somethin’ stupid, like “i love you”

by preciousposey

Summary:

Jeremy works in a diner. Mick is a professional killer. They cross paths one groggy morning, changing the trajectory of their lives. The hitman has never met someone so headstrong, yet so vulnerable. Jeremy has never met someone who wasn’t annoyed at his hyperactive tendencies and loud mouth. However, much to Mick’s surprise, he might be the one with the least baggage in this endeavor.

Notes:

i truly hope the summary is good because i have never written on here before or ANYTHING and it is nerve wracking (is that how you spell it?)

but anyway yeah, welcome to my fic if you’re reading, i’m gonna do my best with this one. there’s probably gonna be a lot of ‘making it up along the way’ because that’s just how I like to write sometimes. (Also yes I did take some inspiration from the Running Blind fic and the sequel because it’s just too damn good.)

Chapter 1: 9 to 5

The bell above the door jingled quietly. A few people entering every 30 minutes or so. It was a slow morning. Jeremy wasn’t sure if he was glad or absolutely bored half to death. Sighing as he glanced around anxiously from behind the long counter.

 

It wasn’t worth anything being a regular, because everyone knew everyone else and this was one of the few well kept diners in town. That’s the thing about knowing everyone and everyone knowing you. You don’t live things down. People remember you, and maybe for some thats a good thing, but for Jeremy? Not so much.

 

Another thing about everyone knowing, it was extra obvious when someone new came along. Those days weren’t so common, but Jeremy loved it. When you meet new people, you can be any way you want, and they won’t know the difference.

 

Jeremy could pretend like he wasn’t seen as a joke to everyone around him. Except maybe a brother or two, and his Ma, bless her.

 

For years they had been struggling to keep food on the table, clothes on their backs, and bills paid. Jeremy would have made it big on some sports team if it weren’t for his horrific school performance. That’s what was real frustrating. You could be the best damn athlete out there, faster than a bullet, but god forbid you have an extremely low reading level!

 

Well, that hadn’t been the only thing. Jeremy struggled to read, but he had poor discipline, he never turned things in on time. When there was schoolwork to be done, he could be found running and playing with his brothers, reading comic books, skateboarding. It was weird, he always felt so much shame and anxiety for never doing his work, or being good enough at it.

 

Yet he could never just do it. 

 

And so he failed out of high school in the first year. Luckily he could read well enough to work at the diner, but even if he couldn’t, his Ma would have pulled a few strings here and there to at least get them that. That didn’t mean that Jeremy didn’t try everything else, however.

 

Far from it, Jeremy busted ass here and there just pulling what he could together for what was left of his family in Boston. Really, there was a bit of burden of guilt on his shoulders. When he was born, that’s when things started to get rough, and they struggled more. At least that’s what his brother, Coltin told him so many times. But they weren’t on friendly terms. Hell, Jeremy barely even wanted to call him a brother.

 

All that had brought him to this diner, on this morning. On this day. His head resting on his palm as he scribbled on a notebook usually used for taking down orders. He would like to refer to himself as an artist. 

The jingle of the door, but Jeremy didn’t look up. It was probably one of the people that came in every morning. A few footsteps and suddenly, the diner seemed unsettling quiet. The tap of boots across the floor being heard loudly until they stopped at the counter. He could see a slight shadow cast over him.

 

“Er, ‘scuse me, mate?”

 

Instantly, Jeremy’s eyebrow shot up, his gaze quickly flickering up to the figure now stood in front of him. The man looked back—at least Jeremy thought so, he couldn’t really see past the yellowish shades he wore. 

“Heyyy…pally.”

 

He didn’t know what to think. The taller (much taller) man stood before him was certainly a character. Unlike anything he’d seen. At least in real life. The slouched brown hat, his collard leather vest, the red button up shirt. Jeremy could hardly keep his eyes from wandering.

 

The stranger cleared his throat, glancing around nervously as eyes gawked. 

“Y’got…coffee? I’d, er, like one, no sugar, please.” 

 

“This a diner, ain’t it? ‘Course we got coffee, slugger. Anythin’ else ya want?” 
Jeremy quickly scribbled down the small order, glancing up again. The man’s voice was low and gravelly. With a clear Australian accent. Yet he didn’t seem like an Australian. At least not like how it was shown on TV or advertisements. Instead, he had a calm energy about him. He was polite. 

 

The man shifted, sitting down in the seat in front of Jeremy. 
“Some bacon, an’ toast.”
He nodded to himself, as if satisfied with his answer. 

Jeremy winked, “I’ll get that out to ya before ya can say ‘thanks Jer’!”

 

Mick felt his face flush, opening his mouth to possibly stutter out a response before he just closed it again, the shorter waiter walking away before he could embarrass himself. 

 

All the pairs of eyes he felt burning into his back didn’t help much, either. He couldn’t help but wonder if any of these people were ever taught that it’s rude to stare. Slightly fidgeting with his vest a bit before lifting one side and pulling an envelope out of the inner pocket. 

Opening it up and pulling the paper out, he started to read before suddenly—,

 

”Alrighty, one coffee for the rugged Aussie, plus some tasty frickin’ bacon and toast. Delivered by yours truly.” Jeremy placed everything down in a timely manner before bowing dramatically. The stranger stared at him, hopefully stunned into silence by Jeremy’s swagger. 

And for a few seconds, he was. His toned skin dusted red for a few moments before his brain caught up with a response. His lips curled a bit downward into a frown.

”Ya takin’ the piss outta me, mate?”

 

His voice had lowered (somehow). Just barely above a whisper in that gravelly, rolling voice. Jeremy felt his own ears start to burn. The frown etched in his thin face. His hand coming up to scratch his stubble as he looked on quietly.

 

”Eh…what?” 

“Means, are ya fuckin’ with me, ya lil bugger.” He let out a light huff, taking a drink of his coffee. Jeremy was surprised he was able to drink it without any reaction. Jeremy hated coffee. 

“Oh, well uh…sorta. I dunno, I just—guess I just never really eh, seen someone like you before and uh, yeah it was kinda stupid…” his voice trailed off as he glanced to the side. Mick raised an eyebrow.

”Don’t worry ‘bout it mate. Just think ‘bout what you’re sayin’ ‘fore ya say it, right?”

 

Jeremy just nodded awkwardly, standing there as Mick looked down to eat his bit of food and continue drinking his coffee. The silence for him was welcomed, but for Jeremy, it pressed all his buttons. 

 

“So…” he couldn’t just stand there and gawk at the man. He wanted to know more.

”You’re really from Australia?”

 

Mick’s face was neutral as he contemplated answering. In his line of work, revealing too much was always tricky. But this bloke seemed harmless enough. 

“‘M parents still live up there. We got a farm an all that. Simple life. Nothin’ like out here. ‘Aven’t really been in places like this much.” A small pause before he took another drink.

 

”You get a lotta attention from the ladies?” 
Mick choked a bit on his drink, sputtering out a response,

”You ask that—ta every bloke, hff, that walks in ‘ere?”

 

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “Well—no, you just seem like the kinda guy that gets a lotta attention, y’know, you’re all…tall, n’…stuff.” His face slowly started to burn at his own admittance. 

“N’ stuff. That, right?” Mick let out a low chuckle once he got his bearings. “Nah, mate, not that I noticed. Usually just from the blokes, seein’ as I prefer ‘em anyway.” 

The shorter man’s face nearly turned as red as Mick’s shirt. “Oh, well, dats cool. I mean, not that ya like dudes but, I mean—no I kinda like guys too, eh, well…” he stuttered, finding it hard to find words that weren’t incriminating and blatantly screaming ‘hey random guy I just met, I think you’re smokin’ hot’.

 

“I’ll just…leave ya to your coffee.” He quickly shuffled away, somewhere into the kitchen, out of sight. But he could hear one last thing as he retreated from his embarrassing display,

 

“Thanks for the coffee, Jer.”

Chapter 2: Cigarettes and Coffee

Summary:

Mick has a quiet moment to himself and thinks over his contract.

Notes:

common theme this fic will have is songs as chapter titles! i love music and it’s always a huge inspiration for me to write.

The dim camper lights flicked on as the man stepped inside, hand lowering from the switch and closing the door quietly behind him. The lights weren’t too yellow that it was dingy and suffocating, nor too white that it was blinding. Just right.

 

The hitman operated this way—precise and thought through. His things being in a way just he preferred. When things got out of hand, or out of control, it was sometimes easy for Mick to lose his cool. The man did not deal well with being overwhelmed.

 

However, there was one thing he always excelled at, one thing that didn’t ever really get to him or overwhelm him, except when he was doing poorly. And that thing was his job.

 

He had a certain way around a sniper rifle that few he had met had. Well, not any for that matter, because if they met Mick, chances were they were dead by now. The man took his job very seriously. There was never a more serene moment than when he was breaths away from pulling the trigger, and turning some poor blokes head into a fine, red mist.

 

He was much like a predator at work, hunting his prey for miles and miles, watching them until boom, just the right moment. He would’ve liked if his parents supported him, hell, even they even tolerated it. Because he was truly good at what he did, and it wasn’t about killing people, it was about getting business done and doing it well.

 

His dad had never understood that. His mum just sort of brushed it off all the time. Though she had always tried to keep a good relationship with him, support him, be there. She did a decent job. His dad on the other hand? They might as well not even be father and son. 

The sniper headed over to the single, somewhat small bed in the camper. Sitting on the edge as he unwound from the day. It was always a process, being out and around so many people. He had forgotten just how exhausting social interaction was. 

His thoughts faintly lingered on the young man he had met at the diner before the cord phone on the table rang. Mick rose to his feet quickly, picking it up and holding it to his ear. 

“Hey sniper, it’s Pauling. Did you read the contract yet?”

”Er, nah. Was gonna, then got a bit caught up in somethin’. Is it urgent?”

 

A pause of silence as some scuffle could be heard on the other end. Sniper could swear this sheila was always taking care of some trouble whenever they spoke over the phone. Burying bodies, getting rid of witnesses. She was a busy woman. 

“Well, yes and no. Your target is in Boston, in the town I sent you to. He’s been kinda moving around, but I have a feeling he’s going to make a stop soon enough. And you need to be there when he does, okay?”

 

Sniper processed her words for a moment. The way she spoke, it was like she knew where he was gonna be. Sniper wasn’t surprised. Miss Pauling was always cagey about certain details. A lot like him in a way. Except his details weren’t violent war crimes, and more like family scuffles. Not entirely anyway. 

“A’wright. Any reason why ya got this ‘feelin’, ‘bout where the blokes gonna be?”

”Well, it’s complicated—,”

 

A few gunshots and huffing from Miss Pauling,

”Okay, I gotta go. Make sure you read the contract, find his last known location. Pauling out.”

 

The line went dead as Sniper still held it to his ear, lowering it a second later and putting it down. There weren’t any noises outside, except for the occasional distant train or other city sounds. The van couldn’t be parked anywhere particularly private, because there really was nowhere, which Mick loathed.

 

It was nights like these where he did wish he was back on the farm, with nothing but the sound of chirping crickets and yipping of wild animals. Sitting down, he took off his shades and hat, setting them aside. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to get the stress out as much as he could. 

He knew it was going to be a long few weeks here. Mick didn’t much like changes in scenery—or big changes at all for that matter.  They unsettled him. Switched up his daily routines. It was a very grating ordeal. 

His thoughts wandered back to the man at the diner. Jer. It could be short for a few names. His short, light brown hair, it could have almost been a dirty blonde, even. His upturned nose. The way his blue eyes lit up as he spoke. That cute accent he had. The way he hoped off like a little roo to go get his order. 

Mick caught himself faintly smiling before he came back to reality, the corner of his lips slightly upturned. This realization that he was daydreaming about that Boston boy made his face burn hotter than summer, groaning quietly. 

Had it been that long since he’d been interested in someone? To get his mind off of it, he reached into his vest again, grabbing the same paper from earlier. Carefully unfolding it and reading.

 

Mick’s jaw tensed. Clenching his teeth a moment before he relaxed again. Well, at least these weeks would be interesting, if that was a word for it. 

Chapter 3: Pink Triangle

Summary:

Jeremy goes home after a long shift and is shackled with some family drama.

Notes:

hesitant to call this slow burn because i’m possibly the least patient mf

also, warning for homophobia in this chapter and mentions of abuse!

“Ma! I’m home!” 

Jeremy set his bag down next to the door, listening for any signs of life in the apartment. There was some clinking in the kitchen until finally,

 

”Hi, Jer! I’m makin’ dinner, hon.” 

 

He quietly pushed his shoes off, which were a bit tattered and old from all the running he did. He had even ran home, but you wouldn’t have been able to notice aside from a little amount of sweat. It took a lot for him to get exhausted.

 

As soon as his shoes were off, he headed into the kitchen. The lights shining, his Ma standing at the stove in a red sweater dress. Her favorite color was red, always had been. Maybe because of this, it was also Jeremy’s favorite color. She had black hair—always wearing a headband as her bangs swooped to one side, the back of her hair turning up at the ends. 

It was always comforting for Jeremy to see his Ma, whether it be after failing a test, getting into fights, or just being in one of his moods. She was always there. Just by looking at her, you could see where Jeremy got a bit of his features from—mainly his height. She was a very short lady. 

“How was work, Jer?” 

She always asked this every day, to mixed responses. 

“Good…met an Aussie guy. Knocked his socks off. The usual.” Jeremy shrugged, partly joking and partly making up for the embarrassment still simmering in his stomach.

 

”An Australian, huh? He must be new ‘round here. You catch his name?” 

“Eh, no…shit.”

“Language.” A polite but firm chiding.

 

”Sorry ma…he was real interestin’. I was kinda hopin’….he’d come back to the diner another mornin’.”

 

A lull in the conversation as Jeremy’s mom turned off the stove, setting aside dinner. There were a few thoughts rolling around in her head.

 

”Ya like him that much?” 

Jeremy’s face flushed, “He—he was just really attractive. Hah, nothin’ much else to it, he was nice ta look at.” Rubbing the back of his neck as he knew he was not really telling the full truth. 

 

The door to the apartment suddenly slammed shut, causing Jeremy to jolt into a state of alertness. A few seconds later, it was just Coltin. Just Coltin. Jeremy rolled his eyes,

”Ya don’t gotta treat the door with so much disrespect, pally, it never did anythin’ to ya.”

 

”Can it, is dinner done, Ma?”

 

Jeremy glared, his eyes following his taller brother, who was both tall and more muscular than Jeremy. That didn’t stop him from picking fights. It was never even his fault!

 

”Don’t be rude to ya brother. Almost. Mind helpin’ me set the table?”

 

Coltin only shot a glance toward Jeremy before heading to place down the plates and silverware. The younger brother only scoffed, crossing his arms as his glare still followed Coltin. He could hardly stand to be in the same room as that guy. 

 

“Listen, runt, if ya not gonna help ya can just go to your room.” 

“You ain’t the boss a’ me, Colt.” 

 

Coltin glared toward Jeremy, straightening up and stomping over to his shorter brother, towering over him. But Jeremy wasn’t intimidated, no, he was used to it.

 

”Well clearly someone’s gotta be the boss of ya, ya hardly do anythin’ ‘round here, a goddamn freeloader.”

“I ain’t a fuckin’ freeloader, you’re just an asshole, an when’s the last time you even helped Ma? Nah, you’d rather just spend it on some girls.”

 

The tension ramped up after Jeremy’s remark, Ma trying to get between them but unable to break through.

 

An angered laugh from Coltin, “me spendin’ money on my girlfriend? At least I’m not wastin’ my time and money on some fag who treats me like shit anyway.” 

Jeremy flinched at that one, eyebrows furrowing. His eyes only tilted downward.

 

Ma interjected at that one, “Alright, that’s enough. You know better than to talk about that, Coltin. You should be ashamed of yourself.” She glared up at the older brother, causing him to slightly shrink away. But his gaze didn’t soften for Jeremy. It never did. 

“Nah, it’s cool Ma…Colt’s always been a dick anyway. Hey, just, set aside some food for me later. I’m gonna go get dressed in some comfier clothes.” 

Jeremy’s tone was rigid as he turned to head down the hallway to his room. Back in the kitchen he could hear his Ma chiding Coltin angrily. Once he reached his room, he closed the door quickly, letting out a shaky breath. 

 

“Stupid fuckin’…”

 

He mumbled to himself, heading over to his bed and flopping down on top of the covers. Really, where the hell did he get off talking to him like that? The more he thought, the anger burning deep in his chest just slowly morphed into an aching sadness. 

His fingers idly picked at the fabric of his blanket. Maybe Colt had a point. What kinda guy lets another guy push him around like his ex did? Especially bad enough that his oldest brother had to step in, saving Jeremy like some damsel in distress.

 

It was pathetic. Jeremy felt pathetic. So goddamn—. His eyes started to burn with a familiar feeling. Gritting his teeth and stuffing his face into the bed. He couldn’t believe this. 

Carefully he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small notebook he used at work. Looking over the fresh page.

 

One coffee. No sugar. Bacon and toast.

 

Jeremy sniffed, looking lower down the page, a small drawing of a man wearing shades, a slouched hat. A feeling stabbed at his heart. He wasn’t sure what it was—not exactly. 

A quiet knock came at his door, his Ma stepping in with a plate of food. “Jer?” He quickly shifted to wipe away any tears that had managed to struggle their way out, glancing toward the door,

 

”Hey, Ma,”

“Brought you some food…figured you’d might need it after such an exciting day.” She moved to gracefully sit on the edge of the bed, setting the plate down carefully.

 

”Thanks, Ma…”

”And, hey, don’t let your brother get to ya. Next time he talks crazy like that I’ll smack him upside the head a few times,” she demonstrated with a firm hand, waving it back and forth a few times. Which earned a small smirk from Jeremy. 

There was a beat of silence before Ma glanced over at the notebook on the bed, “that him?”

 

Jeremy’s eyes jumped to the drawing, nodding quietly. The heat started to rise on his ears, slowly at first. There was a hum of acknowledgment from his Ma, “Just imaginin’ that guy takin’ out my Jer Bear. You’d be the talk of the town!”

 

Suddenly the temperature had risen all too fast, and his face was burning to the touch. Awkwardly raising a hand to scratch the back of his neck, “Geez Ma, I don’t even know the guys name…” 

 

Ma tsk’d a few times, “Don’t be modest, Jer. He’d be lucky to have you even lookin’ his way! You’re a catch, and you get it from—“

”From you, I know, I know…” he feigned an affectionate annoyance. But he really did appreciate her reassurance of him. She always knew what to say to make him feel better…Or embarrass him further. 

“There ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’ interested in guys. Or bein’ in a bad relationship once upon a time. We’ve all been there, Jer. Ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of.” 

 

Jeremy just looked at her, his eyes round as tears pricked at them again. The look of when a boy gets hurt, and is Ma is there to pick him back up again, brush him off. Tell him it’ll all be okay. 

All Jeremy could manage was a hushed ‘thanks Ma’, as she leaned over and gave a kiss to his forehead. 

 

“Now you better eat before it gets cold.” She stood from the bed then and exited the room, closing the door behind her as she left. Jeremy grabbed the fork from the plate and started eating, feeling as if he was ready for anything. 

Chapter 4: Problems

Summary:

Jeremy has a bad start to his day, but meeting Mick again makes him think maybe it isn’t so bad.

Notes:

does this need a warning? anyway, the r word is used but it’s censored.

 

He was, in fact, not ready for anything.

 

The next morning had been a complete and utter disaster. It wasn’t until the 10th time his alarm was going off that there was a banging on the door that roused Jeremy from his sleep. A distinct voice on the other side, Jack, his oldest brother.

 

“J, you’re 20 minutes late for work, rise and shine, lil bro!”

 

Jeremy groaned, barely processing the words. But as they fit themselves together, his eyes popped open, jumping out of bed and throwing the covers aside as he scrambled to get dressed in his work clothes. Pulling the door open as he rushed past Jack.

 

“Ya really gotta get a new alarm, switch things up a little, y’know?”

 

Jeremy mumbled a few ‘uh-huh’s as he made a mad dash to get his things together and get ready. Though he didn’t brush his hair or anything, didn’t have time to shower.

 

And in one minute flat he was running out the door with a quick, ‘bye’ to his Ma and Jack. His black duffel bag that carried all his things was strapped over his back.

 

Nimble feet tapping against the concrete in quick succession. He was so fast it seemed at points like he just floated over the ground. The dog tags around his neck flew behind him in the breeze.

 

Cars clogged the streets, everyone else also on their way to work. But Jeremy just flew past them all. The honking and sounds of the city just becoming background noise to him. It was always a good way to start his morning, running.

 

It was about a 5 minute run to the diner with how fast Jeremy was going. When he arrived, he wasn’t winded, but he could feel his legs ache. Presumably from the lack of stretching before such a fast sprint.

 

Hanging his duffel bag off his shoulder, he listened to the familiar jingle as he headed inside. Immediately his boss raised his head from behind the counter, a stern expression on his face.

 

Mr. Anderson was an older man. Grey, short hair. Stubble which was growing more into a beard. He was just a little bit taller than Jeremy—and more noticeably, he looked at least 50 when he was frowning.

 

“Nice of you to show up, Jeremy.”

 

“Hey, y’know I was gonna show up, just woke up late.” Jeremy rolled his eyes, heading behind the counter,

 

“With you, I can’t know too much.” Of course, Mr. Anderson did appreciate Jeremy and the work he did, so his comments were nothing but simple complaining.

 

The diner was busier today. A lot busier. Pretty overwhelming, actually. More and more people just coming through the door, until they were nearly packed. it’s like every family in their town just up and decided today was the day to mess up Jeremy’s shift!

 

A coffee and table of pancakes. Some eggs, bacon and toast. Waffles and damn near 5 glasses of milk. The orders swirled around in his head, getting lost in the details as he tried to write them down.

 

A few orders got messed up because of his lack of juggling everything—a few more inconveniences, and Jeremy was at his wits end.

 

There had finally been a lull in the orders, and he laid his head against the counter. Listening to the jumbled noises of chatter and silverware clinking against plates. Normally Jeremy welcomed noise, but today it was just grating enough.

 

There was another jingle at the door, Jeremy groaning to himself as he prepared, not yet lifting his head.

. . .

Mick stuttered at the door, looking around and seeing the sea of people and families seated around the diner. His heart leaping in his chest. Hands getting a little bit clammy. He just about turned and walked right back out, and he would have—but he spotted the man again. Against the counter, sulking.

 

Mick hesitated again before heading over to the counter, his neck and back prickling with an unsettled feeling.

 

“Hello, mate.”

 

In an instant, Jeremy’s head perked up, eyes wide.

“Yo, it’s you!”

 

Mick only half-smiled awkwardly. Sitting down in the counter chair across from him once again.

 

“Busy today…” he mumbled, his voice just barely loud enough to be heard above the roaring noise of the diner.

“Please tell me you aren’t about to order 50 pancakes and 5 orange juices…” a distressed look from the shorter man,

 

“No need to worry, just a coffee. An—“

“No sugar! Have faith in me pally!”

 

Mick couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth being tugged into a sheepish smile. Jeremy paused for a moment before grinning, his buck teeth being shown a bit before he spoke.

 

“And what’s the name for that order…?” A quirked eyebrow. Mick’s ears started to heat up.

 

“Mick.” His voice was a low rumble in his throat, and Jeremy quickly jotted it down, having a silly smile on his face as he headed back to the kitchen.

 

The hitman stared after him for a few seconds more than he ought to have. Soon glancing away. Once again being left with the overstimulating environment. He had only known this bloke for barely a day, yet his presence seemed comforting. Like none of these other people mattered when he was around. Like he wasn’t absolutely terrified of being caught in crowds or bumping into people. 

 

It wasn’t long before Jeremy was returning with the coffee, setting it down in front of the bushman. He seemed to have a second wind of energy now.

 

”Thanks, Jer.” Mick nodded his head before taking a drink. The warmth and bitterness calming his nerves just a bit. 

“You were probably wonderin’—my full name is Jeremy. But my Ma calls me Jer. My brothers call me J, or lil J, ‘cause I’m the youngest.”

 

Mick was surprised with how much information he just sprung on him. He had brothers, he was the youngest. “How many brothers?” 

“Seven! Jack is the oldest, he’s Big J, shocking, I know! Then Henry, then Nick, then Dennis, then Tony, then Sam.”

”Six, then.” A quick response from Mick. He had actually been listening. Not that he remembered all the names, but he had counted. 

“Huh?”

”It’s only six, mate.”

”Oh, eh. Yeah, ‘bout that…” Jeremy became quiet, his lips tensing into a thin line as he furrowed his eyebrows. He had left out one brother. 

“Not m’ place to ask, so apologies if I offend but…is ‘e dead?” Mick’s gaze was softer than it had been before. Jeremy had half the mind to just say ‘yeah he’s dead’. Except he wasn’t, he was very much alive, and a pain in the ass.

 

”Nah…not dead, just a major douchebag. Y’know…” His hand idly scratched at the counter and Mick nodded, 

“I understand how it is. Even if I don’t got any brothers. Or sisters.” His hand raised to rub his stubble a bit before taking another drink and adjusting his hat. 

 

“What’s your family like?” 

A pause as Mick’s face lowered a bit, the tone becoming much less light. “Rather not talk ‘bout that, if ya don’t mind.”

”Oh, uh…yeah, you got it slugger.” 

Before Jeremy could open his mouth to yap some more to the quiet man before him, there was a customer walking up to the counter, plate in hand. 

 

 

“What the hell is this?” 

 

Jeremy’s gaze flickered over to him, eyes drifting down to the plate. It looked like a normal plate of eggs, hash browns, bacon. All that jazz. He raised an eyebrow, “uh, food? The heck ya think it is, buddy?” 

 

Mick’s shoulders had long tensed up, his entire body rigid as he listened to the man’s loud voice next to him, practically making him want to rip his ear drums out. 

Jeremy’s flippant tone only caused the guest to become angrier. “I didn’t order goddamn sunny side up eggs buddy, and the bacon is damn near charred! You betta fix this.” 

The shorter waiter looked a bit closer. Well, the eggs were sunny side up, but the bacon looked fine to him. “Alright, pally, I got that for ya. Which kinda eggs did you order again?”

 

The guests temper rose, “you’re the one who wrote down the damn thing, look at your stupid little notepad.” 

Mick’s voice suddenly interjected, “calm down, mate. ‘S only eggs, right?” There was a tension in his tone. Almost to say ‘you should calm down or you’ll regret it’. 

 

A moment of silence before the other man scoffed, setting the plate down.

”It’s a simple fuckin’ order, I don’t need some damn Outback freak tellin’ me to calm down when this r****d can’t even get one order right.”

 

Jeremy was about to open his mouth when Mick stood up abruptly, taking the breath out of his chest right then and there. 

“A’wright, ya bloody cunt, ya want some fuckin’ eggs ya can head to the nearest rubbish bin and find yourself a coupla maggots. If I see ya in ‘ere ‘fore I finished ‘m coffee, I’m pourin’ the whole bloody boilin’ pot over ya head, right?” 

The hitman’s fists were clenched, forearms tense where his sleeves were rolled up. The brim of his hat casted a shadow over his face as he stood at least a few inches above the man before him.

 

Jeremy didn’t make a peep, blue eyes blown wide as he watched the scene play out. Although, neither did the customer, who swiftly exited the diner and sat in his car, probably hoping that he’d never meet Mick again. 

Mick took in a steady breath, coming back down to Earth and realizing there was a very uncomfortable silence about the place. He cleared his throat and fidgeted, adjusting his collar. Taking a seat again quietly as his temper cooled down. 

“Woah.” Was all Jeremy could utter as he still stared at Mick. “You’re like, really intense…”

 

Mick frowned, glancing down a bit shamefully at having lost his cool so spectacularly. 

“That was freakin’ awesome! You totally put that guy in his place, I have NEVAH seen someone be shut up so fast! Holy crap, can ya do that to my douchebag brother? Though to be fair, I did mess up that dude’s order…” he was practically gushing. 

Mick raised his gaze again, face a bit still with shock before it relaxed into a faint smile. He felt a bit flustered, seeing that Jeremy had liked his display. Maybe a little bit more than was normal, as his face was giving away every feeling he had at the moment. 

“If ya like that so much, maybe I can show ya how intense I am in other areas.” The words escaped before he could catch them. The waiter’s jaw dropped, his cheeks turning an apple red. 

 

“What’d ya say?” 

A short cough, “Nothin’ mate. Musta been the wind. ‘S awful windy ‘ere.” 

Jeremy clamped his mouth shut again before gasping, “No, no way—you, you’re playin’ dumb now. I—,”

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, mate, you a’wright?” A wolfish grin spread across Mick’s face as he chuckled at how Jeremy flustered and stuttered about. 

The grin only made the feeling in his chest worse. His heart bursting into a million little pieces when he realized, he wanted to see that smile every day.

Chapter 5: Awake

Summary:

The Sniper tracks his target and has a few drinks with himself.

Notes:

warning for some sexual content in this chapter, nothing explicit though.

 

A little while after the incident at the diner, Mick had made his reluctant departure after they had some more time to chat. He couldn’t just sit and flirt with a waiter forever, as much as he’d like to see the man get flustered some more. No, he had business to attend to. 

 

It had been a long drive around Boston. Checking up on all the tip offs to where the target was. And there was a full laundry list of them that Pauling had given. There had been nothing but the hum of the van, and his own thoughts. To be fair, Sniper was fine with this, and he was used to it. 

His only stops along the way had been for bathroom breaks, refreshments and of course a bit of food. Though along one stop he had picked up a bottle of whiskey. There had been mixed feelings about his decision on this, but he resolved to push that away for now. 

 

It was nighttime when he arrived at a dingy motel, 11 o’clock to be exact. This was the definitive last known location. And Sniper was sure he was here. The camper van parked in a dark corner of the parking lot, away from any overhead street lamps. 

 

And then it was time to play the waiting game. He reached for his rifle, propping it against the edge of the passenger window, having it rolled down obviously so he didn’t shatter the glass when he made the shot. 

 

The sights were pointed directly at one of the doors. Room 101. A light shined above the door like so many of the other rooms. It was on the second floor. The lights were on in the window, only slightly peeking out through cracks between the curtains. 

 

The Sniper reached to the side, grabbing a cup that held some of his whiskey. Taking a drink and relaxing more at the feeling of it burning his throat. 

“Ya bloody piker…” he whispered to himself.

 

A few hours passed like this, nothing but silence and crickets. 

12 am.

 

1 am.

 

2 am. Suddenly the door cracked open. Sniper’s finger rested toward the trigger. But when the figure stepped into the light, it was not who he was expecting. It was a woman. For a brief moment, Sniper considered that he had gotten the location wrong. That was until, there was another in the door way. Holding the woman as she looked up at him. 

It was him. 

 

Sniper grumbled to himself, “piss.” He hadn’t accounted for this. Couldn’t just blow the blokes brains out right in front of that woman. Sniper wasn’t that heartless. There was always another chance for a shot, however. He took note of her hair, her features that he could see through the scope. Her outfit. Who knows, maybe she could be useful. 

The gunman watched a few more moments before lowering the rifle, setting it aside again. More disgruntled rumbling before he took another drink of whiskey. He was almost more than halfway done with the bottle by this point. And he was starting to feel it.

 

A deep breath as he rolled up the window. Well, now he was drunk and parked at some shady motel. He certainly wasn’t about to drive anywhere now. 

Reaching up above the windshield, he pulled a leather strap, letting a fabric tarp loose as it fell over the windshield. Doing the same with the driver and passenger windows. It offered him a bit more privacy.

 

Getting up from his seat on the driver side, he stumbled his way to the main area with his bed, whiskey bottle in hand.

 

It was soon set on the table so he could begin the process of getting undressed. Mick usually preferred to sleep in his boxers, which was probably a product of living in such a hot climate for most of his life.

 

First his hat and shades, which were haphazardly placed on the table. Then his vest, his button up shirt. All that was left was his white undershirt. Mick stumbled his way into the camper bathroom then, looking at his reflection in the mirror. A hand reaching up to scratch his stubble. He really ought to shave soon.

 

After a few moments, he was pulling the white shirt off and tossing it aside. Looking back at his reflection again.

A large scar across the top of his chest, making a V-shape, which connected into a single line that travelled down the middle of his abdomen. Of course, he had a few scars here and there, but none as prominent as this center piece. Mick hated it.

 

It was always a good way to ruin the mood when he was trying to have some fun. Most blokes found it unsettling—disturbing—disgusting. So he mostly resolved to keeping his shirt on. 

He shuffled back out into the main area, grabbing the bottle and falling back into his bed, shifting a bit as he tried to get comfortable.

 

It seemed like every time now that he was alone with his thoughts, they always circled back to Jeremy. Just remembering how he stumbled over his words at Mick’s flirting.

 

Oh, how he would love to pin the little mongrel down, watch him squirm under his gaze. Mick chuckled to himself, a low rumbling in his chest.

Just picturing his face was enough to get the sniper all worked up. In the back of his mind—he felt a bit like a creep, and maybe even pathetic. But this was just the product of being drunk, and not having been with anyone for about…4 years now.

 

Mick reached his hand down, slightly fumbling with his belt buckle a moment before he was shifting his pants a bit down his thighs.

His eyes fluttered closed as he took another swig of the whiskey, letting the thoughts and images swirl around his mind freely in the dark.

 

 

 

When he opened his eyes again, it was morning. Well, not exactly. He only guessed it was morning because light was filtering through every crevice it could find in the camper.

 

Quickly, the events of last night came trickling back into his mind. Finding his target, getting drunk…and well. His eyes drifted down, seeing his pants and boxers tugged down his thighs in an embarrassing visual. Mick groaned, “blood hell…”

 

Next was trying to find where the whiskey bottle had gone, which he found had tumbled to the floor and rolled a fair bit away. Looking at the clock, it was just about 1 pm.

He did not feel like a seasoned professional this day. Instead, like some damn horny teen pining after a silly crush.

 

He did his belt up again, heading to the bathroom. Definitely due for a shower. Except that’s where things got inconvenient—there wasn’t a shower in the camper. But he was at a motel so he figured he’d rent a room just to take a shower, then leave.

 

Mick knew well enough to know his target had long moved on again. No sense staying in one place for too long. Mick also knew with this that it wasn’t the moment Pauling was counting on.

 

He pulled on his white undershirt again, along with his hat and shades. Grabbing a simple bag to put all his hygiene supplies into, and a fresh pair of clothes.

When he opened the door, he had to squint a bit, even with his shades, due to the change in brightness. It was a quick enough process to book a room, getting early check in. 

 

The feeling of warm water cascading down his back was a welcomed one. The slightly longer ends of his hair sticking to the back of his neck. Mick’s biggest gripe was the steam. It always made it more difficult to breathe cleanly. 

Though, he’d only been in there long enough to wash his body and his hair. Stepping out into the now chilly air as he walked up to the mirror. Grabbing his shaving cream and razor, he went to work getting rid of the stubble.

 

Of course, it’d probably be back a day later. 

Getting dressed, he put back on a new white undershirt—this time having a black button up accompanied by his usual leather vest. Some worn blue jeans that flared a bit at the ends to accompany for his slim boots. 

It was always refreshing after a shower. Feeling new, especially having shaved. Looking in the mirror, he looked at least 5 years younger. He briefly wondered if Jeremy would still be working at this time.

 

And wondered if he could face the man again at all after what happened last night. 

Chapter 6: The Hand that Feeds

Summary:

Jeremy has a nightmare.

Notes:

warning for depictions of abuse in this chapter! also just general angst.

that’s right, we’re on an emotional rollercoaster.

 

The apartment was familiar. It was not comforting like Ma’s. It wasn’t home. But it was familiar. The colors faded and cold. Unwelcoming.

 

Down the hall and past the closed door, there was noise. Smashing glass. Thumping. Yelling. A sick pit formed in Jeremy’s stomach, carefully pulling the covers off in a snails pace. 

 

Suddenly he was moving down the hall. Light blossomed from the kitchen. It only made the pit in his stomach deepen. The sounds getting louder. A million shards decorated the floor. Jeremy stood in the entry way. A dark figure looked toward him.

 

There was so much anger in his eyes. Jeremy had never seen someone so angry at him. He shrunk away immediately, as if having touched a hot stove. 

‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

 

 

Silence. Jeremy wanted to open his mouth to speak, but it was as if it was glued shut. A glass flew past his head—hitting the wall behind him and shattering. Glass shards nicked his skin. Blood pumped in his ears.

 

’How many times do I have to remind you to clean up around here. How much to get it through your thick fucking skull.’

 

More silence. Then the figure was moving toward him—a black mass of smoke and poison. He was poison. Jeremy didn’t want him to touch him, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t—.

 

The figure became more solid. Lucas glared down at him. Pain shot through his shin and he found himself on his knees. Shards of glass digging into his skin. He only looked down.

 

’Why don’t ya ever fight back, Jeremy? You’re so pathetic. All you do is run. Why don’t you fight?’

 

Why didn’t he?

 

’Now clean this up.’

 

Why didn’t he?

Why didn’t he.

 

 

 

Jeremy woke with a start, clutching his shirt as he sat up in bed. His face still moist with tears. His body shook as he realized he was still crying. Sobbing, actually. 

A hand clasped over his mouth. He didn’t wanna wake any of his brothers, or Ma. Jeremy had thought he was done having nightmares about him. Well, he was wrong.

 

It could have been 10 minutes, maybe 30. Maybe an hour. However long he spent sitting there in the dark and calming his tears, until the sobs had quieted into sniffles.

 

By that time, he was so tired, all he had to do was lay down and close his eyes, dozing off again. And this time, his sleep was dreamless. 

 

 

The next morning had been like every other. Jeremy awoke to his alarm, got dressed, brushed his teeth and hair. Maybe he took a shower. Ate breakfast, and left for work.

 

Everything was the same, except for how he felt. It was clear in how he acted, as if all the energy had been sapped out of him. Some of his brothers had noticed, but especially Ma. Though, she decided to give him space. Jeremy ate his breakfast in silence, head hung. 

 

At work, it was much of the same. Not able to muster any of his usual charisma for the customers. It was around 3 pm when something clicked in his mind. Mick had not come for his coffee. Jeremy felt like he had gotten the wind knocked out of him. 

 

Maybe Mick had gotten annoyed with him? Did he hate him now? Had he gotten tired of Jeremy so fast? Did he ditch Boston for somewhere else? 

The last few hours of his shift were spent like this—fretting over all the possible (negative) outcomes. 

 

When he started to walk home, he didn’t even have the energy to run. His shoulders hung, drooping as his feet dragged themselves across the ground, scraping the soles down even more. The more he thought, the more his eyes started to cloud with tears. Staring into the grey concrete intently. 

 

A few moments later, he noticed the rumbling of a vehicle beside him had lingered. He blinked his eyes, trying to hold back the tears. Somehow suck them back in. When he lifted his head…

 

The gunman waved at him, slowly driving along side Jeremy for god knows how long. Jeremy immediately noticed he had shaved. He looked…younger. All he could do was stare, his blue eyes shining as he still looked through tears. 

Mick stopped driving when Jeremy had stopped walking. The both of them looking at each other, not saying a word. Only leaving room for the rumbling of the engine. 

Surprisingly, the bushman was the first to speak, “C’mon, roo. Let’s get ya home.” He reached over, opening the passenger door for Jeremy. His eyebrows knitted themselves together. Tears welling.

 

He couldn’t cry in front of him. He wouldn’t. 

The shorter man climbed up into the vehicle, closing the door and buckling his seatbelt, trying to minimize his sniffling. Of course Mick had long realized how close to tears the bloke was. 

“What‘s wrong?” Mick’s voice was gentle. Quiet.

 

Jeremy choked back a whimper, a few tears slipping out and rolling down his cheek. “‘S nothin’…’s nothin’…” his face was turned to look out the window, rigidly keeping his gaze away from the Aussie. 

A few moments of silence. Mick felt a strange feeling in his chest. Like a heavy weight. “Y’wanna go get somethin’ ta eat ‘fore ya head home?” 

Quiet sniffling before the man in the passenger seat only nodded, his body fighting off shaking sobs. The van started to move then, Mick letting silence make its home between them. 

Chapter 7: It’s Not Unusual

Summary:

Jeremy recuperates. Mick discovers Jeremy’s deep rooted love for music. In particular, an artist.

Notes:

seriously cannot stop writing for this fic, i’m addicted to it

 

The pair had found themselves at a bar. It was still fairly early, so it wasn’t too packed. Or too rowdy. Jeremy had dried his tears, now just sulking in a chair across from the taller man. Mick grabbed one of the menus, as this bar had a restaurant portion as well. 

He would certainly not be drinking, at least not around Jeremy, and not right now. “What’re ya thinkin’, mate?” He cast a glance over to him. 

Jeremy was thinking a lot of things. 

“Eh…just a burger an’ fries probably.

”Nothin’ ta drink, huh?”

“Coke!” He quickly blurted out, a small bit of his energy back.

Mick just smiled, waving a waiter over, and relaying their order to him. He didn’t assume Jeremy would want to talk much, so it was one time where he didn’t mind being casual about social interactions with other people. 

Once the waiter had gone away to put their order in, Mick leaned back in the chair, his eyes concentrated on the man in front of him. Jeremy’s gaze only flickered around the bar.

 

It had decorations littering the walls—sports jersey’s, decorative license plates, neon lights, a bunch of tacky stuff. With all the interesting things to look at, Jeremy’s eyes drifted back to Mick. He noticed the man shift a bit uncomfortably when they made eye contact, but he didn’t look away.

 

”So, eh…ya shaved.” Jeremy motioned to his own face, Mick just nodded. 

“That I did, mate.” 

“I don’t like it.” Jeremy stated matter-of-factly. It earned a startled chuckle from Mick,

“Oh, ya don’t do ya?” 

“Nah…you look handsome with it.” 

“And I don’t look handsome without it…got it—,”

”No, that ain’t what I’m sayin’!” Jeremy was quick to correct, maybe a bit nervously, “Just sayin’…y’know…it suits ya.” He was looking down a bit coyly. 

“Well I’ll keep that in mind next time, keep it nice and rugged for ya, roo.” Mick only half teased. The conversation fell silent again as the waiter delivered their drinks—two cokes, one for Jeremy and another for Mick.

 

As soon as he was gone, Jeremy piped up again,

”So how old are ya anyway? Here I was thinkin’ you were like…38, then ya shave and it’s like, man, was I wrong ‘bout that.” 

Mick just about choked on his drink when he heard how old Jeremy thought he was. It seemed like him drinking any beverage around Jeremy was hazardous to his heath. 

“Mate, ‘m definitely not 38.” Mick couldn’t deny that he understood why Jeremy thought that. He looked older than he was—and acted it, too. A pause before Mick shrugged, embarrassed…

”’M 27.” 

Jeremy’s eyes popped open wide, “you’re tellin’ me you’re only 4 years older than me?” A beat of silence as Mick registered this.

 

”You’re 23? Figures.” A small joking response.

”Hell’s that supposed to mean?!” 

 

“C’mon, mate.” Was all Mick would say, and Jeremy huffed and puffed dramatically,

 

”I’m very mature for my age, mistah.” 

Mick couldn’t hold back the bout of laughter at that, not because he was laughing at Jeremy, no. It was because he couldn’t remember the last time he had this much fun with someone, just by talking.

A wide smile spread across Jeremy’s face as he joined in on the laughter, relishing the man’s sultry sound. Every thing about Mick’s voice felt like it reverberated deep in Jeremy’s chest. 

 

The laughter died down naturally, and soon after their food was being served. Jeremy getting his burger and fries, while Mick got…the same thing. It wasn’t long before Jeremy was digging in, the both of them listening to the ambient music playing around the place. 

Jeremy’s eyes had begun searching around the bar again—until at last he found what he was seemingly looking for. He quickly jumped up from his chair, padding his pockets frantically,

”Yo, ya got any change?”

Mick raised an eyebrow, searching his own pockets and handing the man any change he had. Jeremy excitedly ran off. Mick was just barely able to turn in his chair to watch after him, seeing the source of his sudden excitement. A jukebox.

 

He watched in anticipation as he flicked through the songs. Slowly—until finally,

”Yes!”

He put in the change required, selecting the song. A few beats of silence until the upbeat song started. Jeremy quickly beginning to move to the rhythm. He was dancing. 

It’s not unusual to be loved by anyone.

 

Jeremy looked toward Mick, a smile wide on his face—stretching across his lips as he danced. Mick could only stare, feeling his skin warming up. 

 

But when I see you hanging about with anyone,

 

A few heads had turned to watch the runner’s enthusiastic moves.

 

It’s not unusual to see me cry, I wanna die…

 

Moving to adjust his hat, Mick watched on. Finding it easy to keep eye contact with the runner. The both of them looking at each other. Similar to when Mick first picked him up. Except this time, there was a different feeling in it.

 

If you should ever wanna be loved by anyone, it’s not unusual,

 

The gunman could faintly feel himself getting a tinge jealous at the fact that this little number wasn’t all to himself. Rein it in, Mundy.

 

It happens every day, no matter what you say.

 

 

Notes:

obligatory tom jones mention.

Chapter 8: High and Dry

Summary:

Mick returns Jeremy home. The runner reaches a breaking point.

 

 

It was an hour later when they left the bar, climbing back in the van. Looking at the clock, it was around 7 now. It had been a while since Jeremy stayed out this late. He hoped his Ma wasn’t too worried about him.

 

The rumbling of the engine started up again, pulling out of the parking spot and continuing down the road. Mick hunched himself over the wheel, staring out intently. Jeremy bounced his leg up and down, a bit antsy.

 

“Hey, uh,” he started, stopping suddenly as he glanced at Mick. The other man was silent, causing a bit of anxiety to stir in Jeremy. He mustered up some courage again.

 

“Uh, so, where’d ya get the nickname ‘roo’ from?” Mick glanced toward him a brief moment, shrugging,

“Well, you’re a lot like a kangaroo. Remind me of one, anyway…Do ya not like it?”

 

Jeremy looked out the window again for a moment, his face warm. “Nah, no, I like it.” Silence for a few moments,

“Well I can always start callin’ ya bugger, mongrel…ankle-biter, just say the word, roo.” Jeremy shot a playful glare toward the man,

“Ankle-biter’s just plain rude.” Mick smiled, not saying anything else.

Jeremy was a bit disappointed when they reached his apartment so soon, having given Mick the directions. A part of him wanted to stay, learn everything he could about the other.

 

But he knew he eventually had to go home. He reached for the handle on the door, pushing it open and hopping out. Before he could step away, he felt a hand grab his—holding him firmly but not enough to hurt.

 

“Hey—er,” Mick stuttered a bit, eyebrows slightly furrowed, “I’ll see ya tomorrow, right?” Jeremy’s eyes had been wide, a pause before he smirked,

 

“Ya got it, slugger.“ he wanted to say some clever line about thinking he was the clingy one, but he couldn’t muster it. Because when his hand was let free, the feeling of Mick’s warmth lingered there, tingling his skin.

 

A moment later there was yelling, and Jeremy quickly spun around, a person colliding with him, but it only took a second for him to recognize who it was. Ma was practically bear hugging him, enough to lift him off the ground slightly, “Jer, don’t you ever do that again,”

 

The runner blinked a few times, returning the hug as much as he could, with the life being squeezed out of him, “Ma, I’m fine! I’m fine!” He was released, her gaze glaring up at him with both affection and sternness. “Really, I’m fine…we were just gettin’ somethin’ ta eat before I got home…”

 

Ma moved to look around Jeremy to the man sitting in the vehicle. It was him. He just gave a polite wave, shifting a bit nervously in his seat. “Mm. Well, I appreciate you gettin’ him home safe, but just know if anythin’ happened to him, I woulda hunted you down and killed ya myself.” 

“Ma—,” Jeremy’s face was turning red, but Mick responded quickly,

“Don’t doubt it, ma’am. I understand.” Ma had a scrutinizing look for a moment longer before she smiled,

 

“Well anyway, it’s nice ta meet ya.” She turned to head back inside with Jeremy. But suddenly, Mick felt like he recognized her from somewhere else. Like he had seen her before. But that couldn’t be right…no, maybe he just had a long day.

 

Jeremy waved to the gunman before he headed up the stairs to their apartment, snapping Mick from his thoughts. Watching after the shorter man.

 

 

Once Jeremy was inside, he set his bag down and pulled his shoes off. Ma paused for a moment, 

“Jer, I’m gonna be headin’ to bed early, got a long day tomorrow...so goodnight, hon.”

“Goodnight, Ma, sleep well.”

 

And off she went to her room. Jeremy stood there in the entry way for a moment before he heard the sink running in the kitchen, heading over to see who it was.

 

When he rounded the corner it was Colt. Jeremy was about to just head to his room when he was stopped by his voice.

“I woulda thought ya learned your lesson.”

Jeremy turned back to look at him. Only staring at Coltin’s back.

 

“What’dya mean.” He wasn’t really asking, because he didn’t really wanna know.

“That guy out there.” Jeremy shrugged, crossing his arms then.

“What about ‘im?”

“Ya bring him here to see Ma after ya only knew him a few days?”

 

“It ain’t like that.”

 

“‘It ain’t like that’. Like it wasn’t like that with Lucas?”

Jeremy’s blood ran cold. “What the hell did you say?” His voice trembled with anger.

“I’m just sayin’. He ain’t gonna stick around. Guy like that? No way.”

 

Jeremy’s skin prickled. His arms coming down to his sides and clenching his hands into fists. “Why’re you always shittin’ on me, the guys I like. You’re never gonna let me live anythin’ down, are ya?”

“Thought you said it wasn’t like that?”

Jeremy clenched his teeth, eyebrows furrowed deep. “Whatever, man. I don’t got time for this.” The shorter brother turned to walk away,

 

“There ya go again, just runnin’ off away from any problems you might face!”

 

Jeremy stood still. His figure shaking. All you do is run.

 

“Fuck you, Colt.” He turned around to look at his older brother. They were now face to face. “FUCK. YOU.”

 

In a second, Jeremy was pulling back his fist, laying into his older brother with a force he had not displayed before. Jeremy’s mind became a blur. At some point, they had both fallen to the ground, Jeremy on top of Coltin, his fists beating into him—his face, his chest.

 

Of course Coltin had tried to catch his brother’s fists—but he moved too fast, pulling back just before he could grab him before slamming his knuckles down again. Eventually, Jeremy had exerted all of his energy. His brother having a busted lip—two black eyes. Numerous bruises.

 

“Are ya fuckin’ happy now?” His voice still shook with anger, but he was panting. A pause, Coltin didn’t respond. But he was still conscious.

 

“Don’t fuckin’ talk ‘bout me or Mick. Don’t talk ‘bout Lucas. If I hear anythin’ else ‘bout it…I’ll hurt ya much worse.”

 

His chest heaved with heavy breaths, and he moved to get up. His own knuckles were sore—scraped up and bruised as well. The dog tags around his neck jingled as he turned to walk out of the kitchen.

 

In the bathroom, he searched through the cabinets, finding some cloth bandages. He ran some cold water over his knuckles, soon wrapping the bandages around both his hands.

 

His gaze raised to look at the mirror. His shoulders drooping now. Piercing blue eyes staring back at him as he realized, he hadn’t cried this time.

 

 

Notes:

is jeremy exteremly emotional? yes. do i support him fully? also yes.

Chapter 9: Emotional High

Summary:

Jeremy has a day off and goes on a walk with Mick.

Notes:

longest chapter i’ve written so far i think, i’m movin’ up in the world, ma!!!

 

The sky was grey through the windows. The sun hidden behind a veil of heavy clouds. It looked as if it would rain soon. Jeremy quietly eating a bowl of cereal in the kitchen.

 

He didn’t have work today—just being dressed in a casual outfit. A black Saturday Night Fever t-shirt, paired with baggy jeans that were well worn and had quite a few rips in them. Topped off the silver dog tags still around his neck on the ball chain.

 

Coltin hadn’t come from his room at all. Which Jeremy didn’t mind. It was peaceful. His Ma had long left, a full day of chores to attend to. Jack was helping his girlfriend with something or other (who was soon to be his fiancé, once he saved enough for a ring, that’s what he told Jeremy).

 

 

Of course, when Ma was making coffee, she had asked about the bandages around his knuckles. Jeremy had just made up some story about dropping his weights on his hands, assuring that they were fine and not broken. Even if Coltin had deserved it, Ma didn’t need to be worried about them killing each other when she was gone. 

 

His eyes shifted toward the clock, realizing it was probably nearing the time when Mick would be stopping by the diner for his coffee. Of course, Mick didn’t know he didn’t have work today. 

 

Quickly slurping down the rest of his cereal, he placed the bowl in the sink and was dashing out the door. 

 

 

The camper van was already parked outside when Jeremy arrived, though he made note that Mick wasn’t inside it. Instead, he could see the man’s distinct figure sitting at the counter as he usually did. 

 

The door jingled, but Mick didn’t turn his head. His finger idly tapping on the counter. Jeremy hadn’t been here like he usually was. Maybe his shift was changed? Maybe he wasn’t working today? Was it appropriate to show up at his apartment just to see him? 

There was a tap on his shoulder and his body tensed up, turning in the chair to look at who it was,

 

”’Sup.” 

Mick’s original deadpan expression quickly lightened up once he saw Jeremy. Becoming more lively in an instant. 

 

“Thought I ditched out on ya, huh?” A cocky grin on his face. 

 

Mick hummed in response, standing up soon after. Jeremy always forgot just how much height he had on him. Finishing off his coffee before looking toward the runner.

 

 

”What’ll it be today?” He waited expectantly. They could do anything Jeremy wanted. Because most of the time, the sniper didn’t do anything except his job. 

 

“Good question…let’s just drive around until I get some ideas! I’ll show ya around Boston!” 

A simple nod and they were both making their way out to the van. Jumping in, and starting it up. Jeremy looking around more now that he wasn’t completely trapped in his own mind. 

It was…simple. A bit homely, but in a comfortable way. His eyes caught on a sniper rifle tucked behind the driver seat. 

“You hunt?” 

“Not particularly…” he scratched his newly growing stubble (the shave hadn’t lasted long at all), confused by where this question was coming from.

 

“Then what’s the gun for?” 

Mick briefly tensed, kicking himself for not having hidden it better. Well he just told the bloke he didn’t hunt, so that excuse was out the window. 

“Er…self defense…” He said it more like it was a question than an answer. 

“Is this hypothetical attacker a mile away or what?” 

His jaw tensed a bit. There was no good excuse for the gun, his only option was to brush it off now. “Tell ya what, mate. We get ta know each other better, I’ll tell ya what ‘m rifle’s really for.” 

“Uh, okay. It’s a secret, then?”

 

”Yeah, roo, a bloody important one, too.” Mick hoped the nickname would help add some light tone to his voice, since he knew just how serious this actually was. Pauling would not be too pleased with him. 

“Now it’s my turn ta ask some questions.” Mick added after a moment, Jeremy raising an eyebrow. “The bandages?” His causal voice had slightly hushed into a more concerned one. 

Jeremy glanced down at his knuckles, which were undoubtedly swollen under the wrappings. “Eh, yeah…’s nothin’ really.” 

 

“It’s alright ‘t tell me, mate.” His eyes glanced toward the other. He wished he wasn’t driving so he could actually look at him. 

Jeremy fidgeted with his hands a moment before nodding, almost to himself, “Just my fricken’ douchebag brother. He was fuckin’ with me, sayin’ buncha stuff ‘bout…you an’ me, an’ Lucas—, eh…he just wouldn’t stop.”

 

The runner paused, still looking at his hands. “So I…I finally shut him up myself. Beat him ‘till I couldn’t. Messed up my knuckles real bad. Had to lie to Ma ‘bout it. Couldn’t have her worryin’…but ya wanna know the worst part?” 

Mick only let out a gravelly hum in response, listening intently. Taking brief note of the name ‘Lucas’. 

 

“I don’t think I regret it. Not one bit. Probably one a the best things I’ve ever done.” 

 

The engine was the only sound for a few more moments, and Mick was turning off and pulling into a gas station. He parked at a pump, turning to Jeremy, “Let me see, then.”

 

A confused look before Mick was reaching over to grab Jeremy’s hand—one at first, unwrapping the bandages. The knuckles were purple—a few dried splits in the skin from the impacts. Then he was opening the center compartment, grabbing out a few things. 

Jeremy just watched on, silent. Though his heart felt full and aching. Mick applied some ointment to his cuts—it felt cold, but soothing. The bushman’s hands were rough, yet handled him so gently. 

 

When the gunman spoke again, his voice was a deep purr in his chest, “Should help a bit.” He had repeated the process with Jeremy’s other hand, before redoing the bandage wraps. 

 

“Ya want anythin’? Due for a refill.” He motioned to the pump. Jeremy thought for a moment. 

 

“An energy drink. Any kind! And chips…also any kind, except barbecue. I hate barbecue flavor chips.” 

“Y’sure an energy drink’s a good idea, mate?” Mick thought Jeremy had plenty energy as it was. 

“Just trust me!” Mick narrowed his eyes a bit playfully before getting out of the driver side, heading to the door of the gas station. 

The van was back on the road, passing by a police department, when Jeremy piped up suddenly. “I remember when me an some of my brothers were here graffitiin’, we weren’t great kids all the time…anyway, Henry had thought it’d be fun to show me an Dennis his art. He was 18 then. He gets ‘bout halfway done when we hear the sirens and Henry tells us ta scatter. He’s the first who gets caught, but the cops know ‘im so he only gets a lecture. Dennis is next, ‘course he was only like, 16 then. I just keep runnin’. I hear the cops yellin’ at me, their shoutin’ fallin’ in the distance. I just keep runnin’.” 

Jeremy paused, a proud smile on his face. “That was one a the first times me an’ my brothers really noticed just how fast I was. They never did catch me. Made it all the way home an’ Henry an’ Dennis were gettin’ grounded. But not me.” 

Something flickered across Jeremy’s face then. An emotion. Mick tried to discern what it had been, but he couldn’t.

 

“‘M dad and mum just had me workin’ on the farm all the time. Feedin’ the cattle, lettin’ ‘em out. Waterin’ whatever needed watered. Ain’t got much passion for it, but I’d wager that’s cause ‘m dad’s a right wanker.” 

Mick shrugged a bit, cutting off that line of thought. “You ever fit in with the kids at school? I didn’t. ‘S like they knew somethin’ was wrong with me. Like somethin’ deep down was different between us that I hadn’t quite caught on to yet.” 

 

Jeremy felt a shiver down his spine. He knew exactly how that felt. “I know what ya mean…” Jeremy’s best friends had always been his brothers. A silence settled between the two until the van was passing by a large park, spanning at least a few miles. In the center, a lake. 

 

“Woah, hold up!” Jeremy’s hand moved to grab onto Mick’s forearm, causing a jolt through his system. He kept it together, of course, looking for the entrance to the parking lot and pulling in. 

 

“I freakin’ LOVE this place. It’s perfect for runnin’. C’mon!” He quickly hopped out, standing at the side of the van as he stretched. Mick followed slowly after, walking up beside the energetic man. 

 

“‘M tellin’ ya now, mate, I don’t run. I got a speedy walk ‘n that’s ‘bout the end of it.” 

Jeremy stood up straight, spinning to face Mick, already pouting, “C’monnnn,”

”Nah—,”

”Pleaseeee,”

”No, mate—,” 

 

Jeremy clasped his hands together, fingers intertwined, and gave Mick the Puppy Eyes Special. Mick scowled. Staring at the poor thing’s face for a moment before he folded. 

 

“Now, how can I deny a pretty face like that…” Jeremy stopped pouting—now replaced with an incredibly flushed face as he smiled brightly. “Hope ya still think ‘m handsome even when ‘m keeled over for ‘m life. You’re a real bugger, ya know that?” 

A snicker from Jeremy, who was too overwhelmed by the fluttering in his stomach to say anything at all. 

 

“So when should we—,” Jeremy bolted off down the side walk, glancing back toward Mick with a large grin. Mick groaned, he was really going to hate this. And so he started run. Well, more of a jog…but he was slowly speeding up. 

 

The gunman couldn’t remember the last time he truly ran, which was evident by the way he was already getting short of breath,  his lanky legs protesting vehemently. To save his dignity a little bit, Jeremy had slowed down considerably, cheering Mick on. 

“C’mon, we haven’t even gone five yards!” 

“When I…hff—catch up to ya…’m gonna kill ya…” Jeremy smirked, a comeback popping into his head suddenly.

 

”What if ya kissed me instead?” Mick’s face grew even more red than it already was, pulling his hat off and shifting up a (single) gear. It was all he could physically manage. Now he was actually running, and Jeremy felt a giddy excitement building in his chest as he ran. 

 

His long legs actually offered him a small advantage, as it took him less strides to travel a distance than Jeremy. In the grand scheme of things it didn’t mean much because Jeremy wasn’t going his full speed anyway. 

 

Jeremy wasn’t looking behind himself now, just going along, because he didn’t expect Mick to catch up. The taller man’s legs burned, ached. And he knew tomorrow when he woke up he’d barely be able to even walk. But he pushed himself. Running until he was basically about to collapse—but before he did, he grabbed the back of the little mongrel’s shirt, pulling him down with him. 

 

Jeremy yelped, his hands grabbing at the air as he was thrown into the grass. A thump, and he was laying on his back. Giggling all the while, he opened his eyes and the noise got choked up in his throat when he was met with the Australian’s face hovering above his.

 

Heavy breaths pushed themselves out of Mick as he looked down at the runner. Trembling arms planted on either side of Jeremy. Panting for a few moments as the heat radiated off of Jeremy’s skin.

A grin spread across his exhausted face, the runner seeing the man’s teeth up close, sharp canine’s peeking out as a low, breathless laugh erupted from him. Finally,

 

”I win.”

 

He rolled off to the side of Jeremy, laying on his own back as he wheezed, trying to regain control over his lungs. Jeremy just stared up at the sky, the place where Mick had been moments ago. So many feelings rushing through him. His thoughts…well, they were non-existent. 

It was like he wanted to burst into tears but also laugh uncontrollably at the same time. A few moments of listening to the bushman’s heavy breathing before he turned his head to look. His hands twitched at his sides.

 

God, he was perfect. 

 

Notes:

giggling and kicking my feet at my own writing RAHHHHHHH

Chapter 10: Drive Me, Crazy

Summary:

Romantic tension lingers between the two men as they spend the day together.

Notes:

listening to orville peck as i write this, god bless america

there’s a lot of sexual tension in this chapter, ye be warned.

 

The time ticked on as they laid in the grass beside each other. Mick’s breathing had steadied, but neither of them moved. Jeremy had a hand laid over his own chest, looking up at the clouds. They looked heavy with rain. 

 

The shorter man didn’t move until a few droplets finally hit his skin, standing up and turning to Mick, holding his hand out to the man. Mick took it gratefully, and with some effort, Jeremy helped pull him up to his feet. 

“Ya like the rain?”

Mick turned his gaze toward the sky a bit, brushing his hat off but still keeping it in his hand. A nod following after a few seconds of quiet. 

Jeremy took Mick’s hand in his again, then. Slightly pulling him down the sidewalk as they walked. Mick’s face a light shade of pink. 

The droplets could be seen sending ripples through the lake as they reached the surface. The air felt clean and crisp. A bit chilly. Jeremy glanced toward the taller man, “You been in cold places before?”

 

A pause as Mick thought about it. “A few. Wasn’t for long though.” 

“Do ya handle the cold well?” 

Mick chuckled, “Without enough layers, nah.” 

 

“Why don’t ya ever talk about your family? Are they…really bad?” A sudden question from Jeremy. Mick was used to it by now, however. Unless it was something really shocking. 

“Well…’m mum, I love her. It’s mainly ‘m dad. Just always figured, no point in talkin’ about it ‘cause the blokes never gonna be any different.” 

“What’s your Ma like?” 

 

A small smile from Mick, “She’s bit short, like you. Curly grey hair that looks kind’ve like these clouds. Big, big square glasses. She loves the color pink, that’s for sure. And she’s real sweet, she’d love ya. Try ta call her when I can, when ‘m dad ain’t hoggin’ the phone.” 

 

The runner was quiet for a few seconds, “Ya really think she’d love me? I mean, not that I’m meetin’ her any time soon or, or anythin’…yeah.” 

Mick just laughed, “I know she would, roo.”

 

The rain had begun to pick up—Jeremy’s hair getting a bit slick with each passing second. Mick’s hair was a bit thicker and longer, but the shorter front was getting damp, a few strands sticking to his forehead.

 

”We better get back ta the van ‘fore we get soaked through, mate.” A nod from the shorter man, and they were making their way back to the parking lot. 

 

 

The door to the camper was pulled open, a bit creaky on its hinges, and the sniper was stepping up inside. Jeremy had never seen this part before, so Mick hoped it wasn’t too messy. 

 

Flicking on the light, he quickly closed the door after Jeremy. Then he was headed off to the bathroom to grab a towel, since they hadn’t completely escaped in time. Jeremy sat on the bed, just waiting as he looked around.

 

Though, the feeling of his shirt sticking to him was starting to get to him. He hated the feeling, it was unbearable. So, without a second thought to the fact that he was with Mick—in his living space—he pulled his shirt off over his head, leaving behind the dog tags. His wet hair being just light enough to be sticking up, looking a bit spiky. 

When Mick rounded the corner to hand the towel to the bloke, he was met with a shirtless Jeremy, “Er,” he glanced away, his face burning up, “‘ere ya go, roo.”

 

Jeremy snickered, “‘M not a chick, you don’t have ta look away, y’know.” But he took the towel happily, pushing his head into the soft fabric as he dried his hair. Mick did indeed look back, probably could be considered staring, now. 

Of course, Jeremy wasn’t very muscular, but he was lean. The dog tags looked real good dangling over his chest though. Mick closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Get a hold of yourself. 

“Hey slugger, stop blushin’ like a school girl.” Jeremy sure was cocky when he wanted to be. Soon he was tossing the towel to Mick, who carefully dried his hair instead of just rubbing it vigorously against his hair. Jeremy’s hair now sticking up in multiple directions. 

“I wouldn’t be talkin’ much if I were you, roo.” Jeremy rolled his eyes playfully,

 

”Why’s that?”

 

”’Cause I could make you eat those words real fast if ya aren’t careful.” Mick warned. 

“Oh yeah?” In his heart, Jeremy knew Mick was right, he was just challenging him. 

“Yeah.” Mick finished drying his hair, looking Jeremy down like he was ready to pounce. 

Jeremy weighed his options. Did he really want to push this man? Utterly embarrass himself when Mick proved that he was right? Except Jeremy never really weighed the options fully. He was more of a ‘do first, think later’ kind of guy. 

“Then prove it!” 

Mick set the towel down, removing his vest. Setting aside his shades carefully. Then his gaze turned to Jeremy, and he was moving over. Each movement, he was sure of himself. The taller man stopped in front of him, looking down. 

 

Jeremy was looking up, his head level with the bushman’s stomach. There was firm hand placed on his collarbone, but before any force could he applied, Jeremy was already instinctively laying back. 

 

Mick couldn’t stop the smirk that flickered across his face as he pushed Jeremy against the bed, leaning himself over the little mongrel. Memories flashed in his mind of the night he spent drunkenly fantasizing of a moment like this. 

 

Jeremy’s face had predictably turned a bright red, his eyes wide before he could only turn his head away to avoid anymore embarrassment. It felt like his heart was pounding a million miles a second, with no sign of slowing down. 

 

His body shivered a bit when Mick’s hand gripped his chin. Turning his head back to face him. The man leaned down further—and for a second Jeremy thought (hoped) was about to kiss him. Instead, turning to his ear,

 

”Don’t test me, pretty boy.” The low tone hummed against his ear. The runner couldn’t stop the squeaky noise that forced its way out at that. 

“Okay, okay ya proved your freakin’ point!” Jeremy’s hands were coming up to cover his face now, shoulders hunched as Mick leaned back up again, grinning. 

 

“Was an awful cute sound ya made, roo.” 

 

Jeremy groaned into his hands, feeling his heart fighting against his chest to jump out. “It’s not my fault you’re…like that!” 

Mick laughed now, “Like what, mate?” 

 

“Y’know…! Just—urgh!” 

“Y’know what I think, mate?” Jeremy only slightly peeked through his fingers.

”I think ya got a crush on me.” 

 

“I do not! You’re just…an attractive guy…who’s really damn good at bein’ sexy—,” 

 

“Ah, so ya think ‘m sexy, that’s what it is. I dunno, mate. Met plenty a blokes who didn’t find me attractive. In fact they found ‘m unappealin’.”

 

”Were they blind?! I mean—, look at you! Hell, even if they were blind, everythin’ else about ya is freakin’ hot, too.”

 

A moment of silence as Mick just smiled down at the other.

 

”I should just really shut up now…” he was digging himself a deep hole. 

“‘M worried now that I might give ya a heart attack.” 

 

“Whatever, Mr. ‘Blokes found me unappealin’.” Jeremy huffed, finally starting to calm his nerves. He was just glad it stopped before something more embarrassing could transpire. 

 

Quickly, he sat up finally, face still blushing like crazy. Mick only chuckled to himself, though he wouldn’t admit the way that Jeremy’s compliments of him had made him feel… 

 

The runner felt like he could barely look Mick in the face at all now. Especially not after that noise he made. Though, after all the excitement of the day, he was feeling exhausted. A little secret about Jeremy, energy drinks had the opposite effect on him. It had always been peculiar. 

 

Just as soon as he sat up, he was laying back down again, letting a sigh out. Mick stood up fully,

”’M gonna use the bathroom. Start thinkin’ of more ideas for what y’wanna do today, a’wright?” Jeremy nodded, and the bushman headed to the bathroom.

 

The runners’ eyes quickly fell closed. His brain beginning to churn up ideas. But all his mind wanted to linger on was Mick, pushing him against the bed. Whispering in his ear. Holding his face. His muscles tensed with embarrassment before he relaxed again. 

The patter of rain against the camper lulled him deeper, and in a few seconds, he was out like a light. . .

 

Mick returned from the bathroom to see Jeremy all but drooling on his bed. “Bugger,” how had that mongrel had a full energy drink and still passed out? Mick carefully stepped over, tapping the shorter man, just to see if he would wake up. Nothing. 

Thinking for a moment as he looked over Jeremy’s sleeping face. All the usual liveliness and energy replaced with a peaceful look. It was kinda cute. Well, not kinda, really fucking adorable. 

Mick grabbed the blanket to the side of Jeremy, pulling it over him. Scratching the back of his neck, he moved to sit down at the chair beside the table. Watching Jeremy for a few minutes before trying to get some sleep himself. 

 

 

Chapter 11: Dark Red

Summary:

Jeremy has another nightmare. This time, Mick is there to witness it.

 

 

Mick was roused by a sound, popping an eye open. He was a light sleeper, he had to be because of his profession. Checking his watch to see that it was only 11 am. A few beats of silence, and he wasn’t sure what had woken him up. 

 

He had resolved to just try and go back to sleep when he heard it again, his gaze lifting to Jeremy’s direction. A few quiet, drowsy groans. Mick was alert now, his eyebrows a bit furrowed. 

 

Jeremy tossed and turned—fingers gripping and pulling at the blanket and the sheets. His face contorted. It wasn’t until the groans had shifted into cries that Mick stood, making his way and sitting on the edge. 

He reached a shaky hand toward the other, lightly tapping him, “Roo?” Jeremy jerked away from the touch, now letting out a panicked shout. Thrashing about as his arms swung carelessly. 

 

Mick’s heart rate was through the roof. He wasn’t sure what to do—what was the etiquette for something like this? After a few moments, he leaned forward, pulling the runner up, wrapping his arms around him.

 

“NO, NO—,” Jeremy slammed a fist against Mick’s chest, the gunman wincing. But he only compressed him tighter, holding him close until his arms were firm against his chest. His struggle consisted for another moment until at last, it had died down into shaky sobs, then only quiet whimpers. 

Mick murmured “‘S, alright,” all the while, a hand coming up to brush through the short brown hair. 

“Please, I don’t want ya t’leave…” a sleep ridden mumble from the smaller man. Mick was mostly certain that Jeremy had not been awake at all for any of this. Nor was he now. But still, he responded,

 

”I won’t.” 

A few moments passed before the other had become limp in Mick’s arms, fully asleep once again. It was then that he realized just how much he had also been trembling—and still was. 

Laying Jeremy back down, shaky hands pulled the blanket over him. Sitting in silence a few moments before the bushman stood up. His chest still aching from where he had been hit. He felt he was in too deep. 

And not in the sense that he didn’t want to deal with this. No, it was much worse. He wanted nothing more than to deal with this. He wanted to be there for Jeremy, as much as he could. Hell, he felt he could barely handle the moments he was without him anymore. Mick wanted to keep Jeremy around all the time. 

 

He rubbed his face nervously. He had told himself he wouldn’t drink around Jeremy. He didn’t show it, but Mick had a problem. 

Now was one of those times. Even though he felt shameful, he carried himself to the fridge, opening it up and grabbing out one of the few bottles of whiskey that he had. Getting a glass, trying to carefully pour a reasonable amount. 

 

Mick sat back down in his chair, taking a drink, his eyes were glued onto the man sleeping on his bed. He had never felt such a need to protect someone before. It was a bit startling. A frown was etched into his features as he took another drink.

 

He wouldn’t be sleeping for a while. 

 

“Hey Sniper, it’s Pauling.” It was an hour later—heavy rain pattering against the camper still. The Sniper grumbling a response into the receiver. 

“I hope you have a pen and paper nearby, because I need you to write something down.” 

“‘S really not a good time.” A bit irritated. 

“It’ll be quick, it’s important.” More annoyed humming from Sniper as he grabbed a pen and notepad that was sitting on the table nearby. Writing as Miss Pauling spoke again. 

“Right. What’s this then?” 

“That’s going to be the targets next location. You need to be there, or around the area for a while until you catch him. The administrator is counting on this.” 

Sniper looked down at what he had written. His muscles tightening up. His stomach creating a pit. Silence on his end.

 

”Sniper? Do you understand?” 

“I understand.” His eyebrows furrowed as he hung up the phone then, downing the rest of his drink. Mick’s thoughts turned in circles, gaze resting on the man still sleeping across from him.

Why was the location Jeremy’s home?

 

 

Chapter 12: Sedona

Summary:

Jeremy shows Mick around his room.

Notes:

I forgot to say, thanks to all the kind comments I’ve been getting! You are all so sweet and I really appreciate it. I love being able to share this story with ya’ll.

Sniper and Scout mean so much to me, so it’s amazing to see people love it just as much as me!

 

Jeremy felt a light tapping on his skin, his eyes fluttering open as his brain tried to wake itself up. Stretching out a bit as he turned his head to see Mick. 

 

Stillness for a few seconds before Jeremy sat up quickly, “Crap, how long was I out? I’m sorry, Mick—, geez.” 

“‘S alright, roo. It’s about…4 pm.” He checked his watch. Mick had sobered up about an hour ago, deciding he wanted to try and wake the runner before it got too late. “Didn’t mind it much.”

 

He had considered telling Jeremy about the nightmare—but decided against it, because he didn’t want the other to feel shameful or apologetic. 

Jeremy rubbed his eyes a bit, stretching out again. “Is it still rainin’?” Mick nodded in response,

”More like a drizzle.” 

 

The runner was quiet as he thought. The taller man moved over to the table, grabbing his hat and shades. However, he left his vest. 

“Well…how ‘bout I show ya my room? I mean, I’ve seen your room. An’, not ta brag or anythin’, but my room’s pretty freakin’ sweet.” He puffed out his chest with a cheeky grin. 

Mick chuckled, “Ya sure it’s okay for me ta be there…? Don’t wanna cause any trouble.”

 

Scoffing, Jeremy started searching around for his shirt, “Only one who’d have a problem is the douchebag. But I think he’ll think twice before sayin’ somethin’ ‘bout me or you.” 

Mick only nodded quietly then, watching as Jeremy pulled his shirt back on—it was still a little damp but mostly dry. 

“Ya can use one of my shirts if that one’s too wet.” Mick said, a slightly hushed tone. 

A light pink creeped across Jeremy’s cheeks. “Awww, is this like when guys give a girl their jacket?” Mick furrowed his eyebrows, rubbing the back of his neck then. A pause from Jeremy.

 

”Wait, does this mean I’m the girl?!”

”A’wright, ‘nuff talkin’ about this…” 

 

 

 

Jeremy sat happily in the passenger seat, boasting a white shirt that was far too big for him. Mick’s shoulders were wider—meaning that the shirt basically draped off of the smaller man like a sheet. Though it didn’t look too bad with his pants. Jeremy had decided Mick would not be getting this shirt back. 

Mick of course was sat in the driver seat, staring rigidly at the road as his toned skin turned a ripe shade of red. He wasn’t sure why he had suggested it, but something about Jeremy wearing a piece of his clothing made him feel warm inside. 

 

Jeremy was digging into his bag of chips, still having plenty, since Mick had gotten a party size. After a few seconds Mick hummed, holding his palm out to Jeremy. The runner raised an eyebrow before uttering an ‘ohhh’ as he grabbed some chips, placing them in his palm. 

Mick snickered at Jeremy’s confusion, eating some of the chips. 

 

It wasn’t too long before the camper reached the apartment, Mick parking outside. Jeremy quickly rolled up the top of the bag of chips, pulling the handle and opening the door. Mick waited a moment. Reaching under his seat once Jeremy had gotten out.

 

Pulling his knife from the shadows of the seat, he fitted the holster inside his shirt, sliding it so it was tucked between his pants and boxers. It was just a simple hunting knife. Mick would’ve liked to bring his Kukri, but it was just too big to conceal. 

 

Then he was finally stepping out, locking up the van and putting his keys in his pocket, following after Jeremy. Of course, the runner couldn’t help but race him up the stairs (more like he raced and Mick walked up at a normal pace). 

 

Opening the door to the apartment, Mick felt his hackles raise, unintentionally. It was quiet, though the lights were on, so Jeremy figured someone had to be home.

 

”Yo! Anyone here?!” 

Jack poked his head from the kitchen, about to shout back when he noticed the man standing beside his little brother.

”Yo! What the hell?” It was playful. 

Jeremy grinned wide, quickly walking to the kitchen, motioning Mick to follow, “this is Mick! He’s my friend!” If friends flirted every day and pushed you down on a bed to whisper seductively in your ear. Mick was a great friend.

 

Jack stood in front of Mick now, glancing him up and down. Mick stood nervously, dead silent. They were just about the same height, though honestly Jack was more muscular than the gunman.

“Well, nice ta meet ya, Mick! You look pretty kickass.” Finally his scrutinizing gaze had relented—reaching a hand to shake, which Mick accepted. Nodding his head shortly before adjusting his hat. His shades gleamed in the lights of the kitchen. 

“Nice t’meet you too.” It was a quiet response. His more social side only came out around…well, Jeremy. 

 

Jack grinned, “Ma’s still out doin’ errands so I’m makin’ dinner. By the way, you seen Colt today, lil J?” Jeremy tensed a bit at the mention of his name.

 

”Nah,” he wanted to say a more scathing comment about the brother, but he just dropped it. “Anyway, I’m showin’ Mick my room so, we’ll be back around in a bit!” 

“Make sure ya keep the door open…” Jack teasingly said, to which Jeremy punched him in the shoulder lightly, a hushed ‘shut up, big J!’ through gritted teeth. 

The gunman stood awkwardly to the side, his gaze trained on Jeremy. Though his ears would get a little warm at Jack’s comment. Did everyone think they were basically dating? Mick couldn’t say that he blamed them…

Finally, Jeremy huffed and grabbed Mick’s hand, pulling him along down the hall, Jack cooing as they disappeared around the corner.

 

Reaching his room, Jeremy flicked on the light, letting Mick’s hand free. The taller man wouldn’t admit he was a bit disappointed. 

“Ta-da! My room!” Mick looked around. Well, it was cleaner than he had expected. Not spotless, of course. But manageable. On a dresser, he had countless trophies. His walls had some of his Jersey’s hung up—his name, always followed by the number 7. It seemed that had always been his number.

There was an old record player in the corner of the room, a wooden box holding a few records. Mick walked over, kneeling down and pulling some out. They were older—seemed like something that was more passed down than bought newly. Which made sense. It seemed like Jeremy’s family wasn’t that well off. 

However, there was one that was new. A Tom Jones record. It was the greatest hits. Mick flipped it over to read the tracks.

”What’s your favorite?” He could feel Jeremy’s gaze on his back. The sound of soft footsteps on carpet as Jeremy approached. Leaning over Mick’s shoulder and pointing to one. 

“This.” Sexbomb.

 

Mick stood up then, carefully taking the record out and placing it on the player. Adjusting the needle until it was on the correct song. The vinyl spinning as the sound erupted forward.

 

Jeremy had moved to sit on his bed. Feeling his face begin to heat up. It was just a song—one he listened to millions of times, but listening to it with Mick felt more personal. 

After a bit of the song playing, Mick finally spoke up, “this blokes real sensual.” Jeremy burst into a nervous laughter, Mick glancing toward him with an amused grin. “Wasn’t that funny, roo.”

 

Jeremy just couldn’t stop his laughter, falling back on his bed. This moment felt unreal to him. In all honesty, he didn’t ever think he’d move past what happened to him. Well, he never thought he’d move past any of the things that happened to him. In some ways, he hadn’t. But he was still here, sitting on his bed, listening to Sexbomb with someone he was so glad he had met. 

The weight of the bed shifted as Mick laid down next to the smaller man, Jeremy’s laughter having died down. Now just staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. 

“What’re ya thinkin’ about?” 

“Just…everythin’.” A pause. The song coming to an end as the vinyl spun on. A few seconds of scratchy silence until a new song started up. Jeremy quickly jumped up from the bed, pulling the needle from the record. Staring at the vinyl for another few seconds before he turned to face Mick, who was sitting up now. A concerned look flickering past his shades. 

Jeremy stepped toward him carefully.

”Can I ask ya somethin’?”

Mick hummed, nodding.

”Ya promise it won’t make things…weird?” 

A silence before Mick furrowed his eyebrows. “I promise.” 

Jeremy took in a breath. “Can I…eh—can I…kiss you?” Mick stared at the runner for a moment. Standing then. Jeremy felt anxiety strike him in the heart.

Mick was just going to walk out and leave him now. This was it. Why did he ask? 

The taller man leaned down, grabbing Jeremy’s face gently, pausing a second before connecting their lips. The runner’s hands clenched, before relaxing. Eyes fluttering closed quickly. Fingers pulling at the edges of the shirt. 

 

Mick’s lips were chapped. And Jeremy loved the feeling. Maybe Mick had been right to be worried about causing him a heart attack. Then Mick was pulling away, before Jeremy’s heart stopped right there. 

The bushman did a good job of keeping a calm expression. Inside, his own stomach was doing cartwheels. Trembling hands plaguing him once again. Jeremy’s eyes opened again, wide. 

“I’m gonna…go to the bathroom. Yeah. Don’t go anywhere!” He ran off, and in a blur, was gone. Mick stood in the room, silent. Walking over to the record player, he looked at the track list again.

The one after Sexbomb.

 

(It Looks Like) I’ll Never Fall In Love Again.

 

 

Chapter 13: Trouble

Summary:

Mick chats with Jeremy’s Ma.

 

The lock on the bathroom door clicked, Jeremy staring at the now closed door. His entire body buzzing with an energy he hadn’t felt in a while. Muscles tensing before he turned and punched the air ecstatically. 

 

Holy crap.

 

How was this day even real? Jeremy couldn’t believe he had kissed that man. That man who was still in his room. Who hadn’t walked out. Who hadn’t turned him away. Who wanted to see him every day. 

Jeremy let out more giddy punches as he tried to contain the energy that was bursting at the seems of his mind. Turning to the mirror again as he tried to fix up his hair a bit. The white shirt practically glowing in the light above the vanity. A reminder of the bushman. 

It was just a kiss. Play it cool, Jer. 

Though, in reality, when did Jeremy ever play it cool? 

 

 

When Jeremy returned to his room, Mick was sitting on the bed, rubbing his face nervously. Though, once he noticed Jeremy in the doorway, he cleared his throat. 

“Thought ya might’ve fallen in. Was gettin’ ready ta come an’ rescue ya.” Jeremy thought he had been ready to face the bushman again, but as he spoke, his face swiftly flushed again.

 

”Nah, it got pretty perilous for a second, though.” Mick cracked a smile at that. The both of them knowing what they were thinking about, but neither had time to speak it into existence before Jack was calling down the hall,

”Dinner’s ready!” 

 

Jeremy stood still. “Ya wanna…stick around? I mean, I understand if it’s too much for ya…I know ya don’t like bein’ around people that much.” 

Mick took in a heavy breath, turning his gaze away a moment as he thought. Normally, Mick would have been more than happy to leave and not be around so many people, especially in such a personal environment. 

However, Mick wanted to stay as close to Jeremy as possible. He didn’t know what it meant that the target would be here. And truthfully, he didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. Hence why he was concealing a knife. And why he was going to have dinner with Jeremy’s family. 

 

“Ain’t no harm in it. I’ll stick around. But might need ta step outside if it’s gets ta be too much…” 

Jeremy felt a hopeful tinge in his heart, “No, yeah, for sure! C’mon!” 

 

The table was already set, 6 plates accompanied by silverware. Each one having a neat portion of food. It was spaghetti. Jack was setting aside some of the pots before he spoke up,

 

”Figured ya might be stickin’ around, Mick, so I got ya a plate, too. Hope spaghettis alright.”

”Thanks, er…” a pause,

”Jack! Sorry, I guess I forgot to introduce myself earlier!” A warm chuckle. Mick was relieved he hadn’t already forgotten the blokes name. 

Looking around the kitchen as he moved to sit down beside Jeremy, his eyes caught on the fridge. A few magnets holding various things. Pictures of what he could only assume to be a young Jeremy at sports games, holding the same trophies he had seen on the dresser, a wide buck toothed smile shining. A drawing that seemed far too good for a 9 year old to have done. Another picture of a bloke he didn’t recognize, in a military uniform. A ribbon. A few family pictures of the brothers all together. Mick was noticing a trend. 

Seeing the fridge, he felt a tinge of sadness. Like he didn’t belong here. Mick had never really had a family connection like Jeremy did. At least besides his mum. Though when he looked beside himself, Jeremy was there, grinning at him. One that Mick couldn’t help but return, the corners of his mouth pulling against the sadness he felt in his chest. Jeremy made him feel like he belonged. If even just a little bit.

 

There was a commotion suddenly as the front door was being opened, Mick becoming alert in a second. Though he relaxed once he heard the familiar voice,

”Boys, I’m home!” Ma was huffing a bit, carrying in a few bags of groceries into the kitchen. She paused when she noticed the table set, the plates already filled. The exhausted look on her face betrayed the softness that filled her features as she smiled. “Jack, did ya make dinner while I was out? Oh…”

 

The bags were just barely held in her grip, and Jeremy quickly jumped up, grabbing the few that he could and setting them on the counter, relieving some of the weight. 

“What would I do without you boys?” She placed the rest of the bags down, brushing her bangs more to the side again. Her gaze landed on Mick,

”If I knew we were gonna have guests I woulda cleaned up a bit more…!” She placed her hands on her hips.

 

”It’s no trouble, ma’am. Place is awful nice as it is.” It wasn’t a lie either. It was nicer than his camper, at least. Ma’s eyes widened,

”Jer, ya didn’t tell me he had such nice manners!” 

“Ma, not this again…” Mick couldn’t help but snicker at the implication that Jeremy had talked about him with his Ma. 

“Well then, where’s Dennis and Coltin?” She glanced around. Jack shrugged his shoulders after a moment. Jeremy returning to his seat beside Mick. 

“Dennis! Coltin! Dinner!” There was shuffling down the hall then, Dennis making his way to the kitchen first. He had black hair, was a bit shorter (though not as short as Jeremy), and stockier. 

And a few moments later, there was Coltin. A cut still lingering on his lip, though the black eyes had gone down for the most part. Ma furrowed her brow with concern as she saw him, “What happened? I thought ya stopped that fightin’ nonsense, Colt.” The brother only glanced down. His hair black, like Dennis, though he was more like Jack in stature. 

“Sorry, Ma. Won’t happen again.” 

“Well I’d hope not. Ya know how I feel about it. It shouldn’t a happened in the first place.” Ma sighed as she moved to sit down at the table, Dennis and Coltin following. 

 

Coltin looked toward Mick, his gaze sticking to him. After everyone got settled, Ma spoke up again, “Well, as ya two have probably gathered, we got a guest tonight. His name is Mick, and I’d ask ya that ya treat ‘im with respect.”

 

Dennis nodded, speaking up soon after, “Heyo, ‘m name’s Dennis. Are you an lil J…y’know, goin’ out?” Mick tensed up briefly before shaking his head,

”We aren’t, nah.” 

Dennis was quiet a moment before nodding once again. His expression was too hard for Mick to read. But he was getting the general impression that Jeremy’s family knew something about the runner and his relationships that Mick didn’t. 

Jack added his own question to the conversation as they began eating, “So, how old are ya, Mick?” He expected this. 

“It’s rude ta ask a man his age,” Dennis commented.

”That’s women, hon.” Ma quickly interjected. Snickers around the table. 

“But really, I gotta ask.” Jeremy rolled his eyes. Jack only ‘had to ask’ because he thought Jeremy was dating him. Silence as they waited expectantly for Mick’s answer. The bushman’s skin prickled,

”Er…27.” 

 

“I’m not gonna say how old I thought ya were ‘cause you probably get it a lot. But man.” Ma raised her gaze a moment, silently chiding Jack. 

“Usually the guess is anywhere from 36 ta 42…Jeremy thought I was 38.” Mick cast a sideways glance to Jeremy, who promptly flushed and shrugged,

”What!? I mean I wasn’t that far off…” his voice trailed off as he spun his fork around in the spaghetti. 

“Now that’s insultin’.” Mick said jokingly. Earning an light shove from the runner.  Ma laughed, watching the interaction between the two. Her heart swelled, seeing how content Jeremy looked beside him. She hadn’t seen him like that in a while. 

 

The dinner had gone surprisingly smoothly—Coltin not saying a single word and basically fading into the background. Though, as things were wrapping up, Mick had leaned over to Jeremy, saying he was going to take a quick smoke break. The lights in the kitchen getting all too bright, and the clinking of dishes setting him off. 

 

He stepped out the front door, standing on the landing as he looked out. It was later now, the sun having set. A cool breeze brushed against him, causing him to shiver. It did get a bit chilly once it was later. The air was still fresh with the scent of rain. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket, along with a cigarette, doing his best to light it even with the cold making his hands a bit frigid.

 

The door behind him opened and he jumped a bit, turning to face Ma as she stepped out. “No need ta worry, hon. Just me!” 

She had her own cigarette and lighter. Quietly staring into the horizon as she lit it. There was a moment of stillness between them. “I can tell Jer really likes ya, y’know.” 

Mick glanced toward her, the cig hanging on his lips. The smoke wafting up in a thin line. 

“I know we just met, but uh…has Jer ever…mentioned his dad?” Mick paused before shaking his head, talking around the cigarette,

”Never thought ‘e really had one.” Ma nodded, a sad look crossing her face. The cigarette held gently between her index and middle finger. Mick stared at her face now. 

“Well…can I tell ya somethin’?” A feeling had begun to rise in Mick’s chest. Anxiety? Nervousness? He felt a bit ill. Looking at her face more closely now. He was reminded of the night he first found his target. A hum from him.

 

”’M birthday’s in 3 days an’…his dad’s comin’. An’ I’m so nervous ‘cause I know Jer hates ‘im. It’s gonna be the first time he’s seen ‘im since…he left. Not sure Jer even remembers what he looks like.” A pause, her body tense now as she took a drag, blowing the smoke out in a cloud.

 

”Jer likes to tell people he’s dead, but he knows. He knows he’s not. He’s a good man. He had ta leave for complicated reasons. But ‘m not sure Jer’ll see it that way.” Mick was dead silent. His teeth biting into the end of the cigarette as he stared out into the night. 

“Just…all this ta say…keep an eye on ‘im, will ya? He…feels a lot. An I can tell he trusts ya.” Mick nodded rigidly. Too many thoughts running through his head. Only listening as she put out her cigarette and headed back inside. But Mick stood still. Eyebrows furrowed. A deep frown now making its way on his face.

 

 

She had been the woman from the motel that night. He had recognized her. Did that mean…?

 

 

Chapter 14: Jigsaw Falling Into Place

Summary:

Mick tries to figure out his next move.

 

He entered the apartment again, closing the door quietly behind him before he made his way back to the kitchen. Thoughts swirling around his head, like a coming storm.

What was that saying? The calm before the storm. 

 

He heard hushed mumbling before he came through the entry way, seeing Jack and Jeremy talking as the older brother did the dishes. Jeremy had been alerted by his presence, his boots tapping on the tiled floor. 

 

“Hey, Mick! We’re just talkin’ ‘bout…eh, well,” he motioned the bushman closer, and Mick felt obligated to step forward. Jeremy speaking in a hushed tone once again, “We’re talkin’ ‘bout the plans for Ma’s birthday. It’s in a few days so we gotta get things together, ya know?” 

 

“Ya got any ideas?”

Jack was first to speak,

”We’re orderin’ a cake from a baker. Poolin’ all our funds together. Figured we’d go as far as we can this year.”

Mick opened his mouth, about to offer his own share before he closed it again. Deciding against it. With what he knew now…he had a few things to think over before we went committing to anything. Jeremy was grinning, then his eyes caught Mick’s expression. His muscles tightening. 

“Hey Jack, I’ll be back in a minute. I forgot I had somethin’ I needed to show Mick before he headed out.” His brother nodded, turning his attention to the dishes.

 

Jeremy moved to the living room, turning to face Mick. His gaze intense, thick with concern as he looked up at him. “Yo is…everythin’ okay? You look like you’re about ta throw up…” a light laugh from Jeremy, but it was laced with worry.

 

Mick cleared his throat. He did indeed feel very sick. “‘M a’wright…just think it might be best if I headed out for the night.” His lips were a thin line as he fell silent.

Jeremy nodded cautiously, “Yeah—yeah, I get it. Hey, thanks for stickin’ around anyway…it was really nice.” the way Jeremy looked down, Mick could tell he was a bit upset. The gunman stepped closer, pulling the smaller man into a hug. 

Jeremy froze before returning the hug, tightly. Trying to soak in the feeling as much as he could before Mick inevitably pulled away. 

“‘M gonna be back. So don’t worry about that, roo.” The runner felt his heart twist. “I promise. A’wright?” 

A quiet nod. The two stepping away from each other before Mick was tipping his hat and heading out the door. Jeremy’s gaze lingering until the door was clicking closed again. 

 

 

 

The dim light of the camper welcomed Mick again. He had of course driven a few blocks away from Jeremy’s apartment. Not too far, but not blatantly still out front. His body still tense as his mind mulled over all the information he had gained. 

 

What the hell was he going to do?

 

Mick tossed his hat off, hands coming up to brush through his hair, mussing it up. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. How many options did he have?

 

He was a bloody professional. He never failed his job. Not this spectacularly. His hands were shaking now. In his mind, he had two options.

 

Distance himself from Jeremy, do his job. Like a proper Sniper. 

Or, 

 

He calls Pauling now, says he can’t do it. Probably lose his job, or worse. But he gets to be with the runner. 

 

If he was being honest, losing his job didn’t sound all too bad. Though he knew he was just being emotional. One thing he always tried to avoid. Mick didn’t think he could manage breaking the little mongrels heart. 

But he needed this job. It was one thing he was good at.

 

”Bloody…bullshit!” He kicked his boot into the wall of the camper before collapsing into the chair. Hand covering his eyes. How had he managed to fall for the one bloke in this city who’s dad was his bloody target? A shaking hand clenching into a fist.

 

His other hand lowered, resting on his thigh as he looked toward his bed, covers still a mess from when Jeremy had been laying there. He noticed the black Saturday Night Fever t-shirt, hanging off the edge. Mick swallowed. 

 

Every moment they shared together seemed to be on a loop in his mind, tormenting him further. He reached for the phone suddenly, rigidly dialing a number.

 

Listening to it ring a few moments before it was picked up.

 

”Micky?” 

“Hi, mum.” His voice was tense, a low mumble. 

“‘S been a while, aven’t it?” The snipers gaze softened, looking down at his lap,

”Meant ta call ya sooner…been too busy.”

 

”Well, how’s it been? Ya in Boston now? What’s it like there?” 

“‘S bloody chilly. Nothin’ like the farm. Big city, ‘n all that. How’s, er…how’s dad?” 

“Mm, lays ‘round like a lazy koala all bloody day. Swear ‘s just me on this farm!” 

 

Mick chuckled softly at that. Sounded about right. “An…are ya handlin’ things okay?” 

“Micky, ya don’t gotta worry. That’s my job, ya know. I miss ya but…I know ya take your work seriously.” 

 

Mick hummed, thinking before speaking up again, “I, er…wanted ta ask ya for advice…” his voice trailed off.

 

”What is it?” 

“I…met a bloke…a bloke I really like…and er, I think ‘m really ‘appy with ‘em…but er, with ‘m job…I’m stuck between choosin’ ‘im or my work. I don’t know what ta do…I can’t—,” Mick’s voice choked up and he fell silent before continuing, “I can’t handle seein’ ‘is heart broken.” 

“Oh, Micky…”

 

Her voice soothed him, the stinging in his eyes stopping for a moment.

 

”Well, what’s your heart say? Bugger what the mind says, what’s your heart sayin’?”

 

 

Mick paused. Thinking. He knew what his heart was saying. 

“Ta choose ‘im.”

“Then ya bloody well better choose ‘im! That’s one thing your father always got wrong. No point in doin’ work, bein’ a certain way, if ya aren’t ‘appy.”

 

Mick nodded, though it was to himself. 

“Thanks, mum. I gotta get ready for bed, ‘s late. I’ll call ya again when I can.” 

 

“Mm. And ya better tell me what this blokes like when ya call next! G’night, Micky.” 

“G’night, mum.” 

He hung up the phone. 

 

 

Chapter 15: Sunday

Summary:

Mick and Jeremy start to prepare for the birthday.

Notes:

warning for descriptions of abuse in this chapter! plus some very heavy sexual tension!

 

It was around 10 am when there was a knock on the apartment door, Jeremy getting up from the kitchen and quickly racing to answer it. Opening without a second thought. 

His face bright when the bushman was there, gazing down on him.

”I always keep ‘m promises, roo.” 

 

Jeremy jumped to hug the taller man, Mick taking a step back to balance himself again as the weight barreled into him. Taking in the warmth of the smaller man. The faint smell of…lavender. Mick hummed,

”’M ‘appy ta see ya too, mate.” That couldn’t be more true for him. 

 

“Okay so, today’s a little different! But y’know, I figured we could just crack it out real fast.” Jeremy was already on a roll when he pulled away from the hug, Mick listening quietly as he laid out his plans.

 

”I’m gonna need to go gift shoppin’ today for Ma, an’ also get some decorations. Jack’s gonna put in the order for the cake tomorrow so we gotta decide on a theme. I’m definitely votin’ for somethin’ red ‘cause Ma loves red.” 

Mick hung on the word ‘we’ for a moment. His eyes glued on the smaller man. A gentle smile on his face as he just couldn’t help but admire how expressive he was, even when just saying they needed to get gifts and decorations. 

“Sounds like a plan then. Guess we should get goin’, huh?”

 

 

 

Jeremy held his notebook in his hand as they walked down the busy halls of the mall. Shops on either side, each sign unique to each other with a different style. Each one hosting a slew of different items and choices. 

Mick typically despised shopping, but today he didn’t mind it much. It had been a while since he actually went shopping. He was realizing he spent a lot of time doing nothing—because he was doing so much with Jeremy. 

 

The runner clicked his tongue a bit, “Jack already wrote down what he wanted ta get for Ma. So now I just gotta figure my gift out…” 

 

His eyes wandered around the stores as they passed. Mick following after him like he was his personal body guard or something. Though, Jeremy asked for his input on things. If he thought something looked too tacky. If something looked too bland. If he would get his mum something like that. 

 

And Mick answered each and every one, honestly. Eventually they ended up in a jewelry store, Jeremy getting attracted to a particular necklace. Silver with red gemstones dangling off. It was 300 dollars. 

Jeremy had assured he was just looking, a sad look on his face. He wondered how many times he had stood in this shop, looking at this necklace behind the glass case, telling himself that one day he’d be rich enough to get it. This had gone on a few years now. 

 

The shopkeeper gave the runner a look. One that said ‘you don’t belong in here’. One that looked at Jeremy like he was beneath them. Mick’s face hardened. 

This bugger really had him wrapped around his finger.

 

”We’ll take that one.” The shop keepers gaze jumped to Mick, eyes widened. Jeremy had a similar look, gaping. 

“Wh—what?!” Was all he could utter out. Quickly grabbing and stopping the bushman’s hand as he reached for his own wallet. “No, Mick, what’re ya thinkin’?” 

Mick shrugged. “‘M thinkin’ ya look awfully sad starin’ at it an’ I hate ta see ya sad.” Jeremy gripped his hand tighter, eyes round.

 

”It’s too much—it’s 300 bucks! Ya already pay for everythin’ else!” The man hummed, unmoved in his decision. 

“I got plenty a money, love, too much than I know what ta do with. I want ta help get ya a nice gift for ya mum.” He gently pulled his hand from the runners grip, pulling out money from his wallet. 

 

Jeremy’s face burned with an unfamiliar feeling. Watching in slow motion as Mick paid for the necklace. The shop keepers movements slow, as if he couldn’t believe it. Jeremy couldn’t believe it when it was placed in his hand. Held in a neat box. He considered this might be the most valuable thing he has ever held in his life. 

 

His eyes glued on the seemingly small thing, which meant so much to Jeremy. Mick let him stand there for a minute before he lightly tapped his shoulder. “C’mon, roo. We still gotta get decorations, right?” 

 

Jeremy’s gaze lifted to his. His mouth opening to say something before just shutting it again. He would have a lot of words for the man when they got back to the camper. 

 

 

 

Mick carried a bag of party decorations as they walked back to the van, Jeremy holding the two gifts, and a small roll of wrapping paper. The runner was still a bit speechless from what happened at the jewelry shop. 

Stepping inside the camper, he placed down the items gently, pausing as Mick did the same with the bag of decorations. Silver gleaming as light shined off some of the streamers. 

 

“I’d say we were pretty successful.” 

“No way you’re glossing over the fact you bought a 300 dollar necklace! Holy crap! What kinda job do ya even have? 300 dollars. 300 fricken’ dollars—!” Jeremy placed a hand on his forehead. 

“There’s no way I’d be able ta pay ya back for that! Ya just…! I can’t believe it!” Mick was quiet, letting him get it all out. Briefly wondering if he had made Jeremy mad with this. But no, this wasn’t anger. Jeremy just couldn’t imagine why Mick had done this. Or how. 

Finally, he spoke up, “Ya don’t gotta pay me back, roo. It’s a gift. I told ya, I got plenty a money.” Jeremy huffed out a heavy breath.

 

 

”But…why?” His voice was small now. Eyes lingering on the small box. “Why would ya…do that for me?” It seemed ridiculous to Mick that the runner couldn’t figure out why. 

 

“Because—I want ya to be ‘appy. You…make me ‘appy.” Mick furrowed his eyebrows. Searching for the right words. 

“So, 300 dollars is nothin’ if it means I get t’see that gorgeous smile ya got.” Jeremy’s shoulders sunk, his eyes searching Mick’s face. Looking for any ounce of dishonesty. He found none there. But he did find something else. 

 

“You…I’ve—never met someone like you. How come ya treat me so well? It makes me worried that suddenly you’re gonna turn on me—that this is all just a lie.” Jeremy held Mick’s gaze. His face glum and confused. 

 

“Ain’t hard to treat ya well.” Mick moved to sit on the bed. “Did…someone treat ya badly before?” His voice was gentle. Lulling Jeremy closer to him, like a siren song. The man patted the spot beside him and Jeremy was moving to sit in seconds, staring down at the floor of the camper.

 

”Yeah…” his voice was still so small. So pained.

 

“Was it, er…Lucas? I remember ya mentioned ‘im, when that business ‘appened with your brother.” Mick was shoulder to shoulder with the shorter man. Jeremy nodded his head. “What did ‘e do…?” 

 

The runner hung his head. Eyebrows pulled together. “He was…he was fine at first. Normal boyfriend, all that. Real charmin’. Uh, I wasn’t so good at knowin’ how ta take things slow…it all just moved by so fast, y’know? One day you’re in love, the next you’re…the next you’re wonderin’ what went wrong. What ya did wrong. What ya did to deserve that.” He swallowed hard. 

“Frog in boilin’ water stuff. I think that’s what it’s called. The anger toward me escalated until every other day he was screamin’ at me, beatin’ on me…throwin’ stuff at me…eh, yeah.” His hands trembled a bit before he clenched them into fists. 

“I stayed with ‘im, at his apartment. Hardly saw my family for a bit, cause I just felt so shameful. Like, how could this typa thing happen ta me? I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t frail.

 

Then one day, I dunno…guess I just decided I’d had enough. Snapped. Pushed ‘im away and ran out the front door. Tears runnin’ down my face. I just ran till I got home. Jack was there. He…saw me, I had, eh…” he motioned to his face, unable to speak the words. Mick got the general idea. He clenched his teeth, jaw tightening. 

“And uh…Jack went there to his apartment. Gave ‘im a real beatin’. And I mean real bad…Jack went ta jail. Got out a few days later. I felt…so guilty. But I never saw Lucas again.” He rubbed a hand over his face, staring at the floor through blurry vision. Eyes clouded with tears. 

 

The silence filled the air, Jeremy biting his lip. Mick put his arm around his shoulder,

”I promise ya don’t gotta worry about that anymore. ‘M never gonna hurt ya. ‘M never gonna scream at ya. If ya ask me somethin’, ‘m gonna answer honestly.” Jeremy glanced toward the bushman.

 

Swiftly turning to hug the man as years of tears and sobs came boiling over. Years of hurt wracked his figure, his fingers clutching onto the gunman’s shirt. Mick’s arms enclosed around the runner.

Muscular arms offering safety. Protection. Security. A hand petting short brown hair. The other firm against the runner’s lean back. Feeling each and every shake. Listening to every painful cry. 

“‘S okay, roo. I got ya. I got ya.” The runner held onto him like his life depended on it. Soon enough, his crying was slowing down, taking in shaky breaths. Mick gently pulled away a bit. Bringing a hand down to wipe away some of the lingering tears. 

 

Jeremy’s eyes somehow seemed even more worth gazing into for the rest of time. The one pair of eyes Mick could look into without feeling the need to break eye contact. The blue hue seeming to sparkle and shine.

 

“You’re bloody gorgeous.” He hummed out. Jeremy slightly tilting his face into the gunman’s rougher palm. Thumb rubbing the teary space under his eyes. The runners eyes fluttered closed, hands moving to hold onto Mick’s forearms.

 

“Ever saw someone treat you poorly, think I’d have to kill ‘em.” For Jeremy, it was just a comment. For Mick, it felt scarily true. The gunman’s heart ached. His body buzzing with a needful feeling. He leaned forward, placing a kiss on Jeremy’s exposed neck. Feeling his hands tighten on his forearms a moment. 

He didn’t know what had gotten into him. A hunger for the other man, maybe. Knowing that anything could happen in the next two days. Knowing that he was going to risk it all for him. More kisses peppered along his neck. Teeth lightly grazing. Jeremy shuddered, melting in the man’s arms. 

 

“Geez…where’d this—come from?” His voice was a bit breathless. Mick chuckled lowly against his neck, sending more shivers up Jeremy’s spine,

 

”From not bein’ able ta so much as touch ya since the first time I saw ya.” He huffed, “Kept wantin’ t’hear that cute noise ya made again.” 

The runners skin was burning hot, Mick’s kisses only traveling lower until they reached his collarbone. Suddenly Mick was straightening up again, “lift your arms.” Jeremy did so, the bushman then lifting his shirt up and over his head, setting it aside. A pause,

 

”You’re…okay with this, right?” Jeremy let out an all too ecstatic laugh, 

“Fuck yes I am!” A grin crept onto Mick’s face as his hands moved to the runner’s torso, gazing over his skin. Holding his waist as his thumbs rubbed circles into his hips. 

Caressing Jeremy, fingers tracing over his chest and stomach. Mick wanted to memorize every inch. Jeremy’s own hands had found their way to Mick’s body—first running fingers through his hair, leaning closer as he placed his own kisses along his jawline. The stubble scratching against his skin lightly. 

Then his hands had moved to Mick’s shirt—fumbling with the buttons. Soon undoing every single one. When Jeremy tried to slide his hand under the bushman’s undershirt, he tensed up, hand moving to gently stop him. 

 

Jeremy furrowed his eyebrows, “what’s wrong?” Breathing a bit heavy, face flushed thoroughly. Mick frowned a bit, 

 

“Most blokes don’t like ‘m chest. I, er…don’t wanna freak ya out or anythin’.” Jeremy paused. Freak him out? It couldn’t be that bad, whatever it was. All of Mick was utterly flawless in his mind.

 

”I promise, I won’t get freaked out or nothin’.” Mick was quiet before he nodded, pulling his hands from Jeremy hesitantly as he pulled off his button up. Another pause before he moved to pull off his white undershirt. Shifting nervously as Jeremy looked at his chest. 

Carefully, the runner’s hands were lifting to his torso. Tracing his fingers along the V-shaped scar. Mick’s muscles tensing before relaxing again. The fingers traveling down his abdomen then. Jeremy let out a breath,

 

”God, I’m so fricken’ lucky.” His fingers stopped at the happy trail Mick was sprouting. The bushman’s face burning up as he let Jeremy run his hands all over him. Well, he had gotten plenty of reactions to his scars before, but nothing like this. 

 

“I didn’t think ya could get any hotter, but here ya go and show off!” Jeremy said, only partly joking. “These scars are so…so—fricken’ sweet.” An awe struck smile on his face. Mick hummed, finally moving once again as he nudged Jeremy to lay down, leaning over him. 

“You’re real special, y’know that? ‘M precious posey.” That same wolfish grin from the day before. The runner grinned coyly at the comment. 

 

“I feel special right now…” Mick leaned down, pressing their lips together. Jeremy closing his eyes, wrapping his arms around Mick’s neck. It lasted for a little while longer than their first kiss. Lingering on their lips when they parted. 

 

They spent a little while just laying with each other—Mick holding the runner close as his face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, occasionally placing small kisses. Loving the way Jeremy squeezed his arms or body whenever he did. 

Jeremy took in the heavy scent of Mick. He smelled like coffee, and whiskey, and cigarettes. The fresh scent of dirt after rain. Though Jeremy noted he had never seen Mick drink whiskey. Or alcohol of any kind. 

 

 

Notes:

maybe this is too much fluff and all that but tbh i had a GREAT time writing this.

Chapter 16: Race

Summary:

Mick helps Jeremy wrap gifts. Jeremy is blindsided.

 

 

The two sat in Jeremy’s room, Mick laying silent on the bed as he watched Jeremy carefully wrap the gifts. The vinyl was spinning on the player, Tom Jones’ She’s a Lady playing at a fair volume. Of course, all the brothers had chipped in their own gift, even the ones who didn’t live at home anymore. All in all, it made 7 gifts. 

 

The wrapping paper was silver in color, having streaks of red that shined and glimmered as Jeremy shifted and rotated them to apply tape in the right places. They matched the other decorations they had picked out. 

Sticking on gift labels and handing it off to Mick, who had much nicer hand writing, to write who it was from. When it was all done, the pair looked over it all. The presents wrapped neatly, the decorations sorted and separated for the day of the party. 

 

Jeremy stood to walk over to the record player, turning it down until it was only a whisper of music. Moving to lay down on the bed beside Mick, who quickly welcomed him into his arms. 

“Ma always did everythin’ she could to make sure we had fun birthday parties, every year.” A pause as a smile appeared on his face,

”One year, Ma didn’t have any money left over from rent, and it was my birthday, so for my gift she let me draw all over the walls. Told me it’d wash right off. But eh…I used a sharpie.” Jeremy shrugged, chuckling. Remembering how long his drawings had remained on those walls. “I had thought she just loved ‘em so much that she decided ta keep ‘em there.” 

A snicker rumbled in Mick’s chest. “Sounds like ya all were a handful.” 

“Yeah…yeah, we were…” a nostalgic look on his face as his head rested against the bushman’s chest. A beat of silence before Mick started speaking,

 

”My birthdays were never really much special. Though I do remember one in particular. ‘M dad took me ta go ride horses. Figured I wouldn’t care for it much. Real gentle creatures they are. I loved ‘em. ‘Course, ‘m dad got bucked off, and it was the highlight of the day, watchin’ ‘m scramble away from the hooves.” The gunman took in a hesitant breath. 

“Huh…horses. That makes a lotta sense actually.” Jeremy grinned.

“An’ how’s that?” Mick raised a curious eyebrow, eyes gentle as he looked down at the runner.

 

”Well, they’re eh…strong, intelligent. Don’t take crap from no one. Horses are a lot like you.” Mick hummed gravelly, his heart thumping in his chest. That might’ve been one of the sweetest things anyone ever said about him. “An’ they don’t talk much.” Jeremy added at last, smiling cheekily as Mick huffed,

 

”Don’t they all.”

 

 

 

It was late in the evening. The sun having set. Mick left around 30 minutes ago. Jeremy was sat in the kitchen, eating some of the left over spaghetti they had. He heard his Ma in the doorway before she spoke.

 

”Hey, Jer.” Her voice was…different. Tense. 

“Hey, Ma…” he didn’t look toward her, still shoveling the spaghetti into his mouth. Shoulders a bit hunched now. She always got like this when there was bad news.

 

 

”Jer…I need ta…tell ya somethin’.” She stepped closer to the table, her presence lingering just over the runners shoulder. Jeremy’s heart slowly sank into his stomach. Heart rate speeding up. 

“What’s up?” He tried to play it off nonchalantly. 

 

“Well, my birthday’s in a day. An’…the whole families gonna be here.”

 

”Yeah…?” Jeremy knew she was leading up to something, wishing she would just say it. 

 

“It’s only right that your father is here as well.” Jeremy stopped eating. Setting the fork down. Eyes flickering back and forth as he tried to grasp onto a thought.

 

”What?”

 

”I know ya hate him—,”

”No, Ma. He ain’t gonna be here. He left us. He’s the reason we’re still dealin’ with all this crap.” His body was rigid, tone just barely holding back a flood of emotions.

 

”Jer…please,”

 

Jeremy stood up suddenly, spinning to face his Ma. His mouth opened to speak, shutting quickly. Beside her was a man. Jeremy hadn’t even heard him walk in. 

He wore a striped suit. A watch on his wrist. Peppered grey hair that seemed to be put together well. Stubble. Cold eyes. Jeremy stared, feet glued to the floor.

 

 

The man only stared back. 

 

Chapter 17: Night Shift

Summary:

Things begin to unravel.

Notes:

aka shit hits the fan

warning for serious character injury this chapter!!!

 

The door to the apartment slammed behind him as he jumped over each stack of steps. Shaky breaths catching in his throat as his feet hit the pavement of the sidewalk. Running. Just running. 

 

He thought he might have heard his Ma yelling after him—as well as the man’s deep voice. But he didn’t stop, he didn’t look behind himself. He just ran. The cold air pricking at his skin and eyes. The dog tags around his neck flying. 

 

This birthday was supposed to be a great one. But this man—his father—was going to ruin it all. Jeremy didn’t even consider that he had a dad. He never did. Thoughts ran through his head with each step of his foot on the concrete.

 

”FUCK YOU!” He screamed into the night air, yelling until his throat was raw. 

 

 

The camper pulled up to the apartment. Mick noticed Jack was standing outside with their mum. Tears streaked her face. Mick quickly stepped out, not without checking he had his knife on him. Steady steps until he heard what they were saying.

 

”Ma, I’m sure he’s alright, he does this when he gets real upset. He did it when…y’know.” Jack commented, before he noticed Mick standing silently.

 

”What ‘appened.” Mick’s expression was serious. Jack glancing down.

 

”Jeremy ran out last night. Hasn’t come back.” Mick’s heart lurched.

 

”Why’d ‘e run off?” Although the gunman already knew why. Ma looked toward the bushman, teary eyed, 

“His father was here last night…well, y’know the rest…” Mick grimaced.

 

”Piss.” He was turning and swiftly walking to the van, getting in and starting it back up quickly. Only thinking of one place to check for the runner. 

 

 

 

The diner wasn’t so busy today, Mr. Anderson running it himself. Jeremy had not come in for work today, without so much as a phone call. The rumbling of the van coming around the corner before parking. Mick jumped out, heading inside. 

When he didn’t see Jeremy, he tensed up. “Where is ‘e?” Mr. Anderson looked at the man, confused and a little annoyed. 

“Who? Jeremy? He didn’t come in today.” 

“Bugger,” Mick rushed out as quickly as he had stomped in. Jeremy could be anywhere in this city. Mick stopped as he exited the diner. Turning to look beside him. 

The runner was there. Back leaning against the brick of the building, arms crossed. Leg propped up. There was a deep and tired glare on his face. 

“Bloody hell, thought I wouldn’t find ya at all. I heard what happened.” 

 

Jeremy took in a deep breath, glancing toward Mick. A pained expression flashing across his face in a small second. “He fuckin’ ruins everythin’.” Jeremy didn’t know the half of it.

 

Mick stepped closer to the runner, moving to hold his arm as he stood up away from the wall, legs a bit wobbly from running all night. Once he was in the gunman’s grasp, his hard exterior broke down. Mick walked him to the van. 

 

 

They were sitting in the van, back outside of the apartment. Mick letting the silence be for a few moments longer.

 

”Ya gotta go back in, roo.”

 

”Why should I? Nobody gives a crap about how I feel, it’s all about that stupid fuck-wad.” Jeremy crossed his arms tightly, staring ahead at the road. Well, Mick couldn’t argue too much, because it wasn’t like he was thrilled at all about this either. 

“I give a crap. ‘N I’m gonna be right there with ya, love.” Jeremy begrudgingly glanced toward the apartment. Mick watched him a moment. 

“…Fine.” 

 

It was a slow trudge up the stairs. Mick feeling anticipation amping up in every ounce of his blood. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but all he hoped was that Jeremy and his family were okay. 

When the door was opened, the apartment was quiet. No sign of Jack or Ma. Not even Coltin or Dennis. Jeremy let out a sigh. But Mick was not relieved. There was a heaviness in the air. His skin prickling. Ears listening intently for the slightest creak. 

 

“Thank god he’s not here—,”

 

”Hello, son.” Jeremy let out a shriek, spinning to the corner of the living room. Mick’s hand had instinctively reached for his hidden knife, though he quickly pulled it away. It seemed as if the man had simply just been blending in to the environment. He had a cigarette in hand. 

“I ain’t your ‘son’.” The man seemed unfazed by this response. His attention turning to the bushman standing beside him. Their gazes locked. Mick gritted his teeth. 

“And…you. Hm. I did not expect this turn of events.” A drag from the cigarette. 

“Wait, you know each other?” Jeremy was casting an accusatory gaze toward the taller man beside him. Mick’s skin prickled further. The spy spoke before he could,

 

”Oui. We are…old associates. Though I have to say I regret ever working with the man. He is…undignified.” Mick let a low grumble creep from his chest. 

“Only thing that’s ‘undignified’ is you thinkin’ you’re still welcome here.” Jeremy glared him down. Again, he was unfazed. 

“Perhaps you should ask him what he does for work, un tueur à gages. A killer, if you will.” The runner was taken aback a moment. Only thinking this was a blatant lie, but what was the point?

 

Mick had stayed silent until then, “you’re nothin’ but a bloody coward, ‘s what you are.” His voice dripped with contempt. 

“Whatever. C’mon Mick, we got better places to be.” He was pulling the gunman’s arm then, the taller man standing firmly before finally budging. They were walking back out the door. 

 

Silence as they reached the camper. Jeremy having time to think over what the hell just happened. How did Mick know his dad—why had his dad called Mick a killer? Suddenly he was reminded of the sniper rifle as they stepped back inside the camper. 

How Mick had brushed off the question. How he had paid for a 300 dollar necklace on the spot. He didn’t answer when Jeremy had asked what his job was. The runners skin turned clammy. Looking toward the bushman under a more scrutinizing light. 

 

Mick was too deep in his own thoughts to realize Jeremy was staring at him, a blank expression on his face.

 

”Mick…” the gunman looked toward Jeremy. Their eyes connecting.

 

“Ya said that if I asked ya somethin’, you’d answer honestly.” He did say that. Mick remained silent.

 

”Do you…kill people?” Jeremy looked as if he was staring through the man. The most calm Mick had ever seen him. Mick stared, eyebrows furrowing before he looked down. Jeremy felt like he had been punched in the gut, letting out a breath. “You do, don’t you? That’s—that’s why ya got that rifle. That’s why…ya didn’t wanna tell me about it, you—,” 

 

He was shaking his head now. Eyes wide. Mick tried to step toward Jeremy, but the runner took a step back, bumping into the wall. 

“Why didn’t ya tell me, how could ya keep somethin’ like that from me, I mean—what the hell? What the hell, Mick?” 

“Roo, listen t’me—,”

”Don’t—don’t call me that. Do not fuckin’ call me that. What’s…what was your plan, huh? Just, we’d live happily ever after while behind the scenes ya blow people’s heads off?” Jeremy’s words were scathing. Mick grimaced, backing away. 

“How was I s’pose ta tell ya somethin’ like that…” his voice was quiet. Jeremy laughed, 

“I dunno! That was for you ta figure out! Not let me just discover it, when everythin’ is goin’ ta shit! When I already freakin’…when I already love ya ta death.” 

Mick shrunk, moving to sit on the bed. Gaze lingering on the runner before dropping to the floor. 

“So, what, is my dad a killer too? Ya both worked together. Just fuckin’ great. Just. Great.” Jeremy was shaking. Tears running down his face. 

“Don’t come back…okay? Don’t.” Jeremy was turning, fumbling with the door handle a moment before he choked out a sob and yanked the door open, walking out. 

The runner was a few steps out when he was grabbed by the back of his shirt, spinning around, he expected to see Mick. Instead, it was his dad.

The man looked at him. A breath of silence between them. 

 

”Je suis désolé.” There was a sudden pressure in his abdomen. A gasp escaping his lips. His adrenaline still too high from what had just transpired between him and Mick to fully process what happened.

 

His hand coming to cover the aching pain in his abdomen, feeling a warm, hot liquid slipping between his fingers and down his palm. He stood like this for a moment. Everything seeming slow. His father had disappeared in an instant. Swallowing hard as he looked down. Bright red. There was so much red. Too much. 

His head swam and he fell back, falling hard on the ground. A hand still covering the gushing wound. He stared up at the sky. There was the sudden scuffle of heavy footsteps, yelling. He heard his name.

 

’JEREMY?’ A pause, a silhouette blocking the sky now. The sloped hat. He was holding a large, curved knife. Quickly kneeling down beside him. His face was etched with horror. More pressure on his abdomen. A hand placed over his own. 

‘’S gonna be alright, mate, just—bloody hell, just stay awake, okay? Don’t close your eyes.’ Jeremy felt as if he was underwater. A thumping in his ears. Soon realizing it was his heart beat. He had told him to stay awake, but now he was feeling very sleepy. Pulled further away. Everything seemed like it was getting dim. Like a light burning out. 

 

Then there was nothing.

 

 

Chapter 18: Wish You Were Here

Summary:

Jeremy talks about things with Henry.

 

When he opened his eyes, he was in his room. A golden light filled the space, shining in through the window. The curtains on either side slightly swaying as a gentle breeze brushed past. 

 

His gaze travelled the room. Two beds beside each other—parted by a nightstand. One side having a baseball styled alarm clock. The other having a glass of water, still dripping with condensation. Creating a small pool underneath. 

 

His side of the room, having a few of his recent trophies he earned. Drawings hung on the wall. He tried to make out what they looked like, but it was just fuzzy and white. An old baseball mitt hung on the wall, tattered and fraying with a life full of use. Well loved, and well used. 

A small wooden baseball bat leaned against his chipped dresser. 

The other side had a few posters. G.I. Joe, the cartoon. The others seemed greyed out. Like a memory that was just on the top of your tongue. A military uniform folded and placed neatly on the other bed. 

It was picture perfect. An old Polaroid you find years later, untouched and preserved. Frozen in time. He looked to the edge of his bed as he felt the weight shift. A young man sitting, his light brown hair in a buzz cut. Wearing a white shirt. Dog tags dangling from his neck. 

Jeremy reached to his own neck, feeling nothing but the collar of his shirt.

 

”Hey, lil J.” He spoke finally. Voice calm. 

“Hey, Hen.” He was relieved to see him. It felt like it had been forever. 

Henry cast a glance back toward him, a grin on his face, showing his chipped tooth. Jeremy had accidentally swung his bat into him while they were practicing together. 

“You ain’t so little anymore, are ya? I didn’t realize.” Jeremy smiled proudly,

 

”Nah. But I’ll never be Big J. Maybe…medium J.” Henry chuckled, 

“Medium J. I like that.”

 

”Where’ve you been?” Henry paused, looking toward the window. The light momentarily turning his features in a blaze of white. 

“I’ve been away. How was Ma?” Henry turned his face away from the window again.

 

”She was real sad. We all were…why’d ya leave?” Jeremy felt like he was a little kid again. Like he was 10 again. 

“I had to, lil J. Didn’t want to, but. Sometimes things happen that we can’t control. You gotta just roll with the punches.” 

 

“I was mad at you.”

”I know. You’re mad now, too. You gotta cut some slack for, Ma, y’know. This is her first time livin’, just like it is for you.” 

Furrowing eyebrows. He glanced down at his lap. Picking idly at a splinter in his hand.

”But she doesn’t understand, dad ditched us. He doesn’t care about us—all he does is hurt us. Again and again.” 

Henry nodded, “Yeah, he did. But ya never let him explain. Adults are funny like that. They aren’t so good at explainin’. They just want ya ta understand they’re doin’ their best, even when ya can’t see it.” 

Jeremy sniffed. Nodding his head silently. 

“I heard ya got yourself a guy.” He perked up then,

”He’s really great, and I mean really.”

 

”Hey, way ta go slugger. But, y’know…you’re mad at him too, aren’t ya?” Henry was glancing back toward him again.

 

Jeremy deflated. Shoulders sinking. “Yeah. He…killed people. He hid it from me.” 

“Well, y’know lil J, I killed people too. Doesn’t make me a bad man. And I’m sure your guy doesn’t hurt anyone who doesn’t have it comin’ to ‘em. 

Sometimes people do bad things. You’ve done bad things too, right?” A simple nod.

 

”Ya can’t hold it against him. It’s probably more complicated than ya give it credit for.”

 

There was a clock ticking on the wall. The gentle tick tick tick filling his ears. 

“I wish you were here, Hen.”

 

”I know lil J. But ya gotta get goin’ soon.”

 

”Why can’t I stay here, with you?”

 

”People who love ya are waitin’ for ya. Ma, the brothers. Your guy.”

 

Anxiety was rising in Jeremy’s chest now. The serenity of this place becoming disturbed. Like fresh footprints in snow.

 

”Go get ‘em, slugger.” 

 

Chapter 19: Till

Summary:

Mick deals with the storm.

 

He was stood at the foot of the hospital bed. The smells of bleach and chemicals invading his senses. The faint hint of copper. Caked blood still drying on his hands, stuck under his fingernails. Speckled on his clothes. 

 

The sight of Jeremy there—hooked to tubes and IVs, a breathing mask wrapped tight around his face. His features gaunt and pale with blood loss. The gunman’s gaze darkened. In the flurry of events, Spy had gotten away. 

 

There was shouting and crying down the hall—suddenly Ma was running in, collapsing at the side of the bed, followed by Jack and Dennis. And a few other people that Mick assumed to be Jeremy’s brothers. The sounds that erupted could only be the fear stricken sound of believing you had just lost a child. 

The wails sent shivers up Mick’s body. Hands clenching, feeling all too sticky. Jack saw Mick tense, standing there like a statue. He made his way over. The oldest brother didn’t cry—but all the warm energy he usually carried was gone.

 

”What happened…?” Mick flickered a single glance toward him.

 

”His dad stabbed ‘em. Left ‘m there. ‘M gonna find ‘im.” Jack’s face shifted. 

 

”What if Jeremy…slips away while you’re gone? You should stay.” Mick’s eyes hardened on the runners body. 

“I need t’do this, mate. ‘M not lettin’ ‘im get away.” Jack looked at the bushman another moment before nodding and backing off. Mick turned, boots thumping against floor. Leaving the pained room behind. 

 

 

He grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the fridge. Not bothering with a glass this time as he tipped it back and took a large drink. Sitting at the table once more. Laid on it was a sharpening block and his Kukri. 

The gunman set the bottle down, grabbing the block and Kukri. Sharpening it, listening to the scraping of metal. And soon, it would be sharp enough to cut through bone with a bit of force. 

 

It felt like the runner’s presence was lingering here. The smell of lavender. Of light sweat. How had he let this happen? He knew he would choose Jeremy a million times over. But now it felt like that choice was being pried from his grip. 

What if Jeremy died?

 

Then he would not only fail his mission, but him too. Then what would he be left with? Nothing. In this singular moment, Jeremy was all he had. And he was laid in a hospital bed, in a coma. 

 

Mick clenched the handle of the Kukri in his fist. A burning and sick hatred making its way through him. 

The phone started to ring.

 

The man letting its shrill sound continue on before he reached over and picked it up. Listening.

 

”Meet me at the motel.” 

A scowl before he hung up the phone, taking another large swig from the bottle. It only numbed the aching he felt deep in his chest a minuscule amount. 

 

It was quiet in the parking lot when Sniper stepped out. Boots scuffling over gravel as he walked. Of course he was on high alert, practically holding his breath to hear any sound. 

Making his way up the steps, he saw that the door to room 101 was cracked just a slight bit. His grip on the Kukri got tighter. Nudging the door slowly. It was dark inside.

 

The smell of cigarette smoke wafting forward. Sniper stepped into the doorway. His figure silhouetted against the light from outside. 

 

“Make this quick an’ show yourself, bloody wanker.” Silence. The gunman set his jaw tightly. Taking careful movements into the room. 

“Let’s settle this.” 

The light sound of footsteps against carpet, Sniper becoming rigid. Taking a few more steps into the dark room. More shifting feet. Suddenly there was a clicking sound behind him—Sniper spinning on his heel and swinging the Kukri—connecting.

 

There was a pained shout, the Spy backing away against the wall. Sniper threw his weight into the other man, pinning him down with his forearm against his neck. Face dark under the brim of his hat and shades. A sneer on his lips.

 

”You always were so bloody weak. Look at ya now. Are ya proud a yourself?” Suddenly a blaze of rage consumed his face, raising the Kukri before Spy interjected.

“Wait—! Listen to me.” 

“Only thing that’s ever come outta your mouth’s been trouble, mate. Think I’ll pass.” 

“I don’t care if you kill me. No matter the out come of this interaction, I can not return to my family. To ma fleur.”

 

 

”Ain’t no one ta blame ‘cept yourself for that one.” Sniper’s glare faltered, though only for a second, when Spy nodded.

 

“Do you really think I’d be so foolish as to kill my favorite son? Non.”

 

”Favorite? Ya bloody stabbed him, ya rat! Y’see this?!” He raised his hand to Spy’s face. Coppery smell still lingering from the dried blood. 

“…I had realized something when I saw you. That I would never be able to return to a normal life that me and ma fleur had hoped for. There would always be someone hunting me. If not you, another.” Sniper took in a ragged breath, his force on Spy’s neck lifting a small amount. 

“I knew that no matter how hard I tried, Jeremy would never forgive me. He is stubborn, hard headed. The spitting image of his mother.” There was a soft gaze on Spy’s face for a moment. One Sniper had never seen before. 

 

“And as such, he fell in love with a dangerous man, just as his mother fell in love with me.” A pause as he was deep in thought, the cut on his arm becoming a distant memory.

 

”I do not like you, Mr. Mundy. But I do respect you. I can have faith knowing you will keep Jeremy safe? This is all I ask of you.”

 

“Y’didnt have ta ask for me to tell ya I will.” Sniper lowered his arm. The both of them looking at each other. Spy held his wound a moment before speaking.

 

”If you do not kill me, you will lose your job.” Sniper looked at the man with pity.

 

”I know. Think I got plenty a savin’s for retirement by now.” Spy was reaching into his pocket then, grabbing out an envelope, handing it to the gunman. 

“This will be a letter for Jeremy. He cannot read so well, so you will probably have to read it for him. It is for his and your eyes only. Do you understand? After you have read it to him, burn it. Destroy it.” Spy looked down. Sniper taking the envelope cautiously, sliding it in the inner pocket of his vest.

 

”His mother will continue thinking I meant to harm our son. This will help her move on. Do not tell her any different.” Another pause of silence.

 

”It has been horrible working with you, Mr. Mundy.” He held out his hand for a parting handshake. The sniper took it,

 

 

”Likewise, ya bloody piker.” 

 

Then, the spy was cloaking. Making his way out of the room and down the stairs of the motel. Leaving Sniper standing, considering the turn of events.

 

Chapter 20: Across the Universe

Summary:

Mick and Jeremy’s Ma share in their sorrow.

Notes:

so throughout this i’ve been keeping a playlist of every song used for the titles and also just mentioned within the fic

let me know if you guys wanna have the link to it! that way you can get the FULL experience of my insane mind

 

It was Tuesday. The day of the birthday. The day Miss Pauling had been counting on. Mick had finally washed his hands clean of the blood, though his skin still tingled uncomfortably at the memory.

 

He reached for the phone, dialing the number. It rang once, twice.

 

”Hey, Sniper! You’re calling before I’ve called you so I assume it’s done, right?” 

A pause. Although Sniper knew this was bound to happen, it still didn’t stop the nervousness from eating at him.

 

”Er, well. No, it’s not done. I wasn’t able to kill him.” Silence on the other end for a few seconds.

 

“Oh,” Pauling was unsure of what to say. Sniper rarely failed a mission, especially one like this. “You do know what this means, correct?” 

“I do. Will I get the chance t’say goodbye to the team before I go?” Pauling was a bit stunned into silence, still processing that Sniper had not completed the mission. And now she’d be replacing him. 

“Yeah…I’ll arrange that when you come and gather your things from the base. Is there…a reason why you failed?” 

 

“Ya want honest or ya want business-like?” Sniper raised an eyebrow.

 

”Honest.” 

“Met someone who made me realize I don’t wanna be doin’ this the rest of ‘m life.” 

“I see—well. I’m gonna be honest too, I think you deserve to get out of this mess.” Pauling cleared her throat then.

 

”Right, well, I regret to see you go, Mr. Mundy. In a week there will be a plane for you to head back to Tuefort. We will say our goodbyes then.” 

 

 

 

Mick was pushing open the door to the hospital room. Immediately met with the steady beeping of a machine. The gentle whirring of an oxygen tank. He found Ma there, sitting alone beside the bed. 

Her face was turned away from him, leaning back. Her legs crossed over each other, foot idly swinging. As if she was waiting for Jeremy to open his eyes and wake up any second now. Mick couldn’t deny he was waiting for the same.

 

She only acknowledged his presence when the door had closed behind him, glancing back. Dark streaks of mascara down her face. “Hey, Mick.” 

“Hello, ma’am.” He stood there for a moment before pulling an extra chair aside, sitting and looking ahead at the bed. 

 

“I didn’t get to thank you…for—bein’ there…y’know when I asked ya to look after him, I didn’t imagine…it’d be this.” Her face lowered a moment. “Is it true? What Jack said?” 

 

Mick looked at her face a long while. He could see what Spy meant when he said Jeremy was the spitting image of her. The way her eyes burned with too many things to name. He nodded. “It is.”

Her eyebrows knitted together tightly, looking as if she would break into another round of sobs at any moment. Though she only turned away. Composing herself.  

 

“You ever notice how…silence becomes so much more empty when Jer isn’t there?” He had. The gunman was feeling it now. He stayed quiet. Offering her a sympathetic presence.

“I can’t help but feel this is my fault. I knew what kind of man he was.” Mick had wondered this. Though he didn’t think she knew that he had worked with her husband. He hummed quietly,

 

”Ain’t your fault. Things…happen. Can’t always stop ‘em.” He wasn’t so good at comforting words. “Don’t think anyone woulda seen this comin’.” 

 

“Today is my birthday, and I’m here beside my sons bed hopin’ that he wakes up at the end of all this…” Mick lowered his gaze. Jeremy had been so excited for this day.

 

”Did’ya see the presents yet?” 

“No…haven’t really left this room much since we got here.” 

“You should, think Jeremy’d kick himself if you were ‘ere mopin’ an not openin’ all the gifts an havin’ cake.” Ma smiled sadly at that, knowing Mick was right. Grabbing her bag before standing from the chair. 

She glanced toward Mick hesitantly.

”’M not goin’ anywhere. Not for a long while. Go enjoy your birthday, much as ya can.” 

“Thanks, hon…I’m real glad my Jer bear has you.” With that she was heading out of the room. Leaving Mick with the discomforting sound of machines. 

 

A few hours passed with him sitting there, nodding off every few minutes before the jarring beeping of a machine would shake him back up again. The nurses coming in every now and then to check vitals. Eventually, the bushman had stood during a moment of quiet.

 

Stepping closer beside the bed. Reaching a hesitant hand to hold the runners’ in his palm. Mick frowned. The tiredness he felt from not having slept in at least a day now catching up to him. A wave of long repressed emotions finally chipping away at the dam. 

“‘M sorry, love. Ya don’t deserve this. I failed you. I shoulda just…not wrapped ya up in all this. Hope when ya wake, ya can forgive me.” A tear made its way down his toned face. Surprising him.

 

When was the last time he had cried? When he was a child? It felt unusual for him, crying. More tears followed.

 

”’M a bloody fool. ‘S only been a day, an I miss ya more than anythin’. Miss seein’ your gorgeous eyes.” He whispered this between himself and the unconscious man.

 

”’M gonna be makin’ it up to ya for the rest of our lives, I swear.”  

And he always kept his promise.

 

 

Chapter 21: Asleep

Summary:

The gunman sinks lower.

Notes:

had to google a last name generator for my tf2 fic 😔

 

 

He was laid in his camper. The distant sound of the rest of the team having dinner together. Laughing—joking, maybe a bit of physical harm as well. Whiskey bottles littered the floor.

 

Lifting his arm for another drink—his head spun and he keeled over. His entire stomach flipping itself inside out. The smell was horrible. He collapsed back onto the bed.

 

Trying to keep his eyes open as they tugged themselves shut. His heart slowing to a cumbersome speed. Briefly wondering how long it would be until one of the mercenaries found him, because he spent so much time alone.

 

The sound of an alarm. An emergency? An ambulance? 

 

He jolted awake as two nurses rushed into the room, the shrill noise from his dream continuing. Immediately coming to the sobering realization that it was one of the machines going off. 

Mick stood quickly, listening to the nurses as they checked vitals,

 

’There’s bleeding,’

’Heart rate is dangerously low,’

 

The man stood there, wide eyed, as he could only watch helplessly. One of the nurses noticed him while the other was getting a doctor. 

“Sir, we’ll have to ask you to leave.” Mick looked down at her. She expected him to start asking questions—what was going on? Was he going to be alright? 

Instead he just turned to leave the room. Heart hammering on in his chest as more doctors and nurses flooded the room. In a small second, the quiet environment had been sent into a flurry.  

He could only watch as they rolled out the bed, crimson blood soaking through the bandages and onto the sheets. He could only watch as they disappeared down the hallway, yelling about getting him into surgery immediately. 

 

Mick swallowed hard. The yellowish shades hiding the bags that had begun to form under his eyes. What was happening to him? 

Just a week ago, he was content with being alone, with staying in his camper all day. With doing his job and doing it well. He felt disheveled now. A tiredness had settled deep in his bones. It was a scary thought, realizing you didn’t want to be alone anymore.

 

He hadn’t showered since…well, a few days now. Though if the gunman was being honest with himself, he always had a below average shower schedule as it was. It only became apparent now, that he felt he was at the lowest he had been in a while. 

 

“Sir?” Mick sat up from his slouched position, only slightly glancing toward the doctor that was now standing beside him. He checked his watch swiftly—seeing that he had been sitting in the lobby for an hour at least. 

“You were with Jeremy Harrison, correct?” A curt nod. 

“We have an update on his condition—,” finally Mick was giving more acknowledgment to the doctor, turning to face toward him a bit more.

 

”He is still in a comatose condition. But, we managed to stop the bleeding and redo the stitches. His heart rate and vitals have improved.” A slight irritation flickered across Mick’s features.

 

”So basically you’re sayin’ nothin’ changed? ‘Sides from ‘im almost gettin’ worse.” The doctors tone became more analytical at this,

 

”Well, yes. Nothing changed, but it is promising that he recovered from this. There is still room for improvement.” It was moments like these where the sniper missed Medic’s unorthodox and downright insane medical practices. Jeremy would have been completely fine by now. 

Though with the Medic you could never really know what side effects or ‘experiments’ might be incurred on you. Mick only grumbled then, turning away from the doctor. “Guess there’s that.”

 

“He’s in the Intensive Care Unit now if you’d like to visit.” Of course Mick stood at this, following the doctor. 

 

 

 

The ICU was even more cold and unforgiving than the rest of the hospital. Rooms fitted with large glass windows and doors, so the nurses and doctors could observe the patients fully. There was little privacy aside from curtains. Passing by room after room filled with critically injured patients. 

Mick had reached Jeremy’s room, relieved to hear the steady beeping of the monitors that signaled there was still life there. Taking his seat near the bed, where he perched for another long night. It was much like the long hours between waiting to take a shot, though it wasn’t peaceful. It was grueling and tiresome. 

 

It was only a few hours later before he saw Jack approaching from down the hall, entering the room. His face matched how Mick felt—utterly spent emotionally. Jack let out a weak chuckle at seeing the gunman again,

 

”You’re always sleepin’ by his side like an old dog.” There was a moment of painful silence as the comment settled in. “Ma woulda been here but…she’s still workin’. With the rent comin’ up and all the hospital bills…since lil J ain’t workin’ any time soon, it’s mostly on me an her. Dennis and Colt are tryna chip in, though. Same with the others.” Jack spoke quietly as he looked at the figure laying in the bed. 

Mick sat up a bit then. “Don’t mind the hospital bills. I got it covered.” Jack furrowed his eyebrows.

 

”Hey, woah. Don’t think you’re obligated, man. You’ve already done more than enough for us. Just bein’ there when it happened.” Mick shook his head,

”I am obligated. Owe it to ‘im. Owe it to the rest of ya. An’ I got plenty of savin’s. Ain’t really a big spender.” Jack stood silently, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

“Seems like lil J found himself a guardian Angel.” Mick laughed dryly. It felt too high of a praise for him. 

“Ain’t an Angel, mate. Just doin’ what’s right. You’re…good people. Welcomed me with open arms. Even if ya all believe me an’ the little mongrel are datin’.” Mick cast a small smile toward the older brother. 

 

“Did he ever tell ya ‘bout Lucas?” Mick nodded. “Bad stuff. I know he still feels guilty for it all. It’s hard to convince him that it wasn’t his fault, y’know? He likes ta act like he’s got it all together, but he’s still just my little brother.” 

“He’s…very, er—emotional.” Mick stated quietly. “It’s…nice. I always have kept it distant. Never much helped me t’be emotional. But with him…” his voice trailed off. Jack looked at him a moment before speaking,

 

“Hope ya don’t mind me pushin’ the topic so much but…are ya two really not datin’?” Mick paused for a moment. Well, they hadn’t officially started dating at any point. And the last time him and Jeremy spoke, Jeremy was telling him to never come back. 

 

“It’s, er…complicated, mate. I really couldn’t tell ya.” Jack nodded his head at this.

”It always is with lil J.” For all Mick knew, when Jeremy woke up, he’d never want to see him again. 

 

“Well, I gotta get goin’ back to the apartment…you gonna stay here? Y’know, you’re always welcome at home with us if ya need company.” Mick really did appreciate the sentiment.

 

”Nah yeah, ‘m gonna stick ‘ere for a bit…but er…thanks, really. ‘M not so good at—bein’ people-y, I s’pose.” Jack smiled a small bit,

 

”It ain’t for all of us. But hey, get some rest. Ya look like you could use it…” he paused, “no offense.” 

“None taken.” Mick tipped his hat slightly as Jack waved, turning to head out of the room. Disappearing past the window. Mick felt like he could use some rest. Sinking a bit in the chair as he placed his hat over his face. 

He had grown accustomed to the noises of the machines by now—and just the general ambience of being in a hospital. So it wasn’t too difficult for his sleep deprived mind to drift off. 

 

 

 

The distant sound of chatter. A dark room. Pitch black—where no light reached it. A slicing feeling. The sensation of being pulled open—though there was no pain. Where was he? 

Where was he? His thoughts echoed and disappeared in seconds. What had he been thinking of? Where had he been before now? 

 

More tearing and slicing. Electric jolts sent through him—the absence of air, yet he could breathe. More distant talking. Sounding like it was right beside him but impossible to make out. A few moments of silence.

 

Thump, thump, thump. What was that? It was his heart. Why could he only hear it now? The heavy scent of whiskey wafted through the utterly empty space. As if he was drowning in it now. 

That was it. He had been drowning. He was sure he had been.

 

The sensation of a thread being pulled through flesh. It felt like an eternity. He had been here for years. But that couldn’t be right, it had only been 12 hours. Where did he get that time from?

 

 

12 hours. 

 

 

Notes:

i love this smelly man *makes him go through suffering*

sneaks in lore accurate tf2 elements, refuses to elaborate

Chapter 22: My Love, Mine All Mine

Summary:

Jeremy defies the odds.

 

Go get ‘em, slugger.

 

The runner’s eyes popped open. Staring at a white ceiling. Heart beginning to pound rapidly. Pain beginning to shoot through his abdomen and stomach. A million little knives picking at his insides.

 

The beeping and whirring seeming so surreal—was he really awake right now? Where was he? Where was his Ma? Where was Mick?

 

Mick. He had told him to never come back. He had ran out. 

 

Pulling himself up, his muscles struggling against him and only causing more panic to course through him. Why weren’t his arms working? A strained groan making its way out of a raspy throat as he clambered out of the bed—cords pulling at his veins. 

As soon as he tried to stand, he nearly collapsed on the floor. Both from the pain radiating through his body now, and his legs seeming to function just about as well as his arms. Which, wasn’t at all. Weak and shaking fingers clutching into the IV pole as he looked around rapidly. 

 

The monitor started to flatline—due to him pulling the vital monitor from his finger. Teeth clenched tightly as more pained cries ripped their way out. Where was Mick?

 

 

The flatline triggered something in Mick’s psyche once again, practically jumping up out of the chair before he had fully woken up, his hat flinging to the floor along with his shades. A few moments as his eyes opened, looking through the dark room to the bed. 

 

Jeremy was not in it anymore. Instead, there was a mess of wires and IV’s that had been tugged out—the runner just barely hanging onto the pole to the left of the bed. Looking about as scared as a cornered animal. 

“Roo!” The sound got caught in his throat, becoming a hushed whisper as he ran over to the shorter man, his arms immediately grabbing to hold him up on wobbly legs. 

 

Tears were flooding Jeremy’s eyes now, cascading their way down as raspy sobs got choked out. “Mick—, ‘m sorry—told ya t’go away…” 

 

The bushman was quickly moving to lift the runner back into the bed, the ICU nurses finally making their way into the room. 

“Never mind that, roo, ya need t’be bloody careful…” His tone was hushed, a mumble next to the terrified man’s ear. Laying him back down, though his fingers still clung to the back of Mick’s button up shirt. “Y’gotta let go, love, they need’t make sure you’re okay.” 

Jeremy hesitantly let go of the taller man, breathing heavily between coughs and his crying. His heart spiking again as Mick stepped away, the nurses quickly sorting out the situation. 

Hands clenching and unclenching as they gathered the torn out IV’s—inspecting his bandages and, apparently, his stitches. Jeremy wasn’t entirely sure what happened still, aside from him telling Mick off. 

Then, they went back to work replacing the IV’s and other cords. Of course, he was awake now, but they still needed to monitor him. The runner was still in agonizing pain, the IV’s only aggravating it. Mick’s heart lurched watching the situation. Wanting to step in and help him, but knowing it was better left to the professionals. 

 

“We’ll get you some pain medication as soon as we get these IV’s in…sir—sir?” She was glancing back toward the bushman, motioning him closer. Mick quickly obliged, 

“Help keep him calm, please…” she sounded more tired than anything. Mick grabbing the runners hand and gently squeezing it. A warm feeling filling his heart when Jeremy, at last, squeezed it back. 

“‘S alright, roo. Just a little poke ‘n it’ll be a’wright.” 

“Just a little poke…just a little poke,” the runner’s raspy voice repeated quietly to himself, sounding breathless. This moment of distraction finally allowed the nurse to get the IV in. Another quickly arriving with a strong pain medication. Grabbing the small bottle and filling a needle before carefully injecting it into the IV line. 

 

A hot and fuzzy feeling started to fill his body—traveling through his arms, his heart, then finally numbing the area around his abdomen. His panicked state dissipating as he relaxed into the bed, hand still holding Mick’s. The nurses let out a small sigh of relief. 

 

Jeremy let out more careful breaths, eyes closing a moment before he forced them back open. “Mick…I don’t wanna—go back ta sleep again.” 

The bushman’s heart swelled—aching. “It’ll be a’wright, roo. Ya need rest. Ya bloody scared me half ta death.” A quiet laugh erupted from him. Jeremy let his eyes close, words slurring as he spoke again,

 

”’M glad you’re still here…don’t go…okay?” 

 

“I won’t. I promise, love.” Mick took in a shaky breath as he felt Jeremy’s grip on his hand slip and fall away. Steady breathing from his chest as he had been put to sleep by the medication. 

Chapter 23: Where’d All the Time Go?

Summary:

Mick and Jeremy catch up together.

Notes:

1,000 hits!!! That’s insane to me!!!

 

Sun shined against the gunman’s toned skin. He felt this was one of the first times he’s been outside for a considerable amount of time in a while. 

He was on a bench, looking out at the garden of the hospital. A small fountain sprinkling water down in a soothing trickle. Flowers scattered about, covering almost every color in the rainbow. 

Beside him was Jeremy. His face looking a little brighter in the sunlight, but the tiredness lingered despite it. They were both quiet. Thinking over all the things that had gone unsaid. An empty wheelchair was beside the bench—Jeremy could walk for short distances but not without help. He’d need to get his strength back up in the coming days. 

 

“How long was I, eh…out?” He glanced toward the taller man. Feeling comforted by his calm expression. The familiar shadow of the brim of his hat. 

“About…4 days, I think.” Mick responded gently.

”Geez…” the shorter man’s hand came up to his neck, feeling the cold metal of the dog tags hanging there. “And you…stayed? Through all that time?” A dreadful tug at his heart, imagining Mick sitting with his unconscious body for god knows how many hours—wondering if he would wake up, and what would happen if he did.

 

Mick swallowed carefully before nodding. Glancing toward the runner. That lingering feeling of being terrified that Jeremy would never wake up again crossing his face. “Don’t think it mattered much t’me that ya said ya never wanted t’see me again. Think I just wanted ya to be awake t’tell me t’bugger off.”

Jeremy glanced down at his lap. Guilt and shame mingling within his mind as he thought over what transpired. “I…” a pause, “you kill bad people, right? Not anyone that wouldn’t deserve it?” Mick wasn’t surprised at the directness of his question. There was no sense in hiding anything from the other man now. 

“I killed bad people. People who knew what they were gettin’ into.” Jeremy was confused at the first part, it showing clearly in his expression. “Don’t got a job anymore. Least not that one.” 

 

Jeremy was quiet for a moment, but only a moment. “What was your job?” He had a few more questions but he figured, one at a time. 

“Officially, we’re called Mercenaries. Hired by someone or other, t’fight another team of mercenaries. Can’t tell ya too much ‘cause…it gets real squirrelly past a certain point. But, there was 8 of us, me included. We went by code names. Medic, Pyro, Engineer, Soldier, Demoman, Heavy…I was Sniper, and the last…the last one was Spy.” He paused, staring ahead at the fountain.

 

“Is Spy…?” His voice trailed off, eyes wide.

”Spy is your dad.” A nod. 

Jeremy took in a breath, staring forward as well then. 

 

“Aside from fightin’ the other team, we also had contracts. That’s sorta how…I ended up in Boston t’begin with. I took a contract t’eliminate someone, ‘cause ‘e was causin’ too much trouble for the higher-ups.” The gunman glanced toward Jeremy.

 

”Then I…met you. An’ I realized my target was your dad. An’ I didn’t know what t’do. It wasn’t right, hidin’ it from ya, gettin’ ya caught up in all this mess. I wanted t’kill ‘im after what he did t’ya. I was goin’ to. But then he said some things, explained ‘imself…and I realized it wasn’t worth it.” This was the most Mick had spoken in…well, forever. The most he had openly spoken his thoughts without any filter.

”So I didn’t. Knew I’d lose ‘m job. Figured, it wasn’t so bad ‘cause I knew I wouldn’t be ‘appy anymore. ‘Cause I knew I wanted t’…” his voice faltered then. The words getting lost somewhere along the way, “I knew how…this had affected ya. So I saw it as the chance t’get out. Start…makin’ it up t’ya.” 

 

Mick paused before suddenly remembering something, jumping to grab an envelope out of the pocket of his vest. “‘E gave me this letter, before ‘e left. Told me t’read it to ya.” Jeremy looked toward the white envelope curiously—before he gave an awkward laugh.

 

“Read it ta me? Did he tell ya…that eh, I can’t really read that well?” Jeremy felt embarrassed, wondering if Mick thought he was stupid now. Or incompetent. People always thought lesser of him when they found out he couldn’t really read too well. 

“Yeah, don’t look so embarrassed, mate. Ain’t like ya just choose t’not be good at readin’. I think it’s kinda…charmin’.” Mick chuckled when Jeremy gasped, that bit of his former energetic self shining through.

 

”Charmin’?! Geez, tell that ta all my failed middle school crushes…” a pause, “anyway…ya wanna—read it now? Could use a little more fresh air before we head back in ta that borin’ hell scape.” Mick was a bit hesitant—but nodded. If Jeremy wanted to hear it, he would read it.

 

Carefully pulling it open, taking out two pieces of paper. Of course, it was written in cursive. So very characteristic of the Spy…

 

”A’wright…’ere goes…” he started to read it,

 

 

Jeremy,

I know you must be feeling betrayed, confused, hurt, angry. I don’t expect you to see it as anything but, though my act was not one of cruelty or malice. It was one of profound love, for you, your mother, the family.

Your mother and I had once dreamed of returning to a normal life. And I, slowly earning forgiveness for my sudden absence from your lives. I knew this was no longer possible. Non, it was a pipe dream. I knew you would never forgive me, for you are your mother’s son. This stubbornness you possess, it will prove to be an important trait of yours. I knew there would always be trouble looking for me, always just one step behind me. 

I could not bring this trouble to your mother’s doorstep. I would not.

And so, here we are. You will never see me again. I assume this will be just fine with you. Your mother will believe that I meant to harm you, and it will serve greatly in her moving past me. I will live with many regrets. The regret that I could not be there for you when you needed a father. The regret that I left your mother with hardship. Though I have my reasons, it does not change the fact of the matter. 

The Sniper, or as you know him, Mick, I hope will stick around. I was out of line, when I so recklessly confessed his profession. He is a good man. Though I have led you to believe he is a killer, he is far from it. I only hope I have not tarnished your blossoming relationship.

I feel I have written enough. You are stronger than you know, Jeremy. Though it may not mean much to you, I am proud of you. And I will always remain proud of you.

  Au revoir, my son.

(‘Goodbye’ in French, Mr. Mundy).

 

Mick could only roll his eyes at the last bit. Bloody pretentious as always. Though he noticed the silence from beside him as he set aside the paper. 

 

“Ya a’wright, roo?” He looked toward Jeremy, seeing him staring off into the garden. Deep in thought once again. 

“I think I am, actually…” his tone was a bit distant, though he didn’t seem upset. “I don’t forgive the bastard, not completely, but…I think it helps.” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

”Yeah.” A small smile from Jeremy as he glanced up at the taller man. Mick put the letter back in the envelope, moving his arm to rest over Jeremy’s shoulder. Pulling the little mongrel close to his side. Jeremy’s smile grew as he welcomed the closeness. 

“Man, my dad was really pretentious, huh?” Mick groaned then, 

“Bloody frenchman acts like ‘e’s descendant of royalty. Buggered every last one a ‘m nerves.” A snicker from Jeremy.

 

An amused silence nestled between them. Finally, Mick had returned to the pleasant quietness he had been so used to. Though, it wasn’t long before Jeremy piped up again. Mick was happy with this.

 

”Hey, Mick?” The bushman hummed, looking toward him. “‘M kinda tired…can we head back now?” 

“Right, let’s get ya back t’bed then, roo. Never thought I’d see the day where I had more energy than you.” Jeremy smirked, although he was looking fairly spent now. 

“Hey, maybe you could actually beat me in a race now.” 

“Ain’t that tragic, can only beat a bloody hospital patient.” Jeremy let out a fit of giggles, hand moving to cover his face as Mick casted a rather love-sick grin down at the shorter man, standing to help move him to the wheelchair. 

 

 

Chapter 24: Oh to Be in Love

Summary:

Jeremy and his family are reunited. Things start to look up once again.

Notes:

warning: naked sniper (partly joking but also not)

 

The entire room was full of Jeremy’s bothers when Mick returned from his camper. Of course, Ma was at the center of it all. The cacophony of cheers, hoots, and hollers almost scared the bushman off from entering at all. Though, his need to be close to the runner carried him past the threshold.

 

He stayed near the edge of the room, just observing. A large amount of leftover cake from the birthday sat on a table beside Jeremy’s bed, the runner having his own plate and slice as he ate cheerfully. Ma was gushing about the necklace she had been gifted—wearing it right then and there.

 

Jack was watching on, amused, as he drank a cup of water. Dennis trying to smash one of the other brother’s head into his plate of cake. Mick noted that Coltin wasn’t present. He probably had decided to not show his face to Jeremy much at all anymore. 

 

Jeremy’s voice was suddenly carrying over the chatter in the room, “I wouldn’t a been able ta get that fricken’ awesome necklace if it wasn’t for Mick, y’know.” A cheeky smile, soon chomping down on a mouthful of cake. 

Jack sputtered on his drink of water a bit, of course knowing that Mick had also already offered to pay for the hospital bills. The entire family looked toward the bushman now. Mick’s face flushed, hand moving to nervously scratch his overgrown stubble. 

“Er, ‘s nothin’, really…” Ma stepped forward toward him, eyes wide.

 

”Can I hug ya, hon?” Mick was still before nodding carefully. Tensing as the woman hugged him. The bushman wasn’t used to being hugged, though as it went on, it felt…nice. Hesitantly raising his arms to return the gesture. “You’re a good man, Mick. This family owes ya greatly. You realize what this means, right?” She led with a small chuckle.

 

“…What does it mean?” Anxiousness was present in his mumbled voice.

“Means you’ll never get away from us! You’re apart of the family now.” She pulled away from the hug then, smiling brightly. Mick smiled a bit sheepishly as the rest of the family cheered (albeit a little quietly, which he appreciated). Hand raising to adjust his hat. 

Jeremy was chipping away at his slice of cake, a wide smile on his face that caused his cheeks to get a bit sore. It felt like things would be okay now. At least, Jeremy was hopeful they would be.

 

 

 
It was an hour later when the family had left—having to return to their regular day full of work, errands, and whatever else the family attended to. Though, they did leave some cake for Mick and Jeremy to continue eating. 

Of course, after all the energy buzzing around the room, Jeremy looked like he was going to knock out any second. Mick sat beside the bed quietly, reading a book he had brought in to help pass the time. The runner shifted around the bed. Getting comfortable on his back.

 

He couldn’t really lay in any other position because of the stitches, which really sucked because Jeremy was one of those people who tossed and turned for hours. 

 

A careful hand reached to his bandaged stomach, looking down at the large patch that covered the stitches. A sigh left him. “Ya think it’ll leave a sweet scar?” Mick hummed, 

 

“‘M sure it will. Was a pretty nasty wound, roo.” He glanced up from the book. 

“Yeah…not as cool as yours though.” A tired smile from the smaller man. Mick chuckled, 

“Ya really like ‘m scar, huh? Maybe I’ll have ta give ya a gander again soon.” A bit of a flirt, one that made the runner squirm in the bed.

 

”No fair! Ya can’t just—just say somethin’ like that!”

”Oh, but I can.” His voice was a gravelly rumble that made Jeremy cross his arms and huff, face redder than a tomato. Though, his playful annoyance only lasted a few more seconds before he spoke again.

 

”Ya never…told me how ya got it.” His eyes stared down before jumping to Mick. The bushman paused, nodding. He hadn’t. And he figured now, there was no harm in it. Though it wasn’t a happy story, obviously.

 

”Well…it ‘appened when I was with the team. I, er…was drinkin’, a lot. Had been drinkin’ the whole day…the day before that. I wasn’t, er, doin’ too well. At all. Real nasty binge. Spent most of ‘m time alone, in ‘m camper, so no one ever really bothered me. And er, one night…” Mick was setting aside the book, rubbing the back of his neck as the memories came back to him. 

“One night…the binge was still goin’ on and, the team was havin’ dinner in the base. ‘N I was startin’ t’ feel…real weird. Couldn’t think straight. Was throwin’ up. ‘M heart was beatin’ irregularly. Well, turns out this is all signs a alcohol poisonin’,” another pause as he glanced away from Jeremy.

 

”Wasn’t a while till anyone found me. The thing about Medic, ‘e’s—different, than most doctors. Insane bloke. But ‘e’s smart. Invented some things that’ll probably never see the light of day in any actual society, ‘cause it’s a bit unethical how ‘e got it.” Jeremy was looking intently at Mick, though felt his eyelids getting heavier. Nervous for what he was about to say next.

 

”That day the team found me…I was—already dead. Had been dead for a little while. Medic…he, er, saved ‘m life. Technically brought me back from the dead. Was a 12 hour surgery, ‘e said. ‘N when I woke up, I had this scar.” The bushman fell silent then. Staring at a spot on the floor just so his eyes wouldn’t wander anywhere else. 

 

“You…died?” A nod. “Fuck, Mick…you are way cooler than me. How’d I manage ta get a badass Australian man ta stick around with me?” 

Mick looked at Jeremy for a long while. He had never really told anyone that, because he couldn’t. And now here he was, sitting beside a man who probably knew more about him than anyone in the world. “I think gettin’ stabbed by your dad an survivin’ is er, pretty ‘cool’. An’ to answer why I stick ‘round, you’re awful cute. Would be hard t’not stick ‘round by this point.” 

 

Mick grinned again when Jeremy’s face flushed, loving the way he playfully glared at him for flirting. 

“No way! I’m freakin’ goin’ ta sleep!” Jeremy quickly closed his eyes then, Mick chuckling quietly. 

“I hope ya dream of me, darl.” 

 

 

 

Mick himself had fallen asleep, and had only realized when he woke up to loud talking in the room.

 

”Dis sucks on ice!” Jeremy’s voice made itself clear, and Mick looked toward the bed, seeing him standing in a baggy hospital gown while a nurse tried to get him to walk to the bathroom,

 

”Please, Mr. Harrison…you need to take a shower.” 

“Nuh-uh, no way! ‘M not fricken’ doin’ it!”

”Why?”

 

“‘M not showerin’ ‘round some fricken’ lady I don’t know! Dats weird! I don’t know you, lady!” Jeremy was trying to pull his arm from her grip. 

“You can’t shower by yourself, Mr. Harrison…if you fall and injure yourself then there will be no one to help you.” 

Mick stood up then, approaching the two. Jeremy looking irritated, the nurse also looking a bit irritated. “I can do it.” 

The runners face turned red, though funnily enough, he did not protest. “Yeah, Micky can do it. Let go a me, lady!” He tugged his arm free at last, though now it was being held by Mick as he walked him to the bathroom. The nurse giving an annoyed sigh as she left the room. 

 

All the supplies for the shower were already in there once they stepped in. A plastic covering to wrap up the bandages so the stitches didn’t totally get soaked. Plus, the regular shower supplies.

“A’wright.” Mick was still for a moment as Jeremy stood there, nervously looking around. “Y’gotta get the gown off, mate.” 

The runners face turned a deeper shade of red, “oh yeah, right. Eh…are ya sure?” Mick could only laugh,

”’M sure, roo. It’s just a shower.” 

“But you’re gonna see…y’know…” 

“We can wrap a towel ‘round your waist if it makes ya feel better. Just long enough for ya t’get in the shower.” 

 

“Well I mean…” Jeremy paused, getting an idea as he coyly glanced down, “don’t you need a shower too? I mean it’s not fair I gotta strip down in front of ya! I’d feel much better if I wasn’t the only one exposin’ myself.” 

Mick raised an eyebrow. Shaking his head as he turned Jeremy around, pulling the knots on the back of the gown loose, until it was only held up by Jeremy’s arms. “If ya wanted me t’shower with ya, ya coulda just asked, roo.” Mumbling it beside the runners ear as he turned him around again, having Jeremy lift his arms a bit to pull the gown the rest of the way off. 

 

Mick turned to grab one of the waterproof wrappings, looking back to see the shorter man standing rigidly as his eyes stared widely at him. Mick was relatively calm for the situation, leaning down a bit to press the wrapping over the bandages on Jeremy’s stomach. Making sure it stuck firmly before he stood up straight again. 

“A’wright. Now, ya sure y’want me t’shower with ya? Already look like you’re bought t’have a fit.” Mick snickered lowly.

 

“Uh, yeah totally—what…makes ya think I can’t handle dat?” Jeremy’s voice was trembling with embarrassment, partly cursing himself for his loud mouth and also feeling a strange warmth creeping in his chest at the idea of Mick showering with him. Mick only nodded then.

 

Removing his hat and shades, followed by his vest, button up shirt, and his under shirt. His bare chest once again being visible to Jeremy, who was very much looking. In fact, it was like he couldn’t look away. 

The distinct sound of the man’s belt clinking as he undid it, unzipping his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers. Stepping out carefully as he then pushed them aside.

Jeremy was fighting against every molecule in his body to not look down. 

 

It was at this point where Mick felt himself also getting a bit flushed, though he kept his face neutral. The gunman headed to turn on the water, making sure it was getting relatively warm, but not too hot. 

 

The runner was standing behind him, looking intently at his back—his arms. Mick was not ‘buff’, necessarily. His arms were filled out, the muscles over his shoulder blades tensing a bit as he leaned over. Jeremy’s eyes travelled lower. Taking in every inch of the man as he was turned away. 

 

Jeremy certainly felt, and pretty much looked, a lot more scrawny next to the man. His eyes would jump back up as Mick turned around, utterly silent as the bushman held his arm and walked him to the shower. 

 

Once he was stepping into the warm water, his body relaxed a bit more. Letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Mick’s hand left his bicep and moved to stand behind him. The both of them facing the stream of water. He knew if he had stood in front, then Jeremy likely would barely get any water at all. 

The runners eyes were closed, head tilted up a bit as the water flattened his short hair, cascading down his face, neck, and back. Mick was standing a bit at a distance, not really getting too wet. Watching the shorter man. It was now that his heart was pounding in his chest, letting out a ragged breath, his ears burning. 

 

“Mick?” The voice broke down his trance a moment, seeing Jeremy looking back at him. The taller man cleared his throat, 

“Yeah?” 

“Can you—can ya help me, eh…wash my back ‘n stuff?” The taller man nodded, grabbing the bottle of soap and putting some onto the washcloth. Finally stepping much closer to Jeremy as he gently scrubbed the rag along his back. Moving to his shoulders and arms. 

The runner shivered at the contact. Heart feeling as though it would burst soon. Skin tingling and alive with a pleasurable sensation. Even though Mick had come closer, Jeremy wanted him even more close. As the bushman was scrubbing his lower back, Jeremy reached a hand back—holding Mick’s wrist. The taller man hesitated. 

 

The both of them remained silent as Jeremy pulled his arm around to his chest, doing the same with Mick’s free hand. The runners back was flush with the other’s chest now. Jeremy placing his hands over Mick’s, the washcloth trickling soap down his stomach. 

Only a few seconds went by before Mick was holding the shorter man firmly, keeping him close. The water now running down his head and body. Mick leaned to rest his chin on Jeremy’s shoulder. A heavy breath escaped his lungs. 

 

“Mick?” A low hum from the man, nearly a purr. “I…think I love ya.” His voice became quiet, barely audible above the sound of the water pattering against the floor. 

The taller man stayed close, turning his head to nuzzle into the crook of Jeremy’s neck. Breathing in his scent. Letting out a few more breaths before speaking,

 

”Think I love ya too, roo.”

 

 

Notes:

they are totally not dating guys, they just had a completely normal romantic shower together where they said ‘i love you’

Chapter 25: Someday

Summary:

Mick says goodbye to the team and Miss Pauling.

 

“‘M gonna be headin’ to New Mexico tomorrow.” The two men laid together in the bed, Mick on his side and pressed against Jeremy who was laying on his back. 

Jeremy furrowed his eyebrows, turning his head a bit to look at the other. “‘Cause a your job?” The other nodded. “Well—you’re gonna be back, right?” 

 

A hand combed through the runner’s short hair, petting it mindlessly. “‘Course I’ll be back. Just gotta…get ‘m things, an say goodbye.” Jeremy nodded to himself, reassured. “It’ll only be a day an a half, then I’ll be back. An I’ll never be away again.” 

 

Jeremy let out a gentle breath. “Ya promise?” 

“I promise, love.” 

 

 

 

 

He was met with the familiar empty and arid landscape as he sped down the road to Tuefort. The minimal scenery passing by in a blur. It had been a long and boring flight, but he was glad to finally be here. Also glad to finally never have to come back.

 

Though, the gunman did have to admit that he’d miss the team. Even past their annoying and overbearing personalities, they had sort of…become like family. They were insane and violent and deranged. But they were family. This life he had lived seemed so far disconnected from the life he was going to live now. It was…refreshing. 

 

It would only be another few miles until he arrived at the secluded and hidden base (hidden was used very loosely). Pulling in to the entrance area. It was fairly quiet, which was unnatural. Parking the rusty old truck and hopping out, his boots kicking up a little bit of dust as he headed to the door. 

 

Pulling the handle as the metal door creaked open. Silence still. Mick was getting a little bit suspicious. Every nerve in his body being set off, prickling the back of his neck. He headed down winding hallways, to the cafeteria. 

 

No sign of life at all. He reached the doors to the cafeteria, pushing them open carefully, expecting nothing when suddenly—,

 

”SURPRISE, SNIPER!” The gunman jumped back, letting out a terrified yelp as Soldier appeared in front of him, wearing a poorly strapped on party hat. Past him, all the rest of the Mercs were sitting, waiting for him. Pyro turning in circles as they threw confetti in the air. A poorly crafted banner that said, ‘Goodbye Sniper’.

 

The bushman stood still for a moment.

”Herr Sniper! We were beginning to thing you wouldn’t show up at all!” Medic was giving a creepy little smile that he gave when he was happy to see someone, Heavy sitting quietly beside him. 

“Howdy, son.” Engie nodded, his calm energy always offering a bit of peace. 

“I, er…this is—,”

 

”Ayeeee, I told ya tha lad wouldn’t like it!” Demo was looking toward Pyro, who stopped spinning and looked down, mumbling sad muffled noises. 

“No—, no it’s…I just…didn’t expect ya all would…care t’do all this.” Mick reassured quickly.

 

”NONSENSE!” Soldier’s loud voice was a bit grating, but Mick had grown used to it. Heavy nodded, finally speaking,

 

”You are part of team. Sniper may be leetle coward, but, is important.” 

“Er, ‘ppreciate it, I guess…” His lips turned to a thin line for a moment.

“Ja!” Medic nodded, grinning wildly. 

“Why’re ya leavin’ anyhow?” Engie questioned now, adjusting his goggles. Mick scratched his stubble a bit, looking around at the group. They all intently waited for his response.

 

”I, er…met a bloke I like. An I figured, didn’t wanna make things more complicated.” Engie nodded once again in understanding. Demo giving a solemn silence has he held his beer,

 

”Good on ya, laddie. Get outta here while ya got somethin’ ta look forward ta.” 

 

“WE SALUTE YOU.” Soldier swiftly stood firmly, hand raised to his head in salute to Sniper. Pyro skipped their way up to Sniper, clumsily strapping a party hat on top of his slouch hat. He only chuckled,

”Thanks, mate.” 

“Mmph mmmph!”

 

”Where is, er…Paulin’? She said she’d be here too.” 

“Ah, yes, she is around here somewhere!”

 

The bushman was quietly nodding. It would be strange to not see them again. Looking over the 6 mercenaries. “Well, er…” he frowned gently, “I gotta pack ‘m things in the base…I’ll see ya blokes on the way out.” 

He exited the cafeteria—taking a few more various turns until he headed up in their living quarters. Heading to his door and entering. Sniper had always spent little time here, though he did still have some things laying about. Whenever it was too cold, he would sleep in here.

 

Grabbing a few bags, he began to carefully pack his things. It wasn’t much, so it wouldn’t be long until he finished, but when he turned to step out of the door, Miss Pauling was there.

 

”Hey, Sniper.” 

“G’day, Miss Paulin’.” She smiled, though it was one that didn’t have much excitement behind it. 

 

“Your person is still in Boston?” A nod. There was a quietness between them. Maybe a fondness, though one that was strictly shared between good friends.

 

”It’s gonna be real hard to replace you. You do good work, Sniper. You’re one of the most normal mercenaries I met.” She laughed a bit, though it was fairly true. The only one who had competition on the ‘normal’ front was Engie. 

 

“Nah, you’ll find someone. You do good work too, that’s why eventually you’ll find another Sniper. Though maybe not one who does the same level of work…” a slight smirk. He was a humble man but that wouldn’t stop him from recognizing his skill. 

 

“Well, I still haven’t even found a replacement for Spy, so…that’s how it’s been going.” She adjusted her glasses a bit. Taking in a breath before holding out her hand for a handshake,

”Well, you probably should get going, before the rest of them decide they don’t want you to leave.” Mick took her hand, shaking it firmly.

 

”Goodbye, Miss Paulin’.” 

“Goodbye, Mr. Mundy.”

 

 

 

Sniper had passed back through the cafeteria with his bags, saying a final goodbye to the team, shaking hands with everyone except Pyro and Soldier. Soldier, because he didn’t want the man to break his hand before he left. Pyro, because the mongrel opted to hug him instead. 

 

Then he was making his way back out of confusing hallways, leaving his team behind. Even if there was sadness in this—he also felt hope, and happiness. Because he knew after the roughly 6 hour flight, Jeremy would be waiting for him.

 

He had a long normal life ahead of him with a man who was awfully adorable, and made him laugh every day, and made him want to actually socialize with people for once in his life, and who brought out the best in him. 

 

So all things considered, he was excited to be alive.

 

 

Chapter 26: Do You Realize??

Notes:

okay so nobody said they wanted to see the playlist but i’m going to share it anyway since the time has come for this story to come to a close!

 

the playlist

 

 

The camper was parked at the same large lake they had visited once before, when Jeremy had wanted to go running. It was nighttime, the pair sitting on the top of the van as they sat beside each other. Both leaning on some pillows that Mick had brought up, along with a big blanket.

The night air was a bit chilly, though with the both of them sitting so close, it hardly mattered. Jeremy leaned his body against Mick, the bushman wrapping an arm around the other's shoulder so he could hold him close to his side. They simply looked up at the twinkling stars. It wasn't as plentiful as the skies near Tuefort, but it was enough. 

 

Of course, Jeremy had been discharged from the hospital that day, being well enough to go out and start living his life once again. As soon as he had stepped out the doors, his legs had been itching to run laps around the hospital. Unfortunately, he still had to take another day or so to work up to running. Though with how fast he usually bounced back, the runner figured it would be no big deal, if not a little inconvenient.

Mick had paid for the hospital bills on their way out. Even with insurance, it had been quite a lot, but the gunman had a lot of money saved up from years of working as a mercenary. It still didn't seem real to Jeremy. Mick was everything he had ever dreamed of. For once in his life, he had the chance to live comfortably, not just get by. 

Mick was someone who actually liked him, and treated him well. It seemed like the bare minimum in the grand scheme of things, but to Jeremy, who had had an incredibly rough start to life, it was everything. 

 

The runner laid his head against Mick's chest, listening to the steady heartbeat within. 

 

"Mick?" The man hummed sweetly.

 

"Are we...actually, eh, together?" Jeremy asked a bit hesitantly. He had a lot of trust in Mick, but the anxiety of being rejected or turned away still lingered in his mind. Mick was silent for a moment as he thought. 

 

"Do ya wanna be?" 

 

"I think I do, yeah." More quietness settled between them then, Mick shifting his position a bit to be able to look at the shorter man.

 

"Then, will you be my boyfriend, roo?" Mick wasn't wearing his shades, his eyes and expression clear. He looked at the runner with so much affection. A gentleness the other man had only seen from a handful of people up to this point in his life. Jeremy could only look back silently before responding. 

 

"Only if you'll be mine, snipes." A grin from the runner. Mick was a bit taken aback by the new nickname. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest,

 

"Ya got yourself a deal, ya little bugger. Where'd 'snipes' come from?" Jeremy snickered,

 

"'Cause ya were a sniper, dummy." It was completely affectionate, Mick grumbling a bit playfully. 

“Ya sure it ain’t ‘cause I blow your mind.” Jeremy gaped at the bushman,

 

”Oh my god, that pun was so fricken’ cheesy!” Face flushing as Mick only laughed, pulling the shorter man close to his chest once again. His hand slid down to Jeremy’s waist. 

“‘M not wrong, am I?” Jeremy huffed, face still faintly red,

”That’s besides the point! Ya already proved before that ya can make me get all messed up…” 

 

“Mmm, ‘messed up’, huh?” The hand crept under Jeremy’s shirt, brushing his skin. The shorter man shivered before turning to press his face into Mick’s chest. “You’re just too gorgeous t’not wanna mess ya up.” 

The words had been whispered next to the runner’s ear, a low gravelly tone. The hand snaking gently up Jeremy’s shirt, relishing the adorable muffled whine of embarrassment the other let out. He’d have this all to himself for the foreseeable future. And that was more than fine. 

“Can’t wait, now that I ‘ave this pretty lil bunny all to m’self.” More squeaky noises from Jeremy, hands gripping tightly onto his shirt. The gunman grinned a sharp smile.

 

”You’re just freakin’—perfect. How can I compete with dat?!” His voice was muffled against the man’s chest. Mick decided he’d give the little mongrel a break then, removing his hand from his shirt. 

“Ya got me pinned in other ways, roo. You’re just so bloody cute when ya get all flustered. Can’t help m’self.” He finally gave Jeremy a moment to take a breath and wind down again. There was a pause, the runner still keeping his face pressed against Mick. 

 

“Will I really get ta meet your parents one day?” 

“Sure ya will. ‘M dad might have t’wait, he ain’t really that acceptin’ of, er…well anythin’.” He reached a hand to scratch his stubble, knowing that his dad was probably always going to be a prick, but he’d meet Jeremy just to show him that Mick was never going to change, and he’d just have to deal with it. “But ‘m mum—well, we could call her right now.” 

 

He was due a phone call to her anyway, and she had wanted to hear about Jeremy.

 

”Right now? Are ya sure?” Jeremy had lifted his head to look up at him. A bit of nervousness was present on his face. Mick smiled, leaning down to press a kiss against his head, the stubble lightly scratching his skin. 

“‘M sure, roo. C’mon.” 

 

Mick stood up carefully, moving to head down the ladder on the back. Jeremy would collect the pillows and blanket and begin tossing them down to Mick, before carrying himself down last. Of course, Mick stood at the ladder and watched carefully incase something happened and he needed to catch the little mongrel. 

 

The bushman had just haphazardly tossed the pillows back onto the bed inside the van, moving over to the phone on the table. Jeremy was close beside him.

 

”Ya ready, roo?” Jeremy was silent as he psyched himself up, nodding quickly after. Then, he dialed the number. Waiting as it rang a few times, and finally, was picked up. 

 

“Hello, Micky?” 

“Hey, mum.”

 

”What a surprise, ya normally don’t call this soon! Did somethin’ happen?” 

“Well, er…yes, but nothin’ bad. It’s really good, actually. And er…ya said how ya wanted t’learn more about that bloke, right?” 

“Yes?” 

“‘E’s ‘ere now, actually…I can put ‘im on. We’re er…we got together.” 

 

“Oh, Micky, that’s wonderful! Put ‘im on!” 

 

Jeremy waited expectantly as Mick looked toward him handing the phone off to him with a nod of encouragement. 

“Eh, hey what’s up? My name’s Jeremy.” 

“Ohhhh ya got the cutest lil accent!” Jeremy’s face turned bright red. “‘M Mrs. Mundy! It is wonderful t’meet ya, Jeremy!” 

“Yeah, it’s great ta meet ya too. I eh, wanna come out there, ta Australia one day, ‘n see where Mick grew up ‘n…meet ya face ta face.” He had suddenly become very aware of his accent, which was just about as strong as her Australian accent. 

 

There was an affectionate laughter on the other line, Jeremy raising a hand to rub the back of his neck,

”Oh, I would love that! I can see why ya got Micky wrapped around ya finger! ‘E’s real quiet but ‘e’s always been a big sweetheart.” The runner grinned a bit at that then, watching as Mick rubbed a hand over his face in embarrassment. If there was one thing moms were good at, it was embarrassing you, but in an affectionate way. 

 

“He is a big sweetheart, ain’t he?” A pause as Jeremy smiled a bit softer, “He’s…a real great guy, I’m lucky I met ‘im, and if ya raised ‘im then I’m lucky I get ta meet ya too.”

 

”You’re too sweet! What’dya like t’do, hon?” 

“I’m big on sports for sure! Runnin’, playin’ baseball. I’m real fast. I ain’t that muscular but, man I’m fast. I got a lot of trophies an all that.” 

“Maybe I’ll finally get some help around this farm when ya come an visit! We used t’have a herd dog but, not anymore. Ya think your fast enough to herd animals?” The runner was intrigued by this. It sounded like a crazy fun idea. Imagining himself running beside cattle, directing them. 

“You know I’m fast enough! That sounds fun!” 

“Then it’s settled, we got an idea for somethin’ t’do when ya come visit!” 

 

“Well, hey Mrs. Mundy, it’s gettin’ late here. It was real nice gettin’ ta talk to ya. I hope me an Mick can come visit soon.” 

“Goodnight, sweetheart! Ya keep Micky on ‘is toes, a’wright?” Jeremy snickered before handing the phone off to the taller man beside him, listening as he said his own goodnight to Mrs. Mundy, and put down the phone. 

 

“I told ya she’d like ya. Maybe more than even I was expectin’.” Mick shrugged a bit. 

 

”She really liked me. I totally nailed that whole meetin’ the parent thing!” Jeremy spoke ecstatically, following after Mick as he moved to the bed, beginning to set it for their sleep. 

 

“You were a natural, love.” A low chuckle from Mick. “Ya ready for bed, then?” The runner let out a heavy breath, nodding as his energized body quickly wound down. Pain meds would do that to you. 

“Yeah, it’s been a long few days.” 

“Damn right, it’s been. Feel like I could sleep for a week.” He headed over to turn off the light, shuffling back over and laying down. Waiting quietly as the runner flopped down beside him, getting comfortable in his arms. It was a small bed, so they we’re definitely cozy there. 

 

Mick’s hand methodically pet Jeremy’s short hair, letting out relaxed breaths. It would be the first time in a long while that Mick was not sleeping alone, and it would be welcomed. He would like it to be like this every night, for as long as he lived. 

And that night, Jeremy would not toss or turn like he usually did, wrapping an arm around Mick’s side as they pulled each other close. Tomorrow, they’d have another full day of revealing they were actually dating to Jeremy’s family, which would certainly be an adventure.

 

 

They needed all the rest they could get. 

 

 

Notes:

THEY GET THE GOOD ENDING THEY DESERVE
Man, it was fun, but I had to end it somewhere.

I thought about maybe writing another part where they actually go to Australia and meet Mick’s parents and getting a place to live together and maybe doing some lustful things together for the first time, but I’ll have to see if I become motivated enough, or just leave this how it is.

Thanks to everyone who read, and I hope the ending was satisfying enough! I kept worrying a lot about this chapter because I knew I wanted to end it here but thought it might turn out a bit anticlimactic. I’m going to be writing more stuff for these two, however!