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yourcoffindoor · 5 years

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Paper Pushers

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Summary: This is a fluff/angst fic that ended up longer than I was anticipating. You work in the same office as Gerard, but you’ve never really noticed him until you end up working together on one of your assignments. Pre bullets era. Feedback is welcome!

Word Count: 1,787

If you had to scan one more document, you were going to go insane. Somehow the role of administrative assistant meant ‘dump any work you don’t want to do on me’ to every other employee in the office, and since you were relatively new and friendless, you didn’t quite have the courage to say no.

The task of archiving all documents from ‘97 to '01 was monumental, and despite your best efforts, the boxes of unorganized paperwork seemed to multiply each day. It was also isolating—until it was complete you spent 5 out of your 8 hour days trapped alone in the archiving room. You were just about ready to create an imaginary friend when someone gently knocked on the archiving room door one Wednesday morning.

“Come in!” you shouted from behind a mountain of paperwork, hoping desperately that it wouldn’t cause an avalanche and bury you alive in sheets of A4.

The door opened, and the dark haired boy from a few cubicles down, Gerard, poked his head in. “Y/N?” he called out.

“Follow my voice!” you shouted jokingly, “And leave a trail of breadcrumbs or you’ll never find your way out again.”

You heard him laugh softly as he approached, and before you knew it he was right in front of you.

“I finished some of my other work early and thought I might be able to help. Judging by your comments, you could use the extra hand.”

You looked up at him to respond, but got caught off guard and paused. You never really noticed just how pretty he was, and you couldn’t help but admire his round hazel eyes and the thick dark lashes that seemed to frame them perfectly.

“Um. I’d love that.” you said, your sudden nerves making you noticeably less eloquent.

He smiled. Shit. His smile made him look even better. Why were you just noticing this now?

“Awesome. Tell me where I can start so I don’t royally fuck things up for you.”

You pointed to an open box to your left. “You see those papers there? They need to be sorted into planned or reactive work-orders.”

Gerard eyed the formidable stacks that awaited him and tucked a stray strand of black hair behind his ear. “I think I can handle that.”

“Sorry you got stuck helping with all of this,” you said after a few minutes of silence, “I know there’s probably other things you’d rather be doing.”

“Don’t sweat it. Besides,” he said in a soft, almost bashful voice, “I uh, asked if I could help you out.”

You felt a blush settle on your cheeks, but you played it off. “I don’t blame you. I mean, who could resist the fast-paced thrills of paper filing.”

He laughed, making you wonder if it was possible to get addicted to someone’s smile. It had only been a few minutes but you couldn’t get enough of it.

You and Gerard spent the next hour getting to know each other, and every week afterwards you looked forward to his appearances. He would stop in whenever he was free, and you talked and laughed so loudly that you worried what other people outside the archiving room must be thinking.

He told you about his family and his brother Mikey, as well as his dreams of doing something important with his life, the possibility of staring a band, and his love of comic books.

“Hey listen,” Gerard said one afternoon after sorting through a stack of ledgers, “are you going to that after work drinks thing on Friday with a few other people from the office? I don’t usually, but I thought it might be nice to hang out outside of this room.” He looked down at his shoes, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Normally you would pass on a work outing, since it would almost guarantee awkward small talk, but you weren’t about to say no to more time with Gerard.

“I’d like that a lot. Where and what time?”

“Cloudland at 6:30. I’ll save you a seat.”

“I’ll be there.”

*** *** ***

You rushed straight home from work on Friday, and spent so long getting ready to meet Gerard that you didn’t have time to eat dinner. Or maybe you were too nervous to eat, you weren’t entirely sure.

Once you made it to Cloudland, you scanned the busy venue for any sight of your coworkers. You spotted Gerard sitting at a large booth with a few other colleagues, and he waved you over.

“You made it!” His face lit up with a wide but crooked smile.

“Just in time for Janice’s amazing vocals.” you said, looking over to the small karaoke stage where Janice from HR was drunkenly delivering her off-key rendition of 'I Will Always Love You.’

“You look nice,” he said, grabbing you a beer, “you should get out of the archiving room more often.”

“You clean up pretty good yourself.” You teased back, and you felt butterflies as he peeked at you through a stray strand of hair that covered one of his hazel eyes.

You spent the evening drinking and talking, forgetting that not only had you not eaten, you were a notorious lightweight when it came to alcohol. And the more beer you drank, the bolder you became.

“You should get up there,” you blurted to Gerard as another inebriated singer finished screeching onstage, “You should sing. You told me you wanna start a band right? Show me whatcha got!”

There was no denying you were very drunk as you playfully punched Gerard in the arm. He protested initially, but got up to appease you when he realized resistance was futile.

Once on stage, the strobe lights on the ceiling painted him a rainbow of colors, making him even more beautiful. Gerard cleared his throat into the mic.

“This one’s dedicated to Y/N,” he said with a wink, pointing in your direction. “She’s the one who made me do this, so if you don’t like my voice, she’ll be handling all complaints.”

The familiar sound of 'Life on Mars’ began to play. As Gerard began to sing, you were shocked by just how good his voice was, and how natural he looked onstage, as if he was meant to do this. As he hit the chorus, he made eye contact with you, and a realization hit you like a truck. You loved this man.

Sure, you thought he was funny and cute from the moment he walked into the archiving room, but there was no denying what you felt tonight. And you were drunk enough that you were going to let him know.

Gerard finished the song to a smattering of hoots and applause, and left the stage. You shot up out of your chair a little too quickly as he approached the table, and he rushed to help you maintain your balance as you wobbled like a newborn deer.

“Woah, I think that’s enough drinks tonight.”

“Hey that was amaaaaazing!” you slurred excitedly.

Despite his concern at your state of sobriety, he was also clearly amused. “You sure? Or is that just he booze talking?”

Your eyes widened. “Honest! But listen. I really needa tell you somethin’. Can we go outside?”

Gerard nodded, putting your arm through his. “Some fresh air would probably be a good idea.”

The two of you found a quiet corner on the balcony, and you wasted no time in making your confession.

“So what’s on your–”

“I love you.”

A muted expression crossed Gerard’s face, but you weren’t in the right state of mind to decipher it. Was it surprise? Embarrassment?

“Y/N, I–”

“I have for awhile, but I didn’t know it till now.” you interrupted. You didn’t want him to speak. You were afraid now, afraid of what might come out of his mouth. “And you’re so talented and a good singer and you need to follow your dreams, OK?” you implored without taking a breath, and you wavered back and forth like a sheet of paper in the wind.

Gerard opened his mouth to speak. This was it, you thought. This is where I get let down easy.

“I need to tell you something too.”he said softly.

And then you vomited.

Right before Gerard was about to respond, you hunched over and spewed on the ground, splattering his white converse sneakers. You could feel tears of embarrassment well up in your eyes.

“I am sooo sorry!”

Gerard put an arm around your shoulder. “You alright? How bout I help get you home.”

You nodded pathetically, and he gathered your belongings.

*** *** ***

You could remember Gerard helping you get into bed, and found a glass of water and aspirin beside you when you finally woke up. You groaned as your head pulsed and downed the pills, hoping they’d take care of your regrets too.

Gerard didn’t contact you all weekend, and you were too afraid to reach out. Instead, you hoped that you could go back to what you had before.

Come Monday, you found yourself once again entombed in the archiving room. Hours went by before you heard a familiar knock on the door.

“Y/N.” Gerard’s voice was gentle and hesitant, as if he were afraid you might break. “How’s that head of yours?”

You smiled, relieved that he made a joke. Maybe we can go back to the way things were after all.

“Fully recovered thanks to your valiant efforts. Thanks for your help.”

“My shoes send their regards, by the way.”

You cringed before laughing dismissively. “Yeah, I have a few regrets from that night. Things I did,” you averted your eyes, looking at the ground, “things I said.”

“Hopefully not everything.” Gerard sounded crestfallen.

You got up out of your chair and starting shuffling papers in an attempt to quell your anxiety.

“I hope things don’t have to change between us.” you said in a low voice,your throat starting to ache.

“I think they have to now.” he said, and you turned your back to him as you felt yourself fighting back tears.

You felt a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, look at me,” Gerard said, voice calm but serious. He turned you to face him. “You didn’t let me respond that night.”

“Well?” you said, bracing yourself for impact, “let’s hear it.”

Gerard wiped a tear away from your face, placed a finger under your chin, and gently raised your head. Suddenly, his lips were on yours. Butterflies returned, fluttering wildly in your stomach.

He broke away after a moment and smiled. “I didn’t want you to be drunk when I did that.”

You basked in the wave of relief that washed over you. “So I guess things really can’t go back to the way they were before Friday.”

He wiped another tear from your face. “Afraid not.”

“Good,” you said, leaning in for another kiss, “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

#gerard way imagine #gerard way x reader #Gerard way fanfic #my chemical romance fanfiction #my chemical romance imagine

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starrykids-remade · 6 years

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30 questions tag

tagged by @squibbleato thank uwu for tagging me

rules: answer 30 questions then tag 20 blogs you’d like to get to know better (i am tagging no one .)

Nickname: auggie

Gender: I Dont

Star Sign: leo

Height: 5′5″

Time: 8:20 pm

Birthday: august 16th

Favourite Band(s) (not kpop): brockhampton, bleachers

Favourite Solo Artist: oughhgh i dunno

Last Movie Watched: coco!!!!! wuv that movie i cried twice

Last Show Watched: one day at a time

When Did I Create My Blog: i think... like october or somethin?? i made my first blog almost six years ago tho so. i been here long time

What Do I Post: stray kids and honestly?? check my “i speak” tag. thats what i post. me just never shutting the fuck up

Last Thing I Googled: wacom drivers bc i just. want. to fucking. draw.

Do You Have Other Blogs: i had a day6 blog at one point but it exists no longer its now just a hoarded url blog bc... its a good url

Do You Get Asked: sometimes?? not as often as id want to but i Do get asks sometimes

Why Did You Choose Your URL: i saw my chance and i took it. not only would i match urls with a friend but i Also have a cute ass stray kids pun

Following: 616 but im planning on going on an unfollowing spree soon fjdbkfsdbk (not any mutuals just. blogs i dont need to follow anymore)

Followers: 348

Favourite Colour(s): yellow!!

Average Hours Of Sleep: 3-4 hours on school nights and 6-10 hrs on weekends/breaks

Lucky Number: 63

Instruments: cello

What Am I Wearing: grey t-shirt jeans and my lobster socks

How Many Blankets I Sleep With: 7

Dream Job: comic creator !! the author bit And the drawing bit

Dream Trip: anywhere away from here and Staying There

Favourite Food: i like the pho i get from the vietnamese restaurant near my house but also like. a turkey sandwich i make on rlly good sour dough bread. get u a man who can do both

Nationality: white

Favourite Song Now: ougfufjdhhhhhh alchemistry by 3racha or boogie by brockhampton

#i speak #ty for tagging me

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alex-guerin · 6 years

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So, the company I work for supplies all the local convenience stores and Speedway gas stations East of the Mississippi River with all their stuff inside the store (you go in and buy a phone charger from a Speedway station? Boom. Came from us. That Snickers ice cream bar you chowed down on? Picked from our freezer...well...not MY freezer -- unless you live within 100 miles of my particular warehouse, but one of our company’s warehouses). Our two major stores use to be Circle K (”Strange things are afoot at the Circle K...”) and Speedway.

Second week of January, our contract with Circle K was up and they switched to a different distribution company. All of the sudden, our work days went from 10 to 12 hrs a day..............to 4.5. I’m not even kidding you. Today the freezer half of my department was done at 4am, my crew in the cooler was done at 4:30am. We started at midnight. For months, and I do mean MONTHS, management was begging anyone and everyone who was willing to work as many hours as possible, to work as many hours as possible. The paychecks were decent, so those of us who decided to work extra hours never really complained, too much.

Now that we’ve hit slow travel season, and we’ve lost Circle K, management doesn’t really want anyone putting in any over time. In fact, if it were up to them, they probably would have preferred that my entire department left once we were finished today...after only 4 or 4.5 hours of work. While 2nd shift no doubt got their full 8 or more hours in today. My shift (3rd shift) is the only one NOT promised a full 8 hour shift. We’d still be called full-timers, still get all the benefits, but there was a good chance we’d be lucky most days to make 36hrs a week during the winter (at least, that’s how it was last winter once we finally hit our winter hours). Now it’s even less likely unless our manager can find something for us to do until 8:30 when we hit our full 8 hr mark.

Well, I like to stay and help Jason on Wednesdays. It’s a heavy day for him, and I like getting to help break down the skids that come in full of product, arrange them on the pallets, and slap the labels on so he can get them confirmed into the system and put away in the freezer. It’s a fun little way for me to be able to spend more time with him, and more often than not, we joke around and tease each other and play and be goofy and everything’s cool. So, when my guys finished at 4:30, and I finished stacking at 5:30/6am, I just wandered my way out to the dock, looked to see what Jason was working on breaking down and dove right in.

My manager found me a few minutes later and was like, “Hey, you’re cool to stay until 8:30. But that’s it. Anything more than that, and we gotta go talk to the warehouse manager. They don’t want anyone to get any overtime right now.” Because of fucking course they don’t want anyone to get any overtime right now. Guuuuuuuuuh!! So, I said that was fine (*cue Morgan Freeman’s narration: “It was in fact not fine,”*) and I set about working to get as much done as I could in what little time I actually had.

Now, Jason has not been feeling well this week. He called off Friday cuz he wasn’t feeling well, and he still isn’t up to par yet. I dropped cold and flu meds off for him Monday after I finished work (which his dad decided to steal most of, thanks dad...) and yesterday he basically went home straight after work and went straight to bed. Today, he still wasn’t feeling well. And on top of that, his “helper” Oscar was being an utter dumbass again and pissing him off right from the start of his shift. So, he was not in a good mood. At all. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get him to laugh or play or anything with me. He went on his first break at 6:30, I went with, and finally got him to talk and tell me what was wrong (Oscar, of course, was the reason. As he usually is). It seemed to help him a little to vent, but not enough to get him to play with me.

Now, last week, he and I were being goofy and playful and...yeah alright, inappropriate but in a fairly innocent way (if that’s possible? All talk, I guess you could say?) and then on Wednesday, I was gonna be brave and do something for him at work (*coughs-lethimcopafeel-coughs*) where the cameras couldn’t see. It was Wednesday, I had hit my 8 hr mark, I was gonna head home. Went into the freezer where I knew he was and kinda nudged his side and told him to meet me in the ice cream room...where there’s no cameras whatsoever. He didn’t question it, he just went. I met him in there, he hopped off his forklift, pulled his skimask down, took half a step forward, his hands were reaching for my waist and while my brain was screaming to abort, my mouth was already telling him to close his eyes so I could take his hand and shove it against my chest. I literally missed a chance (and it was confirmed that I missed it) to make out with a sober Jason in the ice cream room at work. So, I decided today I was gonna ask for a redo! I wanted a second chance dammit! It got to be a little after 8, Corie (the coworker who cornered him and told him to go talk to me waaaaaaaaay back in September for the first time) was heckling me and telling me to go do it, I only had 20 minutes left before I was suppose to leave, he was alone in the freezer, there’s no cameras in the 95 aisle either, go fucking make out with him. So, I went wandering in and up to his forklift. We talked a bit, he thought I was leaving so he gave me my hug and I still just kinda hung around trying to get him to talk a little more and finally when he was like, “I should get back to work.” I was like, “Yeah?” “Yeah.” “Damn. I kinda was hoping I could get a redo of last week.” He gave a surprised laugh and was all, “What?” “I was hoping I could get a redo of last week. I blew it last week! I want a redo!” He tried to play like he didn’t know what I was talking about, I nudged at him and told him he totally knew what I was talking about. He finally was like, “Eh...well...maybe...” I just smirked at him and raised an eyebrow and tried to nudge a bit more and he went, “C’mon, really, lemme get back to work. I wanna get out of here at a decent time.”

I was totally rejected. Turned down. I felt utterly stupid and kind of ashamed of myself for even suggesting it. I nodded and let go of his forklift and was like, “Okay, gimme another hug, I’ll go.” So, got another hug (a nice hug, both arms, sides of our heads tilted against each others), turned, shoved my hands in my pockets and shuffled off out of the freezer.

Corie was still out on the dock, on her own forklift, talking to their manager, John. She saw me come out, I made a grumbling face, which got her to laughing and then when John looked from me to her and said something, she started laughing more. I went up and tried to play like I didn’t know why she was laughing, and both her and John just waved me off. I went and got my shit together, locked up my locker, felt like a total dumbass, and went to try and leave. Went up to Corie’s forklift and she finally was like, “Alright, so, 1: I was laughing cuz I saw your face. 2: Because John saw you walk out ahead of Jason and went, ‘Oh, they took a trip to the ice cream room, huh?’ Oh, by the way, John totally knows about you guys, totally by my own fault.”

..........I don’t know whether to kill Corie, or just never show my face around their manager ever again. Either way, Corie got me to stick around a little while longer, until it was basically 8:30 on the nose, and during that time she was all, “Dude. I can’t believe he turned you down!” then look over her shoulder to see where he was and scream, “DUMBASS!” Pretty sure he had no idea she was talking about him. Then, right before I was gonna leave for real, she was like, “I’m totally gonna go up to Jason and be like, ‘Bro, you should give Lyssa a li’l somethin’-somethin’ in the freezer before she leaves.’” I begged her not to! She was just doing it to try and embarrass me and him! She grabbed up a stack of labels, went over to him and I ducked behind a pallet to hide cuz JFC how is this my life?!?! And yeah, she totally did it. Thankfully, he didn’t know she was serious. He just laughed about it. So, I left and felt stupid (though, did feel better once I found out that Purple Haired Bitch had left a while ago and never came onto the dock looking for him, he never left the dock to go with her, I was sooooo happy!) and texted him at like, 11am to apologize and say that I just thought if I could get him to play, it might help make his day a little more bearable. I figured the only response from him I’d get, if I got one at all, would be “It’s all good.”

I grabbed my pajamas, and a towel, went and took a long, hot shower and when I came back down there was a text from him. As expected, it was, “It’s all good.” But there was more! “Just not feeling well and I don’t want to get you sick.” *Dopey grin and cuddles phone close* It wasn’t cuz he didn’t want to, or because last Thursday he sent me a text saying “I think we should start behaving”. It was cuz he doesn’t wanna get me sick. Which is what I told Corie I figured it was when he turned me down. And the meds I gave him? He’s actually taking. He literally just sent me another text, basically letting me know he was off of work, saying “Time to go take more meds lol”. I just...I know why he’s not ready for a serious relationship, and I know he’s been burned so many times before that he’s scared of it happening again, but I just...I’m gonna keep hoping. And trying, and working at him. I feel like I am chipping away his resolve, tiny bits at a time, but still doing so. And I know his life is an utter wreck right now thanks to his bitch of an ex, but there’s times when it feels like he’s almost willing to give it a shot. I’ve been praying, A LOT, and I’m not one for praying or very religious, but I have been praying a lot, every day...and amazingly enough, in small ways it feels like they’re being answered.

His mom told me Friday when she and I were talking, if I thought he was worth it, to be patient with him and get him to talk. I’m as ridiculously patient with him as he is with me. I’m gonna keep working at him, keep trying to chip away at the shield he’s got around his heart. At this moment, right now, I have no intentions of giving up. He’s stuck with me. For however long it takes.

#Personal log #how did my life become a fucking fanfic?#Like seriously #I swear I've read this fic before #it had a happy ending #just lots of angst and pain along the way #A character with insecurities #yeah #no #I've totally read this fic.#But it's real life???#What the actual fuck???

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ecotone99 · 4 years

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[HR] [SF] Spence - Chapter 3

Got Smiley’s stump sta’nched up some. Propped him up against the wall on the porch. Kinda hard to cuff up a stump, soz I latched his good hand to the cross foot, and ran the cuffs ‘round one of the porch posts. Had some old pain pills from a busted leg couple years back, and got him to wash those down with a little water. Thought I might have an argument, but ever’ time he started up, Spence would chirr and grin, and Smiley’d forget what he was gonna say.

Grabbed his keys, and then said ‘Ok, slick. You need to start tellin’ me about your merry bunch of assholes. Pretty sure we all know what yer after, so let’s us work on who and why. You really need a doc, and while Ima leanin’ towards lettin’ you live to count to 15 on what’s left for fingers and toes, Spence here is less forgivin’. I suggest you don’t fuck around for long.’

Here’s the tee ell dee arr, as they say on the Internets:

‘They’ still didn’t really have a name. Smiley called them ‘The Org.’ He (as well as the Stooges) was hired guns. From some company of private mercs, like them fellas over in the big sandbox. They had been assigned to ol’ Doc MFK for whatever it was he needed done, as well as security. The Org pays the bill. Smiley and company, he insisted, was just ‘doing a job.’ When the Stooges and ol’ doc MFK disappeared, word from on high came back, and Smiley and Sneaky been sent to follow-up, recon-like. The buzzard-what-wasn’t was their surveillance drone. Couldn’t directly track ol’ Spence since my tinkerin’, but they did get a general idea. Seems ol’ doc was real big on job security, and other than some general notes and reports for The Org, the details was all in his head. Ima thinkin’ his laptop has a few things they want, too. The Org wanted Spence so they could take him apart, and reverse engineer what Dr. McFuckknuckle hath wrought.

‘Just trying to make a buck, old man. Just following orders. The doctor says ‘bring me cats’, we go get cats. The doctor says ‘go get my run-away toy’, we go get it. The Org says jump, we ask how high.’

My rib-kickin’ foot was itchin’ for a workout. Spence chuffed. Smiley kinda jumped. ‘Leave him be fer now, Spence. He ain’t done talkin’ yet.’

Got Smiley to point out on a map just where his home-base was at. Was about 30 miles other side of town, up in the ridges and mountains. There was another 4 of his buddies there, and once they had Spence, they’d be told where to take ‘im, and take off, get paid, and be done.

The drone had been recalled for refuelin’, and some maintenance. Seems it had been flyin’ way over normal work-cycle, and had pancaked into the ground on the way home. Would be some time ‘fore it came back, if at all.

‘Spence, you keep an eye on our guest. Ima take care of some things.’ <chuff> and a smile. Smiley sat real still. ‘That’s a good fella, Spence.’

Dragged Sneaky and his parts over to the prowler. Popped open the trunk, and dumped him in. Jiggered the latch soz the emergency opener wouldn’t open from the inside. Up close you could tell it wasn’t really a statie prowler. The paint job was off some, and the stars on the doors was decals that was bubbled up in places. Good enough from a distance tho, I spoze.

Ima thinkin’ me and Spence might need to do our own little recon at ol’ doc’s lair. Mebbe get a handle on things, mebbe figger out a way to get The Org to leave us be. We can’t stay here, fer damn sure.

Walked back to the porch. Smiley was lookin’ pretty pale. ‘Ok son, here’s what’s gonna happen. Ima park you in the trunk over there with yer buddy. Gonna let folks know where you at, and they can come get ya. I’ll leave ya some water.’

Hauled him up, and walked (well, he was kinda hobblin’, seein’ as I had re-cuffed him, minus the porch post) over to the prowler, Spence playin’ sentry. As I was loadin’ him in there, I realized I done fucked up, ‘bout the same time he did. Sneaky’s hands mighta been Spencified, but his sidearm was still on his belt. Smiley grabbed at that, awkward like, and it brappppp-ed off a few thru the upraised lid. I stepped back and was gonna try slammin’ the lid on his head ... just as Spence jumped in the trunk. It was over real fast. Smiley ain’t in any hurry for a hospital now.

‘Thanks bud. I almost fucked that all up.’ Spence chuffed what ima thinkin’ was his version of ‘de nada, you old fart.’

Took Sneaky’s walkie, which needed a good wipe-down, off his harness. Made sure it was off. Smiley’s was kinda tore up. Tucked all Smiley’s dangly bits in, and slammed the trunk closed.

‘Brother Spence, time we got the hell outta Dodge.’

When Spence come outta the camper-shell, that whole plastic and aluminum frame had popped out whole. Got it wedged back in place. Wouldn’t be sliding open again anytime soon, but it did fit back in with a little persuasion.

I unrolled the arsenal, and grabbed a few choice bits. I had a half-assed idea, and needed those to make it work. Grabbed my pack. Stowed them choice bits, rolled the rest back up in the tarp, and stowed it again, and latched up the shell.

Opened up the cab door, and Spence hopped into the backseat. Went around to the drivers side, got in, and we headed down the dirt road to the highway.

Gonna kinda miss the old shack.

At the highway, I stopped, engine idling. I told ol’ Spence what I had in mind, while he set there with his chin on the seat-back. When I was done, he cocked his head at me, like he was ponderin’ on it. Then he give me a head bunt against my shoulder. He thought it was a good idea.

We turned towards town, as the sun settled down for the night, blazing reds and purples as it went.

Was dark when we hit town. We rolled on through. When we passed the store, Spence was tracking it as we went by. ‘Sorry brother, no chicken sammiches this time.’ He chuffed quietly. He don’t need to eat no more, but I think he still misses those.

Took us near an hour to get to the general area on that map, and leave the highway some before. Drove off-road towards the highlands. Finally ended up in a dry-wash that had decent enough ground to keep the truck from buryin’ to the axle. By my reckonin’, we was within a couple-three miles of the map markin’.

Took me about 45 minutes to take care of the prep for my plan. Spence was prowlin’ the perimeter, occasionally lookin’ back at me, and then goin’ back to sentry.

‘Ok bud. This part is done. I know you don’t need any grub, but Ima starvin’.’ Dug out the camp-stove, made up some stew, and took care of that problem. Spence watched me chew every bite. Yep, he misses food.

‘Sorry brother. I really am sorry.’ He come over where I was sittin’, stretched out, and put his head on my leg. I rubbed that ear, and he buzzed his purr, thumpin’ that lazy tail.

He’s still good company, my buddy Spence.

We just relaxed under that big night sky for a bit. Then it was time for the next part of the plan. We moved away from the truck, and settled in on a ridge above. Had my pack, my sawed-off, and one of the Stooges’ weapons handy, too.

I turned on Sneaky’s walkie. I figgered they must have repeaters of some kind, to make these useful at all up in the hills.

I keyed up the mike. ‘Breaker breaker. Can you chuckleheads hear me? This is the fella who you been fuckin’ with. Let’s us have a little heart-to-heart. I got somethin’ you want, and I wanna make a deal. You try to fuck with me anymore, and Ima ruin your day, so you come back to me, it best be the honcho what makes decisions, and not some flunky. Needs to be the man who don’t need to ask anyone for permission. You got 15 minutes.’

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