Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As Hannah would put it, it had been a bad day. Lex’s boss had yelled at her for snapping at a customer, her bike got a flat tire on the way back to Mr. Houston’s place, where she’d been staying ever since the whole Wiggly incident.

God, the thought of it made her shudder, and despite the cold, she wiped the sweat off her palms as she opened the door with the key Mr. Houston had made her when he’d officially filed the adoption paperwork.

It was certainly weird, having a house, her own bedroom, a family who cared for her more than her mother ever had, but it made her stomach all tingly and her chest warm and fluttery. It wasn’t a bad weird at all, in fact, the opposite.

“Lex!”

A little blur of yellow plaid sprinted at her, tackling Lex in a hug. She stumbled back a little bit, but immediately hugged back, smiling.

“Hey, banana!” Lex ruffled Hannah’s hair (shorter, almost shoulder-length; she’d let Ms. Barnes cut it a while back, preferring the lighter feeling) and knelt down to untie her boots. “Good day, huh?”

“Yep!” The girl was all smiles, fully contagious, and instantly caught by Lex.

She kicked off her shoes, shrugged off her coat and hung it by the door, then let herself be led to the living room, where, surprise surprise, Ethan was lounging on the couch, with doodles up and down his arm, quite obviously done by Hannah.

After the Black Friday from Hell, Hannah had barely talked at all, preferring to just draw out her thoughts, which worried Lex beyond imagination when she saw the pictures. Sketches of Wiggly, drawings of Ethan hurt, laying there, crumpled on the floor… when she saw them and asked Hannah about it, she shrugged, her little eyes filling up with tears, and said: “I saw him.”

But as time passed, summer came and went, and Hannah’s art had changed. No more blood reds and sickly greens, but pastel blues, bright yellows, violets and rose red, all the colors she used to love. And who to be a better canvas than the most patient person either of them knew, Ethan?

When he saw Lex, finally, as she was sneaking up on him to scare him, he immediately pulled her into a hug, kissing her hair, her nose, her cheeks, anywhere he could reach.

It had become a sort of assurance for them, and Lex wasn’t about to complain.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Hannah giggled, crawling up onto the couch to sit between them, and Ethan kissed her hair as well, causing Lex to smile, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“You still wanna watch that movie, banana-split?” Ethan offered after a few more minutes, and Hannah nodded, saying something about snacks, before getting up and going to the kitchen, leaving the two teens alone.

“How was your day?” Ethan asked quietly, reaching for Lex’s hand, which she gladly took.

Lex sighed, shrugging. “Honest answer? Shit. This lady wouldn’t stop yelling at me, and then Frank started bitching at me for standing up to her, then I had to walk home… it sucked.”

Ethan nodded, and pulled her closer, leaning his head on hers. “Hannah wanted to wait till you got home to watch anything. She missed you today, babe.”

“Missed her too.” Lex whispered, then huffed out a laugh. “And you.”

“You know we love you, right?”

Lex nodded, closing her eyes for a moment and just letting the scent and warmth of her boyfriend take over her senses.

“I love you too.”

And yeah, maybe her day was shit, but as she, Hannah, and Ethan slowly fell asleep on that couch, soon joined by Ms. Barnes, Mr. Houston and Tim as they respectively got home, Lex realized that she couldn’t have asked for a better family.

Chapter Text

It had been a month since Lex and Hannah’s mother gave up custody of the two girls. A month since they’d been taken under the wings of Tom Houston and Becky Barnes (soon to be Houston, though she dare not admit it) and a month since Lex had quit her job at Toy Zone.

It had been hard on all of them, especially since the catastrophic events of Black Friday, but after a bit of coaxing, a few hand-me-down flannels from Tom to Tim to Hannah, and a weekly movie night, the makeshift little family had grown tighter-knit than ever before.

“Hey, Mr. Houston?” Lex asked one evening, curled up on the couch with Hannah reading a book beside her (by some guy named Tolstoy… that kid could read) and Ethan’s flannel tucked around her shoulders. Her boyfriend had come over that morning, bringing coffee from his new job at Beanie’s, and left it with her, but either she forgot to give it back or he just didn’t notice. Or didn’t care.

“I’ve told you, Lex, call me Tom.” Tom said, but his voice held no bitterness or annoyance--he could understand how hard stuff like this could be. “What’s up?”

“Can I get some advice on something?”

“Sure, kid,” Tom said, and Lex stood, gesturing for Tom to follow her into the kitchen. “What’s going on? You okay?”

Lex took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. It’s alright. It’s Mr. Houston. You trust him. “I’m fine. It’s just… ever since Wiggly, I’ve been getting these… I remember bad things. Vividly.”

Tom sucked in a breath, and gestured down to the table. “Sit.”

“You’re not… freaked out, right? Because for all I know I’m going crazy and I can’t think of anything else while I remember… everything that happened that day--”

“Lex.”

She sighed, looking up at him, but her heart was pounding in her chest. “Yeah?”

“I’m not freaked out at all. This is normal after a… scary experience.” Tom smiled sadly, putting his hand on her shoulder. “After Iraq, I had these nightmares. Constantly. Sometimes they made sense, sometimes they were nonsense, sometimes it had nothing to do with the war, but I’d wake up feeling like I’d just run across a battlefield.”

He paused for a minute, then continued, swallowing. “I heard things, saw shadows, and what’s worse was the guilt afterwards.”

Lex was nodding, and Tom raised an eyebrow. “Sound familiar?”

“Yeah. It’s just… a lot, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

***

“Miss Barnes?”

Becky rolled over in the bed, rubbing her eyes. “Ngh.”

A hand nudged at her shoulder, and Becky jolted up, realizing that there was someone else in there. “Wha’sgoin--oh, Hannah.”

The girl was standing there, tears streaming down her face, with one of Tom’s flannels wrapped around her like a nightgown. “Bad blood.”

And then she started sobbing again, her arms wrapped tight around her abdomen.

Becky sprung out of the bed, immediately kneeling down on the floor with Hannah, checking to see if she was hurt and… oh. “Oh, sweetie.”

“Lex ‘s with Ethan and I didn’t wanna wake up Mr. Houston…” Hannah whispered sheepishly, rubbing at her eyes. “Everything hurts. Why does it all hurt?”

“Hannah, sweetie, come with me, okay? Do you wanna take a bath, you feel okay with that?”

“Mhm.”

After the bath, Becky had explained what was going on to Hannah, why this was all happening, and how to help with the cramps, irritability, mood swings, and other things that came with it--it wasn’t her first time dealing with someone on their period for the first time, but with someone she loved as her daughter? She wanted to help in all the ways possible.

Daughter. That was such a weird thing to say, but something about it felt right, and as Hannah fell asleep with her head on her shoulder, Becky couldn’t ask for anything better.

Chapter Text

Howard Goodman was a good man.

He had a wife, a son, a stable job, coworkers that adored him (for the most part), and most importantly, a life that was sure to never change.

But then came the crash. And there went his wife, his son, and his life.

He didn’t know how to go on living as Howard Goodman, the good, valiant, brave man who worked relentlessly for the greater good.

***

Howard Goodman was a tired, tired man.

A man with a past that haunted him, a man who had rumors flying around about him and his secretary, a man whose hands shook as he signed the papers that confirmed him as a 2016 presidential candidate.

He was scared. Scared for his public image, scared for his life.

Scared for his future.

He didn’t know who he was, not anymore, at least. Howard had felt things in the past few months, things that no good man should ever feel.

Feelings for his receptionist. A tall, lanky man with slicked-back hair and a sharp jawline, one that he dreamt about kissing as the other man held him in his arms, pushed him up against the wall and then his bed and onto his knees and--

...and.

***

Howard Goodman was scared. He didn’t know what these feelings were, he didn’t know how to go about them.

He wasn’t sure if he should go about them.

But he did, eventually. He told the receptionist and after a night of heavy drinking, the newly elected President Howard Goodman woke up naked in bed with another man.

He couldn’t breathe as he pulled a sweatshirt and some boxers on, running into the bathroom, his hands gripping at the edge of his sink as he heaved, choking down air.

“What the fuck?”

***

President Howard Goodman was the first openly bisexual president of the United States of America.

He came to that realization a while ago, right after he got elected, and after his lawyer’s blatant lies to the public, he knew he had to come clean.

And out.

And so he did.

***

It had been three years since the election. A month since Black Friday. And President Howard Goodman was pinned up against the wall by the leader of a mysterious government organization, with his hands in his new boyfriend’s hair as their lips met again, and again, and again.

“God, John.” Howard chuckled as his lover paused for a moment to kiss his nose. “You’re drivin’... driving me crazy.”

“Huh, I am, aren’t I?” John smirked, leaning down to kiss him again, just short of his lips. “That’s the plan, then.”

Howard laughed, grinning, and pulled John back down to his lips.

You make me want things I can’t have, he wanted to say, but his thoughts were all drowned out by him, him, him, him, and instead of “can’t” he began to think “couldn’t”. Because this was real.

“I love you,” Howard whispered, and John just smiled again, pulling him into a hug.

President Howard Goodman was a good man. He always was a good man, but now he knew it.

Chapter Text

If there was one thing that president Howard Goodman should have known, it was not to trust the crazy guy who had barged into the Oval Office. But in hindsight, it’s not confusing to see why he clearly did to anyone.

Well, anyone else.

After he’d gotten pulled out of the Black and White, after the weird guy had pulled him out and saved his life, well, the president couldn’t help but feel a strange connection to the man. It was like while they were in there, they’d experienced something, unlike something anyone else had, or would.

Which, to be fair, they did.

“So you’re saying you’re a part of a secret government organization,” Howard repeated, possibly for the hundredth time in the past two days. “One that I have never, once in my life, heard of.”

“In short,” said the general, John, Howard told himself to call him, “yes.”

“And you never thought to interact with anyone else in my job before.”

“...again, yes.”

Howard exhaled deeply, leaning his head against the wall of the weird-ass cement room they were in. Almost panic room reminiscent. “Jesus fuck.”

The general--fuck, John--offered him a mug of something steaming, probably some sort of tea, based on the smell, and continued talking. “I know this may be hard to believe, Mr. President, but there’s more than just the Black and White in this world. In this universe. Based on our current research, Hatchetfield might be home to all sorts of anomalies, even a rift in time and space. Wiggly might not have been from this reality--in fact, we believe him to be a being from another world, another reality entirely.”

Howard took a sip of the “tea” and spat it back into the cup. It was vinegary, with a hint of something disgustingly gooey. Honey? Doubtful.

“Drink up, sir, that should get your energy up. Being in another dimension… it can be draining.”

“Why aren’t you drinking this shit, then?” Howard paused as John raised the glass to his lips, a sudden realization washing over him. “Holy shit, are you drunk?”

“Alcohol lessens the impact on people who have entered into the Black and White multiple times, but for your first time, that beverage is said to be your best bet.”

That explains it.

“...mind if I have a sip?” Howard finally asked, setting the mug of vinegary tea down, and John looked over at him, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

He passed over the glass with a simple “Sure.” and Howard smiled, raising the glass to his lips.

Maybe there was something about the general that he hadn’t expected before, there was something there. He could feel it.

Weird.

Chapter Text

“Just trust me.”

Xander Lee couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, oh shit.

“Xander.”

He looked up, eyes panic-stricken and head heavy. He didn’t want him to go, but John took his hand and he could breathe again? Maybe?

Shit.

“Xander, I’m gonna have to ask you to do something. Something that could end in either catastrophe or freedom and life.”

“What?”

John knelt down to him, taking both of his hands, then pulling him into a hug.

“Close me in there.”

“What?!”

Xander pulled away, breathing sharply, choking, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t do anything. Not John. Not his John.

“Johnny…”

“Hey, hey, breathe.”

He shook his head, but he knew in his heart it was useless. John was stubborn, the little shit, and both of them knew it.

“Just trust me on this.”

And then Xander Lee’s world walked out the door with a kiss to his forehead, walked through the door.

To the Black and White.

Chapter Text

“Gerald? It’s Gary. We need to talk about the will.”

Gerald choked on his coffee. No, no, this couldn’t be real… could it? Could his wife really be… no.

So, he decided to play dumb. There was a chance it was a different Gary, a different Gerald.

“Gary who?”

A sigh.

“Goldstein.”

FUCK.

Gerald hung up immediately, leaning his head back against the car seat and blinking quickly to keep the tears in his eyes. He couldn’t breathe.

His wife was dead, and there was nothing that could be done about it.

Damn it.

Chapter Text

Someone shoved past President Howard Goodman, almost tripping him as he ran out of the way of the swarm of PEIP agents running towards the door.

The door to another dimension.

God, that would never leave Howard alone, would it? The thought of the general’s voice echoing, telling him to get out, save himself, that the fate of the country rested on his shoulders…

It terrified him. So, so much.

He was just the president, for god’s sake, he didn’t know what he was doing! Maybe he had been a politician for years before but that didn’t matter---he had no experience with anything out of the ordinary.

But again, stranger things had happened, and Wiggly---god, that fucker---should be dead by now.

At least, he hoped that it was.

An agent yelled something about “him”, and for a split second, Howard went into panic mode. Wiggly had gotten through the portal, he had come here to take over---but no, that wasn’t it.

Because if it was Wiggly, people wouldn’t be cheering and laughing and celebrating.

And then someone was running towards him, someone with shoulder-length ginger hair and a lopsided general’s hat and a black uniform and “oh my god---GENERAL!”

Howard couldn’t help but run towards him, grinning and laughing, and pulled him into a hug, but then remembered both of their statuses and regained his composure, if only by a little. “Sir. I, uh, thought you were dead.”

“I fought him.” General John MacNamara said, shaking his head and grinning. “I fought that bastard and I killed him.”

“Holy fucking shit.”

And then someone shoved them closer together (damn it, lieutenant), and then John’s calloused hand was finding Howard’s and then someone shoved them even closer and their lips were barely an inch apart and then there was a silent nod and then…

...and then they were kissing, and John’s arms were wrapped around Howard’s waist and someone’s hands were in someone else’s hair and on his neck and on his chest and on his ass and pulling him closer and Howard couldn’t breathe.

They broke after another moment or two, both flushed and flustered.

“I.”

“Uh.”

There was a pause, then Howard hoarsely added, “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

Chapter Text

Fact: Ethan Green is not cisgender.

Myth: Ethan Green identifies as either a man or a woman.

Fact: Ethan Green is AMAB.

Myth: Ethan Green is a transgender woman.

Fact: Ethan Green is not heterosexual.

Myth: Ethan Green is straight.

Fact: Ethan Green does not mind presenting masculinely or femininely.

Myth: Ethan Green is a drag queen/crossdresser.

Fact: Ethan Green uses they/them pronouns.

Myth: Ethan Green is a man who uses he/him pronouns.

Fact: Ethan Green is nonbinary.

And yet, people always got it wrong.

Ethan sighed, looking over the note in their hands. They’d run it through every spell-checking website there was on this god-forsaken planet, asked Mr. Houston for help with some of the terminology, even sat down in the library and tried to read a few books to help figure out how to say it.

To tell their girlfriend that they were nonbinary.

It was scary, to say the least. Of course, they knew Lex wouldn’t mind—she was quite possibly the most accepting person in this damned town.

...but at the same time, they’d never talked about this.

To anyone.

But, Ethan sighed, slipping the note into their pocket, there was a first time for everything.

***

“Hey, babe.” Lex grinned, pulling Ethan into a hug, and they hugged back, albeit a little shakily. Nervously. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I. Um.”

Here it came, the immediate panic that came with everything that had to do with this.

Damn it.

Hannah waved at Ethan, smiling, and they waved and smiled back.

They both would understand.

“Babe, Banana, I’ve got something to say.” They said softly, gesturing to the table at the café. Coffee for Lex, a piece of lemon cake for Hannah, nothing for Ethan.

They couldn’t stomach anything.

“There’s a but there.”

“But.” They inhaled, exhaled, then again. “But I don’t think I can say it. Good enough. So, uh, I asked Mr. Houston for help with spelling and shit and I wrote a letter.”

And then Ethan gave it to Lex, then pulled their knees up onto the chair and towards their chest, heart rate rising as Lex unfolded it, and began to read it to Hannah. Quietly, of course, but still aloud.

Her voice was so rough, so soothing, so wonderful, and when the note got to the point where the word finally came out, she paused, then looked up at Ethan with a sort of soft smile on her lips.

“I love you, you know that?”

Ethan nodded, wiping at the tears that filled their eyes. “Yeah.”

They looked down at Hannah, raising an eyebrow. “You okay, banana?”

Hannah nodded, smiling. “Good.”

“Glad to hear it, kiddo.” Ethan let out a shaky breath, and started laughing. And crying.

Lex immediately got up and went over to them and wrapped Ethan in a tight hug, kissing their hair. “Hey, hey, babe, you’re okay. You’re okay.” Between soft kisses and words of approval, Ethan began to relax, to melt into her words.

“You wanna… drive out to the park, sit? Talk?”

A pause.

“Smoke?”

Ethan laughed, sniffling a bit. “You read my mind, Lexy.”

Chapter Text

“Hey there, kiddo!” Alice called to Tim, who was sitting on the couch playing on his DS. Pokémon, probably, seeing as that was his latest obsession.

She quietly gestured for her girlfriend to follow her into the living room, putting her bag down by the door. Deb looked around, a bit nervously—she never was good with kids—and finally followed Alice, waving shyly at Tim, who looked up, confused.

“Who’s that?”

Alice smiled, reaching her hand to Deb, which she took, squeezing lightly. “This is Deb. My girlfriend.”

Tim raised an eyebrow, but smiled a bit. “Does she like Pokémon?”

Deb chuckled, and Alice nodded, sitting down on the couch next to Tim, Deb following suit and sitting on the arm of the couch. “She’s been playing for years!”

“Oh, really?” Deb nodded, smiling. “What’s your favorite game?”

“Black and White came out when I was in elementary school, so that’s always been my favorite.” Deb sort of smiled, and Alice nodded, grinning and squeezing her girlfriend’s hand. “But my favorite Pokémon is definitely Bulbasaur. A classic.”

Tim smiled, and looked over at Alice. “I like her.” Then, he looked back at Deb, showing her his game. “Wanna watch me play?”

“Then we can play Super Smash Bros?” Alice offered, pointing to her bag. “I brought my Switch.”

Tim’s eyes lit up, and he nodded, grinning. “Please!!”

Alice smiled, and kissed Deb on the cheek. “I’ll go get some snacks and set up my Switch, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

Then Alice stood, and Deb took her seat, peering over Tim’s shoulder at his small DS screen.

“You should catch that Ratata.”

“No! He’s dumb!”

Deb laughed. “Yeah, but you can name him Ratatouille.”

The boy seemed to consider it, then nodded, throwing a Pokéball at it.

Okay, maybe Deb was better with kids than she previously thought.

Chapter Text

“Ms. Barnes?”

Becky rolled over, rubbing her eyes with the sleeve of Tom’s hoodie that he’d given to her months ago. It still smelled like him, and she smiled a bit subconsciously before looking up at the voice.

Hannah had taken a liking to Becky, far quicker than anyone in the Houston-Barnes-Foster-Green-Sometimes-Perkins-Matthews household had seen in quite some time. After one of the first nights, when she’d given some hot cocoa to Hannah after a nightmare, the two were stuck together like some sort of happy familial glue.

It was nice.

“Yeah, kiddo?” Becky scooched up a little bit in the bed, trying to be quiet so she didn’t wake Tom. “What’s goin’ on? It’s three in the morning.”

“Bad shadows.” The girl responded, pulling at the hem of her nightshirt, which, surprise surprise, was another one of Tom’s old shirts. “Bad. They were trying to talk to me.”

Becky nodded, patting on the bed---an invitation, presumably, for Hannah to come sit with her. “Bad shadows, huh? What were they saying?”

Hannah shrugged, looking down. She was fidgeting with the hem again---Becky might have to stitch that up eventually---and when she finally spoke again, Hannah’s voice was soft, meek, like a scared child.

“Wanted me to join them. They were singing.”

Singing. “Well,” Becky began, not wanting to upset Hannah in the slightest, “maybe they just like musicals. You know, my mom used to tell me this story about shadows that danced. Maybe they’re friends.”

Hannah looked up at Becky with big eyes, a kind of “don’t leave the story there” look. “Dancing shadows?”

Becky nodded, smiling. “When I was younger, I used to see shadows on my walls. From my closet, below my bed, in the attic, everywhere. They terrified me.”

Hannah nodded in return, cuddling a bit closer to Becky, who wrapped an arm around her, smiling. “Scary?”

“Oh, yeah, so scary. I was so scared. I woke up one night, just like you, actually, and went to my mom’s room, and she sat me on her bed and told me about them. How the shadows on your walls are just dancing, and, in your case, singing. Dancing with the wind, my mom said, and with all the birds and cars and trees and everything.”

Hannah was starting to get sleepy again, Becky could tell, so she quieted after that sentence, but Hannah nudged her again. “More?”

“Of course, kiddo. There was this one shadow, I remember, who was named Mr. Magiciano. Like a magician, only fancier. My mom said that he was the leader of all the dancing shadows, like a circus, and one night, all the shadows in his show went missing…”

Becky continued on with the story, and after Hannah had finally fallen asleep against her chest, Becky was finally able to close her eyes and sleep.

Chapter Text

There was a before.

Before the portal was opened, before the Black and White.

Before, when John Macnamara and Wilbur Cross were laying in their beds, facing each other from across the room.

The two men were freshly graduated cadets, recruited by a shadowy government organization that promised a future.

A future that only one of them would live to see, but neither knew it yet.

Wilbur laughed a bit, tossing a popcorn kernel at John. The roommates had celebrated with a movie night, but by the end of The Notebook, there had been more tears, and someone had decided to call it a night.

(It was John.)

“Fine fine fine.” Wilbur nodded, scooching up in his bed so that his back was propped against a wall. “Truth or dare?”

John pretended to contemplate the question, before his face broke out in a shit eating grin. “Dare.”

“I dare you to… shit, prank call… Howard Goodman.”

“What? No way, man, he’d hate me.”

Wilbur laughed again—and launched popcorn at John once more. “Do it, coward.”

***

There was a before.

Before the portal, before the Black and White.

But after.

The two men were still roommates in PEIP headquarters.

But there was something more there. Of course, not many roommates share whiskey-flavored kisses and cuddle in the dead of the night.

And good evenings, like after John has gotten promoted to general, most roommates don’t make love while moonlight streams in through the topmost window of their room.

John and Wilbur were not most roommates.

John stretched, lighting a cigarette as he watched Wilbur’s sleeping form, silent and still except for his soft breathing. The light from the window illuminated his naked chest, and after a few moments, his dark eyes, as they blinked awake.

“Hey, darling.” The new General Macnamara whispered, and Wilbur yawned, scooting up and pressing his chest to his lover’s back, wrapping his arms around his front.

A few kisses were placed on the light bruises and scars and nicks that littered John’s back and neck—it was one of Wilbur’s favorite pastimes to lie with him and try to kiss every one.

“Sleep well?”

Wilbur nodded, a soft mumbled “Mhm” escaping his lips. The same lips that kissed behind his ear a few seconds later.

John turned around, wrapping his lover up into a tight embrace. “I love you, you know that?”

And again, Wilbur nodded, leaning in and pressing his forehead to John’s, smiling softly. “And I love you.”

***

And there was an after.

After the portal.

After Wilbur left him.

General John Macnamara was alone in the Black and White. His voice echoed, his heartbeat thudded in his eardrums.

“Wilbur, I know you’re here.”

It was worth a shot.

“You can’t hide forever, you know.”

And he didn’t.

Wilbur Cross was not dead, as John soon found out as the other man’s hand wrapped around his throat.

“So,” Wilbur grinned, the same grin he once loved, turned into a maniacal grimace, “still here, are you?”

John spluttered, and grasped. He couldn’t fight him, he wouldn’t.

But he had to.

“You made me want things I never thought I could have, Johnny.” Wilbur grinned again, cocking his head to the side. “You made me feel love. What kinda bullshit is that?”

The hand on his throat grew tighter, tighter…

And then there was black.

***

There was a before.

And an after.

In one, both survived. Both lived.

Both loved.

In the other, neither could find the light.

And love?

Well, Wiley knew love was just some bullshit made to sell valentines.

Chapter Text

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Lex couldn’t feel her fingers as she wrung her hands together, trying to get more blood to flow through them.

Today was the day.

The last day she’d be in this hellhole of a town.

Ethan had helped her get a down payment on a shared apartment, a school nearby for Hannah, with parks and trees and a city and people.

California.

Lex sighed, smiling a bit, and rested her head on her hands. No more living with Tom, though he was fantastic, no more being forced into this shit town.

Freedom.

“Hey, babe.” Ethan called, as he climbed up onto the roof of his car next to Lex, a bottle of champagne in his hands.

Champagne? Damn.

“You splurged on this, didnt you?” Lex laughed, pulling Ethan into a soft kiss as he nodded. “Damn, my hero.”

“Well, what can I do when my girlfriend is the most amazing woman alive?”

Lex laughed, and let herself be pulled up against Ethan’s chest, his head resting on hers.

“What’re you thinking about, babe?” Ethan finally whispered, and Lex just smiled, cuddling a bit closer.

“I’m just happy.”

And she was. Happy to spend the rest of her life with her boyfriend, her sister, her newly found family.

For the first time in years, Lex was happy.

Chapter Text

Gary Goldstein couldn’t sleep.

He had to finish this case, absolutely had to, there was no way around it. He would defend his client no matter what.

But damn, sometimes she made it really fucking hard.

“I hate Linda Monroe.” Gary groaned, leaning his head on his hands. “Fuck.”

“Gare?”

A sleepy mumble came from the doorway to his office, and Gary turned around to see his husband, wearing one of his old hoodies from college.

“Gary, it’s three in the morning.” Joel said, walking over to him and resting his hands on Gary’s shoulders. He massaged the tense muscles lightly, leaning down to kiss his husband. “Come back to bed.”

“I’ve gotta finish this work.” Gary insisted, but Joel spun his rolling chair around and knelt down so that they were more or less at eye level.

Joel sighed softly, and offered a hand to Gary, who took it. “Come to bed, baby. It’s late.”

“Or early.”

Joel cracked a smile, but Gary stood, pulling Joel in for a hug. The attorney was shorter than his husband, his head only reaching a little below his neck, so Gary tucked his head under Joel’s chin—his favorite place.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

Chapter Text

If there was one thing that Joel Goldstein learned after being married to his husband for four years, it was that you should never get in an argument with Gary Goldstein, attorney at law.

About anything.

Gary was a stubborn little shit. That was true from the first moment they met, in debate class, and it was true now, in the kitchen, while Gary’s back was pressed against their counter and Joel’s lips were pressed to his neck.

“Joel, Jo, I’ve gotta go.” Gary insisted again, but Joel didn’t notice, and either the attorney was losing his first “argument” or he had a subconscious want to stay.

Joel assumed it was the second one.

And he said just that.

“You’re not in a hurry to get to work, yeah?”

At that, Gary nodded, and shrugged. “I can work remotely today if need be…!”

As soon as the words escaped his lips, Gary was scooped up into a bridal-style hold. Joel was grinning, then Gary was too.

“Was I wrong?”

“Not in the slightest.” Gary wiggled his eyebrows jokingly, and Joel laughed. “Day in? Cuddle, go out to lunch… fuck?”

“You read my mind.”

Chapter Text

“So, Mr. Houston,” Lex took a sip of whatever was in her water bottle, “basically, don’t fish have teeth in their throats?”

Tom nodded, pausing after a moment and looking up from his book. “Yes, but… why?”

“So, get this.” Lex put down her drink and swiveled around in her seat to face her former teacher. “If a fish was to suck a dick.”

“Lex, I don’t like where this is going.”

Lex sighed, and rolled her eyes. “Just go with it. If a fish was to suck a dick.”

Tom put his book down—though he didn’t want to admit it, he was intrigued as to where this was going. “A human dick?”

“I don’t know, probably.”

“Why the fuck would a fish suck a human dick?”

Tom’s out here asking the real questions, but Lex shrugged and sighed again. “Just let me continue on, ‘kay? If a fish was to suck a dick. Because of the teeth… you know those cheese things?”

Tom shook his head, raising an eyebrow. “Cheese things?”

“Things that like… shred cheese. The good stuff.”

“Oh, a cheese grater.” Tom nodded. “Yep.”

“So, if a fish was to suck a dick, because of the teeth… cheese grater.” Lex flopped back on the couch, pantomiming a mike drop. “Boom.”

“Lex, are you drunk?”

Again, Tom's here asking the real questions.

“Nah, Mr. Houston, just a bit high. No biggie.”

There was a moment of silence, before Lex spoke up again.

“But am I wrong?”

Chapter Text

“We could get arrested for this.”

The two boys were beneath the bleachers at Hatchetfield high, passing a blunt between the two of them. Ethan would take a drag, then Lou, then it repeated, and while Ethan was used to the adrenaline and fear that came with it, Lou was most certainly not.

Then again, he was most certainly not used to being high either.

“We could.”

Ethan sighed, kicking his combat boot-clad feet up to nudge at Lou’s feet. “We’ll be fine. You were the one who wanted to come out here, and if you’re not up to it, we can always go back to class.”

But that idea just shook Lou up more. The idea of going back into his physics class, of being forced into close quarters with the guys who’d beat him senseless a few days ago, made his bottom lip quiver. He bit it and looked up to Ethan with a sort of panic in his eyes.

And Ethan could tell.

Wordlessly, he scooted closer to the younger boy and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into his side. “How ‘bout we go ahead and skip the rest of the day, yeah?”

A nod.

“We could go to that ice cream place you mentioned a while ago? You don’t need weed to get your mind off of shit, I swear.” Ethan continued, and Lou nodded sheepishly, looking away. “And then, if you’re up to it, and if we’ve still got some time to kill, we could go see that shitty new movie?”

Lou smiled, and looked up to Ethan with a soft, wholehearted smile. “Please.”

Chapter Text

Ethan Green had a secret.

A secret that he had only told one person.

One person ever.

Said person, his girlfriend, was currently sitting on his lap as they watched a movie, her head tucked in the crook of his shoulder.

***

Lex Foster knew Ethan Green’s secret.

Which was why she chose this movie.

Mamma Mia, of course, was both of their favorite guilty pleasure movies. There was just something about the story, the dancing, the music, that just met their standards.

And Ethan Green had once performed a full production of the musical alone in his bedroom in the middle of the night, and the video was still floating around subreddits and the darkest corners of YouTube.

Somewhere, somehow, Lex had found it.

And boy, was it something.

***

(Three years prior)

Ethan Green was sleep-deprived, he was almost delirious, and he had memorized a full script. Every line was ingrained in his memory.

No wonder he hadn’t passed his Latin finals.

So here he was, standing on his bed, wearing a red feather boa he’d borrowed from Deb’s girlfriend, a pair of short shorts and a white flowy top, dancing to Dancing Queen at three in the morning.

“You can daaaaaance

You can tryyyyYYYYYY

Having the time of your LIIIIIIIIIIIFE

oooOOOOooo”

Basically, he regretted absolutely nothing.

...that was, he regretted nothing at the moment.

When he woke up the next morning and found the YouTube video, which had over a hundred thousand views by eight am, he deeply, deeply regretted it.

***

“So, Ethan.” Lex whispered, kissing his shoulder. “How much of this do you still have memorized?”

Ethan immediately (lightly) shoved her off and onto the couch. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?!?”

“It’s adorable!” She insisted, and a devilish glint caught in her eyes. “And good blackmail---”

Lex was unable to finish the sentence because she was being furiously tickled by her complete dork of a boyfriend.