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Chapter Text

Reggie can’t believe that he regrets coming to Vegas.

This is exactly his vibe. It’s tacky, vibrant and hedonistic, with no shortage of drama. People are losing money at cards and slots. They are throwing up on the sidewalks. Couples are breaking down over accusations about showgirls and Chippendales. He should be filled with glee.

But he’s not, because this is a damn work trip. Yes, somehow Regina "Reggie" Rejection of all entities has ended up on a business trip. Because of his work against hate groups, he had gotten invited to a human rights conference. It had sounded a little serious for him, but hey, it was in Las Vegas. Might as well, right? He figured he could schmooze, spread the word of Haters Gonna Bait, and maybe get some new donors.

However, the conference turned out to be a mix of deeply boring and deeply depressing. Worst of all was the earnestness everyone involved had. The attendees and presenters were scholars, activists, reporters and lawyers who cared passionately about humanity and did critical, dangerous work. They talked about NGOs and GDPs and a million other acronyms. They had argued cases in the Hague. They had gone undercover to expose injustice. They had spent decades crusading for new laws and regulations.

And Reggie's contribution was founding a group that pranks Proud Boys. It’s not like he’s embarrassed by what he does, but he knows it pales in comparison, and he’s spent the day feeling sheepish and out of place. What is he doing here? How can he hit up potential benefactors for Haters Gonna Bait’s silly string budget when there are people here risking their lives to stop human trafficking? At least various people had recognized him, either for his mischief-based work or his times guest-judging for various reality shows, so he’s posed for a lot of photos.

Thankfully, it’s evening now, and he’s slipped away into a club. The music is loud and dancing bodies are everywhere, but his mood is still off and he ends up sulking in a corner and scrolling through his phone. Maybe there will be some big celebrity break-up news to delight in.

It’s the opposite, and much worse. Instead of celebrities breaking up, people he knows are happily in love. Out of all the flirtations that had originated in that one special house, it was shockingly Skips who had ended up in a committed relationship with the Homeowner. Skips! In a house with realised objects like Cabrizzio, Daisuke, Betty, and Bathsheba, it was Skips who won the proverbial final rose. However, Reggie noticed Skips’ absence from the Human’s Instagram feed the last few weeks, so he’s awaited news of their official split with anticipation. Tragically, in a brand-new photo, the slight goth and the Human sit side by side, holding a box turtle on their upturned palms. The turtle wears a tiny party hat.

Today is Sinclaire’s birthday! The caption proclaims. To celebrate, he got extra strawberries and Skips upgraded the heat lamp for his enclosure. The next project is building a bigger pond for him in our backyard. We are the happiest turtle parents ever!

It’s so corny. And weird. And cute. Reggie hates it.

But he hates the next post he scrolls to even more. It’s from Volt. Eddie rarely agrees to be in pictures, but in this one, he smiles with genuine happiness while Volt strikes an unmistakable pose. Volt’s face is as gorgeous as ever, but the photo’s focus is actually on the back of his left hand. There’s a sizable diamond ring on it.

The caption is a thick paragraph of Volt waxing poetic about Eddie. The preening prose makes Reggie want to gag, and he focuses his energy instead on judging their facial expressions. Eddie, he decides, looks smug, and why wouldn’t he? He created a 6’2” Adonis, they made a killing in real estate, and now he’s put a ring on it. Reggie reads smugness into Volt’s smoldering eyes as well. The man had been summoned into existence by a moody, burnt-out, alcoholic barkeep as temporary work help in a failing breaker box. How the hell had that turned out well for him? Despite the odds, Volt has gotten his Cinderella ending. It makes Reggie sick.

He quickly types a comment. Nice. It almost looks like a real diamond.

Reggie is about to look up what Tina and Tony are up to for a quick hit of schadenfreude when he hears a voice above the music and crowd. The voice is annoying, full of vocal fry, and very, very familiar.

Speak of the devil, it’s Lux. Here is Reggie far from home, seething over the romantic lives of his former housemates, and one of them turns up in not only the same town, but the same club. Reggie must be cursed.

Unsurprisingly, Lux is seated in the VIP section and surrounded by a fashionable entourage. They have their phone in one hand and a likely criminally expensive cocktail in the other. They’re wearing a typical Lux outfit: black mesh crop top, tiny black shorts, black boots, and a gold-colored leg brace that matches their eyeshadow and the chain around their neck.

It’s been a few years since the events at the house that made them all mortal, and aggravatingly, the march of time has only made Lux more appealing. They’ve grown out their hair. There’s more definition to their jawline and neck. A happy trail is now allowed to run unwaxed from their navel down to places unseen.

When residing at the house in very different forms, Reggie and Lux met up occasionally to talk shit and hook up out of boredom. Since everyone’s realisations, however, they haven’t seen each other outside of social media. Reggie decides he might as well go say hey. Maybe they can gossip about the Eddie/Volt engagement or roast the Homeowner’s dorky, wholesome life.

A club employee tries to stop Reggie at the VIP area entrance, which is mortifying, but before Reggie can even insult the bouncer’s face, the annoying voice calls out.

“He’s with me!”

The bouncer steps aside.

As Reggie strolls over to Lux’s crowded table, the former light fixture looks him up and down.

“Ew. What are you wearing?”

Oh, right. Reggie had forgotten. Because he came for the conference, he had donned a business casual outfit of nice slacks and a button-down. He did unbutton the shirt daringly low before entering the club, but it’s still a far cry from his sexier, more avant-garde looks.

“I’m here for work,” he explains.

“Ew,” Lux repeats. “Everyone, this is Reggie. We go way back. He’s like an OG Luxie.”

Lux clears the stool next to them by pushing the occupant away with a simple “move.” Reggie takes the vacated seat. Almost instantly, a waiter brings the table a fresh round of cocktails.

“What brings you to Vegas, bright one?” Reggie asks.

“Spon con,” says Lux, taking a series of selfies with their new drink. “I’m contracted by the hotel to do a series of posts about my magical Vegas getaway. Drinks, dancing, food, fantasy suite. The usual.”

“So, you’re here for work too,” says Reggie.

Lux gives him side-eye. “Yeah, but not, like, gross boring work.”

“Did you see the Breaker Box news?” Reggie asks, hoping he can steer Lux to snarking at someone other than him.

Lux actually looks away from the phone screen. “No, what happened?”

“They’re engaged.”

He expects some sort of reaction from Lux, but Lux just says “yeah” and continues with the selfies.

“You already saw the post?” Reggie asks, disappointed.

“Oh, did Volt finally post it? They got engaged months ago, back on their Berlin trip, but they wanted to keep it private for a while. The ring’s kind of ugly. I would have suggested a round cut diamond instead of a marquise cut, but I guess Volt can get away with marquise due to his finger length. He could seriously be a hand model. Still, everyone’s doing round cut this year. Also, their save-the-date was hideous. What was that font?”

Reggie certainly didn’t get a save-the-date card, and that stings, even if he has no reason to have expected one. He isn’t close to Volt or Eddie. To be honest, he isn’t close to anyone in the house. After all, his goal was enmity, not friendship. He would say he prefers it that way, but still, it sucks to be left out. Lux is just as much of a bitch as he is, if not more, and a sometimes-scam-artist besides, but they are clearly still in close contact with their former housemates, even if everyone in that house claimed to loathe them.

Before he can reflect on that too much, the beat switches and Lux lets out a gasp.

“This is my song, betches. Get up,” they declare to the table.

Lux had looked hot just sitting and taking selfies, but they look hotter in motion. They even sweat beautifully, perspiring just enough to give their cheekbones, neck, abs, and quads a glistening sheen. Reggie dances too, glad to let loose after the long day, and he tries to be subtle as he admires Lux bouncing with other fit twinks and drunk bachelorette parties. He wishes their banter had gone better, because damn, Lux is finer than ever.

But then Lux catches him looking and smirks. Without a word, they reach for the lapel of Reggie’s shirt and pull him over.

“Loving what you see, hater?” they ask.

Reggie returns the smirk. “I’ve seen better.”

Lux rolls their eyes. “As if.”

They let go of Reggie’s shirt and turn to leave. Reggie panics. He’d forgotten how testy the lamp was, how quick to cut off potential suitors who fumbled.

“Hey, now,” he says, lightly grabbing Lux’s wrist. “You can’t be that fragile. Not when you know damn well you’re the hottest person here.” He leans close to Lux’s ear. “Not when we both know that I know you’re even hotter with your clothes off.”

Lux doesn’t relent, so Reggie lets his lips graze the shell of their ear and lowers his voice further.

“Come on, kid. You’re perfection. The brightest light in Vegas.”

To Reggie’s relief, Lux relaxes in his grip, and a coy smile graces their lovely visage.

“That’s more like it,” Lux purrs.

The two start dancing again, but this time, they’re only focused on each other. A few fools try to steal away Lux’s attention, but Reggie tears every trespasser a new one with a biting insult. Then when someone gets handsy with Reggie, Lux scares them off with a look. Reggie feels confident now. That’s right, he’s Reggie Rejection, the sexiest manifestation of hate this world has ever seen, and if anyone thinks they can get between him and this devastatingly gorgeous beam of light tonight, they can get wrecked.

A few flutes of Cristal later, and Lux grinds their pleather-clad backside against Reggie’s crotch. Reggie swears he’s been electrified. He snakes his arms around Lux’s front, feeling for himself those lithe hips and washboard abs. Then his fingers find the mesh top, and he savors the contrast between damp cloth and slick skin. Lux leans back, tangling their own hand in Reggie’s locs while offering up their neck. Reggie takes it, kissing and nipping.

They end up in Lux’s comped suite.

It’s extravagant and gaudy, with a hot tub near the windows overlooking the strip, but Reggie only has eyes for the bed. It’s a California king covered in black satin. He wants to throw Lux on it, but in consideration of his leg, lowers him instead. Lux looks even more radiant against the sumptuous sheets. They continue making out as Reggie undoes his fly and Lux wiggles out of the shorts.

Their cock is just as cute and perfect as Reggie remembers. One thing has changed since their trysts in the house, though.

“You got protection?” Reggie asks.

“Bathroom,” Lux pants. “And I’m on PrEP.”

Reggie is too. The precautions they have to take for their vulnerable human bodies are annoying, but the freedom and heightened sensations are worth it. He walks into the ornate bathroom. Condoms and lube are on the counter. When he returns, Lux has gotten their brace and top off. Only the gold chain remains against their skin.

“Come and get it, hater,” tempts Lux.

But Reggie can’t help but tease. He grins and slowly, ever so slowly, begins undoing the remaining buttons on his shirt. Sure, Lux is gorgeous, but Reggie knows he’s a fine piece of work himself. Lux seems to agree, licking their soft pink lips as Reggie puts on a show.

“OMG. You have to share your abs routine later,” the blond says when the shirt falls away.

When the underwear finally comes off, Lux actually lets out a squeal and claps.

“Yay, your human dick is just as big!”

Reggie villainously arches an eyebrow. “Think your tight little ass can take it?”

It’s not little!” Lux protests.

“It’s not exactly thic, either.”

“Whatever. Just fuck it already.”

Reggie doesn’t rush, because despite his reputation, he really doesn’t want to hurt the angelic-appearing troublemaker who’s laid out before him. Besides, it’s so delicious to hear Lux moan and whine. After working him open, Reggie takes a moment to enjoy tracing his tongue down the golden hairs between his naval and crotch.

“Reg,” Lux begs, gripping the slippery black sheets.

“Alright, alright. The Master of Rejection will show you some mercy,” says Reggie. He stands and runs his hands along Lux’s smooth thighs. “How do you want your legs?”

Lux wraps them around Reggie’s waist, the left more tightly than the right. “This is good. Just don’t move me into a new position suddenly.”

“Got it,” Reggie affirms.

Then he lines himself up and presses in. The gasp Lux makes is heavenly.

When they’re a collapsed, sweaty mess next to each other, Reggie hardly gets a moment to catch his breath before Lux sits up and grabs their phone.

“I need you to take photos of me in the hot tub.”

Dazed, Reggie watches as Lux sets up ring lights, applies lip gloss, and puts on a blue Dolce & Gabbana bikini. With a sigh, Reggie gets out of bed and takes the phone Lux hands him.

Lux approaches the hot tub, but pauses. It’s encased in polished stone, and there are several steps leading up to it with no handrail. Reggie sees the hesitation in their face.

“How may I be of service, gorgeous?” he asks smoothly.

“Could you just…?” Lux sticks out their hand.

“Of course.”

Reggie grasps Lux’s hand and helps them up the stairs, bearing some of their weight.

Once in the hot tub, Lux glows. They direct Reggie on adjusting the lights and framing the shots. They take some photos of Lux mostly submerged, and some of them lounging in one of the hot tub’s seats, the window with the lights of the Las Vegas strip behind them. Lux is authentically freshly fucked—face flushed, eye makeup smeared, neck marked, hair a mess—and the look works for them. 

“Ok, now for some x-rated ones,” Lux declares once they’re satisfied with the dozens of photos Reggie has patiently taken.

The bikini comes off, string by string.

Reggie is skeptical. “The hotel wants you to do full-frontal?”

“Of course not, dummy,” says Lux, stretching out alluringly. “These are private, for a top subscriber.”

“Someone finally signed up at that five bucks a month level?” Reggie quips, risking the infamous Lux wrath.  

Mercifully, he just gets splashed.

After a series of progressively more explicit photos have been taken, Lux holds out their hand for the phone and scrolls through to review Reggie’s work, occasionally stopping to zoom in on a detail.

“I’m so sexy,” they sigh.

Then Lux does the sexiest thing possible for Lux to do: they put the phone down. Reggie finds himself pulled in for a kiss by a wet, hot beauty who’s eager for round two.

Chapter Text

Reggie doesn’t want to call what they fall into when they return to their own city a routine…but it does tend to repeat. On a Friday or Saturday night, they’ll meet up at a club, usually with a group of Lux’s stupid influencer friends, but then they pair off and end up at either Lux’s wreck of a mansion or Reggie’s much smaller but much nicer apartment. The one who isn’t hosting never spends the night, because it’s casual.

And it's not like they meet up every weekend. They both have other things going on. Reggie travels for Haters Gonna Bait. Lux travels to promote pop-ups and events. Sometimes, Reggie hooks up on the road. After all, it’s not like he’s deleted Grindr, and he knows Lux hasn’t either—sometimes they show each other their matches and roast the profile pics.

When the routine is broken and Reggie sleeps over at the mansion, it’s not because he means to. Exhausted from an evening of plowing Lux over the wet bar that has no water, plowing Lux against a fake marble column, and getting plowed by Lux on the black leather couch under a chintzy chandelier that makes Scandalabra look like a museum-quality piece, he simply passes out soon after they move things to the bed and sleeps through the night.

When he wakes up, it’s nine in the morning and the spot next to him is empty. Abashed, he gets dressed in the previous day’s clothes and wanders downstairs for his walk of shame. He wonders if Lux is home and how they’ll react. How should he react? Laugh it off? Not mention it at all? One of them spending the night at the other’s place isn’t something they’ve discussed.

He finds Lux in lime green workout shorts, lying on a yoga mat, exercising their thighs with a resistance band.

“Morning, lazy bum,” Lux chirps. “You look terrible.”

“Guess I wore myself out pleasuring your ungrateful fine ass all night,” Reggie says by way of explanation.

“Um, I’m pretty sure I pleasured your fine ass too, and I’ve been up for hours. I already went for a run, recorded a podcast, posted new content, and got my iced Dubai chocolate ube matcha latte,” they say, gesturing to a colorful, half-drunken concoction before setting aside the resistance band. “And now I’ve finished my physical therapy for the day.” They look up with a smug grin and bat their eyelashes. “I guess I’m just better than you.”

There’s nothing Reggie can best that with, so he scowls and shakes his head. “Suit yourself, masochist. I pride myself in hating many things, and mornings are one of them.”

Lux holds out a hand and Reggie obligingly helps them up. To his surprise, Lux loops their arms around his neck.

“Ok, Mr. Grouchy, how about this. I’m going to hop in the shower, you can watch, and then we’ll do brunch?” Lux suggests. Then they sniff and make a face. “After you get rid of that morning breath.”

The next time they spend the whole night together, it’s intentional, if due to extraneous circumstances.

It’s Friday night. The two of them had planned to go to a club, but at the last minute, Lux said they didn’t feel like dancing and just want to hang at a bar. Specifically, Lux wants to go to the Tipsy Tumbler. Reggie is reluctant. Although going to a bar would be a nice change of pace from clubbing (and Lux’s stupid club friends), the Tipsy Tumbler is Beverly’s bar, and he knows it’s popular with their former housemates. That’s a group of people who largely dislike him, and not without reason.

But he sucks it up and accompanies Lux into the crowded establishment. Phoenicia is already there, chatting with Beverly, who is mixing a drink. When the two women see Reggie, their eyebrows jump nearly to the ceiling.

“Hey, betches,” Lux calls out as a greeting, ignoring their shocked faces.

Phoenicia quickly schools her face into a smile. “Lux. And Reggie, what a surprise. Although it makes sense that you judgmental divas would hang.”

“It’s not our fault we’re both perfect and have excellent taste,” Lux replies, embracing her.

“Exactly. If the world can’t rise to our standards, that’s on it,” Reggie adds.

He forces himself to project his typical confident and catty persona, but it surprises him how nervous he is. He really doesn’t know how he’ll be received here. Usually, he’d not only be fine with walking up to people who might hate him—he’d relish it. Something’s different this time, and he’s not sure what.

“Can I offer you a drink, or will you hate it?” Beverly asks him pointedly.

“Make him my cocktail,” Lux cries. “It’s the best! It has antioxidants.”

Reggie sips his Dateviator while Lux catches up with Beverly and Phoenicia. Phoenicia gushes over Lux’s new Prada jacket—a gift from the mysterious “top subscriber” Lux keeps mentioning. Lux has been getting a lot of gifts from this subscriber recently. An allegedly rare and valuable Labubu—a strange toy Reggie finds hideous—is one of the latest. The whole thing makes him feel a little uneasy, but he shoves those thoughts away. Lux’s OF work is just a job. Besides, he and Lux are keeping things casual. They’re certainly not exclusive, and even if they were, it’s not like Lux is meeting this subscriber in person. If a horny rich guy is down bad for sexy photos and videos of Lux, well…at least Lux is making out like a bandit over it. This is just the sort of messy shit Reggie should love.

The bar continues to fill up, and Reggie is surprised at how well Beverly’s done for herself. The place even attracts celebrities, namely Curt and Rod, whose arrival causes a commotion amongst the patrons. The comedy duo poses for a few photos with fans before heading over to their friends—and promptly do a double-take when they notice Reggie.

Reggie smirks at their expressions, but internally braces himself.

“Yo, Curt, check out the storm cloud that’s come to darken Beverly’s doorstep,” Rod says.

“Makes sense Reggie would be here, seeing as he’s sour and bitter,” Curt replies.

“That’s the best you got? No wonder the ratings for your latest special were down,” Reggie retorts.

The pair greet their friends, then turn back to Reggie.

“No, for real, man,” says Rod. “Why are you here?”

His tone is now less ribbing and more challenging. Both he and Curt are staring intently, practically daring him to admit he’s at the Tipsy Tumbler for some nefarious purpose. Reggie’s mind rushes to come up with a witty response, but before he can, Lux speaks up.

“OMG, Rod. It’s a bar. He’s here to drink." 

That eases the tension, and the group continues drinking and gossiping. The upcoming Eddie and Volt wedding is the biggest topic. Lux is apparently in the bridal party on Volt’s side and shows everyone photos of the blue dress they’ll be wearing.

“I don’t love the colors, but at least it will be less tacky than Abel and Dasha’s wedding,” they opine.

“Shut your mouth. That shit was adorable,” says Curt. “The home-grown vegetable centerpieces that they donated to the local food bank after?”

“Absolutely precious,” Rod chimes in.

Reggie agrees with Lux that the Abel/Dasha barn wedding sounds like a cheesy barf-fest, but he also feels a little left out as the others talk about big life events he’s missed. He hasn’t been invited to any weddings, business openings or art exhibitions. He’s never even met Hank 5’s child. He doesn’t actually want to go to any of those boring events or meet some gross snotty child, but it would be nice to be invited so he could reject the invitation. That’s the drawback to being a dedicated hater, he supposes. It baffles him how Lux is able to walk that line so easily. They’re so brazenly vain and impossible, yet everyone still seems to have a soft spot for them.

At some point, Lux announces they’re going to the bathroom. They task Reggie with watching their bag (“Especially the Labubu!”) and give him a peck on the cheek before leaving. The action makes Reggie blush, but he frowns as he notices a slight stagger in Lux’s gait.

The second Lux is out of sight, however, the others pounce, fixing Reggie with eager stares.

“So?” Phoenicia asks, raising an eyebrow.

“So what?” Reggie coolly asks back.

“You and the lamp, man,” says Curt.

Reggie shrugs. “It’s nothing serious.”

Rod rolls his eyes. “Sure.”  

“We’re just screwing around,” Reggie insists. “You know committed relationships aren’t my style.”

“I think the king of breakups is protesting too much,” says Phoenicia. “Could it be he’s gotten attached? Could that broken heart be mending?”

Reggie dismisses them with a gesture. “Fuck all y’all.”

Beverly, who has been darting in and out of conversations as she races to keep up with drink orders, adds, “I’ve barely gotten a moment to breathe with the bar being so busy, but even I’ve been able to see that Lux is beaming.”

“Lux is always beaming,” Reggie counters. “It’s kind of their whole thing.”

When Lux returns, Reggie notices the hitch in their step again. They’re trying to hide it, but they’re favoring their left leg. This is why Lux didn’t want to go dancing tonight, he realises. He starts to stand to offer his date the seat, but Lux pushes him back down with a mischievous grin and climbs in his lap. Reggie pulls them in close, holding them firmly around the waist with one arm and stroking their right thigh with the other. While Lux relaxes against him, Reggie can’t miss the others making knowing eyes at each other.

Lux stays off their feet until it’s time to leave. They’re clearly struggling on the walk to the car, but because Lux doesn’t mention it, Reggie doesn’t either. He just offers his arm and goes slowly, quietly thankful that his building has an elevator. Eventually the two of them are horizontal on Reggie’s couch, making out, but Reggie can’t ignore that his lover keeps wincing when they move. It’s time to broach the subject.

“Kid, are you inexplicably repulsed by my gorgeous body this evening, or are you hurting? Because you keep grimacing every two seconds.”

“I’ll be fine,” Lux argues, jaw tense. “I just need to find the right position.”

“Stop lying, bitch. You’ve been limping like you lost a fight with Dishy all night.”

Lux slumps defeatedly against Reggie’s chest with a groan. “I ran more than I should have yesterday and now it’s flaring. If we take a break and I ice it for ten minutes or so, I should be good to go for whatever you’re up for.”

“We don’t have to do anything tonight,” he says, rubbing Lux’s back. “Let’s just take it easy.”

Lux looks up at him. “You’re okay with that?”

Reggie feels an unexpected pang in his cold heart. “Of course. Let’s put on a movie or something.”

He gets Lux set up on the couch with a pillow under their knee and retrieves an ice-pack from the freezer. Now that he’s looking closer and the brace is off, he can see that Lux’s right knee is swollen.

“Sorry to say it, but your knee overdid it on the fillers,” he says.

Lux laughs. “I wish this were just my knee making bad beauty decisions.” They let out a hiss as they settle the ice-pack over the inflamed joint. “That would be easier to deal with than the reality.”

Reggie hesitates a moment before asking, “What is the reality?”

“The easiest way to explain it is that it’s fucked up," Lux says with a sigh. "You know how 99.9% of me is perfection? Well, this joint is that 2% that isn’t.”

Reggie wants so badly to mock the math that isn’t mathing, but he doesn’t. He feels like he should get some empathy points for that.

“It’s not formed correctly, and that messes up everything,” Lux continues. “Ligaments, muscles, tendons. Physical therapy helps, but I might have to try surgery at some point. The problem is that my orthopedist says it’s not a guaranteed fix. She says it could help, or things could stay the same, or it might make it worse. I’ve asked other surgeons around here, and they all say the same thing.”  

“I hate that for you,” Reggie commiserates.

“On the other hand, I’ve heard good things about surgeons overseas,” Lux says. “Apparently, some places have newer, trendier surgical techniques that are better. You know, like how Turkey has those hair transplants and BBLs?”

That sounds worrying to Reggie. “That seems risky.”

“I’m just exploring my options,” says Lux with a shrug. “The anti-inflammatory smoothies did nothing, the crystals did nothing, the cortisone shots help but have drawbacks, and physical therapy has done as much as it’s going to do.”

Lux rests their head in Reggie’s lap and they watch The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. Set in Australia, it’s about three drag queens crossing the desert to reach a gig in Alice Springs. It’s a good movie, if dated, but the hate crime scenes are hard to watch.

“Your group would give those losers hell,” says Lux when a group of townsfolk terrorize Guy Pearce for the crime of being gender non-conforming.

Reggie combs his fingers through Lux’s hair. “You know it.”

Eventually the wholesome, happy ending is attained, and the credits roll.

“I would be a way hotter drag queen than any of those bitches,” Lux mumbles sleepily. “Anyway, I should head out.”

“You can crash here,” Reggie suggests. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I sent you out into the night to hop home alone?”

“Oh, you’re a gentleman now?” Lux asks teasingly.  

“I can be a gentleman sometimes,” Reggie says.

To demonstrate, he gets off the couch and crouches down next to Lux, holding out his arms with a flourish. “May I, my angel?”

Lux smiles. “You may.”

Gently, Reggie scoops Lux up and carries them into the bedroom, bridal-style.

Lux does try to leave in the morning, but the curse they let out when putting weight on their right leg wakes Reggie.

“I told you I wasn’t a morning person, and here you are caterwauling at the crack of dawn,” Reggie mock-complains. “Get your skinny ass back in bed. I’ll get you some painkillers and ice.”

A quiet, domestic day follows. Despite it being much earlier than he’d usually be awake, Reggie wipes the sleep from his eyes and makes them breakfast in bed. With the painkillers in their system and the ice’s numbing in effect, Lux then insists on doing a partial workout on the floor, and the two of them share their ab routines.

It’s Saturday, Reggie’s standard hair-washing day, so he does that and Lux helps him dry his locs afterward while they watch reality TV re-runs. They binge a bunch of Tony and Tina episodes, keeping a running, snarky commentary, and have lunch delivered. Lux is wearing Reggie’s clothes, a pair of sweatpants and a Haters Gonna Bait t-shirt, and Reggie secretly loves it.  

As it gets later in the afternoon, Lux finally says they should be getting home.

“You sure? You can spend the night again if you want,” Reggie offers, hoping he doesn’t sound too desperate or needy.

But Lux shakes their head. “I need get back to my studio and do a stream. It’s an important one.”

From their voice, Reggie knows exactly who the audience is. “Your whale?”

“Exactly,” says Lux. “Jealous?”

“Nah,” Reggie lies. “He might get video, but I get the real thing.”

Lux smiles wanly, an expression Reggie can’t read.

The limp is slight but still noticeable when Reggie walks them down to where the car is waiting. He wonders if the blond is in any condition to give a sensual physical performance, but keeps his mouth shut. Lux gives him a parting kiss.

“Thanks. For taking care of me, or whatever.”

“Anytime, kid,” Reggie promises.

Chapter Text

On Monday, while Reggie’s working away in Haters Gonna Bait’s office (a small room consisting of his desk, a table, two chairs, and many, many boxes of prank supplies and t-shirts branded with their logo), researching new campaigns and events the group can take part in, he gets a text from Phoenicia. I hope you don’t mind I snapped this the other night. You two are really cute.

Attached is a candid photo of him and Lux from their night out at the Tipsy Tumbler. Reggie’s first thought is to be annoyed that it’s an unflattering photo of himself—he’s laughing at something, and his head is thrown back with his eyes closed—but then he sees Lux’s expression and his brain freezes. Lux, seated on Reggie’s lap, is gazing at him with open adoration.

He’s seen Lux’s face looking back at his any number of times by now. Lux’s face has teased and tempted, mocked and lusted. Never has Reggie seen the warm, affectionate gaze Lux is sending his way in the photo. Or has he just not noticed it?

Reggie feels his heart racing as he struggles to put this together. He tries to talk himself out of what he’s seeing. Is Lux looking past him? Are they looking at the peach mimosas on the bar? Was there a mirror hanging behind the bar? Is the look just a trick of the medium of photography, freezing one microsecond of a three-dimensional human facial expression into a flat image?

He shoves his phone in his pocket and goes out for lunch.

When he gets back, he diligently spends the afternoon ignoring the photo entirely. He doesn’t let himself open up the message from Phoenicia again, and instead catches up on every boring administrative task he usually puts off. Why have a handwritten list of upcoming Pride marches around the country where Haters Gonna Bait might want to appear when that list could instead be a spreadsheet? A color-coded spreadsheet?

Also, he should probably get new office supplies. He kills at least an hour carefully comparing brands of rainbow file folders, because maybe that would bring some whimsy when organizing receipts and donation records. Whimsy is important!

Later in the afternoon, he decides to look at the photo with fresh eyes. Maybe he saw it all wrong, and when he takes a second look, it will just be two people laughing at a bar.

But when he opens the text from Phoenicia, Lux’s soft gaze once again punches him right in the stomach.

What the fuck is Phoenicia even expecting him to say about this? And what kind of weirdo creep takes pictures of their friends?

Stalker behavior, he types back.

However, he does save the photo.

He also opens social media, because he has the sudden irresistible urge to see what Lux is doing. The results aren’t illuminating. Lux’s most recent posts are a video of them promoting a new makeup palette, a selfie of them drinking their iced Dubai chocolate ube matcha latte, and a video of them giving a bland speech about positivity while all sweaty from a workout. Lux is gorgeous in all of them, but Reggie is more aware than ever of how the Lux in those posts isn’t really Lux. It’s the Lux that’s “on” for an audience. Months ago, Reggie would have said there was no difference at all, that the Lux one met in real life was the exact same Lux who promoted questionable supplements in “Get Ready With Me” videos. The difference is slight, perhaps, but it’s there.

But where is the Lux in the photo from the bar?

Reggie spends the rest of the day in a daze. Is what he’s got going on with Lux turning into an actual…thing? And if so, what the hell is he doing? He’s Reggie Rejection! Not Reggie Acceptance of a Stable and Healthy Relationship! He’s mean, he’s uncommitted, he’s a wild card. He delights in chaos and drama, not cozy togetherness.

Besides, this is Lux. Lux’s life is a parade of other hot influencers, other hot party-goers, and rabid OF subscribers. They’re young, vain, easily distracted and have been very honest in the past about always keeping their options open. There’s no way Lux would want to slow down and commit to one person. Even if they said they did, no doubt they’d change their mind the second a hotter, richer potential mate walked by.

That settles it. This is simply a “fuckbuddies” situation, or at most a “friends with benefits” situation.

But then he looks at that photo again and…suddenly he can see more quiet nights in, more brunches, more joint workouts, more of Lux lounging around in one of his Haters Gonna Bait t-shirts and helping with his hair. He can see trips to the beach and him bringing Lux a sandwich while they stream and being Lux’s plus-one to the upcoming Eddie/Volt wedding, proudly dancing together at the reception in front of the whole damn house.

No. Lux is a booty call. Lux is just a baddie he has fun with sometimes.

Reggie doesn’t reach out to Lux that week, and that’s normal. After all, they only meet up occasionally, and nothing has changed. On Wednesday, however, while Reggie is home watching TV on his couch, Lux texts him.

Party @ my place Friday!

Perfect. It’s a simple, bland invite that Lux probably mass-texted everyone in their contacts, because Reggie is just another one of their contacts. As it should be. Maybe Reggie will go to the party, or maybe not. It doesn’t matter.

Proud of how much he doesn’t care about this, Reggie puts his phone down on the coffee table, only for it to immediately ping again.

U can spend the night and help me clean up in the morning lol and then we can do brunch

Panic seizes Reggie. It seizes his mind, and also his thumbs, and before he can grasp what he’s doing, he responds that he’s busy and can’t come.

lame (I can say it), Lux replies.

Reggie hits them with a “haha” react and puts the phone away for the rest of the night.

On Friday, around midnight, Lux texts him party’s still going if ur free now. They’ve attached a selfie of them in the crowded living room. Despite the sweat highlighting their cheekbones and neck, their make-up remains perfect. A hot brunet in a harness is dancing beside them. Maybe Lux is trying to make him jealous?

A part of Reggie truly does want to get out of bed, put on his sluttiest party outfit and march over there to drag Lux away from this other man. Why is he fighting this?

But then Lux adds don’t be boring lol and that annoys Reggie, so he turns off the phone, turns off the light, and tries to sleep.

Over breakfast the next morning, he considers what to say. He’s Regina Rejection. Rejection. The problem is that he doesn’t want to actually reject Lux, he just wants to keep it casual. They can still be promiscuous fuckbuddies who have a good time occasionally. Not enemies, not lovers, just…compadres who live for the drama and sometimes have sex. 

Missed this text last night, he writes. Did you fuck harness boy? If so I love that for you!

It sounded funnier and less crass in his head than it looks on the screen. Immediately, he wishes he could delete it and write something else, but what’s done is done, and he tells himself it’s not that bad. He’ll just see how Lux responds and either go along with it or course correct as necessary. How does he want Lux to respond? He tells himself he wants Lux to reply with an affirmative and a flirty emoji, and then they can virtually high-five and their status as casual, no-strings-attached friends-with-benefits will be cemented. That is the ideal outcome.

The actual outcome is that no response comes at all.

Reggie spirals for days while telling himself that he is absolutely not spiraling.

Finally, after typing and re-typing many messages, he goes with, Hey gorgeous. How are things?

A few hours later, Lux replies, traveling for a subscriber thing ttyl.

Ok, the response is rather terse, but maybe Reggie deserves that, and at least they replied. Lux can do this fan meet-up or whatever, and when they’re back Reggie can invite them for a night out and shower them with attention and praise. It will be like old times.

The next day, however, he checks social media during a break, and is surprised to see a post of Lux shirtless on a yacht.

He swipes through the carousel. The photos are all of Lux shirtless in various poses on a yacht, which floats between a flawless blue sky and turquoise water. The photos are clearly taken by another person until the last one, which is a selfie Lux has taken. In that one, Lux is leaning against a tall, broad man who is wearing an unbuttoned white linen shirt, revealing tan skin and copious chest hair. A thick arm with a gold watch is wrapped possessively around Lux. The man’s face is out of the frame, but part of a gray beard is visible.

The caption reads, your sugar daddy could never.

This is Lux’s mysterious top subscriber. Reggie is sure of it.

It’s been a while since Reggie has partied like he parties that night. He wears the cuntiest outfit he owns and the thigh-high boots and he hits club after club, dancing and drinking like there’s no tomorrow. He finds himself making-out with any hot twink who will reciprocate, stumbling with them into gross club bathrooms. He goes home with one of them (Caleb? Callum?) and doesn’t get back to his own apartment until almost four in the morning, at which point he collapses into bed and if he cries a little, he tells himself that’s just because he drank too much.

He wakes up around noon with a headache and a notification that he has about a billion texts from Phoenicia. He doesn’t know why she would be texting him, but he decides that can wait until he’s had painkillers and coffee.

As soon as he finishes brushing his teeth, though, the phone rings, and it’s her again. Groaning, he answers it.

“What the hell are you blowing up my phone about?”

“Did you see the post?” she asks, her voice frantic.

“What post?”

“Lux’s post.”

He is too groggy for this. “The boat?”

“Yes!” she nearly screams.

Reggie rubs his face. He does not need Phoenicia sticking her nose in this. Why does she care? “So what? Lux is on a boat with some old guy. That’s not my business.”

“But did you see who it was? In the new post?”

“Girl, I had a wild night. I just woke up.”

“It’s Keith!”

Reggie thinks he must be more hungover than he thought, because what Phoenicia just said makes no sense. The only Keith he can think of is the Keith from the house, the Keith who lied and stole and went out in a cocaine-fueled disaster. The Keith who was manipulative enough to give even Reggie the chills, but is very much dead. His bones are surely somewhere at the bottom of the Atlantic.

“What are you talking about?” he asks.

“The man Lux is with. It’s Keith, Reggie! He’s alive!”

Chapter Text

A few days later, Reggie finds himself sitting in the Tipsy Tumbler with various former housemates again, but this time, the bar is technically closed.  

The news of Lux and Keith’s coupling has spread like wildfire through the ex-objects community, and opinions are split. Some assume Lux and Keith are either teaming up for a scam and/or ragebaiting, while others are deeply concerned for Lux. Many immediately reached out to the blond with questions. These approaches ranged from Phoenicia’s gentle imploring (Hi girlie-pop! Just checking in to see how you’re doing.) to Eddie’s enraged demands (Where the fuck are you? Text me or Volt the location of this fucking criminal’s boat NOW so I can get over there and put a drill through Keith’s coked-up skull).

Reggie himself, after much deliberating, sent Lux a text expressing concern and saying he hoped Lux was safe. Lux responded OMG like u even fucking care. When Reggie tried to reply, he found he’d been blocked.

The King of Rejection. Blocked. Wasn’t that irony just a kick in the teeth? Reggie nearly expected a copy of himself to appear and make snide remarks.

Regardless, the barrage of messages to Lux from the former housemates hadn’t helped. If anything, the attempt might have been counter-productive, as Lux has spent the past few days in defensive posting overdrive, including a video monologuing about how sad it is that some people are so judgmental and don’t believe others can change.

The online “Luxies” themselves, who have no idea who Keith is other than a significantly older man with a yacht, at first had a mix of opinions. However, as soon as those concerned for Lux and/or grossed out by the age gap began to outnumber those who supported the sugar baby/sugar daddy pair, Lux turned off commenting. (The tipping point was a selfie of Lux wearing a stunning new jeweled necklace with the caption feeling like Rose from Titanic #blessed. The top comment on that post had been oh no they're dumb.)

At this point, Lux isn’t responding to messages from anyone from the house. The last text received was sent to Stepford and read, this is real life and real life is messy but I am being strategic and doing what’s best for MY future. I am manifesting a life changing goal and it’s sad that jealous bitches can’t recognize that. When Stepford asked what goal, exactly, was being manifested, the conversation ended. A group has convened at the Tipsy Tumbler outside of business hours to discuss.

“This is all my fault,” the Human says, looking miserable. “I never should have taken Keith out of the crawlspace. I never should have realised him. What was I thinking?”

Skips puts an arm around their shoulders and kisses their temple. “There’s no way you could have known, Penumbra. Not even Dorian knew.”

Dorian isn’t present at this gathering, but Reggie has heard from Phoenicia that the usually stoic doorman has been deeply shaken by the news. After all, his past lover reappeared, was revealed to be a sociopath and criminal, and was then reported to have died, only to reappear once again while romancing one of the youngest and hottest members of the household. Given his and Dorian’s past disagreements, Reggie wishes he could feel some level of schadenfreude, but given the circumstances, he can’t.

“I feel culpable for my participation in that as well,” Mac says. “I shouldn’t have let Keith’s manipulations override my commitment to privacy. However, we have to remember that Lux is an adult who chose to go to this crooked key’s yacht. We don’t have control over Lux’s choices, no matter how questionable they are.”

Reggie listlessly mutilates the olive in his martini with the toothpick it came with. That’s exactly the problem. Lux is allowed to make shitty decisions, and there’s nothing the rest of them can do about it. All they can do is wait for Lux to wise up. He doesn’t even know why he’s here, other than that Phoenicia invited him.

Stepford, nursing a Shirley Temple, speaks up hesitantly. “What if Keith really has changed? Maybe he is a better person now, and will do right by Lux. After all, don’t we all, deep down, want to be our best selves?”  

The Human shakes their head. “I doubt it. There’s no way all the money he seems to have now came from a legitimate source. Also, it’s not my place to give specifics, but Dorian has opened up to me about some of what happened with him and Keith in the past, and it’s…not good.”

Reggie stabs the olive harder.

“I told Lux about it, but they don’t believe me,” the Human continues. “It really seems like there’s nothing we or anyone else can do to get involved.”

“Actually, Keith did steal money, use illicit substances, and disrupt airline service during an international flight,” says Parker, who is seated with Chance and has his ears on the conversation but his eyes on the bar’s TV, where a baseball game is playing on mute. “Therefore, multiple law enforcement agencies could potentially get involved. OH, COME ON, UMP. Ugh, the major leagues truly are amateur hour. That play would never fly on my diamonds!”

Chance sighs. “Obviously, Lux and I have had our differences, but Keith is the definition of chaotic evil. If he were arrested, Lux would probably be unhappy about it, at least at first, but it might provide an opening for someone to figure out if anything abusive is happening.”

“But we don’t even know where they are, right?” Beverly points out. “Lux hasn’t geo-tagged anything, which isn’t like them at all.”

It’s true, and the photos have frustratingly little to go by. The boat is somewhere in the ocean, but there are few clues other than that.

“I’ll email the photos to Gaia,” Mac says. “With all her travels and her background, maybe she’ll recognize something.”

“Thanks, Mac,” says the Human. They gaze sadly at the last dregs of the whiskey sour Beverly made for them. “I feel bad for Volt and Eddie. They’re beside themselves with worry. I hope Lux reaches out soon.”

When the group has to leave so Beverly can open the bar, Reggie and Phoenicia walk to their cars together.

“Well, that accomplished nothing, but thanks anyway for the invite,” Reggie says.

“No problem. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks.” Reggie thrusts his hands into his coat. In one pocket, he feels an unused rainbow smoke grenade, leftover from some Haters Gonna Bait action, and fidgets with it.

“If you don’t mind me asking…I was always kind of an outsider in the house,” he begins. “My choice, of course, but I don’t know all the inter-object dynamics. I know Lux must be somewhat close with Eddie and Volt, since Lux is in their wedding party, but why are folks acting like Lux is their prodigal child? Don’t tell me Eddie birthed Lux from his electrussy.”

“Well, electricity did give birth to the lightbulb in a sense, right?” Phoenicia replies with a laugh. “No, they’re not Lux’s parents, but there’s a connection for sure. After all, Lux was the most wide-ranging electrical entity in the house, and completely dependent on them. Eddie always felt a huge sense of responsibility for the safety of all the electrical appliances, but Lux was the neediest and most complex. Just think of all those light switches, all that wiring all over the house. Plus, all of Lux’s streaming. Not that Lux was particularly grateful, because you know how Lux is. Personally, if I were Keith, I would watch my back. Eddie has a truck full of power tools now, and Volt knows who in the city’s building permits office can make someone’s life hell.”

“Then I guess I should watch my back too,” Reggie confesses, running a nervous hand through his locs. “Look, I don’t know if Lux said anything to you, but right before all this happened, I…I might have fucked things up.”

Phoenicia gives a slight nod, like she’s been expecting this. “Lux didn’t tell me much, but they seemed confused and a little hurt. They said there was a sudden ‘vibe shift.’”

Reggie winces. “I never wanted to hurt them. I just…suddenly things were looking more serious than I had banked on, you know? I mean, before becoming human, I was literally the personification of rejection. I was Heartbreak City, bucko. Then I reconnect with this goddamn lamp, and…” He trails off, shaking his head. “But I was probably getting ahead of myself anyway, because why would Lux even want to be serious with some guy who runs a nonprofit? Because that’s what I am now. Sure, I’m fine as hell, but I don’t have a yacht. I don’t have millions of followers. I can’t buy rare Labobas or whatever the fuck those are.”

Phoenicia gives him a sad, sympathetic smile. “I really, really wish the two of you had just communicated.”

“We can’t now, because they blocked me.”

They’ve reached Phoenicia’s car. In contrast to her existence as a sleek, high-tech phone, her car is an aged hatchback, suitable for a muralist who drives around with gallons of paint. She gives Reggie a hug goodbye.

“Just give it time,” she says. “You know how Lux is. I doubt you’ll stay blocked for long.”

When the uploads to Lux’s various accounts stop abruptly, Reggie is cautiously hopeful. Maybe this means that Lux has left Keith and his stupid yacht and is currently flying home, tail between their legs and phone on airplane mode. Hopefully, Lux has had a shitty, but non-damaging, week with Keith as a one-off, ill-thought-out subscriber perk, and they’re eager to return to a relationship with a lower net worth but narrower age gap.

Reggie has already decided that since Lux has blocked his phone number, he’ll send a bouquet of flowers over to their house. A nice one, with red roses, but nothing so big that he comes across as desperate or a stalker. I’m so sorry if I’ve offended you in any way, the card will say. I care about you and miss you. Surely Lux won’t be able to reject that!

No word comes of Lux arriving back in town, but a new video on their main account does go up, and Reggie opens it the moment he gets the notification. However, the video is very different from Lux’s usual content. For starters, the lighting is terrible and the focus is bad.

In the video, Lux, arms behind their back, kneels on a cement floor, which Reggie immediately recognizes must be awful for their bad knee. Their face is bloodied and bruised, and the barrel of a gun held by someone out of frame is jammed under their chin. Their blue eyes are wet and red. Reggie has never seen Lux’s face so full of raw terror.

In a trembling voice, Lux explains that they are being held for ransom. If they’re to stay alive, money must be sent via a URL that flashes across the screen.

Reggie feels the whole world spin around him.

Chapter Text

The hours after the hostage video is released are pure chaos. Online, the video goes viral, with viewers disagreeing on whether it’s a hoax or not. On one hand, Lux’s general trustworthiness regarding online transactions is, fairly, in doubt. On the other hand, longtime fans can point out that their acting has never, ever been that good. Regardless, money pours in from Luxies and others taken up with the drama, and even as the video gets taken down from one account, it pops up on another.

For the former housemates, however, the crisis is personal. Even those most annoyed by Lux’s shenanigans in no way want them harmed. Mass group texts proliferate, pulling in even those who had moved for away or otherwise hadn’t stayed in close touch. A plan takes form, and the headquarters of the operation isn’t a surprise.

Reggie pounds his fist on a very familiar door.

It opens an inch, revealing a stern brown eye. When the man inside sees who is on the doorstep, he opens the door fully, but stands blocking the entrance with his arms folded across his chest.

“Reggie,” Dorian hisses, a look of disgust on his face.

The door-turned-doorman looks uncharacteristically disheveled, but not in a sexy way. There are bags under his eyes and his hair’s a mess. This Keith thing is really eating him up. Reggie knows he probably looks similarly undone, but is too frantic to care. Lux is in danger, and every moment not knowing what’s happening to them is a torment.

“Move, door!” Reggie snaps, trying to shove his way inside.

Dorian blocks him. “Why would I let riff-raff like you in? How do I know you weren’t involved in whatever Keith’s gotten into this time?”

“I have nothing to do with that chump other than the fact that I want to strangle him with my bare hands. Now let me in!”

“Dorian!” a familiar voice calls.

The Homeowner appears in the entryway. “It’s okay, Dorian. I invited Reggie.”

Dorian grudgingly gives way, and Reggie pushes past him, eyes locked with his former sort-of landlord.

“Any news?” Reggie asks.

“None yet, but Jon and Maggie just got here,” the Human says.

Reggie ignores the pity in their eyes and storms into the dining room. A crowd of former objects are gathered around the table. Celia stands at the head, as if the emergency has made her mayor of the house once more. Volt and Eddie stand beside her and Florence. When Eddie glances up and meets his eye, Reggie isn’t sure if the former barkeep wants to murder him or if the ice-cold glare is just resting bitch face.

Mac works on one laptop, Maggie and Jon on another. Also strewn across the table are several paper maps, a notepad with Maggie’s observations, and a few trays of snacks Skips is dutifully placing despite the circumstances. There’s also Sinclaire. The sight of the turtle wandering across a surface where food is being served grosses Reggie out, but he supposes that’s hardly important at a time like this.

Phoenicia, one of the assembled, comes forward and embraces him. He’s too stressed to hug her back.

“What’s happening? Have you learned anything?” he asks.

“Mac’s looking into the website where people are sending ransom payments. Maggie’s assembled all of Lux’s posts from the past week, plus the video,” says Phoenicia. “She and Jon are looking them over now.”

Reggie only saw Scandalabra’s true form once, soon after the former candlestick was realised, and it’s bizarre to think the serious-faced man in the black suit was once a flouncy, silver-clad dandy.

Jon and Maggie are clicking through photos taken from the yacht. Most of those are selfies of Lux, and seeing Lux unharmed just days earlier is agony. Jon and Maggie aren’t looking at Lux’s face, though, but zooming in on the backgrounds. At one point, Gaia steps forward and points to a speck of land in the distance.

“There. That’s what I noticed,” she says.

Maggie nods. “This was definitely taken in the Turkleman Islands. Good work, Gaia.”

Neither she or Jon look heartened by this information, however.

“Then we know where Lux is?" Volt asks hopefully. 

“Only generally,” Maggie says. “There are over two dozen islands in the Turkleman Islands archipelago, half of which are inhabited.”

“And some of them are more dangerous than others,” Jon adds darkly. “Mac, you getting anything from that website?”

The bespectacled former computer shakes their head. “No. If Keith put this together, he knew what he was doing. I didn’t think he had that level of technical skill in him, but I didn’t think he was a cash-stealing coke fiend, either.”

Maggie pulls up the hostage video, and she and Jon begin studying it frame by frame. Seeing Lux’s battered, bloodied face again is torture, and Reggie has to look away.

“We’re sure this isn’t one of their scams?” Dorian asks suddenly.

Reggie whirls around on him, eyes full of fire. “Are you fucking kidding? You think that’s fake?”

“Oh, come on, Reggie,” Dorian growls. “We all know Lux is hardly an angel. Keith’s the biggest fraud I’ve seen in my whole existence, and a sociopath to boot. Lux knew all that and chose to go to him. Think about that. Keith lied to all of us, robbed our dear Homeowner friend here, and Lux still willingly paired up with him. Now idiots across the globe are sending ransom money. The two of them are probably laughing at all of us. Can’t you see what’s right in front of your face? Little Luxie is fleecing everyone…including you.”

“Watch it, Dorian,” growls Eddie from across the table.

The possibility that Dorian could be right is a dagger in Reggie’s heart, but he pushes that pain away and allows rage to flow through him instead.  

“Fuck you, you wooden slab! You have some nerve trying to blame Lux in this, when you know better than anyone here how good Keith is at stringing people along and how he likes his targets young.”

From Dorian’s recoil, Reggie can tell he’s hurt the man, and he relishes it. He’s not finished with his tirade yet, though.

“But you know what?” Reggie adds. “I hope you’re right. I will be so fucking happy if those bruises and blood turn out to be makeup, because if they’re not—”

To Reggie’s embarrassment, his voice cracks and he realises his eyes are burning. He’s the Master of Hate, he can’t cry in front of everyone! But a lump in his throat has formed, and suddenly, he can’t speak.

“That is quite enough,” Celia says firmly. “Dorian, until we have compelling evidence that this is a hoax, we will consider it an emergency. A former object of this house has been kidnapped, and we, as a community, will do everything we can to recover them. Maggie, Jon? Are you finding anything?”

The redhead and the blond have been ignoring the drama happening around them, instead continuing to study individual frames of the hostage video.

“Actually, Miss Mayor—I mean, Celia, there might be something of interest here,” Maggie says.

She zooms in on the edge of a table that’s briefly visible. On the table is a metal dagger. Jon stares at it for several tense moments, then lets out a heavy sigh and runs a hand through his long hair. Maggie gives him a questioning look, and he nods grimly. She swears under her breath in response. A few more seconds of silence pass.

Abruptly, Jon stands.

“Alright,” he says, sounding resigned. “I’ll go get Lux.”

The household explodes with questions.

“You can’t just say that, wax head! This is no time to be mysterious and shit. What do you mean? Is Lux okay?” Reggie yells over the inquiries from others.

The candlestick-turned-assassin holds up his hands for silence.

“I’ve seen daggers like this one before,” he explains, gesturing to the blurry weapon on screen. “They’re forged exclusively for the Gladius Crime Family in the Turkleman Islands. If Keith is working with them, that explains his surprising wealth.” Jon pulls the map over and taps a small speck. “Their base is on this island, here. That’s likely where Lux is being held. It won’t be easy, but I’ll do it.”

“Let me come,” says Eddie, his voice tinged with concern. Volt lays a hand on his shoulder.

Jon shakes his head. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think we’ll need drywall installed.”

“How about me?”

This comes from Bobby. Jon rolls his eyes at them.

“I mean it!” the crime-enthused bartender continues. “A crime family? I can—”

“Yes, a real crime family,” Jon interrupts, “that commits real crimes and poses real danger. I’m going alone.”

“I’m going, too!”

These words are spoken in sync by both Reggie and Dorian, who then scowl at each other.

“Why should you go?” Reggie challenges.

“Because if Keith’s involved in this, I might be able to help,” Dorian says. “You were right that I knew him more intimately than anyone else here. Plus, look at me. I’m strong. I’m solid. I can handle riff-raff. What are you going to do that’s so helpful? Insult the gangsters? Spray some silly string at them?”

Reggie doesn’t really have a good answer, but he blusters through. “I’m a villain, aren’t I? I’m sneaky. I’m smart. I...look, I don’t know what exactly I’ll do, other than whatever it takes to get Lux back.”

Jon repeats he will be going on this rescue mission alone, but everyone ignores him, and he dejectedly sinks back into his chair.

“Wait just one gosh-darn minute,” says Jerry, who’s been standing quietly in the background. He looks straight at Reggie with a quizzical expression on his face. “Reggie, are you and Lux…together?”

“It’s casual!” Reggie blurts out automatically.

Everyone in the room stares at him with an expression that is either skeptical or pitying. Even the turtle, who is the only one partaking in the veggie tray.

“It kind of doesn’t seem very casual, Reggie,” Jerry argues, “given that you’re about to go fight off a Turkleman Islands crime family to rescue them.”

Jon buries his face in his hands in despair.

Volt speaks up in his sumptuous voice. “Reggie, I can attest that as capricious as Lux might be…they are quite taken with you. I can assure you of that most sincerely.”

The lump in in Reggie’s throat starts forming again, and he looks down. “I just want them to be okay.”

“And I will do my best to ensure that happens. Alone,” Jon says firmly. “There’s no fucking way I’d take a civilian on a job this dangerous, so I’m certainly not taking two civilians who not only have zero experience in this line of work, but would be emotionally compromised in this mission specifically due to their situationships.”

Maggie, with a pained expression on her face, lays a hand on his arm. “Jon…it’s the Gladius Crime Family. I don’t like the idea of you going in there alone.”

The two lock eyes once again, a fraught conversation between them seeming to happen without words, and Reggie wonders if Maggie’s sexy crime novels have an unexpected source of inspiration. The stalemate ends when Jon sighs.

“Reggie, Dorian. What skills do you have?”

Their rescue mission will set off at the break of dawn, so those who will be joining, as well as those who just want to wait the crisis out supporting and being supported by friends, end up spending the night at the house.

The previously lonely and isolated homeowner now had all sorts of guests arriving at any given moment, and had updated their furniture to reflect that. Convertible futons had been added to the piano room and office, and a number of inflatable mattresses and sleeping bags were stored in the attic.

Along with a few others, Reggie is assigned the piano room for the night. He claims the futon for himself, because damn it, he deserves it more than anyone, but he can’t sleep. He can’t stop worrying about Lux. What is happening to his lover at that very moment? Are they being harmed? Will their group be able to save them? Reggie is sure he won’t be able to sleep again until Lux is safe.

Not helping his insomnia is the fact that the piano room is now the piano and turtle room. Sinclaire’s spacious indoor enclosure takes up the entirety of the window seat. “Look at the new cave we got him,” Skips had told Reggie earlier when showing him to his bed for the night. “Isn’t it cool?” The cave was made of resin and shaped like a human skull, the entrance being the gaping jaw. “We put mealworms in it for a fun surprise,” Skips added. The whole room smells like a pet store, and honestly, the creature creeps Reggie out. He can hear it munching away in the darkness.

To pass the time, Reggie takes out his phone and ends up psychologically torturing himself. He looks at the photo from Phoenicia and re-reads his and Lux’s texts. He really hadn’t felt that his comment about Lux potentially fucking “harness guy” had been so out of bounds, given how openly non-committal the two of them had been, but maybe it had? Maybe Lux had thought things were different after the Tipsy Tumbler and their weekend together. Ugh, why hadn’t he just gone to the stupid party? He imagines an alternative version of that weekend where he went and stayed the night, helped Lux sweep up red plastic cups and poppers containers the next morning, and then at brunch Lux finally admitted that their top subscriber was Keith. “You know, I was actually thinking of flying out to see him, but Reggie, you’re so sexy, fun, and helpful. Why would I want anything to do with that elderly loser when I have you?” Lux asks in Reggie’s imagination.

Reggie’s thoughts are interrupted by whispered voices. They’re coming from the dining room, which, due to the open concept layout, might as well be the same room. It takes him a moment, but he identifies the speakers as Maggie and Jon.

At first, they just discuss the mission, and Reggie pays attention so that he’ll be better prepared. Along with Reggie and Dorian, Maggie has convinced Jon to bring Farya along in case of injury. They’ll all fly out to the main Turkleman Island, where they’ll rendezvous with Jacques Pierrot, who will take them by boat to the Gladius Family’s island. Reggie listens as Maggie shares what she’s managed to uncover about the Gladiuses’ hideout. Jon talks about his contact in the Turkleman Islands government. Apparently, the Gladiuses have both allies and enemies in the local administration. If their rescue operation goes south, they won’t be able to count on backup.

Reggie takes a shaky breath. He’s really doing this. He’s really going on a covert mission against a dangerous crime family. To steel himself, he looks again at the photo of Lux sitting on his lap. “Hang on, angel,” he murmurs.

Then the conversation in the dining room takes a turn.

“Maggie, we’ve been over this. We can’t.”

“But, Jon—”

“No. It’s too dangerous. I have so many enemies. If any one of them found out…”

“I’m willing to take that risk.”

“Well, I’m not. It’s bad enough that you’re secretly helping me with your investigative skills. If the wrong person figured out that you’re not just an author…”

“You said it yourself. I’m already helping you. I’m already compromised. Our fates are intertwined.”

“Maggie…”

“Admit it. I’m right.”

“Maggie…”

“Come on, Jon. You know the old saying, ‘If you’re gonna get wet, you might as well go swimming.’ And I am very, very wet.”

Predictable kissing and gasping noises follow. Reggie’s no prude. He’ll ignore the sounds as best he can, and maybe this will be a fun, salacious story someday, some lurid gossip he can regale Lux with once they’re safely back home.

But then he hears Maggie speak again, her words ragged with passion.

“Fuck me on the table, right now. And Mr. Wick? Use the voice.”

Reggie nearly teleports out the back door. 

Safely away from hearing any dirty talk in a grating fake accent, Reggie takes a deep breath of the night air. As his eyes adjust to the dim light, he can see that changes have been made to the landscaping since he resided here. There’s a paved path at his feet, and he hears running water—probably Sinclaire’s new turtle pond. The Human had posted a carousel of photos of them and Skips working on it. The two of them were sweaty, dirty, and blissfully happy during their project. What a pair of dorks.

Carefully, Reggie wanders the path. It’s a nice night. If there’s a hammock or lounge chair, maybe he’ll try to sleep out here.

“Ah, Reggie. How are you holding up?”

“The fuck?” Reggie cries, jumping out of his skin.

He turns toward the voice. In the moonlight, he can see shining platinum hair. Volt, who had startled him, is sitting on a piece of patio furniture. Eddie, of course, is right beside him.

“Apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Volt says. “Your nerves have been through enough. Care to join us?”

So much for his peaceful escape. Reluctantly, Reggie walks over and sinks into a deck chair across from them, slouching down to hold his head in his hands. It feels like this night is never going to end. He just wants Lux rescued already.

“The diamond’s real, by the way,” Eddie says, his rough voice a contrast to Volt’s smooth one.

Reggie looks up in confusion, but then he remembers: the rude comment he left on Volt’s post about their engagement, months ago. He can actually see the ring now, sparkling in starlight on Volt’s finger. Reggie’s face flushes with mortification.

“Eddie, this isn’t the time,” Volt chides.

“No, I’m sorry,” says Reggie. “I was just, you know. Being a dick. Like usual. That’s just…what I do. Make an asshole of myself.”

“Join the club,” says Eddie with a snort.

“And I, uh, sympathize with both of you about the—about what’s happening,” Reggie continues. He hates how he’s stumbling over his words. Trying to be nice and sincere is a bitch. “I know Lux is important to you. I mean, to all of us, but to you especially.”

Eddie looks down, while Volt gives a sad smile.

“One good thing about being human has been that the entire house’s safety isn’t under my direct control,” says Eddie. “And one bad thing about being human is also that the entire house’s safety isn’t under my direct control. I don’t have to worry that a power surge is gonna burn out Lux’s bulbs anymore, but I apparently do have to worry about them getting on criminals’ yachts.”  

Volt gives his fiancé’s hand a squeeze. “You know they’re as stubborn as you are, Eddie. You couldn’t have stopped them.” He turns to Reggie. “I meant what I said earlier. Lux has been quite taken with you. We’ve heard all about it.”

Reggie swallows. “Lux talks about me with you?”

Volt grins. “Oh yes. And Lux doesn’t really do discretion, so we’ve heard a lot.”

A blush covers Reggie’s cheeks. “Oh. Well. I’m taken with them, too. And I swear I’ll do everything I can to bring them home.”

The moment is interrupted by a loud bang. Reggie, Volt, and Eddie turn toward the house, and there is Hank 3, or Hank Trois as his driver’s license claims, standing by the back door. He’s a few years behind Farya in medical school, and has come over to help her prepare for her thrilling mission.

“Sorry, bros, didn’t mean to slam the door so hard,” the redhead says. “I just had to get out of there. Candle Guy and Detective Lady are straight-up destroying that table.”

Chapter Text

One thing Reggie did not realize about this rescue mission was how fucking long it was going to take just to get there. Jon swears that once they have Lux, he’ll make special arrangements for a quick exit, but to get to the Turkleman Islands, they are flying commercial, funded by a group of the better-off former objects. Unfortunately, there are no direct commercial flights to the Turkleman Islands. They’re going to have to switch planes, and they’re going to have to do it multiple times.

There are many things Reggie has never pictured himself doing with his one-time housemates, and anxiously browsing magazines and knick-knacks at airport gift shops with Dorian, Jon, and Farya during layovers is one of them.

“Look, it’s like if Rebel and Gaia had a baby!” cries Farya excitedly, holding up a travel-themed rubber ducky.

At least Farya is enjoying herself. Along with the staggering amount of first-aid equipment she and Hank 3 assembled, she has brought a medical school textbook that must weigh upwards of ten pounds, and she is only too delighted to show them diagrams of what she plans to do if any of them get shot or stabbed. It’s good, Reggie knows, that they have someone with Farya’s enthusiasm and skills, but he doesn’t want to think about why they might end up needing those skills.

The worst part of the journey is when they land at one airport and immediately learn that while they were in the air, another hostage video went up. Lux now has a black eye as they read out a statement that’s clearly being held up behind the camera, saying that more money is needed to keep them alive. Reggie wants to scream and kick things, but also doesn’t want to be barred from further air travel, so he tries to restrain himself, muttering under his breath about all the things he’d like to do to Keith.

The group huddles in a corner of the airport to try and calm him down.

“Reggie, I know it doesn’t feel like it, but this is good news,” Jon assures him in a whisper. “This was clearly filmed at a later time than the video released yesterday. This is proof of life.”

“But look at their eye!” Reggie snaps. “That bastard has beaten them up even more since yesterday!”

“I don’t think so,” says Farya. “That’s just the natural progression of a periorbital hematoma. The bruising is going to look worse before it gets better, and it’s going to pool around the eye like that due to the occipitofrontalis muscle.”

Reggie understands that whatever Farya just said is supposed to sound comforting, but it doesn’t.

Eventually, they get to the main Turkleman Island, and then take a taxi to a marina where their contact will have picked out a seaworthy vessel to rent.

Standing at the docks is Jacques Pierrot. He’s not dressed as flamboyantly as he sometimes is, and he’s swapped out his “peg-leg” prosthetic for a more standard one, but he still has a fair amount of nautical flair, with a rakish hat and a shirt patterned with anchors.

Jon greats him with a handshake. “Thanks for cutting your vacation short for this.”

Jacques responds with a guffaw. “Ha! A dangerous, sea-farin’ adventure like this? It’s a thousand leagues better than being dry-docked. I do love me a good adventure, even if it is to rescue that cosseted, cnidaria-spined pr—”

Farya interrupts him. “Reggie is in love with Lux.”

“Pr…ize of a lamp,” Jacques amends, while Reggie sputters.

Finally, they are on the boat and heading toward the island. On the way, Jon shows them a satellite image. The island is small and thickly wooded. Hidden under the tree canopy is a building the Gladiuses use as a base for their drug-smuggling operations. The only obvious place to make land is a small beach near the building, but that, of course, would make them far too visible. Jacques will need to dock in the mangroves on the other side of the island to stay hidden.

Despite how long this trip has taken and how anxious he is for the rescue to happen, it seems like they are indeed docking at those mangroves before Reggie knows it. Jon does a final check with Dorian on their earpieces, a last inventory of weapons, and then he, Dorian and Reggie are on their way while Jacques and Farya wait with the boat.

The three of them—a candelabra, a door and the embodiment of rejection—hack their way through the forest with machetes. Jon obviously knows what he’s doing and Dorian catches on quickly. Reggie…Reggie struggles. He learns in real time that he is not a nature guy. Branches snag on his dreads and coat. Bugs swarm everywhere. Mud sticks to his boots. He desperately imagines a future where he and Lux are at brunch in a nice, clean, climate-controlled restaurant, enjoying overpriced mascarpone-stuffed French toast and bottomless mimosas, snarking to each other about other patrons’ outfits.

When they reach the building, a utilitarian block painted green to better blend in with the trees, it’s bigger than Reggie expected. They find a rear door and Jon gets to work at picking the lock.

“Bloody shameful,” Dorian mutters, wincing as he watches the process.

“Unless you can ask your door friend here to let us in, it will have to do,” Jon says.

He keeps fiddling until they hear the sound of a metal latch unlocking. Cautiously, Jon opens the door, and they all slip inside.

Reggie had hoped for a large, one-room warehouse, with Lux immediately visible for a quick rescue, but instead they’re greeted with multiple hallways. The interior is dreary, all concrete and dim lighting. Jon considers the options for a few moments, then silently chooses a path. The others follow him until he stops at a sign directing readers to a loading dock.

“My hunch is that they’ll be keeping Lux down this way, away from the shipping activities,” he says, pointing in the opposite direction. “Dorian, stand guard here, as out of sight as you can, and alert us if anyone comes.”

Dorian nods, and steps into the shadows behind a stack of crates.

To Reggie’s alarm, Jon hands him the gun and asks for cover. Reggie has never been one for guns, preferring verbal shooting or water pistols filled with food coloring, but he tries to look like he knows what he’s doing, standing behind Jon at the ready while the other checks doors. They come across storage closets and a bathroom before encountering a door that requires a key. Jon seems to think this one is promising, and he gets to work picking it while Reggie nervously glances around.

When Jon finally gets the door open, he peeks inside, then looks back at Reggie and nods. Reggie can’t contain himself. He shoves the gun into Jon’s hands and pushes past him to get in.

For an awful moment, Reggie thinks they’re too late. Lux is motionless on the floor. A chain runs from a manacle around their ankle to the wall, their arms are bound behind their back, and a cloth gag is wrapped tightly around their mouth. Their clothes, silky gold shorts and a matching camisole, are splatted with blood and dirt. Reggie can’t tell if they’re breathing, but then the blond head rises.

In an instant, Reggie is at Lux’s side, helping them to sit up. Even so, it takes a few seconds for Lux understand what’s going on. They shake their head and blink, as if trying to wake from a dream. Reggie isn’t sure how well they can see, given the low light and their black eye. But then it must click that Reggie’s presence is real, because Lux lets out a strangled cry and throws themself into his arms.

Reggie feels like an iron weight has been lifted from his very soul. He buries his face in Lux’s hair, murmuring, “I got you, I got you,” over and over. For a moment, the chain, this prison cell, Keith and the Gladius Crime Family all fade away. Lux is alive, breathing in his arms, and that’s all that matters.

Reality quickly asserts itself, however. Jon crouches down beside them and gently takes Lux’s chin, guiding their face away from Reggie’s neck. Lux’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Lux,” Jon whispers, “we want to get you out of here, but for that to happen, you need to listen to me and do exactly as I say. I’m going to take off this gag and your bindings, but you have to be quiet, got it? I know you have the attention span of a goldfish at the best of times, so nod to show me you understand that you need to be quiet.”

Lux nods.

Jon pulls out a knife and carefully cuts away Lux’s gag. They make a pained gasp and gingerly test their jaw.

“Reggie, you’re here,” Lux chokes out, managing to keep their voice down.

Reggie brings a hand to Lux’s cheek, rubbing the marks the gag has left. “Of course I am. Nothing could have stopped me.”  

Lux hisses in discomfort as their arms are freed. Moving slowly as to not cause pain, Reggie takes one of their hands and pulls it closer so he can better see the ligature marks marring their wrist. Reggie still doesn’t like guns, but at that moment, he wants to grab Jon’s weapon, find Keith, and blast that key into scrap metal. Instead, he massages Lux’s hands and arms to soothe the stiff joints and muscles.  

“How mobile are you?” Jon asks as he picks the lock on the ankle manacle.

Lux’s right knee is a swollen, discolored mess, and the brace is nowhere in sight.

“I don’t think I can walk,” they admit, their voice trembling.

“It’s ok. I’ll carry you,” Reggie says.

He wraps his coat around Lux’s slim shoulders and lifts them in his arms while Jon tells Dorian over the earpiece that they’re on their way.

About halfway down one hallway, Jon gets a warning from Dorian that somebody is coming their way. He stops abruptly and yanks Reggie into one of the closets they had checked earlier. Reggie sees Lux open their mouth to ask a question, and he gently shushes them. As they wait in the darkness, they hear footsteps approaching. Then someone speaks.

“I thought it was impossible, but the ransom that’s been sent in for this dumb ‘influencer’ has almost paid off Keith’s debt already. Boss might actually let Keith live.”

“What a fucking mistake that would be,” a second voice says. “Good riddance to that old coke head.”

“At least we get to rough up blondie today,” says the first voice. “Gotta tug on those heartstrings to get people sending in even more cash.”

Reggie works out and has some muscle, but his fitness goals are focused on aesthetics, not brute strength. He’s never been a powerlifter like Dasha or Kristof. Holding a full-grown adult for this long has been difficult, but the men’s callous words give him a boost of motivation, and he holds his lover all the tighter.

When the footsteps fade away, Lux frantically whispers, “Those are the NPCs who check on me, and I’m not there.”

The group quietly exits the closet and meets up with Dorian, but as they do, they hear the men’s angry shouts upon finding Lux’s cell empty.

It turns out that not only is it hard to carry an adult human for a long time, it’s even harder to run fast while carrying one. After Reggie nearly tumbles to the ground at one sharp turn, Dorian, with a brisk “give ‘em here,” scoops up Lux as easily as if they were still a desk lamp. Reggie’s primary emotion is annoyance at the other man’s effortless show of strength, but they are moving faster now, so he can’t really complain.

Unfortunately, he can still hear footsteps gaining on them. At any moment, gangsters will catch up and probably start shooting. If only they had some sort of distraction.

Then, Reggie remembers something. “Lux, my pocket. The coat pocket!”

Confused but compliant, Lux digs into the pockets of the coat wrapped around them. When they find the colored smoke grenade, their face lights up in understanding, and they pass it to Reggie.

“Keep going,” Reggie whispers to Dorian before he stops and turns back, facing the way they came. He ignores Lux’s startled cry for him.

Reggie listens to the footsteps, his heart pounding, and waits until the last possible moment. When he knows the gangsters are about to turn the corner, he pulls the pin from the fake grenade, and with an aim practiced at many a Haters Gonna Bait event, flings it far down the hallway before pivoting and sprinting to the exit.

As he catches up with his group, they hear a pop and screams as a rainbow of colored smoke floods the interior. Jon gets the door open and they race out into the cover of the forest.

“Nice one, reject,” says Dorian with grudging admiration.

Now all they have to do is reach the boat.

For a few glorious minutes, Reggie thinks the rest of their rescue mission will be unimpeded by anything other than the frustratingly dense forest. Jon is in front, machete hacking away at their earlier path, trying to make it easier for them to flee. Then there’s a bang from behind them. Something whizzes past, lodging in a tree trunk and scattering bark.

“The fuckers are shooting!” Reggie yells.

“Take Lux and get behind me,” Dorian orders, shoving Lux back into Reggie’s arms.

Dorian spins around, making himself a barrier between danger and the others. He raises his gun, ready to return fire, but before he can, another shot rings out. Dorian grunts in pain and falls to the ground.

“Dorian!” Reggie yells.

Another shot hits a nearby tree, and Reggie drops to his knees, crouching over Lux protectively. He calls for Jon, but as he glances around the forest, he can’t see the assassin anywhere. Panic grips him. Have they been abandoned? Is this the end?

Lux is squirming in his grasp, raising their arms. He’s about to tell the blond to stop moving and stay down, but then he realizes what they’re doing. Lux is holding their hands like a shield over Reggie’s head. There is no chance in hell that Lux’s delicate hands would in any way protect Reggie’s skull from a bullet, but the gesture makes Reggie’s eyes water.

The shots have stopped. Reggie can hear Dorian groaning in pain, so at least the man is still alive. But there’s also the sound of someone tramping through the underbrush, coming closer.

Then the footsteps stop, and a cruel, crazed laugh breaks out.

“What do you know? It’s a reunion with two of my stupidest exes, plus Mr. Heartbreak himself,” says a Gibraltarian-accented voice.

Keith has found them.

Chapter Text

“Don’t you dare raise that gun, Dorian. As good at head as you are, I’ll blow yours off,” Keith says.

Instead of his usually more finely tailored apparel, Keith is dressed in khaki, camo, and combat boots, and he keeps his finger on the trigger as he levels his gun at Dorian, who is on the ground bleeding from his left arm, clutching his own pistol in his other hand.

“After you, Reggie here will be the next dead body,” Keith continues, “so drop it.”

With a groan of pain and defeat, Dorian lets his weapon fall. Three more gangsters, all with traces of the colored powder from the prank grenade, finally catch up. One’s armed with one of the Gladius Family daggers, the other two with guns. They hang back, weapons at the ready, while Keith continues his threats.

“I have to say, I’d never thought I’d see the two of you team up, with Dorian being such a wet blanket. And Reggie playing hero? How out of character,” Keith exclaims. He grins, full of swagger as he relishes his victory. “Anyway, nice try, losers, but I’ll be taking our hot little lamp friend back.”

Reggie scowls at him and pulls Lux even closer. “Don’t you fucking touch them,” he threatens, even though he’s acutely aware he has no leverage. They’re facing down four armed men. Jon is still nowhere in sight, Dorian is wounded, and neither Lux or himself have weapons on them.

Keith guffaws. “It’s a bit late for that! That’s all I’ve been doing the past week. Can you blame me? Have you had this knockout?” He pauses to make a chef’s kiss gesture. “They actually remind me of you, Dorian, back when you were young. This one took a hell of a lot more effort to bang, though. Dorian’s easy as pie. You give Dorian a kind word and certain candies, and he’s eating out of your hand,” he says, gesturing to the former door, who visibly crumples under Keith’s scrutiny.

“But this diva,” Keith continues, turning toward Lux, who shrinks inwardly, “took months. You know how much money I threw at this piece of ass? Plus all the clothes, the jewelry, the weird little toy monster with the bunny ears? And what finally gets them on my yacht? A fucking medical referral!” He throws his arms up in exasperation. “I tell this dummy I know some great surgeons who could fix up that leg like new, and they’re on the next plane out, ready to suck my dick.”

“You’re a bastard,” Dorian spits at the older man.

“Ha! Tell me something I don’t know,” says Keith with a sardonic chuckle. “I may be a bastard, but you had no complaints back in the day, did you, my dear Dorian?”

Reggie looks down to see that Lux’s face is red with shame and wet with tears. That both breaks his heart and enrages him, especially when he thinks back to Lux on his couch, saying they had been looking into overseas options for surgery. Keith took Lux’s pain and frustration and exploited it. He thought that Keith had already reached the pinnacle of his hatred, but the man has skyrocketed past that now. Regina Rejection is nothing if not an expert on hate, and he’s never hated anyone as much as Keith.

“You shouldn’t have been thrown in a crawlspace, you should have been thrown in a vat of acid,” he hisses.

The former skeleton key just laughs. “Hindsight is 20/20, eh? Now, hand over Lux. They have a lot more money to earn, one way or another.”

To Reggie’s shock, Lux tries to pull away from him.

“I’ll go,” Lux says dejectedly. “Reg, he won’t kill me. He can’t. He’s in debt to the Gladius Family, because for all his talk, he’s been the stupid one, spending cash he doesn’t have on OF, and coke, and a yacht that isn’t even that bougie inside. The Gladiuses were going to merc his ass until he offered me up as a way to pay off what he owes.”

“Lux, no,” Reggie begs, holding them back, even though he can’t think of a single alternative for their current predicament.

“Just let my friends live,” Lux begs Keith tearfully, “and I’ll do whatever the Gladius Family wants. Whatever you want. I promise.”

Reggie’s heart sinks as Keith smiles and strides forward, holding out his hand.

“That’s what we want to hear,” the older man says. “Good job, Lux. Maybe you’re brighter than I thought.”

Just before he reaches Lux and Reggie, there’s a soft cracking sound from the treetops above. Before anyone can react, however, a figure in black, in what seems like one fluid motion, leaps from the canopy, lands behind Keith, whirls him around, disarms him and holds a machete to his throat. In the confusion, Dorian snatches up his gun again with his good arm.

Despite their shock, the gangsters all have their weapons raised and ready, but Keith is now a human shield between them and the new assailant.

“Hey,” Jon says to the gangsters from over Keith’s shoulder. “Forgive me for dropping in, but I know all about Keith here, and he really sucks, doesn’t he? He’s been a pain in the ass for my friends, and it sounds like he hasn’t exactly been a solid asset for the Gladiuses either. So I am going to offer you a deal. Let me and my friends leave, and I’ll take this garbage off your hands.”

The trio of gangsters look conflicted, glancing at each other.

“Don’t listen to him!” a panicked Keith cries, squirming. “He’s a fraud! He’s just some guy from New Jersey!”

Jon brings the machete closer, drawing a thin line of red along Keith’s neck. Keith whimpers.

“I don’t know, man, we don’t fuck with New Jersey,” says one of the gangsters.

“Keith is a dick, but we still need blondie,” points out another, gesturing with his gun. “The ransom videos are bringing in real money, especially since there’s been so much controversy online. Our boss will kill us if we let this funding source go.”

“Look, I’m trying to be nice here,” Jon says. “I am showing you a courtesy by making this offer, so all of us, minus Keith, can move on with our day and go home to our loved ones. Do you want that, or not?”

“Take the others, do whatever you want with Keith, but leave us the pretty one,” the gangster with the dagger says.

“Fuck you all,” Keith snarls.

Dorian pipes up from the ground, his gun aimed at the gangsters. “Lux is coming with us, and that’s non-negotiable. They’re our friend.”

“Then you’re gonna have to fight us,” says one of the other gangsters, “and you’re outnumbered.”

Jon sighs. “Okay. I just want it on the record that I gave you this out.”

Five minutes later, a party of four are stumbling through the forest towards the boat. Lux, barefoot, is leaning heavily on Reggie, hopping on their good leg, while Jon is supporting Dorian, who is cradling his bleeding arm and unsteady on his feet. The gangsters and Keith are no more, but they don’t know if backup from the Gladius Family is on the way, so they’re trying their best to hurry. It’s not going well. Reggie is sure that there are even more bugs and mud this time around.

If anyone does come to attack them, at least they have Jon. Reggie is now both extremely terrified of Jon, and extremely relieved Jon is on their side. In retrospect, he’s not sure how any of them survived their time in the house. After all, who hadn’t clowned on Scandalabra at some point? Reggie can only surmise that the candelabra decided he, Cam, Rebel, and Curt and Rod were simply not worth his energy. They’d all dodged a bullet, and they didn’t even know it.

His reflections on Jon’s secret abilities are interrupted when Lux trips on a tree root and nearly takes Reggie down with them. As Reggie pulls them upright, he tries to guess how much farther they have to go. The earlier walk, when they were all in one piece and tense with anticipation, felt much shorter. Why the hell didn’t they bring Wallace on this outing?

“By my salty soul, there be our wayward belligerents!” a familiar voice calls out.

Reggie looks up to see Jacques and Farya running towards them, Farya with a bright red first-aid backpack.

“We heard gunfire!” Farya cries. “Is anyone hur—” Her jaw drops when she takes in the full sight of the group. “Jon, please tell me some of that blood is yours!”

Jon glances down at his soaked clothes. “It’s possible. I’ll let you know when the adrenaline wears off.”

Chapter Text

“I didn’t know Keith was working with the mob,” Lux says. “He just said he was a ‘consultant’.”

“Yeah, that’s what they all say,” says Jon.

The group is now safely huddled in the boat’s cockpit as Jacques speeds them away from the island. Farya has stopped the bleeding from Dorian’s bullet wound and fitted him with a sling, and now she’s eagerly stitching up a knife slash across Jon’s side. Reggie is pretty sure she is just barely able to restrain herself from dancing with excitement.

With a cold pack on their knee, Lux sits between Reggie’s legs, leaning back against him as they recount what happened.

“He told me everything that happened back at the house, with the crypto and all that, was PTSD from being locked in the crawlspace, and that after surviving the jump from the plane with a parachute, he got a new outlook on life, stopped doing coke, and got his life together. He said my Lux Talks and other content inspired him.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone he was alive?” Jon asks, his voice steady despite the needle being drawn through his flesh.

Lux flinches at the slight hint of criticism. “I didn’t know who he was at first. He was just this mystery whale subscriber. A month or so in he revealed who he was, but said not to tell anyone from the house yet. He said they weren’t as understanding and enlightened as me. He said I was so mature, that I was so—”

“Wise beyond your years?” Dorian, who is propped up against a wall, guesses with a knowing look.

“Exactly!” says Lux. “I started sharing stuff with him too, like about my leg. He said that in the Turkleman Islands they had a lot of great orthopedic surgeons who had way more advanced techniques than we had back home, and that if I came over and visited, he would get me a consult. He even said he’d pay for surgery. I wasn’t sure at first, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I thought I should at least go check it out. Ugh, Farya, this probably sounds so totally stupid to you.”

Lux breaks off sniffling and covers their face.

Farya looks up from her sutures. “No, dear. No. I’m judging that absolute ox’s udder, Keith, not you. Now remember, keep hydrating and eat something.”

Shakily, Lux takes sips of the Gatorade and bites of the crackers she gave them earlier, which they’ve mostly fidgeted with rather than consume. The gang hadn’t given Lux much to eat or drink during their captivity under the assumption that the worse off they looked, the more people would pay to save them.

“Don’t feel barmy, fair one,” says Jacques from the helm. “When I was first translated into human shape, it was an arduous quest to locate a prosthetic that fit my mortal form as well as me old screw had done. I was half-mad with agony for months before finding a suitable mast. Had a silver fox of a ship bearing jewels and finery sailed into my harbor and told me he had a solution to my torment, I might well have boarded him.”

Wiping their tears, Lux continues.

“When I got to the Turkleman Islands, there was something about Keith’s aura that just felt off, but we had been talking for months and he had been so nice to me. We got on the yacht and he took it out to sea, but I didn’t think anything of it, because that’s what you do with a yacht. And everything was fine at first. He was respectful. He was generous. He kept telling me how beautiful I was.”

Dorian looks terribly pained, Reggie notices. He guesses the hurt is probably a mix of emotional, sparked by old memories, as well as physical.

“So I started posting like I had planned to do, and when I did the Sugar Daddy Face Reveal everybody from the house blew up my phone. Everyone was mad at me,” Lux laments.

Reggie strokes their arm. “We weren’t mad, angel. We were worried.”

“I know that now, but I just…ugh,” Lux groans, closing their eyes. “It was so overwhelming.  And the more I argued with everyone the more locked in I got. I think I knew deep down that something was wrong, but I didn’t want them to be right. I was probably trying to convince myself as much as anyone else.

“Then when I asked Keith when we could meet up with his doctor friends so I could get the consult, he was super vague. That made me worried. Also, despite him saying before that he wasn’t using, he wanted to snort coke off my abs. I tried to act charming and normal, thinking this was weird but I just had to power through it to meet these, like, amazing Turkleman Island surgeons and that it would all be worth it, that I just needed to keep my eyes on the prize. You know?

“But things with Keith kept getting worse. He got meaner and more demanding. He started talking about how he should be my manager, like professionally, and that there were more hardcore things I could be doing on my OF that could make ‘us’ money. He said that he knew other rich fans who wanted to meet me and that he could set it up. The vibes were bad. I knew then that everything about the surgeons was bullshit and I told him I wanted to go home.

“He wouldn’t drive the yacht back to land. We had a big fight about it and I told him I was going to call the sea police or whoever, and he fucking tackled me and threw my phone overboard. That’s when I got really, really scared. Seriously, I thought I might have to try to swim to shore when he was sleeping, even though we were in the middle of nowhere and my knee had been tweaked when he took my phone.

“Before I could try that though, another boat came right up to ours. I thought I was being rescued, but it was the Gladius Family, and they were there for Keith. That’s when I learned that he both worked for them and owed them money. A lot of money. They told him he was all out of chances. That’s when he said they could have me—”

Hatred for Keith flows through Reggie yet again as Lux’s voice breaks. He rubs their shoulders, whispering that they’re safe now.

When Lux has calmed, they continue. “He told them they could have me as payment to do whatever with. They were like ‘what are we supposed to do with a random twink?’ and I started getting scared they were going to kill me too. I spoke up and said I was famous, that they couldn’t do anything to me because I had millions and millions of followers…IDK, I was just trying to save my life at that point. And that’s when Keith hard-launched the hostage idea.”  

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Reggie murmurs.

Jon sighs. “Well, I certainly don’t regret killing that guy.”

“Are you sure he’s dead this time?” Farya asks, taping gauze over the fresh sutures. “Did you check for a pulse?”

Reggie shakes his head. He saw what Jon did with that machete, and Dorian had gotten a few good shots in just in case. “Oh, that man’s definitely dead for good.”

“Thanks for telling us all that, Lux. I know it was hard, but you’ve been a trooper,” says Jon earnestly. He pulls his bloodstained shirt back on and stands. “I’m going to call my contacts, and we’ll get this sorted out. We’ll be heading home soon, I promise. Farya, excellent work. I wish I could sign something to give you extra credit for school, but you know…clandestine mission.”

Farya smiles. “Not to worry. The experience alone was the hen’s hips.”

Talking about Keith and the yacht seems to have drained Lux completely, and they go very quiet. Farya, fortunately, seamlessly adjusts her bedside manner. She’s gentle and deferential, asking permission before touching them anywhere as she tapes up their knee, cleans and dresses abrasions, and examines bruises. When she asks if she can check under their clothing, Lux shakes their head, and Farya doesn’t push the matter. Besides their swollen knee and eye, the most vivid visible injury is a large patch of purple on Lux’s upper arm. Reggie thinks it might be in the shape of a grasping hand, but he knows now is not the time to ask.

Farya checks the area around the black eye, and reports that nothing seems broken.

“You have strong cheekbones in more ways than one,” she tells Lux, but even that doesn’t get a smile out of them. They just stare at nothing, face blank.

Reggie suddenly feels woefully out of his depth. He’s the King of Hate—how can he possibly be what Lux needs right now? He’s not Chance, with his background in therapy, or Betty or Teddy, with their natural knack for providing comfort. What is he even good at? Being snarky? Causing mischief? Reveling in others’ misfortune? None of that is helpful right now.

As if reading his thoughts, Farya gives him a sympathetic smile.

“You’re doing great,” she mouths to him with an encouraging thumbs up.

Reggie looks down at the possibly-dissociating person in his arms and wonders how that can be true. Lux looks utterly broken. Their eyes are distant, their body is bruised, their clothes are bloodied, and their hair is a mess. There’s only one of those Reggie can fix at the moment.

“Can I do your hair?” he asks.

Lux gives a slight nod. Since becoming human, Lux’s hair has grown out to chin-length, and Reggie runs his fingers through it, carefully and patiently working through snags when he finds them. Farya notices and gives him a comb from her backpack. Bit by bit, Reggie banishes the tangles, the sweat-soaked mats, and even flecks of dried blood. It’s so satisfying to find a knot that seems impossible to undo, but with tenacity and gentleness, coax the golden strands back into order. He knows the physical and mental marks this experience has left on Lux will take time to fade, but at least he can help them reclaim their hair and feel more like themself during this journey home.

Eventually, Lux sits up a bit taller, making it easier for Reggie to work. As he combs, he feels some of the tension leave Lux’s neck and shoulders. Their head falls back a little, melting at his touch. Even once Lux’s hair is straight and shining again, Reggie doesn’t want to stop, so he makes two short, simple braided pigtails.

“How do I look?” Lux asks when Reggie is done, the first thing they’ve said in a while.

“Honestly, kind of like a Swiss milkmaid,” Reggie admits.

That makes Lux laugh, and the sound makes Reggie feels like the sun is starting to shine again.

Chapter Text

In the morning, Reggie finds himself in an unfamiliar bed, alone and confused. He’s not sure where he is at first, and for a moment before he’s fully awake, he has a terrible flash of fear that the rescue of Lux might have been a dream. But he sees a familiar shelf of awards and a treadmill (notably dusty), and remembers: he’s at The House, in the gym-turned-guestroom, and it wasn’t a dream. They arrived here late last night. Lux is safe.

He breathes a sigh of relief and listens for the sound of Lux’s voice elsewhere in the house, but he can’t hear them or anyone. That’s odd. According to this room’s cat clock, it’s almost 11:00 in the morning, so others should be awake. The Human planned to limit guests for the first day to let Lux get their bearings in relative privacy, but even so, there were ten people in the house as of last night. Surely he’s not the first one awake, especially at this hour.

He gets up and goes to the adjacent bathroom. In many ways, it’s the same as it ever was. It has the same tiles, the same bathtub, the same sink and mirror, the same toilet. But a black rubber duck now perches beside the classic yellow one, and the counter has the added clutter of Skips’ hair and makeup supplies. It takes a lot of work to look as emo as Skips.

When he looks in the mirror, his disheveled appearance surprises him. His locs are a mess, his lips are chapped, and he has a few days’ worth of scruff along his jawline, detracting from his usually pristine soul patch. He desperately needs a crochet hook and oil for his hair and a razor for his face. Depending on what’s going on with Lux and how long it looks like they’ll be staying here, he might need to do a supply run to his apartment.

In the hallway, Reggie sees that the master bedroom door is ajar, so he peeks in to see if Lux, Volt, and Eddie are still asleep.

The day before, the rescue group and Lux had ended up getting a private jet home. Jon didn’t say outright who had provided such a perk, but hinted that it was someone who both owed him a favor and was a rival of the Gladiuses. Honestly, Reggie didn’t care who their unknown, possibly morally gray benefactor was. Taking the jet was vastly preferrable to their exhausted, injured crew embarking on nearly twenty-four hours of commercial air travel.

Even so, the flight was long. Lux managed to mostly hold it together during the journey, but the moment they got to the house and saw Volt and Eddie, the emotional floodgates opened and Lux collapsed into the men’s arms with a sob. “You’re home, dear one. Everything will be alright now,” Volt had sworn, tears flowing from his striking eyes. Eddie hadn’t cried, but both the stress of the past week and his overwhelming relief had shown plainly on his face.

Honestly, the effusive display from all three parties caught Reggie off-guard, but he would be the first to acknowledge that he didn’t know a thing about being either a lightbulb or electricity. He just silently accepted that for now, he would have to back off a little and let the wires and current take care of their lighting fixture.

At bedtime, Lux had been exacting about arrangements. They wanted to be in the old bedroom. They wanted Volt and Eddie there. They wanted Reggie nearby. No one was going to deny Lux anything given the circumstances, so Reggie ended up in the old workout room while Volt laid beside Lux on their hosts’ bed and Eddie slept on an inflatable mattress between the bed and the door for added security. Whatever Lux needed to feel safe.

Now the master bedroom is empty, so Reggie goes downstairs.

He finds Skips sitting on the living room couch, drinking coffee. Sinclaire, the sink-turned-turtle, is toddling around on the coffee table, which again strikes Reggie as unhygienic, but the Human and Skips have been downright saintly during all of this, so he’s not going to say a thing. Skips, especially, has impressed Reggie. When Lux said they wanted to be in the bedroom, he simply jumped up and changed the bed’s linens, even digging the old multi-colored quilt and pillowcases out of a closet so the room would look more like it had when Lux existed there.

“Hey,” Skips says cheerfully when he sees Reggie. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine. Where’s Lux? Are they ok?” It’s clear there’s no one else downstairs, and Reggie is worried some new crisis has happened while they slept.

Skip smiles and pours him a cup of coffee. “Don’t worry. Volt and Eddie took them to the doctors' to get checked over.”

“Good,” Reggie says. As wonderful as Farya is, Lux needs a full examination after their ordeal, and their leg requires a specialist.

“Penumbra’s doing the same with Dorian for his arm,” Skips continues. “Farya went home to study, and Jacques said his soul was so stirred by the adventure that he flew out to sail the North Sea before his vacation ends. Here, try one of these zucchini muffins. Dasha and Abel brought them over earlier.”

Reggie sits down with his coffee and muffin, hoping the turtle hasn’t touched it somehow.

“What about Jon? Is he also getting medical care?” Reggie asks.

“No. He probably should be, but he said Farya did a perfect job and that he was fine. He and Maggie are headed to Florida where he’s filming an episode of his antiques show. After that, the two of them are going down to the Keys to relax.” Skips looks wistful. “That guy is so cool. Like, he is exactly the kind of badass that I was trying to emulate when I roleplayed as xxXShadowl0rd420Xxx. You know, sometimes I wonder why my partner chose me when they had options like Jon.”

In the past, Reggie might have savored the opportunity to sow some doubt in an unconfident lover’s mind, but now he glances at the walls, which are covered in framed posters the Human has hung of local theater productions Skips has passionately worked on as lighting operator. He looks at the creepy turtle the two of them have centered their lives around. He thinks of the Human’s shelf of participation trophies and the fact that this kid’s handle was xxXShadowl0rd420Xxx.

“Honestly, I think the two of you are perfect together. It’s hard to imagine them with anyone else.”

The emo’s face lights up. “Really?”

“A hundred percent.”

“Thanks,” Skips says, beaming. “Reggie, you’re a really awesome guy. And I think it’s great that you and Lux are dating.”

The statement from Skips sounds so natural, but Reggie has to wonder…are they dating? They had been seeing each other, casually, and then, well, the disaster with Keith had happened. There hasn’t exactly been a tactful moment since the rescue for Reggie to initiate a “what are we?” conversation.

The Human and Dorian soon return, and Dorian retires to the office to rest. While he waits for Lux, Reggie takes out his phone. He has too many missed messages in the former objects group chat to even try catching up, but he gets the gist of it. Everyone is celebrating the successful rescue mission. He smiles at the long thread of gifs and emojis.

I can’t believe this is Scandalabra, Jean has written with a gif of an action hero wearing shades and walking away from an explosion. I declare on behalf of France that we claim Monsieur Wick as un citoyen.

AYOOOO! Too late, pal! Tony replied, alongside a gif of a different action hero wearing shades and walking away from an explosion. He’s all ours!

Then Reggie checks his email and Haters Gonna Bait’s Discord. He had told the group there was an emergency and he would be away for a few days. There are a lot of generic well wishes from volunteers and his handful of part-time staff members, but one direct message to him from a longtime volunteer, sent earlier that morning, stands out.

Hi Reggie I hope everything’s ok. I don’t want to overstep here but was this the emergency? I remember I ran into you and them once at the club. If it is holy shit that is so scary and I’m sorry that happened.

The volunteer has posted a link to a news story: Kidnapped Influencer Rescued by Turkleman Islands Navy. Deceased Gibraltarian Suspect Acted Alone, Says Government.

During their flight home, Jon had told the group about the agreed upon cover story, which pinned everything solely on Keith. The Gladius Crime Family’s involvement would not be made public, nor would they face any real consequences beyond the fiasco on their island.

“I know it’s not quite the truth and it’s not quite justice, but this is best outcome for us,” Jon had explained. “The Gladiuses will take the loss and move on without any big grudges. It works out for the Turkleman Islands government, too, because they’ve been making a push for tourism, and reports of a criminal organization kidnapping people would put a damper on that. Now they can blame a random visitor with a foreign passport for this incident and tout the skill of their navy. Meanwhile, we slip under the radar, and Lux doesn’t have to testify in court against a criminal organization. Everyone wins.”

Reggie scans the article, and it’s all laid out exactly as Jon had described, including that Keith had died in a shoot-out with the navy. The presence of three additional bodies is not mentioned. He shows the article to Skips and the Human, who are curled up together on the couch in dorky bliss.

“I know this is exactly the kind of thing that made Maggie officially quit her work as an investigator, but I guess this is how the world works,” the Human says. “The bad guys get away with it more often than not.”

“I don’t have it in me to be mad right now,” Reggie admits. “Lux is home. That’s all I care about.”

When the trio of Volt, Eddie, and Lux finally return, Lux’s leg is splinted nearly from hip to ankle and they’re on crutches, but that’s not the only different thing about their appearance. They’ve borrowed some of Skips' clothes for the day, so they’re in black jeans and a top covered in skulls and ravens. They look exhausted, but when they spot Reggie, who has hurried over to help, their face brightens, although there’s something shy about their smile.

“My hero,” Lux says, leaning up to kiss Reggie on the cheek.

Reggie desperately wants to talk to them about where they stand, but there are too many people around.

“I never thought I’d see emo Lux, but you look good,” he says instead.  

“Of course I do. Phoenicia is bringing over some of my clothes later, so don’t worry, Skips, I won’t steal your whole aesthetic.”

Reggie gestures toward the couch, but Lux shakes their head and stays standing. “I’m going to go upstairs in a sec.”

“How long do you need the crutches?” the Human asks them.

“A few days,” says Lux.

“A week,” Volt corrects. “And you were told no running for how long?”

“Um, IDK. Two weeks?” Lux guesses.

“Six weeks, at least, and only after the ortho gives you the go-ahead. Lux, the doctor told you this less than an hour ago. You were there,” Volt lectures, his eyebrows quirked upwards in concern.

Lux rolls their eyes, leaning heavily on their crutches. If not for the blond hair, they would look every part the image of an angsty emo teen. “Oh my God. I have other things on my mind, so sue me.”

“It sounds like you should re-think running entirely,” Eddie says. His face is serious, his arms crossed. “The doctor said swimming would be the better choice for your knee.”

Lux scowls. “Well, I can’t film myself giving Lux Talks while I’m swimming, can I? And it’s not like you’re the self-care king.”

“We just want—”

Lux interrupts Volt. “The best for me. I know. Whatever. I want to go upstairs now. Reggie, come with me.”

The night before, Volt had just carried Lux up the stairs, but now the Human asks if they want to try the stair lift they had installed for Mac. It looks like an office chair with a seatbelt and glides on a track attached to the wall along the stairs.

Lux agrees to try it, but when Eddie says he can install one at Lux’s house, they wrinkle their nose.

“It’s kind of ugly. No offense.”

“The point isn’t style. The point is that it could vastly improve your life when your knee is acting up,” Eddie argues.

Lux silently deliberates as they ascend the staircase, Reggie trailing behind carrying their crutches. “Um…maybe. Could you make it, like, serve?”

Eddie gives a put-upon sigh. “I don’t know what that means, Lux.”

“I’m sure we can figure something out,” Volt says smoothly.

Reggie can’t help but smile. Lux is being obnoxious and impossible, but that’s Lux. Nature is healing.

In the bedroom, Lux lays down on top of the blankets. Reggie helps them put a pillow under their knee, then lays down too. He leaves at least a foot of space between them. Despite the fact that Lux had been basically cemented into his arms during the rescue, now he’s feeling unsure. Lux has been through a lot, and he doesn’t want to crowd them. He’s trying to think of what to say, when Lux speaks.

“So, like, what are we?”

The question is so blunt and timely that Reggie bursts out with a chuckle. “I was trying to think of how to ask the same thing.”

Smiling, Lux turns their head to look at him. “I mean, you saved me. You were Prince Charming.”

“To be fair, Jon did the actual work, but I was present.” Reggie then worries that makes it sound like he wasn’t invested in saving Lux, so he quickly adds, “But I wanted to be.”

“I know. Volt told me how you demanded to go with Scandalabra. So brave and audacious.”

Reggie blushes.

“But obvi, you don’t have to date me just because you saved me,” Lux says, looking back at the ceiling. “Before all this, I wasn’t sure what you wanted. I had started to think that maybe you wanted something more serious, but then I wasn't sure. Then I caused this literal disaster by being stupid, and now I’m all fucked up…”

Their voice is trembling when they trail off, and they throw an arm over their eyes to hide the sudden tears. It’s an abrupt shift from their bitchy bravado downstairs.

“Baby, baby,” croons Reggie, moving closer. “You’re not fucked up. What are you talking about?”

“I got taken advantage of by some gross old man and then a bunch of people got killed and shot and shit because of me and mentally I’m probably all damaged now,” Lux sobs, still hiding under their arm.

That hurts his soul, and Reggie feels his own eyes burn with tears. “Can I hug you?”

Lux nods and Reggie doesn’t hesitate to wrap them in his arms. This is Lux at their most real and vulnerable, Reggie realizes. The Lux hidden deep down under the attitude and artifice, desperately insecure and guilt-ridden. They’re still hiding under their arm, and Reggie lets them. He just holds them while they cry it out.

“I don’t think you’re damaged,” Reggie says when Lux has quieted. “Are you traumatized? Obviously. Anyone would be. Do I think therapy might be helpful for you to process this experience? Yeah. And we’ll need to take things slow as you recover physically and emotionally, at whatever pace you need. But that doesn’t mean you’re damaged.”

Lux finally takes their arm off their face, and Reggie kisses their red, tear-damp cheek.

“And I’m sorry if I was weird before all this went down,” Reggie continues. “To be honest, I got really in my head about things. I’m Regina Rejection. I’m supposed to encourage hate and spit on love. But then…here.” He digs his phone out of his pocket and pulls up the photo he saved of the two of them at the Tipsy Tumbler. “I had that weekend with you, and then Phoenicia sent me this photo, and I realized I wanted something serious with you. And that freaked me out. So if it seemed like I was pulling away…that’s why. I’m sorry.”

Lux smiles at the photo and wipes away their tears. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just…I guess I got in my head too. Because you’re such a good guy, and you took care of me, and I loved spending time with you, and I was like, OMG, did I do it? Am I going to be in a real relationship, and not just in some…arrangement for clout or sex? Because I really wanted that. I want that.”

“I want that, too,” says Reggie. “So let’s do it.”

They kiss. Reggie knows his own lips are chapped, and he’s extra careful because Lux’s battered face is healing, but it’s still the best kiss he's ever had.

“It’s official,” says Lux, grinning. “We’re dating, lover.”

Reggie touches their foreheads together. He can feel his face glowing. In fact, he’s downright giddy. Past Reggie would have judged Current Reggie so hard for this, but Current Reggie doesn’t care. So what if he feels like skipping through a field of flowers? “We’re dating,” he affirms. “We’re together. Although, technically, I think you still have me blocked.”

“Oh. God. I forgot about that,” Lux says, looking embarrassed. “Well, that phone’s at the bottom of the ocean now.”

“Then we have a fresh start,” says Reggie, before kissing Lux again.

Chapter Text

Reggie has never been more grateful for the community surrounding The House, because damn if this oddball assortment of attractive former objects and concepts don’t show up.

Phoenicia, of course, is the first visitor. She’s stopped by Lux’s house, and arrives with a big bag of their clothes and beauty products. The three of them—Phoenicia, Lux, and Reggie—sit on the bed and go through the haul, seeing what she brought. Lux eagerly pulls off the shirt borrowed from Skips and changes into their favorite cropped cat-face hoodie, exclaiming, “Timmy fucking wishes.”

When they glance down, though, they groan upon seeing that the crop reveals that the left side of their ribcage is awash in mottled bruises. “Ugh, I look like a zombie.”

This is the first time Reggie’s seen Lux’s bare torso since the incident, and he’s dismayed by the further injuries. He tries to keep his face neutral, but he can see that Phoenicia’s upset, too.

“Oh, honey,” Phoenicia says sadly.

“I got x-rays this morning. Nothing’s broken,” Lux says, their voice guardedly flippant. Reggie can practically see the walls snapping into place as Lux compartmentalizes. “One of the gang NPCs kicked me and I don’t want to talk about it. Did you bring anything not cropped?”

Tactfully moving on, Phoenicia raises an eyebrow. “Do you have anything not cropped? But yes, a few.” She digs through the bag, and then a mischievous smile lights up her face. “Here’s one.”

She pulls out the Haters Gonna Bait shirt Reggie had loaned Lux. Lux grins and changes into it immediately.

Phoenicia also helps by temporarily coming out of social media retirement to handle Lux’s accounts. So that Lux doesn’t have to see it again, she deletes all Keith-related content, even from OF (“You’re the best and I owe you,” Lux says). She drafts a text post for their socials stating that Lux is safe and recovering, and thanks all their supporters and the Turkleman Islands Navy.

“I’m also going to say that you’re taking a social media break,” she says.

“But I’m going to get a new phone soon,” Lux argues. 

“Honestly? Put that off as long as you can. Believe me, you need this,” Phoenicia says. “Just focus on yourself and your healing right now. There was so much discourse over whether or not this was a hoax you were pulling and you do not need to see that.”

“Ooh, discourse. What’s my follower count?”

“I am not telling you that.”

“You’re so mean.”

“It’s because I love you,” Phoenicia replies, sticking her tongue out at them.

The next day, Phoenicia returns with Farya, Curt, Rod, Beverly, Stepford, Bathsheba, and Rebel.

“I lived, betches and bros!” Lux declares as their friends rush to hug them.

“Watch the ribs,” Reggie warns.

Stepford has brought Lux a green smoothie filled with multiple “powerful restorative superfoods” that Reggie has never heard of and Lux is delighted by, and Rod and Curt have brought Black hair care supplies.

“We heard from Phoenicia there was a dread emergency,” says Curt.

“Exactly. Reggie, we can see you are not ‘loc’ed in,” Rod quips.

The group, joined by Skips and the Homeowner, piles into the living room. While Rod and Curt tidy up Reggie’s locs, and Lux replaces the beads, they binge Amir’s soap opera where he plays Mehdi, a doctor/racecar driver. A drinking game forms where one must take a sip (alcoholic or not) anytime an episode ends on a fiery car crash cliffhanger, Farya points out a medical inaccuracy, Mehdi takes off his shirt, or a character calls Mehdi “doctor” in a seductive way. They also make sure to cheer every time Amir has a sex scene.

Even the most jaded of them end up getting invested, and when Mehdi finally gets together with his longtime rival racecar driver after giving up his chance at winning a big race to save him from a fiery crash and reviving him with sensual mouth-to-mouth resuscitation (“This is not the proper way to do that!” Farya cries), Bathsheba records the group’s ecstatic reaction to send to Amir.

Reggie’s heart is full as he watches Lux enjoying themself, simply relaxing with friends. He’s glad everyone has treated Lux so normally, showering them with love but not pity. Even Rebel has been fine, and Reggie had been apprehensive about their presence. The former rubber duck is well known for taking their insults too far, and while the same could be said for Lux…Lux is fragile at the moment. He’s relieved when Rebel is on their best behavior, and he even has a good chat with them about their shared world of nonprofit management.

“I’m sorry,” Rod says at one point, interrupting them, “but did anyone here foresee a future where Regina Rejection and Rebel would be talking for twenty minutes straight about grant writing?”

“Oh, duck off,” Rebel says with a cackle.

Later, when the guests are leaving, Reggie overhears Rebel tell Lux, “If you ever want to talk about it, you know you can call me, right?” Lux nods and the two hug.

When it’s just Lux and Reggie on the couch again, Lux says “that was literally so fun” and leans into their boyfriend’s arms, the picture of contentedness. Reggie feels exactly the same way.

There is a steady stream of visitors after that. Various former objects come over to The House to fuss over Lux and Dorian and catch up with old friends. Even those who have moved away get involved. A group of them sends care packages with Holly’s delivery service (Lux’s includes the prized, pricey “civet coffee” courtesy of Kopi).

To help quell any lingering hoax rumors, a few former objects with strong social media presences state that yes, they know this person, and yes, the kidnapping truly happened. Understandably, Stella’s and Lux’s followers alike are flabbergasted after Stella says during a stream that, “Oh, yes, I know Lux. Goodness, they are a rascal. You would not believe the trouble they got up to back in the day. Absolutely horrendous what happened to that pretty young dear. If that terrible man who hurt them were still alive, I don’t mind saying that I would give him a good whack in the face with my purse, and my purse has very pointy corners. Good riddance. Lux is recovering well, though. I visited them at the home of a dear friend of ours the other day, and they are banged up but just as spirited as ever. You know, you kids in the chat are the only reason why I understand half of what comes out of their mouth.”

(THE. CANDY. CRUSH. GRANDMA. KNOWS. THAT. ONLYFANS. STAR. WHO. GOT. KIDNAPPED. IRL. WHAT? is a popular sentiment.)

There’s lots of practical help, too. Lux agrees to let Eddie install a stair lift in their mansion, but only after approving a design where the chair itself is black leather, the metal is gold-toned, and there are extraneous lights. Koa says he’ll do the upholstery, and Tony offers to help Eddie do the rest.

The Hanks come over and help Lux master their crutches. The realities of human anatomy and real-world physics presented a brutal learning curve to the Hanks, and during their first year, their group of five accrued four broken bones and two torn ACLs. Hank-Kevin (formerly Hank 4), being responsible for half of those, is the crutches expert, and he takes the lead in coaching Lux in posture and arm position as they hobble around the backyard.

Meanwhile, the Human and Skips look on anxiously as Hank First (formerly Hank 1) leans out a second-floor window to test if his parachutes for dogs work on turtles. (They do, and Sinclaire floats safely down to his guardians’ arms.)

Of course, not everything is smooth sailing. How Lux is doing changes constantly. Sometimes they’re completely “on,” being their bright, sassy self, and other times it is truly like a light switch has been turned off and they can’t do anything except lay in bed.

The loss of their physical routine is rough on them. Because of their bruised ribs, they can’t even do their ab workout. They obviously can’t do their morning runs, and now that Eddie and Volt have inserted themselves into Lux’s medical care and learned they’ve been ignoring warnings from their orthopedist about running for a while, they keep pressuring Lux to give it up entirely.

That’s not something Lux is ready to face yet, so they hold fast to denial and get their hackles up if anyone pushes for swimming or Pilates, even though as Stepford and Dunk both point out, there’s every reason to think they would enjoy swimming or Pilates.

Lux has taken Phoenicia’s advice to heart and not gotten back on social media yet. They do, however, goad Reggie into showing them their current subscriber count. The number is significantly larger than it was before this incident. Rather than look happy, though, Lux looks conflicted. They take the phone from Reggie, look at the amount of likes on the post Phoenicia made, and then quickly hand the phone back without a word.

“You ok?” Reggie asks.

“I just…I don’t know. What even is going to be the direction for my content after this?” Lux asks.

Although Reggie does think it’s better for Lux not to be posting for the time being, the reality is that content creation took up a large portion of Lux’s daily activities before, and it leaves a vacuum in its wake. If Lux is awake and doesn’t have visitors, they’re lost and bored. When Eddie and Volt’s wedding invitations arrive from the stationers, Lux urgently claims the “grooms-they” task of envelope stuffing and affixing stamps and labels, which they tackle with uncharacteristic diligence and focus.

Then there are the sleep problems. Lux can’t sleep unless someone is with them, and they panic if they wake up alone, so someone is always nearby on Lux duty when they nap. Nights are harder. When the sun goes down, Lux gets antsy. Reggie is pretty sure nights are the reason Lux indicates no interest in leaving The House, relocating from the master bedroom to one of the guest rooms, or letting Volt and Eddie go back to their own home. Fortunately, Skips and the Homeowner continue to be saints, insisting that they are fine having sleepovers in the turtle room with Sinclaire.

Everyone, practically, brings up therapy with Lux. Reggie and the Human eventually sit down with them, figure out their insurance, and help them make the calls needed until they have an appointment with a therapist, although it’s a month away.

“What is going on here?” a voice booms late one night.

In the dim light, Reggie looks up to see Eddie’s silhouette looming in the doorway. Part of him feels like a different Ed[d]ison has just kicked open the door to the Menlo Park Laboratory and caught Reggie kneeling over the shattered model of the first successful carbon-filament light bulb.

But even though he’s somewhat intimidated, he’s also grateful, because Lux needs help. Just minutes ago, Reggie was awakened by Lux crying out in a nightmare. He woke them, but the panic didn’t abate. He couldn’t get Lux to calm down or focus, and they pulled away when he tried to hold them. The blond had then gotten up without their crutches and immediately fallen to the floor, where they’re hyperventilating.

“They’re having a panic attack,” Reggie explains as Eddie strides into the room, followed by Volt.

Eddie crouches next to Lux, pulling them up into a seated position. Lux grabs onto him like a lifeline, burying their face against Eddie’s shoulder. Volt switches on the light and then kneels down beside their fiancé and Lux.

“What’s happening, dear one?” he murmurs, carefully moving Lux’s right leg into a better position.

“I can’t do this. I can’t do this,” Lux sobs.

“You can’t do what?” Eddie asks, perhaps harsher than intended due to the fact that it’s almost 2:00 in the morning.

But Lux is sobbing too intensely to answer. Their tears have already soaked through the fabric of the High Voltage Realty t-shirt Eddie wore to bed.

“Breathe, angel. Breathe,” Reggie coaches, but he’s not even sure Lux can hear him.

“I can’t be human. I want to go back,” Lux finally chokes out.

Reggie’s stomach drops. “Lux…”

“I have to go back,” Lux repeats, louder. “I want to be light. I want to be part of the house again.”

“That’s not possible,” Eddie says firmly. “You know that.”

Lux pushes away from him. Their face is red and streaked with tears and snot. “There has to be a way. We can call Valdivian or Skyler—”

Eddie interrupts them. “No, Lux. You need to cope with reality.”

“Oh, fuck off! The reality is we were all transformed out of the house. We could be transformed back into it, too. You two could be in the Breaker Box again, and I’d be the lights, and Reggie could come, and Phoenicia, and everything would be how it was.” Lux's eyes are alight with a frantic desperation. 

“Dear one, that’s not going to happen,” says Volt gently.

Lux dissolves into tears again. Reggie pulls them into a hug, but it doesn’t help. He’s seen Lux break down a few times over the past week, but nothing like this.

“Is everything ok?” a hesitant voice asks from the doorway.

Skips and the Human are standing there, blinking against the light.  

“Yeah, Skips, everything’s fucking great,” Eddie says.

“Eddie,” the Human scolds.

“I apologize for him,” says Volt. “We’re having a difficult evening.”

Lux continues to not calm down. They cry so much they struggle to breathe, which only makes them panic more. When Volt tries to pick Lux up so he can get them back into bed, they push his hands away. Reggie continues to hold them, but he’s never felt so useless.

“Live Wire,” Eddie says after more minutes pass of Lux not improving, “can you go downstairs to the beverage cart and see if you have any whiskey or brandy? It might help calm them down.”

“What? No,” the Human says, outraged. “You know that’s not a healthy way to cope.”

Eddie glares at them. “And it’s healthy for them to hyperventilate on the floor until morning?”

“What about a doctor?” Skips suggests. “Should we take them to the ER?”

“What do you think the ER’s gonna do when a patient tells them they want to be a lamp again?” Eddie snaps. “How the fuck would we explain that?”

“Eddie, you’re being a jerk right now,” says the Human.

Even though Volt can’t glow blue any more, Reggie can practically see the defensiveness surge in him.

“This is a stressful situation. Give him some grace,” Volt seethes.

The tension in the room has grown thick. Reggie is sure that if this were the old days, the bedside lamp would be flickering, the sound of electricity buzzing in the air. None of this is helping Lux, who continues to sob and gasp for breath. He wracks his brain for what to do. What resources do they have to help them?

“What about Chance?” the Human asks hesitantly. “It’s the middle of night on a week night, but…”

Everyone except Lux looks at them. Reggie deliberates in his head. After his disastrous attempt at getting Lux into G&G, Chance has every reason not to like them. But Chance is just the kind of pure-hearted chump who will help out anyway.

“Do it,” Reggie says. “Call the dice dork.”

Chance is understandably groggy and confused at 2:00 AM, but as soon as the gets the gist of what’s happening, he snaps to attention. He tells someone to get Lux a glass of ice water, and asks to be put on speaker near Lux.

“Hey, Lux. I get that you’re going through a lot right now. I’m going to stay right here on the phone with you, ok? I’m not going anywhere.”

Lux is still too distraught to follow instructions, so Chance re-directs toward Reggie.

“Reggie, I’m going to lead you through a breathing exercise. Can you do that and see if you can get Lux to breathe with you?”

Patiently, Chance walks Reggie through 4-7-8 breathing. Reggie inhales for the count of four, holds for seven, and exhales for eight. When he’s got it, he puts Lux’s hand on his chest.

“Come on, angel. Just breathe like I’m doing.”

Miraculously, Lux catches on and starts shakily breathing in time with Reggie. Lux’s breath gradually steadies, and Chance has them drink some of the ice water.

“You’re doing great, Lux,” Chance says. “We’re going to do a grounding exercise now. Can you tell me five things you can see?”

“Why? This isn’t helping me be electric lighting,” Lux argues, tears forming in their eyes again.

“You’re right. It can’t do that, but it might help make this moment more bearable,” says Chance. “If you get overwhelmed, stop and drink more of the ice water. You mentioned lighting. Can you see a lamp?”

“Yes, my blue lamp,” Lux says, sounding strung-out and grumpy.

“Good. What else? What are four other things? Just humor me.”

“Reggie. Volt. Eddie. Nightstand.”

“Awesome. Now four things you can feel or touch.”

“Reggie’s arms. The floor. This is stupid. The water glass. My pajamas.”

Chance then leads Lux through three things they can hear, two they can smell, and one they can taste. When they’re done, Lux is noticeably calmer, but spent, leaning heavily against the bed. They rest their head on the mattress and close their eyes.

“Thanks,” Lux says softly into the phone. “I had a bad dream. It felt so real. I was back in the cell from the island but it was on the boat. It didn’t look like the actual boat, but I knew in my dream it was the same one. Maybe it was on land, though? I knew Keith was driving it somewhere far away.”

Reggie silently hopes that Keith is in hell.

Chance stays on the line a while longer. When he hears Lux’s therapy appointment through their insurance is a month away, he says that he can ask the therapists in his clinic if any of them have spots available in their private practices, although Lux might have to pay out of pocket.

“That won’t be a problem,” Eddie assures him. “We’ll cover whatever’s needed to get them in.”

“Sorry I woke everyone up,” Lux whispers.

“Not your fault, darling,” Volt says, planting a kiss on the top of their head.

After some goodnight hugs, the Human and Skips return downstairs. Lux climbs back into bed, under the familiar bedspread, and settles in with Reggie beside them.

“Can you two stay until I fall asleep?” they ask Volt and Eddie.

“Of course,” says Volt.

He and Eddie sit at the foot of the bed, and soon, surrounded by the most important people in their life, Lux falls into a nightmare-free slumber.

Chapter Text

When Reggie returns from the store and enters his apartment, he can hear Lux on the phone in living room. Lux’s voice is their usual mix of upbeat and sardonic, peppered with vocal fry and slang. They sound happy and relaxed.

Reggie smiles and walks into the kitchen to put the groceries away. They’ve been staying in his apartment for about a week now, after finally leaving The House. That had been a process. Lux’s mind had locked onto The House as a safe place, and they were reluctant to go. With some tactful encouragement from both Reggie and their new therapist, Lux had first ceded the master bedroom back to the homeowner and Skips, moving into the downstairs office. Reggie’s apartment, which was easier to navigate while Lux’s knee healed and Eddie worked on their custom stair lift, was the next step.

Since then, the focus has been on getting Lux comfortable being alone again. Reggie has been going into the office for a few hours each day, and today did errands after. From the sound of Lux’s chatter, they’re fine.  

“If you need a new ellipsoidal light, you need a new ellipsoidal light,” Reggie hears Lux say, “and you might as well get the best one. Don’t cheap out like a dimmy…Their budget is what? …Are you being serious right now? Ohmigod, do they want you to duct tape a flashlight above the stage?”

From the context, he can guess Lux is talking to Skips. The two of them are so different in 99.9% of their lives, but if they’re talking about lighting, they can go on for hours.

 “No, ew, that one’s gross...Here, text me a link to the one you would get if the budget wasn’t an issue and we’ll go from there…Yeah, got it…I’m looking...ok, I’m seeing what’s similar in your little sad-sack no-budget community theater’s range...Sike! LOL, I literally just bought it…Yes, really…Too late, loser, it’s going to your house, and don’t we love that for you?... IDK, put me in a program as like a donation person or whatever. Or commission a play about me. Baiii!”

He hears Lux put down their phone, and moments later, the blond enters the kitchen. They’re walking much better now. The bulky splint is gone, replaced by their usual orthopedic brace.

“Hi, lover,” Lux says, leaning up for a kiss.

“Hi yourself, gorgeous,” Reggie replies. “You a patron of the arts now?”

“What can I say? I’m a giver,” Lux says, fluttering their eyelashes. “Apparently, Skips’ theater tried to do a play about a basketball team, and it turns out basketballs and stage lights don’t mix.”

“A bunch of theater kids trying to do sports didn’t work out? Who could have foreseen such a predicament?” Reggie asks sarcastically. “Have you seen any of his troupe’s shows?”

He himself has not, and he thinks it’s something he would like to do now that he’s more integrated with the house community. It’s the least he can do to show his support after Skips and the Human hosted him and Lux for multiple weeks.

Lux thinks for a moment, then bursts out laughing. “Yes! Once. A group of us went when they did Rocky Horror Picture Show. Have you seen it?”

“Have I?” Reggie asks with a devious grin. “I’ve gotten all dolled up and gone to screenings with some of my Haters Gonna Bait folks. I make a delicious Frank-N-Furter.”

“Of course you would,” Lux says, giving him an appreciative look. “You in a corset sounds like literally the hottest thing ever. And those garters?”

Lux makes a little moan that goes straight to Reggie’s groin. He and Lux haven’t had sex since the rescue. Lux has been getting more relaxed and flirtatious as they heal, and it’s driving Reggie wild, but the last thing he wants to do is pressure them before they’re ready. However, he also doesn’t want to reject them, so he’s been measured, carefully matching energy.

“Garters, stockings. I have the whole shebang, baby,” Reggie purrs.

“Ok, this Halloween: you Frank, me Janet,” Lux declares.

The thought of Lux in a white bra and slip makes Reggie’s pulse quicken.

“But to get back to the story,” Lux says, “a group of us went and Volt convinced Eddie to come. We were all still new to being human and none of us had seen it. So we’re watching, and it gets to the part where Frank brings Rocky to life, and Rebel says ‘is this ducking play about Eddie and Volt?’ OMG, we all literally, actually died. Volt thought it was funny, but I have never seen Eddie go that shade of red. To this day you can give him a breakdown by singing ‘I Can Make You a Man.’”

Lux then sings a few lines while Reggie cackles at picturing how mortified Eddie would be in that situation.

As Reggie continues putting away the groceries, Lux sticks close to him, their arms around his waist and chin resting on his shoulder. He can tell Lux wants to say something, and he waits, letting them gather their thoughts.

“My stair lift should be done soon,” Lux finally says. “It’s all ready for install. Assuming Tony doesn’t screw anything up, he and Eddie should have it running in a few days.”

“That’s great,” says Reggie.

“Eddie and Volt also put in a new security system for me. It’s not like Zombie Keith going to come for me, obvi, but I’ll feel safer.”

Reggie nods. “I’m glad. I want you to be safe.”

He can feel Lux a deep breath against his back.

“And absolutely don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m ready to go home.”

Reggie knew this was coming. He’s not opposed, either. It feels far too early for the two of them to move in together officially, and he’s always had a streak of introversion in him. He values alone time. But his heart pangs a little, all the same.

“I want to be back with my own stuff,” Lux says. “With my bed and my studio and…everything. And I also want to try spending a night alone. Not that I don’t love spending every moment with you, but like, I’m an adult who should be able to sleep alone and not freak out…right?”

Reggie turns to face Lux and puts his hands on their shoulders. “Lux, you don’t need to justify yourself. Of course it makes sense for you to live in your own house now that it’s accessible. This is what normal couples do when they’re not living together. They go back and forth between each others’ homes and sometimes sleep apart. And if you try it and it turns out you’re not ready, we’ll figure that out, too.”

Lux kisses him gratefully, then pulls back and gazes at Reggie with lust-filled eyes.

“Also, I want to have sex. Tonight. I’m ready.”

Reggie is sure his dick is doing a touchdown dance already, but he restrains himself.

“You sure, angel? What about your ribs?”

Besides Lux’s knee, their bruised ribs have been the slowest to heal. The other marks and wounds are gone, but the ribs have been stubborn, still causing sudden pain weeks later if Lux moves the wrong way.

“I thought about that,” Lux says, a coy look on their face. “I thought long and hard about different positions and their ramifications, and I think the best would be me lying down and you riding me.”

God, that sounds delightful. Reggie can’t help but groan.

“Damn, kid. Then call me a cowgirl, because I’m ready to giddy-up.”

For the first time possibly ever, Reggie feels nervous when he steps out of the bathroom to join his lover. He’s wearing a short red satin robe over sheer stockings (inspired by their earlier talk). When he sees the look on Lux’s face, though, his confidence returns and he strikes a sultry pose.

“Like what you see?” he asks, twirling the robe’s belt.

“Ohmigod. You look like a sexy demon,” gushes Lux.

Lux is sat on the bed, already naked.

“If I’m a sexy demon, then you’re a sexy angel,” Reggie says.

He saunters over to the bed, and Lux sits up higher, pulling Reggie down by the lapels of his robe for a kiss. Reggie can taste mint and Lux’s lip gloss. He lets Lux set the pace of the kiss, which is both eager and thorough. Lux’s hands undo the cloth belt of the robe and travel up his torso, making sure to flit over his nipples.

Reggie pulls back from the kiss and smiles. “I feel like I’m wearing too much,” he says, pulling the robe fully open.

“You didn’t,” Lux exclaims with a thrilled gasp.

Reggie has raided his Halloween costume. Besides the robe and stockings, he’s wearing a garter belt, garters, and matching lace underwear.

“I need to get my mouth on this," Lux declares. "How can we make this work?"

“This is a pretty firm mattress, I can stand on the bed,” Reggie offers.

He climbs up, steadying himself on his feet. Lux tucks their left leg under themself so they have more height and leverage, then places their hands on Reggie’s hips and guides him in close. Reggie’s groin is level with Lux’s face now. He can feel Lux’s breath through the lace. When his lover starts mouthing the cloth, Reggie can’t help but moan.

He’s already said it this evening, but he wants to say it again before things get too heated.

“If at any moment you feel uncomfortable—”

“Reg, I appreciate it, but do I look uncomfortable?” Lux asks, continuing to nuzzle Reggie’s crotch.

“I know, I just—”

“It’s fine,” Lux says, looking up at him. “You’re a good guy. You act like you’re this big bad villain with your attitude and your facial hair, but I know there’s no one I’m safer with. Now can I please pull down these panties with my teeth and give you a blowjob?”

“Hell, yes, angel.”

It turns out it’s harder than Reggie thought it would be to balance standing on a mattress when every bit of his awareness only wants to focus on how exquisite Lux’s mouth feels on his dick. He has to grip Lux’s hair for the stability alone.  After they’ve both gotten worked up and Reggie has tossed his robe aside, Lux lies back on the bed.

“Let me take care of you now,” Reggie says.

He straddles Lux’s hips, but before putting a condom and lube on them, he leans forward, holding up his weight on his hands on either side of his lover’s body, making sure there’s no pressure on Lux’s ribs. When he bows his head down to kiss Lux, his hair falls around them like a curtain, like they’re the only two people in the world.

“You’re literally amazing, Reg,” Lux sighs.

Reggie chuckles. “Kid, you say that about everything. Your matcha latte, your eye makeup, the acai bowl you ate yesterday…”

“I mean it, though,” Lux says. “You’re the best part of my life.”

The statement stops Reggie in his tracks. When he gazes into Lux’s face, he can tell Lux is serious. Their blue eyes are pleading with him to understand their sincerity.

“I…” a blush blooms across Lux’s cheeks. “I love you. For real. Not, like, in a fake way. I know everyone thinks I’m dumb and shallow, but I do know my feelings and I know they’re true. I love you.”

Reggie’s arms are burning with the effort of holding himself up, but they’ll have to hold for a while longer. He kisses Lux again.

“I love you too,” he says.

Chapter Text

Lux has been dipping their toes back into social media.

At first, they had agonized over how to handle an official return. Back at The House, they had tried to write out a script for a video where they addressed what happened with Keith, but everything they wrote turned their stomach when they imagined saying it on camera. They weren’t sure how much they wanted to share or what they wanted the vibe of the video to be. They decided to work on a selfie-and-caption post instead, as that felt less vulnerable, but ran into the same problem.

“My content has always been about positivity, beauty and health,” Lux had lamented. “I don’t really want to talk about what happened, but it would be weird if I just didn’t mention it. Do I change my whole brand? Do I have to be, like, a trauma recovery account now?”

“You don’t have to post anything,” Phoenicia said. “You don’t have to have a brand at all. I’m telling you, there’s a better world out there. There was for me.”

“But I’m not you,” Lux argued. “I’m not going to be a painter. Or an accountant, or a real estate flipper. Social media is my work. And I know it doesn’t seem like it at the moment, but I like it.”

Ultimately, after talking it out with friends and their therapist, Lux had decided to start posting again, but with no pressure on themself. While waiting until they feel ready to get back to a more regular schedule, they post if they feel like it, when they feel like it, and do their best to not get too invested in engagement.

The first thing Lux posted was a photo dump of pics taken while they were still at The House. The first image was a group photo from the day their friends had come over and they all hung out and watched Amir’s soap opera. Unlike Lux’s usual photos of themself, it’s markedly unglamorous. They’re in a t-shirt and gym shorts, hair unstyled, no makeup, bulky leg splint, black eye and all. The other photos were similar shots of them with friends.

For a caption, they put getting my light back thanks to these gorgeous IRL luxies, followed by a string of heart emojis.

For the most part, the response was an outpouring of love from actual friends, fellow influencers, Luxies and others who had been intrigued by the story. However, some commenters asked insensitive questions about their ordeal or were otherwise rude. Others struck back at those comments, and there was “discourse,” but Lux forced themself to ignore it and simply let the drama play out rather than doing something like going on Live in the heat of the moment.

“I’m feeling so zen,” they told Reggie, clearly proud of themself.

Since then, they’ve continued with a few sporadic posts, including one calmly stating that if they ever talk about their traumatic experience, it will be on their own time. They also shared photos from one day when, fueled by boredom and stir-craziness, Lux had decided to style a little “clubbing” outfit for Sinclaire out of tissues and jewelry. The Human got involved, using a cardboard box to make a diorama of a club, for which Skips quickly rigged miniature lighting. Lux posted photos of the process and final result.

Sinclaire served at the turtle club and we love that for him.

Their followers adored it. Mostly. There were some hysterics over whether the turtle was kept as a prisoner in the cardboard box 24/7, which were shut down when others visited the Human’s tagged account and reported back that the turtle actually had very large indoor and outdoor habitats. Again, Lux ignored TurtleGate and let it get solved without their emotional investment. Reggie was supportive, but silently prayed that this didn’t give Lux ideas about getting a turtle as a pet. That thing still creeps him out.

“Alright, angel, ready to see your personal theme park ride?” Reggie asks.

“Yasss,” Lux replies excitedly.

He and Lux have just pulled up to Lux’s home, or as Eddie calls it, the “disaster McMansion.” Reggie is pretty sure Eddie has almost lost his mind multiple times while getting an up-close look at the building materials in this house. He’d called at one point to ask if Lux knew a room’s faux-marble paneling was held in place with a mix of glue and double-sided tape.

“So what if it falls down sometimes? I just tape it back up,” Lux had explained. “It looks like real marble on camera, so IDC. If that upsets you, like…don’t look at the tiles in the master bathroom. Or the mantel. Or the kitchen backsplash.”

The front doors of the mansion open and Eddie, Volt, Tony, and Koa step out. All of them, even Eddie, are smiling proudly. Volt embraces Lux and kisses Reggie’s hand. Reggie blushes a little. Volt and Eddie have been so welcoming. He feels like they’re almost his in-laws at this point.

“This team have truly made a work of art,” Volt brags.

“Hey, I did the easy part,” Koa demurs.

“And I just assisted,” says Tony. “Eddie was the boss man here.”

Eddie shrugs, thumbs hooked in his belt loops like usual. “Everyone helped out. But don’t worry. I didn’t let Tony do anything structural.”

“Ay!” Tony protests, but while chuckling.

The group steps inside to the foyer. There is the grand, curved staircase that beckons guests in, and along it, the new bespoke stairlift.

Lux gasps, grasping their hands to their chest in excitement. “Ohmigod, it’s everything I dreamed of!”

As promised, all of the metal, including the entire rail, is finished in gold. Koa has upholstered the chair in black leather, with lightbulbs lining the edge of the backrest, making it look like a throne of illumination. Lux squeals and hugs Eddie, Volt, Koa, and Tony in turn, crying, “It’s gorgeous! Stepford will be so jealous that his legs work properly!”

Eddie smirks. “You haven’t even seen it powered up yet.”

He turns it on, and not only do the lightbulbs illuminate, but a blue and pink glow emits from under the seat of the chair.

For a moment, Reggie thinks Lux might actually combust with delight.

“You added underglow with BISEXUAL LIGHTING?” they scream.

Reggie laughs. “Eddie, you’ve outdone yourself. We’re going to have to get Farya over here, because this one’s about to have a heart attack.”

“The lighting was all Volt’s idea,” Eddie says.

“Guilty as charged,” Volt admits, grinning.

Eddie then goes over all the “boring” stuff, as Lux deems it: how it’s powered, the safety features, and so on. Soon, though, it’s time to try it out. Lux settles in the chair (and assures Koa that it’s very comfy), belts in, and shortly is being ferried up the curving staircase, filming the group below them getting smaller as they rise, while Reggie, on Lux’s request, films Lux ascending.

“This is so cool,” Lux shrieks. “I’m like Glinda in her floating bubble thing.”

“OMG! Lover, look at this,” Lux exclaims.

It’s a few days later, and Reggie and Lux are in the mansion. They’re sitting on the couch, eating breakfast. Reggie is half-awake and still in his sleepwear, and Lux has been up for a while and is dressed in their lime-green workout shorts. They’ve been getting back into their exercise routine, and as far as Reggie can tell, are actually doing a good job following their physical therapist’s and ortho’s orders about taking things slowly.

“You know how I posted that video of the stairlift reveal yesterday, and everyone loved it?” Lux asks. “Now there’s a trend. #luxifymobility. Look what this Luxie did with her grandma’s stairlift.”

They show Reggie a video on their phone.

I got inspired by Lux’s custom stairlift the video’s captions read over footage of a young woman shopping at a craft store. I don’t have their budget or a team of professionals as friends, but my grandma’s favorite flowers are roses, so I did this for her. The video shows the woman making a garland out of fake white and pink roses, and using a glue gun to attach it to the top edge of the stairlift’s plain gray backrest. The final clip shows the happy grandmother riding on her lift.

I so super love this! Shine on! Lux replies before sharing the post.

Other videos with the hashtag show someone with a walker brightening up their stairlift with LED strips, and a person in a wheelchair sharing a photo collage of how they’ve personalized their chairs over the years. Lux happily likes and shares them.

Reggie can’t help but smile. “That’s really sweet. Even my cold dead heart is warm.”

“‘Cold dead heart’ my ass,” Lux replies with an affectionate squeeze to Reggie’s knee.

“Hey, I’ve got appearances to keep up,” Reggie protests half-heartedly.

“Like, what appearances?” Lux asks, arching an eyebrow. “Tonight you’re going out with your do-gooding group to do a do-gooding cause. I hate to break it to you, but you’re the ‘angel’ in this relationship.”

Tonight, Haters Gonna Bait is doing something new. Rebel had reached out to Reggie about an issue in a nearby town. A charity was hoping to open a group home for youth who had recently aged out of foster care, but some residents were opposed. There’s a town hall meeting about it, and Rebel asked if Reggie’s group might attend. Haters Gonna Bait will be there not to pull any stunts, but simply to show support for the project.

“I suppose we all contain multitudes,” Reggie admits. “Even those of us who were once literally the concept of rejection. Speaking of tonight, though. How are you feeling?”

This will be the first night where Lux will be entirely on their own. The meeting Reggie’s group is attending is an hour away and will probably run late, and it makes sense for him to stop at his own apartment afterwards than to continue all the way across town to reach the mansion. Lux has been doing better, and with the security system Eddie and Volt set up, they’re feeling confident about spending a night alone.

“I’ll be fine,” Lux says. “I’m going to be busy all day with party-planning, and in the evening, I have my stream to keep me focused.”

Lux has two big events they’re working on. First, they want to host a party at the mansion for all their former housemates to thank everyone for their support and to show off the stairlift. “I want it to be a classy party, not just a DJ-and-poppers party,” they had explained to Reggie, so they’re researching the city’s best caterers and florists.

They’re also planning Volt and Eddie’s joint bachelor party. Technically, this is the responsibility of the entire wedding party, but all the groomsmen, groomsmaids, and groomstheys know that when it comes to events, no one does it like Lux. Lux has leveraged their social media clout, as well as the fame of some of the guests (like soap opera star Amir, reality show star Tony, and one human woman Volt and Eddie work with who is an interior designer with a hugely popular Instagram), into proposals for discounts and potential sponsorship deals. Eddie didn’t want a big bachelor party at all, let alone one with sponsors, but Volt loves excitement and flash, and Lux is pretty sure that with the right proposal and Volt’s puppy-dog eyes, they can get Eddie to sign off on something fun.

“What are you and Stella playing on the stream?” Reggie asks.

For their return to live content, Lux is keeping it low-key. They’re going to do a joint Twitch stream with Stella since their followers were understandably astonished that they knew each other, and because Stella’s platform is so well-moderated, supportive and welcoming.

“Dress to Impress,” Lux says. “It’s a fashion game where you have to make the chicest outfit for your avatar. Mostly children play it, so hopefully Stella and I crush them all.”

“Do it, angel,” says Reggie with a wry grin. “Destroy those children’s dreams.”

“There are those multitudes,” Lux replies, grinning back.

The town hall meeting runs late as predicted, but Reggie feels that it ultimately went well. There was a strong showing of support for the group home project, with alumni of Rebel’s group home sharing how the living environment had helped them. Reggie is glad that he and his fellow “Haters” could help.

On the drive home, he checks in with Lux on a call, who is happy about how their stream went. A few trolls here and there barged in with rude questions or mean comments, but Stella’s mods had them all booted immediately. For the most part, the vibe was relaxed and fun. Several subscribers shared their own plans to “Luxify” their mobility devices, and Lux and Stella got their avatar to the top of the podium in a few rounds.

When Reggie finally gets home, he’s exhausted. He and Lux exchange “goodnight” texts, and he falls asleep.

About an hour later, Reggie wakes up to his phone ringing. It’s Lux.

“I’m so sorry,” Lux blurts out.

Reggie can immediately tell from the tears and rapid breathing that it’s a panic attack.

“I thought I heard something,” Lux continues. “I felt like someone was in the house. The security system says nothing and I know there’s no one here but I feel like there is and—”

“Baby, baby, it’s ok,” Reggie says, already getting out of bed and fumbling around for sweatpants. “I’m on my way. I’ll stay on the phone with you.”

When he gets to the mansion, Reggie lets himself in. He finds Lux upstairs in the ensuite bathroom, where they have locked themself in with a tripod as a defensive weapon.

“I feel so stupid,” Lux sobs as Reggie joins them on the bathroom floor and wraps his arms around them. “There was a noise, and it was probably just the pipes, but I panicked and I couldn’t stop it. I kept thinking what if it was the Gladiuses? What if they wanted revenge after all, even though Scandalabra swore they’d leave me alone?”

“You don’t have to feel stupid,” Reggie reassures them. “You had a traumatic experience, and you had a panic attack. That’s understandable.”

“But I made you come all the way out here,” Lux continues, still crying. “You should be asleep right now.”

Reggie squeezes Lux tight and kisses their head. “Angel, I would much rather be here with you than sleeping right now. I’m glad you called me. If I had gotten a good night’s sleep but found out later that you spent the night terrified in your bathroom, I’d be heartbroken. Now, let’s get to bed.”

He helps Lux up from the cold tile floor. They leave the bathroom nightlight on and settle into Lux’s bed, curled closely together.

“One of the weirdest things about being human for me was being so alone, especially at night, and especially when I moved out of The House,” Lux says, their head resting on Reggie’s chest. “Like, when I was lighting, I was everywhere. I was literally in every single room. I could be anywhere, with anyone, instantly. If the Human needed to pee in the middle of the night or wanted a midnight snack, I was right there with them. I was the porch light, keeping us all safe with Front Dorian. And I was connected to the Breaker Box literally 24/7. Even in the dead of night, Eddie and Volt were less than a second away at all times. Being here alone in this house after that, not connected to anyone…it felt so strange.”

Reggie rubs Lux’s back sympathetically. He’s thought about how odd the experience of becoming human must have been for some the objects more than others, but he hadn’t realised just how different it would be for Lux. He didn’t know the change made Lux feel vulnerable. Lux is so…so Lux. They always seem confident and unbothered.

“One of the worst moments,” Lux says, their voice shaking, “was that evening on the boat after Keith attacked me and threw my phone overboard. I was laying on the deck in the dark, my knee messed up and my face throbbing, and I realised how alone I was. I had no way of contacting anyone without my phone. At The House, I could reach anyone at literally lightspeed. But on that deck, I couldn’t reach anyone.”

Reggie wishes he could reach back through time and whisk Lux away from that boat, but he can’t, so he kisses Lux’s hair instead.

“It makes a lot of sense why nights would be difficult for you, especially now,” he murmurs.

“But this is ridiculous,” Lux sniffles. “I’m a human now. I’m supposed to be fine in my own house. And you travel for work sometimes. I can’t always have someone with me.”

“Well, that’s not necessarily true,” says Reggie. “I support your progress towards regaining your independence and conquering your fear. I want that for you and you’ve come so far. But humans mostly don’t live alone. They live with family, friends, roommates, or even—” and he hesitates to say it, not wanting to inspire thoughts of Lux getting a turtle, “pets. Humans are social creatures, even if individuals sometimes struggle with being social, like our Human did. But if I’m ever away and you don’t feel able to spend the night alone, you have options. Eddie and Volt, the Human, Phoenicia…you have friends who will take you into their homes or who will come have a slumber party with you. Or even simply text with you late at night. You’re not alone. You are still connected to everyone, just differently.”

Lux sighs. “How come you always know what to say?”

“Easy. I’m a genius.”

“Well, I love you, genius.”

“I love you, too, angel.”

They kiss, then, exhausted, settle back down, with Reggie’s head on a pillow and Lux’s head on Reggie’s chest. But there’s one thing Reggie wants to make sure Lux knows before they fall asleep.

“Just know that if you need me, I will always want to be by your side,” he says.

“Always?” Lux asks.

“Always,” Reggie says, and he knows he means it. He honestly can’t imagine not basking in the glow of this sassy, gorgeous, impossible, secretly sweet former lamp. How had he ever thought he would be able to keep things casual with this beam of light?

“I’d like that,” Lux says sleepily.

And they both drift off to sleep.