just for fun. Darrell reciprocated, of course, by catching up to him and doing a wheelie before speeding up again.

It was an hour before the sun started to set that they neared the woods.

"Race ya up the mountain!" Red said, and sped off in a second. Darrell just gave a small chuckle and followed close behind, he'd go to the trailer later.

Red was already unloading his bags from the quad bike and fumbling with the keys to his cabin by the time Darrell made it. His hands were stiff, joints hurting with the cold that seeped through his gloves. He tried to open and close them a couple times before getting off the bike.

Darrell got his bags in and set them down in Red's bedroom. The cherry haired man was coming in back from outside with a few logs in his arms. 

"Darr, can you lock the door for me, hun?" he said, kneeling next to the small stone fireplace.

"Yessir, it's pretty cold, ain't it?" he said as he made sure all the locks were secure. Red answered with a soft hum, more concentrated to get the fire going than anything else.

Darrell couldn't stop himself from smiling softly at him, he looked cute while deep in concentration, "I'll prepare some hot cocoa for us, yeah?"

Red turned, beaming up at him, "Ooh, you just read my mind, Blue!" 

With the fire going, Red went to his room and grabbed a big soft blanket. Darrell was already sitting down on the couch in front of the fireplace, mugs of chocolate on the little coffee table between. He flipped the light switch, so that the only source of light was the fire.

"Here…" he said softly, as he wrapped both of them with the blanket, cuddling close to the bigger man. Darrell nuzzled his nose into Red's hair and took in the scent of him. Dew, tobacco, hints of diner coffee and a touch of bourbon. It was an eclectic mixture, but it was him. He felt his cheeks turn warm at the notion of having him so close, so close and all to himself.

Usually Red would be the one to initiate things, but Darrell couldn't take it anymore. He had been wishing for this ever since that night at the trailer, where they finally had confessed their feelings for one another. If he had to be honest? He had been thinking of this moment for long before then.

Red had already noticed the rather tall tent pitching in Darrell's pants when the latter decided to take matters into his own hands, figuratively and literally, by cupping Red's face with his hands and quickly pulling him in for a hungry kiss.

Red took the advantage almost immediately by pulling on Darrell's bottom lip with his teeth, a soft moan leaving the bigger man. He wasted no time to slip his tongue in Darrell's mouth. He was just as hungry, if not more. 

He pushed Darrell down on his back and straddled his hips, slowly creeping his fingers underneath the lower hem of his shirt, caressing up his stomach and placing one hand on each pec, all the while he nibbled at Darrell's sensitive skin on his jaw and neck. He made sure to leave a couple of marks, too.

He ground himself on Darrell's crotch, reveling at the friction and the sweet sounds he made with each movement. He was so perfect, so beautiful, and his.

There was a glint of something in Darrell's eyes, something primal and animalistic. He sat up quickly, holding Red close to him to make sure he wouldn't fall back, and started to bite and suck on his neck in an almost possessive manner. Only pulling away to pull Red's tank top over his head.

He had never seen his lover shirtless before, so he immediately froze when he saw Red's torso littered with scars. 

Red chuckled softly at him, running a hand through dark blue locks of hair, "It's okay, they don't hurt no more…"

Most of the scars, Darrell could recognize as stab wounds, except for two long scars, one right below each pec. He slowly caressed the scar tissue with the tips of his fingers, brow knitted in concern, "What did they do to you?" Darrell’s eyes were bright.

"Ah- well…" Red trailed off, Darrell was looking into his eyes, almost like saying "Who's getting fed to the hogs next?"

"I- uh… I'm trans. These are… these are top surgery scars…" he said barely over a whisper while looking away and into the fire, the sudden shyness was extremely uncharacteristic of him.

Darrell quickly cupped Red's face in his hands, forcing him to look into his eyes once again. All the worry and fear that brewed in Red's stomach melted away the second he saw Darrell's face. His eyes were full of wonder and tenderness. 

"I love you" there it was, his sweet honey-like voice, making Red stick to him. Darrell’s eyes glinted again for a moment, "I love you" he repeated himself, as if he hadn't been clear enough, "I'd do anything you want me to. I'm yours."

Red was speechless, so he decided to let his actions talk instead. He pulled Darrell's shirt over his head, and kissed him fervently as he undid his jeans. 

Red quickly dropped to his knees in front of Darrell, who was still sitting on the couch. He pulled Darrell's jeans off quickly, leaving him only in his boxers. The sharp outline of his cock was straining against the thin fabric, a damp spot was visible where pre-cum had accumulated.

Darrell could barely comprehend what was about to go down as Red pulled him out of his boxers, slinging against his own stomach in a lewd display.

He grabbed him by the base and licked a long, wet stripe up his cock, flicking his tongue at the tip before pulling away for a second, a strip of pre-cum connecting Red's mouth and Darrell's dick. He gave the tip some licks and kisses, making Darrell's breath hitch.

It was when he took him in his mouth that a quiet moan escaped Darrell’s lips, his hands shook by his sides as Red bobbed his head up and down slowly, taking in more and more of him each time.

Red noticed this and hollowed his cheeks as he pulled out with a loud pop, "You can touch my head if you want to, sweet thing." he said before taking him back in his mouth, sliding halfway down in one go. Darrell quickly buried both his hands in Red's hair, clinging to him for dear life as he felt the head of his cock touch the back of Red's throat.

It wasn't long before Red had all of him down his throat, Darrell could feel him swallow around him, and he couldn't contain the string of moans that came out of him with each movement of Red's head. It was so good, too good. He could feel the familiar knot in his stomach tighten quickly.

"Fuck… Re- Damon…" he pulled Red away from his length and bowed forward to meet his own lips with the swollen, salty ones "Not yet, I don't wanna cum yet…" he said, that glint in his eyes again.

A small gasp escaped Red's lips as Darrell pulled him up onto the couch and pushed him on his back. Darrell was sitting up on his knees on the couch, towering over Red, chest rising and falling rapidly with ragged breaths. 

He undid Red's jeans and pulled them down in a single swipe, Red whimpered at the cold air hitting the wet spot between his legs and Darrell gave an amused sigh in disbelief "Goin' commando, I see? You had this planned all along, didn't ya?"

Red chuckled once again, Darrell seemed suddenly entranced by what he was seeing. Red's T-Dick stood tall and proud, glistening with the slick coming out of his cunt, "I'll never get tired of that look on your face, Blue"

Darrell was breathing heavily as he lowered himself onto Red. Almost growling at the way he tasted as he licked a stripe up Red's slit, mimicking him from earlier and flicking his tongue at the tip of his T-Dick, making Red’s hips buck forward involuntarily.

He made sure to get Red all nice and sopping wet. Arousal and spit dripping down on the couch as he dug into Red's front with his tongue, exploring all of him as much as he could before pulling out and sucking on his T-Dick.

Red moaned loudly at how Darrell moved his head as if he was giving him a blowjob, euphoria and affirmation mixed with pleasure had him curling his toes and pulling at Darrell's hair with one hand.

"Tell me what you want, baby" Darrell's voice was dark and husky with desire, his breath hitting Red's wet and sensitive skin, making him shiver at the sensation.

"I want you, I want you to take me…" he said almost breathlessly "Claim me as yours, my love."

Darrell slowly climbed up Red's torso, sweetly kissing on each scar he could find as he slid a finger into him.

"Fuck-, stop teasin' me…" Red moaned as Darrell nibbled on his neck, slowly pumping his finger in and out of him, "I'm ready, please-" he was cut short by Darrell's lips smashing into his, taking advantage of his open mouth to slide his tongue in. Wet muscles fighting, writhing against each other. 

It wasn't even a fight for dominance anymore, they just wanted - No, needed, to taste and know every part of each other.

Darrell pulled his digit out, making Red moan into the kiss, he smiled into it, "I was just makin' sure, baby. Don't wanna hurt you, 's all…"

He slid himself up and down Red's slit, covering himself with slick, before slowly prodding at his entrance with the tip of his dick.

Both of them breathed out needy, desperate moans as Darrell buried himself into Red slowly, his thickness tearing open and filling Red to the brim. He didn't stop until their hips connected, and stayed there for a few seconds, letting him adjust to his size and feeling the hot, wet walls clench down on him.

Darrell rolled his hips, driving himself in and out of him. Grinding into him rather than sliding. It was intimate, passionate and possessive. Darrell's pelvis rubbed against Red's swollen T-Dick, and the latter couldn't help but to claw at Darrell's back, a string of curses and moans leaving him with each thrust, each delicious taste of friction between them.

"Damon- fuck… you're sucking me in so deep…" Darrell moaned loudly, biting down on the space between Red's neck and shoulder in a futile attempt to keep himself quiet. The mixture of pain and pleasure made Red growl as he wrapped his legs around Darrell's waist, prompting him to go harder.

Darrell went from slow and sensual to rough and animalistic in a split second, groaning and growling into Red's ear as he pounded into him with enough force to make the couch creak with the force of them. 

"Darr- Darrell… please…" Red whimpered, making Darrell prop himself on his hands as he continued to ram into him, wet obscene sounds filling the room, "Please, baby. I'm so close…" 

He grabbed Red's face with his left hand and shoved his index and middle fingers into his mouth, pressing down on Red's tongue as he moaned around them, he could feel Red clenching down on him more and more. Once his fingers were coated in spit, he slid his hand down and took Red's T-Dick between them, rubbing it in sync with his harsh thrusts.

"That's it, cum for me, angel. And look at me, look into my eyes as you cum." Darrell ordered, and Red cried out in pure bliss, calling his name. 

"Fu- ahh… Damon…" it was Red's turn to demand now.

"Come on, sweet thing, cum in me." he was still clenching down, slowly coming down from his high as he drove Darrell towards his own. He grabbed Darrell by the neck and pulled him down so that he could whisper in his ear, "Breed me, make me yours."

And he obeyed, he painted Red's insides white with hot strings of cum, crying out as he did, "C'mere…" Red said, pulling him in for another kiss as spend dripped out of him and onto the couch, despite Darrell still being buried deep inside him.

They pressed their foreheads together and panted into each other's mouths for a moment before Red looked Darrell in the eyes, smiling up at him sweetly, stroking his cheek with a shaky hand.

I love him…

"I love you."

A/N: *drops this and runs for the fucking hills*

Taglist: @rottent33th @the-pinstriped-hood @slaasherslut @texaschainsawslvt @ajarofpickledtears @angxlslasher @kalid-raven @mr-trick @probably-a-plant-thing @allthingsblood

"This is Vincent."

Vincent had to bring himself to shake Darrell's hand. It was what was expected of him, so he went ahead and did it.

But he knew.

From that moment, he knew there was something wrong with Darrell.

He could smell it off him.

Hidden under cheap fabric softener.

Harsh bleach and a subtle sourness. Not sweat, but something else he was familiar with. The vinegar-like smell left by hydrogen peroxide when you clean dried blood off your skin.

What's more, there were stains on his jacket and on his boots. Old stains. Faded stains. Barely-there stains Vincent recognized.

He sneered under his mask. They didn't see it. But he did. He was no damn fool.

Darrell was ushered through paths choked with plants and flowers. They skirted the house that belonged to Ellie and her spouse, before coming upon a gate that led to the back garden.

It was a pandemonium of color and scent, heavy and heady. It was like someone had stuffed a bit of heaven in that little pocket of Louisiana. It was breathtaking.

They passed well-tended beds of vegetables and flowers, until they came upon a pair seated in the shade of a tree.

The woman got to her feet as they drew near. The man, whose face was obscured by a jack-o-lantern paper mache mask, remained where he was, looking at the new arrivals over his shoulder.

"I recognize you," said Darrell to the woman. "Hello, Alia."

"I recognize you, too." A faint smile tugged her lips.

Darrell remembered the photo he had sent the night before. He felt his cheeks grow warm.

"Aw, shucks…"

Alia gestured to the man behind her. "This is Michael. You'll have to forgive him. He's a bit… aloof."

Darrell waved the issue away. He reached up and scratched an itch in his neck. "Oh, that's fine. I'm still real glad ta… ta m-meet ya a- A-PHFFF!"

"Bless ya," said Lester instinctively.

Right on time, Darrell caught his sneeze in the crook of his arm. He startled Michael, who got up from where he sat.

"Sorry."

The heat on his cheeks wasn't going away. In fact, it seemed to be making its way down to his neck and spreading on his forearms.

"Honey, are you allergic to pollen?" asked Percy, inspecting his arm.

"No, uh, I dunno. Does grass - cut grass - count?"

Percy wide-eyed, clutched his wrist. "Yes."

"Oh, gosh. Let's get you inside!" Ellie turned the party around. "I'll run you a bath so you can wash up before lunch."

Ava hung back. "I'll go and tell Merry and Jay to come up for lunch later."

Lester picked up his heels to stand next to her. "I'll come with ya!"

"Lester," said Ellie, whirling around. "Where's my frog?"

"I, uh, left it with Bo."

Ava held out her hand, which he grabbed, and they bounded into the forest like a pair of deer.

"Anything happens to my frog, I'm taking Bo's kneecaps," Ellie muttered to herself. She cast Percy an uneasy glance. Fortunately, the older woman didn't hear what she'd said.

Ellie sat Darrell down on the sofa. She and Percy urged him to take off his shirt, since the pollen might be caught in it. In fact, they told him it was best to take his jeans off, too. So, he sat there in his drawers, desperately trying to unearth his medicine canister from the depths of his bag.

Michael had positioned himself a few paces away, arms folded, watching Darrell as he pulled various items out.

A graphic t-shirt bearing the cover to Metallica's Garage Inc. piqued his interest. Stooping, he picked up the garment and stretched it to see the whole print.

"There's some damn good covers in there, f'ya ask me." Darrell's voice had become strained. The air passing through his clogged nostril whistled. Michael wanted to pinch it shut. It was annoying.

"Ever listened to it?"

Michael shook his head and gave the shirt back. He did it gently, and waited until Darrell took it.

Darrell unlocked his phone and began to type.

"Made it! They're all so nice. Allergies acted up tho. Taking a pill. Wish you were here xx"

Darrell handed Michael his phone and the hulking young man swiped left and right, looking for anything interesting.

Ellie poked her head around the door. "The bathroom's ready for you. We're in the kitchen getting lunch ready."

He got up, towel and toiletries in hand, and told Michael he'll be back in a while. He urged him to take his tangled ear buds. "I got Metallica and Rob Zombie on there. Bunch o' other stuff, too."

Michael said nothing. Just put the buds in his ears.

"Be right back."

Blue. Oh, how funny. I'd fit right in with the rest of the decor, he thought. The walls of Ellie and Vincent's bathroom were blue. So was the marble-top cabinet beside the sink, where he laid out his toothbrush, toothpaste, and change of clothes.

The tub was pearl white, with clean, clear water rippling in the bottom. Darrell happily sank into it, sighing at the cooling effect it had on his inflamed skin.

He had just closed his eyes when he heard a pounding at the door. It was Michael. He showed Darrell his phone screen. There was a notification ribbon at the top. His game of Fruit Ninja had frozen.

Don't make me miss ya anymore than I already do. Boy, if ya don't bring that ass home soon… 😡😡😡

"I'll be thinking of you every second anyway."

SHUT up! You're making me blush at work.

Darrell let Michael take his phone, and the latter disappeared down the hall.

Darrell carefully settled into the bath again. His sinuses had cleared a bit thanks to the pill, and he breathed in the citrus scent from the candles Ellie had lit.

At one point, he sat with his knees to his chest. Eyes shut tight. Lips tracing the wet skin of his arm. His mind wandered to that night in his trailer, retraced the way Red's hands had moved on his body, recalled the warmth of that shared moment.

There was an ache in his heart. He hadn't been away a day and he was already missing him. For a short while, he pretended he was holding Red.

Red will never let him hear the end of it. Want me that much, Blue?

Once he was done, he went ahead and got dressed.

"Vincent was kind enough to put your clothes in the wash, Darr." Ellie was setting lunch on the table.

Vincent, Darrell noticed seemed to be eyeing him closely.

"You just sit down," Ellie said, "The others will be here soon."

Darrell picked the chair beside Michael, who was still slicing digital fruits with fervor.

"Are you feeling any better?" Percy asked Darrell.

"Yes, ma'am." Darrell didn't look up from his phone on the table. He and Michael were locked in a multiplayer game. "Nothing anti-histamine can't fix. Argh!"

Michael took Darrell's wrist in a crushing grip, preventing him from getting anymore fruits. He let him go once the scores were out, and he had won.

He looked down at Darrell, triumph burning in his eyes.

"You go, big man."

Just then, the others arrived.

"Bo Sinclair, where is my frog?" Ellie, hands on her hips, demanded right off the bat.

"What frog?" asked Bo dumbly.

"I left it with you at the- OW!"

Lester rubbed a welt on his arm.

"You lost a perfectly good frog?!" Ellie snapped. "He was my friend!"

"You've known him for 5 minutes!"

"Maybe he'll come back?" The large masked man, who was introduced to Darrell as Jason, signed cheerfully.

"That's right," offered Merry. "I'm sure he'll be… fine."

That seemed to put the matter to rest, and everybody settled down for the meal. The table wasn't big enough to accomodate all of them. Darrell stood and gave his seat to Merry, and opted to eat on the kitchen counter.

He was joined by Ava, with whom he gladly chatted about the plans they had made - beers, guitars, and music.

"Oh no, you don't sissy!" teased Ellie. "We've got a whole day of crafting ahead of us. You can have him tomorrow."

Ava laughed goodnaturedly. "Alright then, tomorrow."