Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You were hurt, still thrashing against your captor, but the dull thumping of your fists only served to shoot pain up your arm. Nics and cuts from being tossed into a trunk stained the taffeta of your blush ballgown, before you were jerked out with a snap from your wrist. There was only one thing left that you could try, knowing it wouldn’t help you get away, but not caring. You just wanted to do something. 

“Son of a- the bitch just fucking bit me!”  The big man yelled, cracking you in the ribs hard, but you bit down harder. “Open one of the fucking cages, for fucks sake!” 

“None of these are empty!” Another one replied.

“I don’t care, just open one!” The first one snapped before you were thrown down, you head smacking hard concrete before a boot connected with your ribs, kicking you on into the room. (A small cage really, not even a room.)

The head injury made the world blur slightly. Muffled voices talking around you. 

“Blue, leave her alone, that's a human.” A voice hissed from your right as you curled in on yourself. 

“BUT SHE’S HURT.” Another voice said from above you, “HER HEAD IS BLEEDING.” 

You glanced up at the person kneeling over you and met the biggest brightest blue eyes you had ever seen. Though ‘eyes’ was probably inaccurate, they were glowing lights floating in black sockets, the bone above those sockets was scrunched up in concern.

Your eyes snapped open, light streamed through pale gossamer curtains. You weren’t sure what had woken you up at first until you heard the knocking, 

“Madam, your father has requested your presence downstairs.” Joffrey’s raspy voice called through the door. 

“I'll be right down.” You called back, getting out of bed instantly. No time to be groggy when you had to get dressed one handed. Your closet consisted of a lot of polished professional pieces or darling dresses. There weren't a lot of things that prioritized ease.

You would be changing that the next time you were allowed out of the house. There was really just one you could reach easily, a flowing green summer dress with a blue belt that met at the back in a large, perfectly symmetrical bow. At least it was perfectly symmetrical when you were done with it. 

Your hair styled one handed still had not a single strand out of place. White flats that you could slide on without having to bend down. Then you slid your sling over your cast, straightened your back, held your head high and walked out of your bedroom. 

“I haven't seen that dress in awhile, young miss.” Your butler said, smiling down softly at you. You cringed as he fell in step beside you.

“Joffrey, we've talked about this. I'm not a little kid anymore.” Hadn't been for a long time, since it had been your twentieth birthday the night you met Blue.

Your father had canceled your debutante party after the incident. Not like you were complaining, it was already two years late, and you hated those big extravagant parties. You had never told your father that you hated them, but you never told him that you hated a lot of things. 

“Of course ma'am.” Joffrey agreed easily, smiling and offering you a hand down the winding flights of stairs, but you waved him off. Your injured arm was on your non-dominant side, so you could still feign delicacy by letting your fingertips rest on the banister as you walked down the first flight.  

Your show stopped halfway down the stairs when you saw your father, standing in the foyer with six skeletons. All dressed in simple white button ups and slacks that they would be given at the slave auctions. One of them had the biggest brightest blue eyes you had ever seen. 

You felt yourself smile, running the rest of the way down the stairs. “Blue you're okay!” You said, throwing your one good arm around the skeleton. Instead of embracing you back the skeleton stiffened, an audible grinding sound coming from his jaw. 

You stepped back to check on your friend and ask what was wrong only to be instantly mortified and heartbroken in equal parts when you realized that this wasn't your friend. 

“You aren't who I thought you were. I'm so sorry.” Was the only thing you could think to say as you took a step back to put the ‘proper’ distance between a lady and a stranger. 

The skeleton with the blue eyelights worked his jaw a few times before saying a polite, “IT’S QUITE ALRIGHT MA'AM. MISTAKES HAPPEN.” 

You turned expectant eyes to your father, wanting an explanation or at the very least an introduction. 

“I'm sorry princess. I know they’re not the ones you wanted.” He replied making your skin crawl. You wanted to ask him not to talk that way about Blue, but this was the way the world was, to act like it wasn't would be naive. 

Future leaders of industry couldn't be naive. 

“I'm not going to stop looking for him, but until then I got you these fine boys here.” He continued proudly, going down the line introducing you to each of the six.

 First one with a round skull and fuzzy white eye lights, “Roulette.” 

Next a tall one next to him, staring forward like he isn't really seeing you, “Sniper.”

Down the line to a barrel chested skeleton with red eye lights and a golden tooth, “Colt.” 

Beside him a tall spindly skeleton with burning red eye lights. “Musket.” 

The one that looks so much like Blue you can't look at him without it hurting. “Carbine.” 

And besides him, another tall skeleton with orange eye lights, and what looked like circles under his eyes. “Rifle.”

“Boys, this is my darling daughter, and of course the family butler Joffrey.” he continued, introducing you to the gaggle of skeletons and nodding up the stairs to where the old man was still slowly making his way down the stairs.  

“It's very nice to meet you all.” You said politely. 

“Nice to be here.” Roulette replied, waving just a little. 

“Now of course it goes without saying, a single hair out of place on her head and this man here will have a lot of dusting to do.” Your father warned, shocking you.

“Daddy-” You started to say something about that, softly but he held up a hand. 

“No, this is important, princess. These monsters aren't like regular monsters. I pulled some strings to get them. Some ‘accidents’ keep happening to their owners…I pulled even more to have some special permissions approved through their collars. These men are here to make sure that what happened last month never happens again.” He explained.

“Daddy?-” you tried again, wanting to tell him how uncomfortable the idea made you but he just smiled and patted your good shoulder. 

“Just don't worry about it princess. Let them be when they're working, if you're busy minding your own business you won't have time to mind anyone else's right?” He encouraged and you…forced a smile up at him.

“Right.” You agreed before turning your attention to the skeletons, “well, would you all like a tour. We can show you around the house before dinner.” 

“You handle that, I have to get to the airport if I'm going to catch my plane.” Your father replied, deflating you. 

“You aren't staying for dinner?” 

“Sorry princess, I have meetings with business contacts in Italy, and a summit in France after that, I really can't afford to take a later flight…but hey, I'll be back for the holidays and I'll bring you some Gucci from Italy and Prada from France, how about that?” He offered, you hated when he brought you expensive gifts from abroad, hated not seeing him for months while he was away on business, but again, you never told him you hated a lot of things.

“Thank you dad. Be safe please.” You said, walking him out of the foyer, then he was gone, leaving you alone with six strangers of dubious origin.  So you clapped your hands together (gritting your teeth because you had forgotten that that fucking hurts) and gave them your best charming smile. “Alright, so would you like that tour?” 

“Sure thing master.” Roulette replied and you fought not to physically retch. 

“Oh, you don't…you really don't need to call me that. Joffrey just calls me Madam or Ma'am.” You attempted to brush off. 

“OF COURSE MA'AM.” Musket's easy reply didn't ease your discomfort. 

“Alright well…let's just do the tour.” You said, fighting to keep your forced smile up. “Of course feel free to explore on your own. The house is massive, but I can at least hit the big areas: kitchen, dining room, servants quarters.” 

“What no slave quarters?” Colt asked, making you laugh uncomfortably. 

“No, not really.” You said.

“That isn't entirely correct Madam.” Joffrey supplemented, continuing when you looked at him curiously. “The house is quite old, the sewing studio your mother installed outside was the old slave housing from before the civil war.” 

“Oh…W-well, that building is to small for all of you anyway, so servants quarters.” You replied. Showing them the staples as quickly as you could, wanting the encounter to be over. 

You smiled while Joffrey informed them what time meals were, mentioning that if they get up before him they can turn the coffee pot on, but as guards they aren't expected to cook and you wondered once again what kinds of special allowances their collars had to allow them to be effective guards against the kinds of people who had taken you. 

You tried to participate in the conversation and answer questions about what was through certain doors, but it was probably obvious that you couldn't look at Carbine for too long. So you didn't bother slowly showing them the whole house, you had said they could explore on their own after all.

“This entire hall is servants quarters. Joffrey’s is the first door on the left, but every other room is free. Please make yourselves at home.” You explained, gesturing with your one good arm. “Feel free to look around, I'll be in the study if you have any questions or need anything.” You explained, something Joffrey had said earlier in the day made you want to do some research. 

“Does it matter what rooms we pick?” Roulette asked, nodding down the hall. 

“I don't really think so.” You explained, ready to leave them alone. 

“WILL YOU CALL FOR US IF YOU NEED ANYTHING?” Musket asked, and it was a real fight not to let your charming mask drop. 

“I can, but I probably won't need anything. I'm used to making due.” You brushed off, disengaging from them and waving them off before another one could speak, rushing down to the study. 

You debated locking the door behind you, but ultimately decided against it in case one of them needed anything. Then you turned on the old computer looking around the shelves while it booted up. You pulled down history book, after history book focusing on the civil war and before, once the computer was up you looked up emancipation activists before the civil war, expanding your search to other countries. 

There had to be something you could do for Blue. You were part of the ‘elite’ upper class after all, you couldn't just sit and do nothing. 

Roulette slowly walked around the room, eye lights scanning every available inch. “Don't see any cameras.” He signed down by his side.

“...it's the wrong one, daddy.” Colt sneered mocking the girl’s voice, shaking his head. “Fuckin…can't believe this shit.” 

“CALM DOWN BROTHER. WE CAN USE THIS…ME AND CARBINE CAN KEEP HER BUSY TOMORROW WHILE THE REST OF YOU GO THROUGH THE HOUSE.” Musket replied, nodding towards Carbine who was drumming his phalanges on the window sill staring out at the large property that the massive mansion sat on. 

“I don't know if it's a good idea for Carbine to be near her…what if she…ya know really liked the way the other skeleton looked.” Rifle suggested nervously. 

“...THEN…THAT WILL MAKE IT EASIER TO KEEP HER DISTRACTED.” Carbine replied with a shudder. 

“...bro?” 

“NO. JUST…IT WILL BUY YOU TIME. THAT'S ALL THAT'S IMPORTANT.” 

“...I DON'T KNOW ABOUT THAT. SHE DIDN'T SEEM TO BE CHECKING YOU OUT.” Sniper added quietly for him, watching his brother pace the room. 

“Whatever her problem is, let's game plan-” Colt started, pausing when there was a knock at the door. 

“Yes ma'am?” Roulette called, but the old man was the one who opened the door.

“The master of the house wished for you to have this.” He said holding out a tiny brass key.

“And this is?” Roulette asked curiously.

“The key to the gun safe…I trust you know what you are meant to do with it.” The old man said, looking down his nose at Roulette before turning on his heels and leaving.

“Well well…how about we go down and land up, maybe test out the special permissions these new collars got.” Colt suggested with a cruel smile. 

“LET'S WAIT UNTIL TOMORROW.” Musket suggested instead. “GIVE US TIME TO SETTLE INTO THE NEW ENVIRONMENT AND WORK UP A PLAN FOR DISTRACTING THE GIRL.” 

Roulette agreed, they needed a game plan to stay and work together. It was a miracle that they were all bought out into the same house, and they absolutely planned on making it their new master’s problem.

Chapter Text

You only realized that you had been staring at the computer screen for too long when your eyes started to burn. Hours spent trying to decode legal jargon from the seventeen and eighteen hundreds probably didn't help. You sucked in air between your teeth when you checked the time on the computer. 

Cons, you definitely missed dinner and it was probably dark out. Pros, you could avoid the skeletons for a little longer…which…you shouldn't be doing at all. Leaders didn't avoid problems, they faced them. It was just a little harder when one of those faces was hard to look at without hurting. 

You could deal with that in the morning. Reset, try to engage with them more instead of hiding in the study like a coward. For now the most important thing was food and sleep. Despite most likely being the only one up you still made sure to check your hair and smooth out your dress before shutting everything down and leaving the room. 

The manor was dark and quiet, which was preferable as you made your way into the kitchen. Joffrey was used to you being occupied at odd hours so you knew to look for your dinner in the fridge. Guilt twisted to life in your stomach when there were seven trays in the fridge instead of one. You grabbed yours, debating going up and asking if they had been invited down for dinner, but in one last act of cowardice you decided to leave it, and just ask about it if they came down to breakfast tomorrow. 

You ate, rinsing the plate for Joffery to clean in the morning and walked upstairs slowly so that you didn’t slip on the dark stairs. Pausing when you got to the top. Your room was on the opposite end of the house from the servant’s wing, So you had no reason to turn that way. It was a fight not to do so though, as you took a deep breath and walked to your room without looking back. 

You were probably being paranoid, strangers in the house making you more nervous then you would have normally been…or the burning weight you felt on your back really was from being watched from the pitch black hallway. 

Their eyes were glowing lights right? You couldn’t miss them in the dark. You tried to soothe yourself, but you didn’t want to turn around and find out, not even glancing to the side when you got to your bedroom door. 

Tomorrow you could be braver.

At least that was the plan. Until you woke up choking back tears, the voices from your dream echoing in your head.

“T-they said they were gonna cut off my fingers and mail two to my mom and two to my dad.” You cried, three day old mascara running down your face and joining the blood staining your dress. 

Blue cringed before forcing a reassuring smile for you. “H-HEY,  THEY PROBABLY WON'T REALLY DO THAT.”

“I dunno…the big one is really mad that I keep biting him.” You sniffled.

Blue tried not to snicker, but he had mentioned that he thought it was a bit funny since the monsters in the cages around you couldn’t fight back at all. “FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH, I REALLY DO THINK IT WILL BE ALRIGHT…I MEAN JUST LOOK AT YOU, SOMEONE WILL COME SAVE YOU.” He had assured you while leaning against the bars of his cage and for the first time you wondered who would save him.

You wiped your eyes, deciding on some light foundation to cover up the dark rings that were starting to form there. You spent a while getting ready in the morning. Because you were getting dressed one handed obviously, you had to be presentable…you weren’t stalling. 

You didn't pick a dress that buttoned up the back because you knew it would take you forever, it was because the black collar and  buttons lining your spine looked nice standing out against the white of the dress. You added a string of pearls because they looked nice, and not because the clasp also took forever…

Okay you were stalling. But there were six strange men in your house and your dad thought it was a good idea to just drop them off here and tell you that they were basically your babysitters…that you owned because that was a whole other layer of fucked up! 

You took a deep breath focusing on stopping your racing thoughts. There was no point in just obsessing about it while hiding in your bedroom. Smoothing your hair down out of habit and stepping into a pair of black pumps you finally left your room. 

It had been awhile since you wore anything that made a nice clop as you set your heel down. You hadn't felt like it since…since then. But wearing them now you think maybe you should have tried sooner. The familiar “clop clop clop” of the heels over smooth wood and marble was comforting. The rhythmic thump of the heels steadied your nerves as you walked down into a dining room that already smelled like breakfast and coffee. 

“Good morning.” You greeted cheerfully, plastering on a pleasant smile. 

“Morning.” Roulette replied, nodding in your direction. 

“DID YOU SLEEP WELL MADAME?” Carbine asked, much more relaxed than the day before, turning a charming smile to you. 

A smile that looked so much like the one that had accompanied you into your nightmares. 

“Very well, thank you.” You rushed, maybe a little colder then you had first planned before walking past them and into the kitchen for your coffee. Joffrey never allowed other employees into the kitchen so it would give you a little break. 

Except it wouldn't be, because one of the tall skeletons was standing next to Joffrey, while they cooked. “No one helps me cook,” apparently didn’t apply to Musket?

You might have stared a little because the old man, after just one day, was letting the tall skeleton do something no other employee had ever managed to do. 

“WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE FOR BREAKFAST, MA’AM?” Musket asked, startling you since he hadn’t looked in your direction. 

“The Madam of the house doesn't eat before her coffee.” Your butler replied for you before you could explain that it upset your stomach to eat before you were properly caffeinated. 

“Well I’m fixing that now, so if Joffrey will allow it, you can go ahead and start me anything, I’m not picky.” You added, going for relaxed and friendly as you poured your own cup of coffee. 

“Why wouldn’t I allow it? He’s your monster, whatever permissions his collar has, don’t extend to any harm done to you…and he's competent.” Joffrey replied matter of factly. 

“Don’t say it that way.” You huffed quietly over the rim of your cup, finding it easier to voice your objections to him then to your father, “You just never let anyone else cook with you before.”

“They were under no obligation not to attempt to harm you… or they were inept.” H replied, plating up some eggs and bacon before turning his attention back to Musket, “We have had people looking for blackmail employed here, people looking for an easy ‘in’ with the family, a few people who thought they could sneak sleeping pills into the madam’s coffee or milk without me noticing,” The old man continued to list as he balanced three plates up his arms and started heading for the door to the dining room. “Then there was Jerry!” He proclaimed on his way out making you snicker.

You don’t know what Musket did or said, but you hadn’t heard Joffrey talk so much in a long time. Maybe having them in the house wouldn't be so bad. 

“WHAT DID JERRY DO?” The tall skeleton asked, his red eye lights quickly flicking from the pan to you as he addressed you before going right back. 

“Hmmm? Oh, he was just really annoying.” You explained, before deciding to elaborate, “My mother is a politician…A member of congress living in the capitol ten months out of the year. So he decided that over breakfast would be the perfect time to ask where I stood politically on a range of…sensitive political topics.”

Not to mention asking you if you knew about her pushing laws through that would benefit your fathers business, but it wasn't like it was illegal…at the time. 

Not many  people can say that their family is the reason for new laws being passed that limit actions Congress can take without disclosing if they have financial interest in said actions…so…that's a legacy.

“I'D IMAGINE POLITICS ARE SIMPLY OFF THE TABLE THEN?” He asked and before even finishing one cup of coffee, it took you a minute to realize that he was asking if they were allowed to talk about certain topics. 

“Oh, no! I wouldn't say that the subject as a whole is off limits…just maybe don't expect me to have an essay ready on where I stand on abortion and why before I've finished my coffee.” You explained as Joffrey bustled back in to assemble two more plates.

“Over breakfast! I couldn't believe it.”  He added, “no manners whatsoever.”  He continued to rant as he pulled down coffee cups and utensils, pausing when he opened the fridge. He turned on his heel and strode purposefully back to the door to the dining room. 

“Rifle, my apologies young man, but the madam and I don't take cream with our coffee, will milk due until we can have some brought in.” 

You couldn't hear what the skeleton replied, but Joffrey nodded, filling two more cups with coffee and grabbing the sugar dish on his way back out into the dining room.  You topped off your cup before following him back out. 

The rest of the skeletons had trickled in while you hid in the kitchen. 

“Good morning.” You greeted the skeletons that had shuffled in while you were in the kitchen.

Joffrey bustled in and out a few more times bringing your plate out and eventually settling down for his own breakfast once Musket came into the room and sat across from Colt. 

“Sorry about the cream.” You offered, you wanted to be friendlier with them today, and other small talk alluded you, you could just imagine;

“So what do you do for work?” 

“Oh you know, we're slaves, so whatever our owner tells us to.” 

Current events were just as bad, 

“Well our entire population was trapped underground for hundreds of years, then the second we got a sweet taste of freedom it was striped away and we were enslaved by the same race that trapped us underground.”

Fucking hell, it was a miracle they didn’t hate you, all of those topics were off limits, so…coffee creamer? Oh! Shopping!

“We normally place large orders once a month for the pantry, Joffrey handles anything coming into the house, so I’m sure that if there's anything else you might need or want just let him know.” 

“THAT'S VERY KIND OF YOU.” Carbine replied to you.

“It’s mainly Joffrey, really. He handles most of the day to day management of the manor.”  You said, bushing him off. 

“Speaking of that…I was actually wondering if we could talk about expectations.” Roulette hedged. 

“Of course.” You agreed easily and then waited…oh, they were asking you, weren't they? “...look, my father brought you into this home for a very specific reason…that is all that is required of you, the only thing you are expected to do. Other than that, your time is yours.”

“No rooms you don't want us going in, curfews, things you don't want us touching, things you want us to be doing?” Colt asked, skewering a strip of bacon. 

“...not that I can think of.” You replied hesitantly, before offering what you hoped would be a reassuring smile. “I know it probably can't…be good here for you, but I really do hope that it at least won't be bad.” 

Roulette huffed out a small humorless laugh, before smiling over the rim of his coffee cup and saying, “Us to.”

“THAT BEING SAID, DO YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT WE WERE BOUGHT FOR MA'AM?”  Musket asked next. 

“I would imagine that it would be to make sure that all my body parts stay attached to my body  or that my tongue stays in my mouth and not in a box, being overnight shipped to my father.” You replied without thinking.

“Madam!” Joffrey scolded, “We just discussed appropriate breakfast conversation…really that's just gruesome.” 

“My apologies.” 

Colt whistled, through his teeth while shaking his head, “Your dad must have really pissed someone off.” 

“Quite a few someones, I would imagine.” You agreed, finishing up your breakfast and laying your silverware parallel across the plate. “If anyone needs anything I’ll be in the study, for most things though I would suggest asking Joffrey.” 

“WOULD YOU MIND SOME COMPANY?” Carbine asked, pushing his near empty plate forward.

“I SWEAR I DON’T MIND. AT LAST NOW I HAVE SOME COMPANY.” Blue said with a small smile when you apologized for your dress taking up so much room in the cramped cell.

“Thank you, but that's really not necessary, I’m probably just going to read a little somewhere that isn’t my bedroom.” You replied, checking to see if Joffrey looked relieved at the news. He might have started getting worried when you refused to leave your room the first two weeks you were home. You only came out the third because he stopped bringing food up to your room. By the fourth week he had taken drastic measures and had your dad cut your cell phone off, so you had to use the landline downstairs to call the PI that was looking for Blue. 

He was technically working for you dad, but you were still involved. A lot of your dad’s employees found it easier to talk to you then to your father anyway. Your dad got email summaries for the investigation once a week, you preferred phone calls for every new development. Though cutting your phone off was extreme, you could admit that it was probably for the best and that it got you out of your bedroom most days. 

You would never admit it to him though because of how irritating his brand of worry could be, ‘if it's such a bother Ma’am, why don’t you leave the house and get your own phone, with your own plan, using your allowance.’ He had said gesturing to the front door. You were still a little mad about that one, but…he had a point. 

“IF YOU WOULDN’T MIND, WE THINK YOU SHOULD HAVE ONE OF US WITH YOU AT ALL TIMES, JUST TO BE SAFE.” Musket said, bringing you back to the moment, and making you reconsider turning them down outright.

“Well, if you get bored then you’re under no obligation to stay.” You replied, leading the way to the study with not one but two skeletons following you. 

Shit. 

Musket and Carbine shadowed you into the study. 

It really wasn’t fair to the skeleton with the bright blue eye lights, but it hurt to look at him. Which was hard to avoid when Musket chose to take up sentinel behind you while Carbine sat across from you, half reclining on the leather loveseat that sat in front of a large open window. It was the perfect place for reading during the day. You rarely used it though, since you also needed to be able to take notes and the lamp light by the desk was fine. 

“I CAN HELP YOU WITH YOUR WORK, DOING IT ALL ONE HANDED MUST BE HARD.” Carbine offered kindly. 

“Hmmm, oh, thank you but that's okay. I've almost gotten used to it.” You brushed off.

“WHAT HAPPENED, IF YOU DON'T MIND US ASKING.” Musket asking from over your shoulder, surprising you by how close he was standing behind you. 

“...My dad didn't mention it?” You asked.

“HE MENTIONED THAT YOU WERE HURT BADLY DURING AN ATTEMPTED RANSOM, NOT MUCH ELSE.” Musket explained. 

“It wasn't that bad. A few of my ribs were fractured and my wrist was dislocated…it's taking awhile to heal cause it was out of place for six days, but really I wasn't hurt badly at all. It was mostly just minor cuts and bruises.”  You explained. 

“IT MUST HAVE BEEN VERY SCARY.” Carbine added. 

And it wasn't even close to what monsters endure. You thought ruefully, you don't say that though. They were monsters, of course they knew how bad it was. 

“It wasn't that bad.” You deflect, instead. Looking back at your computer. You weren't trying to be short with them. You really wanted to be friendlier. It was just…hard to talk to Carbine. So hard that…it probably wouldn’t hurt if you did your reading in your room today. If you got a call Joffrey could come and get you. “Speaking of, I'm actually really tired. I’m probably going to go get some rest.”

“OF COURSE. WE CAN WALK YOU TO YOUR ROOM.” Musket offered.

“Sure.” You agree cringing on the inside, feeling smothered  under their gaze, but you supposed that this would be the best way for your father to make sure you were safe. The clop of your heels was accented by the pad of cheap…well you could barely call them shoes, they were thin, worn pieces of leather that were deemed unsuitable for making shoes for the market (for humans), given to them at the auctions so that the slaves feet didn’t get the floor dirty.

You wanted to offer them something better, but the words died on your tongue. If they wanted them they would ask right? Or would they be too nervous to test those waters yet? You couldn’t say for sure because you didn’t know them at all. As their owner you should take charge of that conversation shouldn’t you? Take care of what's yours.

But just thinking of it that way was so visceral repulsive to you that you couldn’t bring yourself to speak to them the entire way to your room. 

“Joffery wouldn’t approve of me having men in my room.” You said apologetically (though you really weren’t) as you held the door at just the right angle, so you could speak to them, but so that they wouldn’t think you were inviting them in.

“WE WOULD HATE TO IMPLY ANYTHING UNTOWARD.” Carbine replied kindly, “PLEASE LET US KNOW IF YOU NEED ANYTHING.” 

You grit your teeth nodding and agreeing to get them if you needed anything, having absolutely no inclination to do so before you shut the door. 

How was every monster so nice to you when humans enslaved them? Here you were running your ass right back to square one because you couldn’t face what humanity had done to them, but here they were still asking after you, asking if you had been scared when you got hurt.

ARE YOU ALRIGHT MAIDEN?

You sighed and flopped down on your bed opening the book you brought up with you. It was going to be a long, long adjustment period.   

Chapter Text

“What do I even pay you for?”  You snapped.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, miss. The trail is cold, we haven’t found anything in weeks.” The PI’s voice crackled over the phone. 

“I expect a different answer the next time I call.” You replied, slamming the receiver of the land line down before the man could respond. You rubbed your temples, relieved at finally having both hands free, though your weak hand still ached on occasion. 

“Didn’t know doctors still made house calls.” Roulette had mused when you had your cast removed. 

They did when you had enough money, but what did all the money and power even matter if there was nothing you could do with it?

The warehouse that the kidnappers had taken you to didn’t belong to them, it was a Home Goods store house. The fucking chain store, Home Goods !?

Because of the police raid the goods in the store house were zeroed out as a loss and auctioned off. All the products were bought by a slave management corporation called Hearth and Home inc, and shipped across the country to one of there warehouses…From there the trail went cold. 

Tears pricked in your eyes, these were people, they were buying and selling people. You aggressively wiped your eyes and stood up, you needed some tea or something…then you probably needed to email the PI and apologize for hanging up on him. You were just tense. Had been tense for weeks of radio silence, then when you finally called you were told that they didn't have anything.

Absolutely nothing!? 

Then there were still essentially strangers living in your house, but that was getting a little better as the days went on, Carbine had stopped trying to socialize with you, which…fuck if that didn’t make you feel more guilty every time you looked at him.  Thinking about it, you actually barely spoke to any of the Skeletons, but it wasn’t horrible. Sometimes you still felt like you were being watched, but that's probably what your father brought them in for, to keep an eye on you right? 

Nope. Not thinking about it right now. You scolded yourself, smoothing down your dress pants, checking your hair, and then stepping out.

The entryway was full of boxes and bags. Roulette, Carbine, and Musket were helping bring in the delivery. You hoped that there was some stuff for them in there, it did look like quite a bit more than your usual delivery. 

“EVERYTHING ALRIGHT MA'AM?” Musket asked, glancing at you. 

“I would approach with caution my boy, the lady of the house is developing the same rather unsightly habit as her father. They both tend to take bad news out on the closest available person.” Joffrey explained, making you gasp.

“Excuse you? I haven’t said a thing to anyone in this house the entire day.” You snapped indignantly.

“...Ma’am, if you would, so kindly lower your voice when speaking to me, I would be very appreciative.” He said making your skin prickle and crawl.

He didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that at all, even if he was being purposefully incendiary. You knew better than to speak to staff that way, Joffrey himself had raised you to be better.

“...Sorry.” You said softly, turning on your heel and walking away, tea and a nap would be nice right about now. 

You had just turned the corner away from them, distracted by your own thoughts, when you felt a draft. Cool air raising goosebumps on the back of your neck. 

You glanced around and found a slightly open door. It was…to the garage? 

Well…it was technically to the garage, it was also a wine cellar and a formally secret tunnel, though the secret entrance had been remodeled into a normal door in the 70s. 

Your parents mansion was old, like old old, and it had been remodeled several times. The main house sat at the top of a tall hill, with a long winding driveway and a turn about. The actual parking spaces were at the base of the hill in front of a six car garage. There were old slave houses around the back of the property that had been turned into guest houses at first and later converted into sewing rooms by your mother. There was an old tunnel that probably started as a canning cellar, that was extended down to the garage in the 20s for whisky running during prohibition, then in the 80s the canning portion of the tunnel was converted to a wine cellar that went through the hill and ended up in the garage. 

In a house as old as this it was no surprise that things didn't catch right on occasion, so you were just going to shut the door, when you heard the echoey clattering of metal hitting concrete coming from the shadowy stairwell, followed by a stuttered out string of curses. 

You would be lying if you said you weren't curious. You took careful steps down the stairs, anxiety spiking a little when the garage doors came into view, but curiosity overshadowed it when you saw Rifle kneeling on the floor picking up screwdrivers and other small tools off the floor near one of the cars.

“Are you alright?” You asked softly, not expecting him to startle and jerk his skull back into the bumper. You gasped, then you were both talking at once,

“I'm so sorry-” You started to say, wanting to apologize for startling him, pausing at his frantic, terrified exclamation of,

“I was just looking!” 

“Hey.” You tried much more softly. “It's alright…I don't care.” You said looking at the car he was closest to. It was a 1971 Plymouth Barracuda and it was technically yours, a sweet sixteen present from your grandfather before he passed, but… “it hasn't run as long as I've had it, and it hadn't ran for who knows how long before that…I keep meaning to pay for it to be fixed, but I don't really drive so it keeps getting pushed back…if you wanted to do more then look.” 

“Ya don't drive?” He asked slowly looking around the garage. 

There was your Barracuda. Your Father's 1967 Ferrari 275. Your mother's 1956 Aston Martin DBR1 (a wedding present from your father, back when your mother was just starting her political career). Joffrey’s 1939 Alfa Romeo 8C Lungo spider (a transfer bonus from your grandfather when Joffrey became an official employee of your fathers instead of his several decades ago.) then the two family cars; the 1955 Mercedes-Benz 300 SLR and the 1956 Jaguar D-Type.

“I never learned. Joffrey usually drives for me.” You confessed, suddenly seeing the excess and waste all around you.

“H-how long has it sat?” He asked, hesitantly.  

“In total? I'm not really sure. It was my grandfather's last project car. He liked refurbishing classic cars in his spare time, but he wasn't healthy enough to finish it so he gave me the Barracuda when I was sixteen.” 

“It…might be seized up then.” He said, finally standing up off the floor with the tools. You couldn't imagine why he would have them if he was just looking. You gave them a meaningful look before speaking again.

“It really is okay if you were doing more than looking. I don’t even know what that means, so it's okay if you want to mess around down here in your free time…the only one you probably don’t want to mess with is the Spider.” You explained.

“Just means…like locked up, won't wanna move...the Benze and the Farrari are more expensive, why the Spider?” He asked curiously, not mentioning the tools in his hands so you let him drop it, not wanting to push too hard. 

“That's Joffrey's…he went to a different mechanic once thirty years ago and apparently still hears about it when he takes it down for annual maintenance. So if you touch it a really old, but somehow still burly Irishman might track you down to tell you all about how he's been tuning this car since it was just old and not an antique and bla bla bla.” You explained feeling a surge of pride when a soft raspy little nyahah escaped him and he turned his attention to the Barracuda. 

“Ya really wouldn't mind? I-I used to be pretty good with em’ I could probably at least see what I could do.” He hedged inching closer to the hood. 

“Yeah! Knock yourself out. Let me know if you need anything, hell I can even pay-” you started to say but cut yourself off, embarrassment slamming the door closed. You couldn't pay him. Monsters can't have bank accounts and even if they could, cashiers won't accept money from monsters most of the time without permissions in place. It was a stupid thing to say. 

“...well…just let me know if there's anything you need.” You said, waving and turning to go back upstairs, too embarrassed to really wonder why he had been grabbing the tools, but you also didn't know much about cars, so who were you to say that the amount of tools he had was weird or not.

You left the door open a tiny bit as you continued your original path to the kitchen, grabbing a hot drink. It really wasn't necessary though, talking to Rifle had calmed you down considerably. Now it would just be a nice before dinner treat. 

The skeletons were spotty about breakfast and lunch, but they always showed up for dinner and it was really the only time when you felt like you had to interact with them. 

Had to was a bit unkind though, especially with a new conversation topic to latch onto. 

“Do…you have the keys for the Barracuda?” Rifle asked softly. 

“Oh, sorry, I forgot to mention, they're in the glovebox.” 

“...you leave them in the car?” 

“What is someone going to break in and steal it?” You joked, earning another small raspy laugh. 

“Fair. The whole thing is locked up. Probably gonna have to take it all apart and put it back together again.” 

“Are you mechanically inclined Mr. Rifle?” Joffrey asked, setting out thick cuts of steak and gravy. 

“Oh uh…umm.” Rifle floundered.

“I'VE ALWAYS THOUGHT HE WAS QUITE SKILLED, THOUGH FEW…OWNERS HAVE LET HIM SHOW OF HIS SKILL.” Carbine jumped in, looking down intently at his dinner, rolling the word around in his mouth as if it left an unpleasant taste. 

“The madam's grandfather was very good himself. He reclaimed almost everything in the garage…except the Jaguar and the Aston Martin I believe. The master purchased them as they were.” Joffrey explained. 

“Ya got an Aston Martin down there?” Colt asked, perking up and sounding surprised. 

“You don't even know the half of it. You should see the butler's car.” Rifle replied, turning orange and glancing at Joffrey nervously. The butler just laughed. 

“A very kind severance package. Would you believe when the old master of the house found the spider it was a rusted mess, left rotting in a salt marsh. Racoons were even nesting in it, if you could believe that.” 

“It…looks brand new.” Rifle mused giving his full attention to Joffrey. 

“Indeed. The lady’s grandfather was a man of many talents.”  Joffrey said, bordering on reverently. “He did all of his own work, only bringing in consultation for the seats…well and pest control.” 

It was the nicest dinner conversation you had had in awhile and you were happy to relax into bed. You had just started drifting off to sleep.  

You were just barely starting to drift off when you heard a high pitched beep. A single one, like the batteries dying in a smoke detector. You didn't have those kinds of detectors, but it was supposed to sound like that so that no one would know that the front door alarm had been triggered. 

The entire time that the skeletons had been there the alarm hadn't been triggered. Panic had you bolting up, staring at your bedroom door frozen before you decided to be rational.

Just because they hadn't set the alarm off didn't mean it couldn't have been one of the skeletons, that didn't mean that you weren't going to be as quiet as you could possibly be as you crept down the dark hall until you could overlook the entryway. 

Ice water rushed through your veins and locked up your joints when you saw three large figures standing in front of Colt, one of which looked very very familiar twirling a silver blade between his fingers. 

Huh. That's what seized means. 

“Don't worry bout him boys.” The man's familiar voice made you sick. “Even guard monsters got a trick to em’ just gotta say that, we ain't here for no trouble. We think we're supposed to be here. That kinda shit. Collars pick it up and won't let me touch us.” 

He said walking up to Colt so close the green light of his collar reflected off the knife's shiny blade. “Ain't that right. Monster?” he teased and for one terrifying second you thought he was gonna hurt Colt. 

But then the skeleton shut his arm up, grabbing the guy around the elbow and guiding his own hand up and into his neck. The blood looked black in the green light, sputtering from his throat as Cold slammed his palm into the blade sinking the whole thing into his neck. 

“Jesus fuck!” One of the guys shouted, stepping back.

“Holy shit…he killed Jerry…monster ain't supposed to be able to do that.” The other said, sounding just as scared. 

“You fuckers don't even know the half of it.” Colt said, sounding more excited then you had ever heard him. You covered your mouth, finally unfreezing and pressing you back to the wall.

A man was just murdered in front of you…and you didn't really feel bad. Granted that man was probably planning on doing horrible things to you with that knife…yeah this seemed like one of those things that just wasn't your business. 

With that in mind you carefully crept back down the hall towards your bedroom. Not noticing that your presence hadn't gone unnoticed. 

Up on the roof a radio crackled to like. 

“I THINK SHE SAW YOU COLT.” Snipers voice sighed over the static. 

“Do I look like I give a fuck.” Colt shot back, sounding happier then he had all week. 

Rifle reached for the radio, thumbing down the call out button. “It's dark as shit out here and the driver just ran into the woods. I'm having trouble lining up a shot.” He said immediately, setting the radio down and putting both his hands back on his gun, carefully lining up his sight at the shifting shadows of the tree line. 

A gunshot echoed around the property and one of the shadows stopped moving.

“EXCELLENT SHOT BROTHER.” Carbine’s voice echoed over the radio, but Rifle was frozen, his finger in the same position over the trigger that it had been all night. He hadn't pulled the trigger once. 

“A thermal site will erase any impairment that the darkness brings.” The old man's voice had Rifle slowly sitting up and turning to face him. He was already breaking down the biggest, most sophisticated long range Barrett that Rifle had ever seen. 

Glasses that he had never worn before reflected silver light as the man took them off and slid them back into his breast pocket. 

“...I didn't see that one in the gun cabinet.” Rifle admitted slowly, feeling his anxiety mount when the man's sharp eyes looked up, his hands never stopping there precise breakdown. 

“That's because this one is kept in my room sir. If you are so inclined though, I will have one brought in for you. We simply don't have time to line up the shot when you could be sleeping, now do we?” He asked sounding friendly as he snapped his case closed and walked off. 

Rifle waiting a minute before picking the radio back up. “Musket, I thought you were keeping tabs on the old man.”

“YES, WHAT ABOUT IT?” Musket asked over the radio.

“I didn't make that shot. He did. His set up looked military too.” Rifle explained, getting any as the silence stretched on over the radio.

“Fuckin shit.” Colt huffed over the radio, and Rifle echoed the sentiment before he started breaking down his own rifle. They were obviously lacking some intel; but thinking about the money they had, the cars through the old bootleggers tunnel, the new boss’s “business trips,” and the butler having a thermal scope. It was all painting quite the picture.

Rifle was starting to get an idea of exactly the type of human who had purchased them.

Chapter Text

You tossed and turned for a while in the morning. You had slept fairly soundly when you had finally managed to fall back to sleep, but when you woke up you thought that maybe you shouldn't have.

Right? 

What kind of person sleeps soundly after…after that? 

Well…you apparently. 

You could unpack that later. You thought, rolling out of bed and walking into your closet. 

Finally being able to dress in a pants suit, now that you didn't have a cast making it almost impossible had been a treat but you were thinking a blouse and pencil skirt with low professional heels? 

Yes. 

That would be a fine, nonchalant thing to wear. On your way down you might have paused in the entryway, staring at the white floors for a little to long to be casual, but there wasn't a single spot staining the surface, it was so clean that you might have thought you imagined the whole thing, if the area didn't smell faintly of bleach and lavender floor polish. 

Not your business. You reminded yourself and kept walking. You passed Rifle and Carbine just leaving as you walked into the kitchen. 

“Um, h-hey, are you sure it's alright if I spend the day down in the garage?” He asked, hesitantly, like he expected you to revoke the permission. 

“Yeah, go right ahead!” You replied easily, walking right by them. Colt, Musket, Sniper, and Roulette were still eating breakfast so you greeted them as cheerfully as you could on your way to the coffee pot. 

“Your awful chipper this mornin.” 

“Just got a good night's sleep last night I guess.” You replied with a casual shrug. 

“You're colder than I thought. Considerin ya saw a man die last night.” Colt continued, smiling a sharp amused smile, his gold tooth reflecting the light of the kitchen.

“I don't know what you mean.” You said, laughing it off and playing dumb. 

“Don't gimme that.” He replied, his smile souring lightly as he brought a thumb up to run over the edge of his collar. “Ya know we can't touch you, you're the boss. No point in playing dumb, doll face.” 

“...I believe my father told me that if I was busy minding my own business I wouldn't have time to mind anyone else's before he left. That really just doesn't seem like something that would be any of my business.” You tried again, still forcing a tight smile.

“Damn. you are fucking cold. No care for your fellow man or nothin, no sympathy, don't even feel bad for his family.” Colt continued to tease, but that one…that one struck a nerve and you finally realized why you didn't care that the man was dead. 

“Do you think the man with the knife was showing care for his fellow man when he threw me into a trunk?” You turned and asked simply. “Oh, and when he jerked me out of said trunk and dislocated my wrist he must have cared so much.” You continued.

You hadn't really talked about it past giving all the information you could to the police. This was the first time since you got home that you had talked about your experience and once you started you couldn't really stop.

“And of course he must have been so sympathetic when he cracked three of my ribs and gave me a concussion kicking me into a small cage barely big enough for one person, let alone two.” You continued, watching Musket and Sniper cringe when you mentioned the little cages. 

Yeah, they were all the same size, so a cage that barely had enough room for Blue, would probably be unbearable for monsters their size.

“Well at least I know he was thinking of my family. He debated a lot about which of my body parts would get the most reaction out of my dad, but he was pretty firm on pulling out all of my teeth with an old pair of pliers to make a necklace for my mom.” you continued, before turning back to your coffee. “So no, I can't say I'm all that torn up about him being dead, Mr. Colt.”

“...all your teeth, not just a couple...what the hell do your parents do?” He asked, with an amused chuckle. 

“Oh, that one might have been partially my fault.” You admitted, blushing slightly. 

“You got a mouth on ya?” Colt asked.

“No…He got mad that I kept biting him.”  You admitted blushing more when he burst out laughing.

“Kept!? Ya mean you got him more then once? How many times did you bite him?” Colt demanded, smiling in amusement. 

“...six.” You eventually admitted, rolling your eyes when he kept laughing. “you know a better question should be why he didn't learn the first time, maybe the second. Anything after that is completely his fault.” 

“Indeed.” Joffrey added his own voice tense and cold, while he brought out your breakfast to join the skeletons. “Had I known that was the man responsible for the state you returned home in, he would not have made it into the house.” 

You shook your head a little as you accepted your breakfast. “Joffrey, really at your age that's unnecessary. I would let the professionals handle it.” You scolded gently, not wanting his protectiveness of you to get him into trouble.

He was a gentle old man after all, the entire time you had been alive you had never known him to hurt a fly. In front of men like Colt, it was important that you pointed out that Joffrey was just puffing.

“Of course Ma'am.” The old butler agreed easily. 

“Six times. That's freaking hilarious…bet the monsters around ya got a kick out of that.” Colt mused as his laughter died down slowly, it shocked a small laugh out of you, as fondness washed over you.

“Blue said something similar,” You admitted slowly, almost hesitantly. You hadn't said his name since the skeletons  had arrived in the manor. “That it was rather funny to listen to this big muscled man bitch about being bitten.” 

“My lady!” Joffrey gasped, prompting you to bite your lip to keep from giggling like a child. “I should fill your coffee with dish soap! What sort of language is that for a young woman?” 

“...you know it says on the bottle to call poison control if you swallow dish soap.” You pouted. 

“I guarantee that if there were soap in your coffee, you wouldn't be swallowing it.” The butler replied and you shrugged because that one was fair.  You finished your breakfast quietly, but contentedly so.  

After breakfast you went straight to the office so you could email the private investigator to apologize. Then with all the research you had been doing, you made large donations to three different monster right organizations. 

None of which were advocating for monster freedom, sadly. They were only asking for better treatment of monster slaves. But from your research the large organizations who wanted monster freedom had very poor reputations. 

You had learned from your mother how to play the game of politics. It didn't matter if it was just propaganda that led to them being labeled violent extremists. You couldn't associate with them if you wanted real change to happen, because even if they made good points, those arguments were easily dismissed. 

“Well you're all thieves who steal people's hard earned property and want monsters to enslave us!”  

It was stupid. You hated it, but you could still donate to reputable organizations. There was one tiny organization wanting monster freedom who hadn't been slandered yet, so you jumped on it, wanting to be associated with them.

You made a donation obviously, but you also found the founders email on their website and reached out. Offering PR guidance and media management resources so that they wouldn't get slandered if they got bigger.   

It didn't feel like enough. Nothing felt like enough while your friend was still sleeping in a cage. You weren't even the one doing anything about it, you were just trying to throw money at the problem and hope that someone else could fix it. (Not like that had worked so far.) 

Then you picked out a couple books and kept reading on abolitionist movements, also including sources from desegregation activists later on. It was depressing and before long you needed a break. 

A quick snack maybe? It was about lunch time, so you could probably take a little lunch break and then find something to do after that. Feeling like you had probably done enough for the day. 

You froze when you walked into the kitchen. Carbine was holding a wet cloth to Rifle’s neck. His cervical vertebrae had black scorch marks around them. You could tell because it looked drier than the oil that was on his shirt. A large orange mark painted the side of his jaw. 

“I swear I'll clean this up.” Rifle rushed to say, gesturing to the black smears on his hands and across the counter, but you hadn't even noticed them. 

“Oh my goodness are you okay!? What happened?” You rushed, stepping around him and pulling the freezer open. 

Because of your wrist Joffrey had started keeping ice packs in the freezer, so you grabbed one and held it out to Rifle. Carbine took it from you, while he continued to dab at Rifle's neck with the cloth. 

“I…fell…and bumped the collar against the floor, it thought I was messing with it and activated.” Rifle explained slowly.

“I'm so, so sorry.” You said looking at the burns that the thing had left on him just because he fell. “Do you need a doctor? Or someone to fix the collar so it doesn't do that again?” You asked.

“N-No, no that's alright!” Rifle rushed to say. “It's actually not a design flaw so there's nothing they could do to fix it.”

“THANK YOU THOUGH MA'AM. HE'S NERVOUS AROUND THE HUMAN DOCTORS.” Carbine explained. 

“...if you're sure. Do you want to rest instead? Your rooms should have their own showers, I'll take care of this mess.” You offered, looking at the darkening bruise along his jaw. 

“THAT'S VERY KIND OF YOU MA'AM. THAT LITTLE SKELETON YOU TALKED ABOUT WOULD HAVE BEEN LUCKY TO HAVE A HUMAN LIKE YOU AS HIS OWNER.” Carbine said, in a tone that made you think that he really thought that that was a compliment. 

“...well…thank you.” You hedged, unsure what else to say to that as you grabbed a washcloth and started in on the counters. It was only after they left that you realized you had no idea how to get the oil and grease off the counter, so you handed it to Joffrey when he arrived to make lunch, where you might have not so subtly suggested that he take a first aid kit up to check on Rifle. 

You didn't stay for lunch though. You had reading to get back to. Hours later Joffrey did came and made you get dinner. He barely tolerated you skipping one meal a day he wasn't going to allow you to skip two, no matter how much you protested wanting just one more paragraph. 

Depending on the perspective, skipping lunch instead of that dinner was either the best or the worst thing to happen since the skeletons arrived in your home, only time would tell. 

You walked into the dinning room and your eyes immediately found Rifle. There were gauzes wrapped around his cervical vertebrae, so you assumed that Joffrey had done what you wanted. 

“Are you sure you're alright?” You hedged gently as you sat down. 

“Y-yeah. Thanks.” He replied, staring down at his plate. 

“What have you been up to today?” Roulette jumped in right after him, redirecting the conversation. It was like some kind of wall had been broken down over breakfast and you mentioned that you had a private investigator looking for Blue that you had emailed that day.

“WHAT DO YOU PLAN ON DOING WITH HIM WHEN YOU BUY HIM?”  Carbine asked bluntly. 

“What do you mean?” You asked in response. 

“HE DOESN'T SOUND LIKE A GUARD MONSTER, SO THAT LEAVES A FEW OPTIONS. AN ERRAND RUNNER, A HOUSEKEEPER…IF ITS A COMPANION YOU WANT-” He started with a slight smirk, but you choked on your drink, sputtering and interrupting him with a frantic shake of your head 

“Oh no- that's not- I think there's been a misunderstanding.” You rushed fighting not to fan the growing heat in your face. “He's…Blue is just a friend, someone who was kind to me, so I want to return that kindness.”

“I…SEE.” He said like he absolutely didn't.

“I know it's…I know what I seem like but I'm a grown woman. I know that…things are bad for monsters. What I saw was worse than I ever imagined it was.” You admitted slowly. “But, when I was scared and alone he held my hand and told me it would be okay. I was held there, waiting for the police, or for the ransom to go through, or- or for them to just kill me and be done with it for a week and a half, and he told me it would be alright every single day. So…so if I can just make it alright for him I'd be happy to.” 

You explained feeling…feeling something deep and dark surge up when they looked skeptical. You shouldn't have been offended, you should have known that they had probably been through something horrible and that they would be distrustful of people, but you were trying so, so hard.

“Is it really so hard to believe that he was kind to me and that I want to return that kindness?” You asked.

In that moment, if you had known Colt better, you would have recognized the calculating look of someone about to make a risky gamble. You had been mostly avoiding them though, so you didn't know him well enough to gauge the sincerity of his next words,

“Have ya tried cryin about it harder? I'm sure that will help.” He said and your jaw hit the floor.

“I beg your pardon?” You asked softly, feelings thoroughly hurt. “I'll have you know, no one has ever spoken to me that way in my entire life!” you huffed before standing up, placing your silverware down on your plate.

You weren't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing the tears collect in your eyes, you stormed out of the room, hearing Joffrey follow close behind. 

Musket glared at his brother, watching Rifle tense as the old man ran out of the room. 

“Sh-shit. He put his glasses on.” Rifle said, shaking slightly. 

“Why's that an issue?” Roulette asked.

“T-the only time I've ever seen him wear them before is when he shot the getaway driver…if all of us aren't fucked, Colt definitely is.” He whined, turning sad eyes to Musket's brother. 

Musket sprang up, pressing Colt down into his chair when he tried to follow.

 “STAY!” Musket ordered, gritting his teeth against the worry thrumming through his soul. It was a stupid gamble to test the woman like this. Once he was done talking to the butler, Musket would make sure Colt knew how stupid and worthless of a risk it was. 

He caught up to them as the Lady of the house was closing her bedroom door on the old man, light glittering off the thin wire frames of his glasses. The old man sighed and turned to walk back down the hall, but Musket blocked him.

“I'M SO SORRY FOR COLT’S MOUTH, SIR. IF YOU JUST GIVE HIM A WARNING IT WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN.” Musket said feeling his soul pulse with panic when Joffrey just furrowed his brow.

“IF HE MUST BE PUNISHED THEN YOU DON'T NEED TO WORRY ABOUT IT, ALLOW ME…YOU CAN CHECK MY HANDY WORK, HE WILL BE THOROUGHLY PUNISHED!” 

“...Musket my boy…what are you talking about? No one is getting punished.” The old man replied, shaking his head. 

“R- WE ASSUMED THAT YOU WORE YOUR GLASSES WHEN YOU WERE WORKING AS THE GIRL'S GUARDIAN.” Musket replied honestly.

“I am nearsighted, young man. I wear these to see more than ten feet in front of me.” Joffrey admitted. “I need them to shoot, that is true, but I also need them to drive. When the young miss is upset there is a confection that normally does the trick in lifting her spirits. I'm going to go get it.”

Musket desperately wanted to believe him, but he had always believed in verification over blind faith. 

“Musket…I would like it if Colt wouldn't talk to the lady that way, but he will not be harmed here for his words…she is…has been sheltered her entire life. When she was taken, that was likely the closest she had ever been to suffering, the most she had ever seen of it all in one place, surrounding her so that she couldn't look away anymore…she didn't like what she saw Musket. She's…she isn't a bad person I guarantee that you needn't want for anything while here, just say the word...you certainly won't be harmed by us while your here.” 

The old man continued to explain, making Musket think. “I WILL…KEEP THAT IN MIND.” 

“Alright…well, I need to make it to the store before it closes.” He said, nodding politely and finally walking around Musket.  

It was foolish…stupid even. He had just criticized Colt’s gamble to test there human master, but…well Musket always was proficient at games of chance. He went downstairs and told Colt to switch rooms with him for the night, just in case. Then he waited for the old man to get back. Offering to take whatever your treat was in a greasy paper bag up himself so he could apologize for Colt.

That's what he told the butler anyway. 

He knocked on your door, pretending not to notice your red puffy eyes, as he offered her the bag. You thanked him softly before he revealed what he had truly come for. 

“I'M SORRY TO BOTHER YOU MA'AM…BUT I WAS ACTUALLY WONDERING IF WE COULD TALK ABOUT GETTING US SOME MORE CLOTHES?” He asked, watching your  eyes scan his form, taking in the same shirt and pants he had arrived in.

“Oh…oh my goodness I'm so sorry, I thought you would have already gotten some.” You said, actually sounding guilty, it was a start.

Musket could work with that.

Chapter Text

You were tempted to go out to the sewing studio and make them something yourself to make it up to them that they had only had one outfit a piece since arriving, but you scratched the idea early on. It would take a long time for you to make one shirt, let alone seven for each skeleton. (Not even counting seven pairs of pants each.) 

You had been avoiding the studio since long before your incident anyway. Your stomach twisted in knots every time you saw the portfolio you had carefully curated for Juilliard sitting next to your acceptance letter for the Harvard school of business. 

You didn't even know that you were applying to Harvard until your mom called to tell you that your acceptance letter was in the mail. She sounded so proud and excited, all you could do was thank her for handling it because you had just been so busy. 

Granted, you were busy writing the perfect letter to your uncle in New York, since he ran a design program for upcoming creators. While your father was an only child, your mother had two brothers. 

One in New York and one in California. They ran a very successful high end fashion brand, runway and Red carpet high end. Your mother had come from money before she married your father, back in the day your great grandmother would design suits and your great grandfather would sell them.

It was always a team, a designer and a businessman. Currently your uncle in New York was the designer, and your uncle in California marketed the designs, though the brand was so big at this point that it could probably market itself. 

You thought maybe that's what you had wanted to do, design clothes. The design internship your uncle ran was probably better suited for people who wouldn't get the chance otherwise, though. 

It was just a hobby anyway. You reminded yourself, collecting some catalogs for the boys to pick out  clothes that they would like. 

You had asked Musket if he could see about everyone coming down for breakfast so you could find out exactly when everyone wanted you to order. You were planning on getting it express shipped, and if it would still take more than a day you would send Joffrey out to grab them something to change into for the day. 

That was the plan at least, as you put on your chipperest smile and started going about the morning as if yesterday hadn’t happened. 

“Good morning.” You greeted, taking your seat and passing the catalogs to Joffery to hand out with plates of pancakes. “I’ve got something for all of you, It…I’m actually really sorry I didn’t get something for you sooner. If you would like something today though I’m sure Joffery wouldn’t mind making a trip out.” You explained, accepting your coffee. 

“Thanks.” Colt replied, pausing until Musket started drumming his phalanges on the dining table. “I…wanted to apologize for what I said yesterday.” He said like he was ripping out his own teeth as he did.

“Well thank you! It’s alright though, I probably over reacted. You just caught me on a bad day. I had just been thinking that I wasn’t doing enough to help. No harm done…really the girls I went to school with said nastier things while inviting me to go skiing with them on holiday. I should have thicker skin by now.” You explained, noticing a slight glimmer in his dark sockets.

“It would be a shame if skeletons had thicker skin then-” He started only for you to gasp when a hard clack interrupted him. You felt your brows climb into your hairline as Colt just rolled his eye lights after Musket had struck him on the back of his head.  “Don’t look at him that way, I’m fine.”  He eventually continued, chuckling slightly. 

“Right…” You hedged, forcing your eyes away from the two of them and around the table, for a new topic of conversation, when Joffery tapped you on the shoulder, passing you his phone.

“Your father ma’am.” 

You squealed, taking the cell phone, “Daddy!? How’s the business trip going?” 

His voice crackled over the line, “The same way business usually goes, princess. How are the monsters doing?”

You glanced around the table, at different skeletons absorbed in breakfast and catalogs, you didn’t want to mention the break in so instead of talking around it you kept your answer short and sweet. “It’s good.”

“Good, Do you feel safe with them in the house?” 

That you could at least answer honestly, “Yes, of course.”

“Wonderful…I trust your judgment princess…I always have, thats why I wanted to call and apologize.” 

“For what daddy?” You asked curiously.

“Well…your mother might have called and told me that canceling your debutante was…extreme.” He started, and you couldn’t help but cringe at the mention of that stupid party.

“It’s okay, you were just doing what you thought was best.” You tried to deflect.

“You’re always so understanding princess…but if you feel safe with the monsters around to protect you, then I don’t see any reason why we can’t still have the party…your mom might have also explained how important they are for young women.” He said.

“Oh, you really don’t have to do that daddy.” 

“It’s already done princess. I booked out Pattersons hall, just for you.” He said, sounding so excited to surprise you, you grit your teeth and took a deep breath.

“Thank you so, so much daddy.” You grit out, forcing your voice up an octave to mimic excitement. 

“Anything for you princess, the ball is in three days.” He replied, sounding so happy to give you everything in the world, and you felt the familiar pangs of guilt for not being excited enough, for being ungrateful for everything you had, especially now. 

Oh, no you had to go to a fancy party that was just for you, where you would be showered with money and compliments. Poor you. Your inner monologue took on Colt's voice as it scolded you. 

“Are you going to be able to make it?” You asked softly, trying not to sound to hopeful.

“Sorry princess. That's actually something else I want to apologize for. I know I said I would be home for the holidays, but your mom just got confirmation that she's going to be allowed to go to Japan for some talk about a bill she wants passed or something that would affect international trade. I'm meeting her there, once I'm done in France and we're going to spend November there…but we should be back by Christmas.” He assured you. 

“Of course, I understand.” You agreed again. “You guys be safe. I love you!” 

“Love you too…Hey they have a luxury skin care brand over there. Clé de Peau Beauté, I'll bring you some right from Japan to make up for it princess.” He said, adding it to the list of gifts he was bringing from France and Italy. 

“Thank you so much daddy. I appreciate it.” You replied, waiting for him to hang up before suddenly remembering that you were having this conversation in front of everyone. You forced a smile and said,

“Soooo…who wants to go to a debutante ball?” 

“The master has reconsidered canceling your party?” Joffrey asked, taking his seat at the table.

“He has…as long as I have protection with me obviously. He booked Patterson Hall for it.” You replied, “so…we'll probably need to get some fitted suits-” you started pausing when Carbine snapped his catalog shut. 

“WHERE WOULD THE FITTING BE DONE?” He asked. 

“The same place these catalogues are from.” You explained. “I suppose this is for the best anyway. They only have two tailors so while the suits are being fitted for two of you, the rest can pick what you want from the floor.”

“We can get both, a couple sets of clothes and the fitted suit?” Rifle asked, sounding skeptical. 

“ Of course! You could fill up your closets if you wanted.” You offered, your friendly smile faltering when he only looked more skeptical. 

“Perhaps the young man would be more comfortable with the minimum that they are expected to get Ma'am.” Joffrey offered, but you were taken aback by the suggestion. You didn't want to force them into anything. Joffrey had never steered you wrong before though.

“Well…at a minimum I think a change of clothes for each day of the week would be good…and the suit, probably two pairs of shoes. One everyday pair and one nice dress pair…that's just the necessities, you could have more.” You explained. 

“THAT'S VERY KIND OF YOU.” Carbine replied. 

“It's really not.” You tried to deflect with a small smile. 

“You don't need to give us any clothes, so this is a kindness kid and we appreciate it” Roulette added and something from the depths of your mind clicked. 

There was something you were always good at. Cost analysis.

If you buy X bolt of cloth, make a dress while accounting for your hours of salary, then add in any bonuses from known branding; what would the value of that product be at the end, and would people buy the product for its value. You could run those numbers in just a few minutes. So, if words weren't doing the jobs, maybe numbers would. Maybe that was how you could show them what you thought of them.

“That's not the way I'm seeing it.” You started, taking a deep breath while you got what you wanted to say in order in your head. It was going to be a little bit of a monologue.“Do you know what the going rate for people who offer your sort of protection is? What about people who get rid of it all, just make the problem disappear? What's the going rate for that? I can tell you the amount Joffrey pays his mechanic for just tuning his classic car is more than enough for some clothes and a nice suit.” You explained specifically addressing Rifle with that one.

“I…” you continued hesitantly, losing steam as soon as you switched away from the clinical discussion of cost and back to feelings and morality. “If I could just give you the money for it I would, but I know enough to know that that isn't allowed, even if I could there is no one who would accept it from you. If I can't do that I would at least like to give you something equitable for all your work…really anything you want, I owe you that much, just for being here.” 

“...EQUITABLE? QUITE AN INTERESTING PROPOSAL MA'AM.” Carbine said, his large blue eye lights meeting yours. 

“it’s…it’s all I can think to do at this point. There is nothing I can do about you being here in collars, but I can at least make sure that it isn't horrible.”  You admitted hesitantly. 

“WELL…YOU KNOW I’M QUITE GOOD WITH NUMBERS IF YOU NEED ANY HELP RUNNING THOSE FIGURES.”  Carbine offered, “IF WE KNOW EXACTLY HOW MUCH YOU FEEL WE’RE OWED THEN THAT WOULD CERTAINLY MAKE US MORE COMFORTABLE.” 

“I’m fairly good with numbers myself.” You started to brush him off, before reconsidering. “Umm…Unless you just want to make sure that you're adequately compensated for everything…you could even factor in your time spent running the numbers if you wanted.” 

Carbine immediately perked up at the suggestion, tossing his coffee back and forgoing the rest of his breakfast in favor of getting to it. He only tossed one quick “DO YOU MIND IF I USE THE STUDY?” Over his shoulder as he strode out of the dining room. 

As it turned out, he was very very good with numbers, but so were you. You might have hoped to snoop a little into the breakdown provided by the skeleton but it looked like he was purposefully excluding information. Forgoing compensation in favor of secrecy. 

“Doesn't anyone do overnight security? I was under the impression that over time like that would need to be compensated.”  You hedged.

“I USED SALARIED RATES.” He shot back, easily deflecting you. 

“The added benefits that a salaried position provides make up for the lack of overtime hours, I'm just not seeing the added benefits.” 

“I ALSO USED THE LOWEST BRACKET FOR EACH CLASS OF WORK, THOUGH I COULD ADMIT TO USING SOME COMMISSION FIGURES FOR RIFLE’S WORK IN THE GARAGE AND MY OWN WORK HERE.” He replied, gesturing to the six printouts you had in front of you. He was sitting up straight, all business, eyes intent.

For the first time since meeting him, he reminded you so little of Blue, that you could easily look him in the eye as you spoke about the numbers he provided. 

“I still feel like these are low…but I suppose we can agree that it is a start to springboard off of. If you want to be considered salaried instead of hourly, then that is your choice, salaried employees get sign-on bonuses and other incentives to continue performing at high levels, so if you wish to exceed these numbers feel free to do so.”  You explained, signing the bottom of each print out, as a habit and handing them back to him. 

“WE DON'T NEED SIGN ON AND INCENTIVE BONUSES.” He replied, accepting the papers. “WERE HERE, IN COLLARS. THAT'S THE INCENTIVE.” 

“Well…perhaps I could give you something for…” You trailed off, how would you even describe that? For the inconvenience sounded too trivial to describe everything that they were going through. “For your situation.” You settled on. 

“I WILL CONSIDER IT.” He replied, holding the papers between his phalanges so that he could make a hard edge and snap it against the desk a few times before standing up. “BUT I AM MORE THAN HAPPY TO PUT IN THE EFFORT FOR THINGS THAT I WANT.” 

“Well…I'm sure you guys are looking forward to getting out of the house.” You replied standing and grabbing your pocket book, before finding Joffrey in the entryway with the rest of the skeletons. “Everyone ready?” You asked taking out one of your credit cards and passing it to Joffrey.

You hadn't intended on going with them. You knew your size perfectly, and you could put together your own debutante gown. 

“Grab them anything they want.” You told him, ready to head upstairs until they got back.

“You ain't afraid we'll max the card out?” Colt asked, and you didn't even try to fight down the laugh. 

“Colt if you manage to max out that card, I'll be so impressed that I'll write you a check to cover the rest.” You goaded, watching the twinkle in his red eye lights as he accepted the challenge.

“You would likely need to be there in person for that ma'am.” Joffrey, informed you, making the smile drop off your face as you looked towards the front door. 

“Oh…I see. Well…you probably won't be able to max it out anyway.” You hedged, not expecting Colt to scoff. 

“Really? Come on, don't insult us.” He said, his ember bright eye lights burning into you. “What's gonna happen to ya with us there?”  

You didn't really have an answer. Wasn't that the entire point of your dad buying them. The idea still made your skin crawl. Keeping tabs on everything in the controlled environment of the house was one thing, but out on the town with so many more variables?   

“I don't know.” You started to hedge.  

“It is not a requirement at the moment ma'am, but you will need to travel to the actual debutante.” Joffrey explained gently.  

Fuck. 

“Well…I suppose I could come along.” You said hesitantly.

“Excellent my lady!” Joffrey replied, wasting no time in holding his arm out for you to lay your hand on. This time you did without hesitation, gripping onto the old man tightly as he led the way out the front. 

The only car on the property large enough for seven passengers and a driver, was of course the limo. Joffrey opened the door and let you slide in first. Allowing you to position yourself in the middle with your back facing the driver. 

Musket and Colt slid around to your left, Carbine and Rifle sat to your right, and Roulette and Sniper sat in front of you. The gnawing anxiety let up slightly, you felt a bit safer with the darkly tinted windows between you and any outside prying eyes. 

“How long has it been since you've left the house?” Roulette asked, distracting you slightly. 

“a while.” You answered honestly…mostly honestly. “But I just got my cast off not to long ago. I couldn't be seen in public with it on. My mother is a politician, appearances are everything.”

“Guess ya would have looked like easy pickings walking around with it on.” Rifle mused, making your forced smile drop slightly. 

“Well…I'm afraid I look like easy pickings anyway.” You admitted, knowing how your carefully practiced movements looked. You had spent your entire life practicing how to move daintily and delicately, but those same small soft movements that you practiced over and over in the mirror certainly wouldn't dissuade anyone from trying to grab you again. 

But the skeletons would. 

Big and barrel chested, tall and sharp, observant eye lights, and sharp tongues. You supposed your father had hand picked them for a reason. 

You only hesitated a little when you arrived at the shop, but it was familiar wasn't it. The only place you had been to more often was your own home. So you took a deep breath and followed Carbine out of the car. 

Then you paused for an entirely different reason. There were cute little stickers and decals adorning the windows of the little boutique you frequented. One of them was given a new meaning through your research. It was a tiny scroll of words you had passed a hundred times without giving it a second thought. 

“Am I not a man and a brother?” 

The text that you now knew was across the top of the 1787 Wedgwood anti-slavery medallion and the calling card of the abolitionist movement. You held your head high as you walked into the shop.  

The little bell tinkled, drawing the attention of the older woman who ran the shop, Esther Montgomery. She turned a beaming smile to you. “Goodness ma'am, we were starting to miss you down here.” She said before her smile tightened as she looked at the skeletons walking in with you. “And…who are these fine gentlemen?” 

“They're…employees of a sort. Anything they want while there here will be covered, and I do mean anything they want.” You explained simply. “But at the least I'd like them outfitted with a weeks worth of clothes apiece and a suit nice enough to wear to my debutante.” 

“Oh, are you here just for them or is there anything you would like? We haven't got any new bolts in.” Esther mused knowing you so well. 

There were some high end fabrics that could only be ordered with a business routing number. So you would pay her to have them shipped to her store, for a while you might have hoarded bolts like a dragon hoarded gold, collecting colors and patterns so that you could make anything, but…

“I don't really have the time to make my own debutante gown, so I'm also here for a gown…but I can wait and look around a bit since it's only the two of you.” 

“...well…I might have another employee…of a sort.” Esther explained hesitantly, walking past you to close the curtains and flip her little open sign over. “If you don't mind of course.” 

“I don't mind.” You agreed easily. 

“Aurantia!” The old woman called back into the shop, and whatever you were expecting it wasn’t the tall shapely spider monster that walked out of the back with a pronounced sway of voluptuous hips, barely covered by a high riding tight maroon skirt, her black button up undone low enough to show some cleavage. There were cute heart patterns in her fishnet stockings. 

“Aurantia, my lovely, this is our best customer, she’s here to have quite a bit of work done.” The old lady explained.

“I don’t usually get to meet the customers.” The spider said with a small demure smile. “Hello gentlemen.” 

“Hi there miss…they have…certainly got you dressed.” Rifle mused, his orange eyelights flickering slightly as he obviously forced them to stay on her face. 

“Oh, I actually make all my own outfits…the humans think the little hearts on my stockings are cute.” She explained, emphasizing the word like it was an inside joke between them. 

“Well, divide and conquer ladies! I will take the guest of honor, you two handle her entourage.” Esther dictated, clapping her wrinkled hands together and sending her workers scurrying. You watched while you were measured and fitted, presented with different styles and fabrics. You didn’t know why but you were cataloging. 

Roulette and Sniper leaned towards blacks, grays, and whites. You had some nice gray colors that they would probably like.

Colt and Musket chose deeper blacks and reds. You had one really nice bolt of deep red silk, with a paisley design that you could only see when the light hit it just right. A pattern like that would probably look really good as a shirt under a black jacket, with a black tie, plain prints so that the pattern of the shirt would stand out. 

Carbine and Rifle chose really nice pastels, blue and orange accents respectively, with the overall color being white. You had soooo many pastels at home. 

You didn’t know why you were thinking about that. It was probably just a comfortable place for your thoughts to go, safe homey thoughts that way you didn’t have to think about what you were being fitted for, until you weren’t given another option.

“You know, you would probably look good in red.” Colt mentioned, glancing between you and a display case of jewelry. 

“Debutante gowns are always a shade of white.” You explained, looking at the layering being shuffled and pinned around. 

“What is a debutante ball anyway?” Colt asked.

“It’s…like a coming of age party, where young ladies of standing make their debut as young eligible women of standing.”

“Is the eligible part important?” Aurantia asked as three of her six arms worked pinning and adjusting Carbine’s pant leg. 

“It used to be. My grandmothers on both sides of my family met their husbands at their debutantes, and the only reason my mother broke the tradition was because she was already acquainted with my father before her debutante. It’s just traditional now, a show of presenting myself to society and giving me a chance to form my own connections with associates of my mother and father, and their children.” You explained. “I already have these connections of course, but tradition.” 

“Sounds like you're going to be shown off like a slab of meat.” She said with a small clear laugh. 

“I wouldn't say it that way.” You deflected with your own little giggle, before deciding to change the topic before she could pin down the little ball of anxiety rolling around in your stomach. “Do you want something from the jewelry case Colt?”

“Nah, they don't really have anything that I'm interested in.” He said, obviously casually and obviously not a dig at the selection they had on display. Esther's hand stopped mid pin anyway and she turned her full attention to the skeleton.

“...nothing at all?” She asked, and when he nodded, the old woman snapped her fingers and one of the attendants left Rifle standing there to go start pulling out jewelry. 

“Speaking of jewelry ma'am?” She asked, drawing your attention back to her as her hands started moving again. “Will you be getting anything today?” 

“Oh no. I have a vintage pearl piece with gold accents and a lovely cameo that drops down to the base of my throat here.” You explained, pointing between your collar bones. “I think I would like some custom work done on it though. Like replacing the cameo.” 

“We can do that for you, Ma'am. What were you thinking?” 

“A Wedgwood Medallion cameo from the classic shell would be nice. Or something else light to match the pearl.” You answered, your voice carrying confidence you didn't feel. 

Your mother didn't really like declarations of political alignment without consulting her first. Not like most people would notice a little pendant anyway right? It was just a little something to soothe your own guilty conscience. A way to say I might own monsters but I'm opposed to it.

The surprised laugh that bubbled out of the spider was reassuring. “Oh, we are a spicy one. What I would give to be a little spider on the wall at your little party.” She trilled, finished up Carbine's pants before moving over to Rifle. 

The rest of the fitting was fairly uneventful until it came time to pay for the clothes and shoes. Two large gold rings had been added to the bill as well as a couple of fedora and trilby hats. Colt slid a box of cigars across the counter almost testingly and you added them and upped the ante. 

“You’ll have to try harder if you want to max out the card. Esther, could you also add one of the cigars my father usually gets?” You asked smiling when the two thousand dollar cigar was added to the total. “Anything else gentlemen?” 

They shuffled around. Looking almost uncomfortable at the prospect, and you felt like you had misstepped, taken the game too far and ruined the little bit of goodwill you had built. 

“That…might not have come out the way I intended.” You added, shyly taking out your card. “I can take that off if it would make you more comfortable.” 

“...nah don't worry about it, your old man’s got good taste, little boss.” Colt replied, rolling the cigar between his phalanges. 

You finished paying and then left the little shop, filing back into the limo in the same order as before. 

The second they were back to the manor they disappeared to go and change out of the clothes they had been wearing since they arrived. It was nice to see them a little more comfortable for dinner and you even filled a little when you saw Rifle carrying all the old shirts down to the garage with him, until he noticed you.

“Oh, hey, can…would it be alright if you followed me for a sec?” He asked hesitantly. 

“Sure. Is everything alright?” You asked, easily falling into step with him. 

“Y-yeah. I just…you…” He trailed off struggling for words until the garage came into view. “...you said they put you in the trunk right?”

You weren't expecting him to ask that, so you were temporarily taken off guard. “Umm…yeah, they did.” 

He sat the shirts on top of a tool box and nodded popping the trunk on the old barracuda. “Come here a second.” He said, gesturing to the inside. You definitely hesitated then and he turned orange.

“It's not- I'm just gonna show you something real quick…n-not the inside of the trunk.” His nervous rambling helped you relax enough to step up right next to him.

“Okay…so the trunk here has a panel over the tail lights. Here.” He explained popping it open with his bare hands. “Inside is the wiring harness for the lights. Once you get it off you can either short them and hope you get pulled over or kick the whole thing out…the second is more noticeable and you're more likely to get help.” He explained, showing you the backside of the tail light through the inside of the trunk. 

“...why?” You started to ask slowly.

“Ya just seemed…kinda scared and anxious a lot…so I…I thought maybe if there was something you could do…you might not be as scared all the time.” He explained, before laughing a little nervously himself. “Not like you'll have to with us around, but…it might help you feel…more in control if ya know how.” 

Well shit. That was thoroughly touching. 

“I thought I was holding it together better than that.” You attempted to deflect with humor. 

“Oh you got a great poker face, boss. We're just good at readin em’.” He said, completely circumventing your deflection.

“W-well…thank you for this Rifle…really. I wish there was something I could do for you in return.” You replied.

“Don't worry about it. It is what it is.” 

“Right…well, if you think of anything you need please let me know.” You said, waving him off and heading to our room for the night. You had to get some good rest, because tomorrow you would start party planning. 

Chapter Text

You stared at yourself in the mirror for a little longer then Necessary. You tried not to think about the last time you were in a dress like this one, but you couldn't help imaging the light cream fabric torn and dotted with blood and motor oil. You shook it off though and finished your makeup.

You had your guards, you would be fine. You reminded yourself as you fastened your pearls around your neck, the wedgwood cabochon laying perfectly between your collarbones in the traditional pail shell that went with the pearl. 

To match; gems like pearls should always be paired with their mother, Sapphires and emeralds with cool toned silvers, red stones with gold, if contrast is your goal then inverse the metals and pair the pearls with something dark. 

The etiquette guide went through your head and you fought not to snicker. It was three long, boring pages  just to say that precious stones and metals look good together no matter how you mixed them, as long as they were stylishly designed. 

…You were stalling again, and with your hair and makeup already done you were stuck quoting old outdated style guides in your head and fussing over single strands of hair.

Come on! You're in charge, act like it! You scolded yourself, turning on your white heels and clip clopping your way down the hall without looking back. The skeletons were waiting in the den and you had to admit that they looked good in the fitted suits, like they were meant to be in them. 

Sniper and Roulette were in stylish gray suits, with white button ups, and black accents on the belt and ties. Sniper’s fuzzy white eyelights flicked to you as you walked into the room before going back to his brother.

Carbine and Rifle were in cream suits, with pastel colored button ups, blue for Carbine and orange for Rifle. They each had white accents.

Colt and Musket were both in classy blacks and reds, though Colt in particular was looking sharp, dark blacks and deep reds, accented by gold rings that glinted the same color as his false tooth. You even thought you heard him whisper, “there you are.” under his breath as he adjusted his tie in the reflection of an old grandfather clock. . 

“You're looking nice, gentlemen.” You greeted, not being surprised when Rifle jumped, but this time you tried not to draw attention to it. 

What you couldn't ignore was the soft spoken man going a little slack jawed as he stared at you. “We look nice?” He asked, skeptically as he looked at you, making you giggle. 

“Charmer.” You accused playfully, before your eyes settled on Joffrey. 

You didn’t think it was odd to have three parental figures, plenty of people had mixed families; a mother, a step-father, a father, and a step-mother. So you didn’t think it was beyond the pale to consider Joffrey a father figure, even though your parents were both still happily married and they doted on you completely. Joffrey was just like a bonus parental figure. It was the only explanation for the misty quality in his own eyes, and the tight smile on his face as he walked up to you to offer you his arm. 

“You look wonderful Ma’am.” He said softly, and even though you took his offered arm you couldn't stop from commenting. 

“Joffrey, it's just a debutante.” 

“Of course Ma'am.” The old man agreed, in a way that made you feel like he didn't agree at all, but if he said otherwise he might actually start crying, so instead he was agreeing with you. 

“Alright so quick run down,” You started as your little entourage made their way to the waiting limo. “you don't all have to hover all night long. In fact, I encourage you to enjoy the party if you can, as long as at least one person is with me at all times…and we can, of course, trade off and alternate. It's up to you, I'd imagine you'll be fairly busy… doing whatever it is that you do.”  

“Do you wanna know what it is that we're gonna be doin?” Colt asked with a sharp smirk, looking down at you confidently. It was amazing what a change of clothes could do. 

“They're just going to be doing basic security tonight, ma'am.” Joffrey jumped in, looking disapprovingly between you and Colt as he held the door open for you. You snickered, because he had been doing that on and off all day. There was just something refreshing about the way Colt talked to you that made you relax a little and respond to him the same way. 

It just so happened that that was starting to amount to what Joffrey considered ‘vulgar language’ and ‘inappropriate conversation topics.’

Which…they kind of were but it was funny dang it. 

You slid in, with your back to the glass that separated you from Joffrey. Fussing over the flowing skirt of your gown a bit to make sure it was all in your space so that the skeletons could slide in next to you. 

You kept your hands in your lap, trying not to fiddle, despite the mounting anxiety gnawing at your gut. 

“Do you have any friends going to this party or…ball thing?” Rifle asked, drawing your attention to the skeleton. 

“Umm…yes?” You replied, hesitantly and maybe it showed cause he looked at you with the ridges above his sockets scrunched together thoughtfully.  

“Well…men and women from my high school that my parents want me to have, at the very least, public social connections to.”  you explained, watching his skull twist ruefully. 

“So? It's just business, big fancy party like this and you don't have anyone you can talk to there?” He asked, and you swallowed, not knowing how to respond, but you had a trick. 

Being a young woman surrounded by a lot of experienced old money got you used to two things. 

Being constantly looked down on for being a spoiled little girl, (though in that case you could acknowledge that you had been sheltered.) and needing to be excellent, or more then excellent to be “better” then those other spoiled little girls. (Even though you had never met one of the stereotypes they always said were everywhere in the prep schools.) 

Playing into the two things, you had a trick you used to get more time to think of a clever response. 

“Sorry, I don't understand the question, could you maybe reword it for me?” You asked softly, thinking through how to explain that, no you didn't have any close friends coming because even though the party was for you, it was actually for your future and for your parents to be able to point to you as an example of excellence. 

Rifle opened his mouth but Colt jumped in before he could reword the question, “Ya know there are better ways ta stall for time that don’t make ya sound like an airheaded bimbo, right?” 

“COLT.” Musket growled warningly, but I waved him off easily. 

“Like what?” You asked, acknowledging what you had been doing and goading him to show you how to do it better.

“HAVE YOU TRIED, ‘THAT’S AN INTERESTING QUESTION, BUT THE BIGGER ISSUE IS-’ THEN YOU REDIRECT THE CONVERSATION.” Carbine offered absently. 

“Just take a minute to hit a cigar and drink some scotch before answering.” Colt offered in contrast.

“YOU COULD TRY, ‘THAT'S A GOOD QUESTION, I NEVER THOUGHT OF IT THAT WAY.’ TO STALL FOR TIME.” Sniper added, absently as he stared out the window. Out of all the skeletons you think he would be the one you knew the least about, since he rarely engaged with you and when he did it was short and to the point.

“Or instead of asking the other person to reword the question you could pretend to ask for clarification, rewording their question while you think.” Roulette added. 

“...wow…you guys are good.” You mused.

“If you're gonna be our boss, little lady, then you're gonna be good at it.” Colt replied simply, making you smirk.

 “...I’m not old enough to drink though.” You directed at Colt, not expecting Rifle to start coughing. 

“I- Sorry, what? H-how old are you?” He asked, sounding nervous. 

“Twenty.” You answered curiously. 

“What? Yur a fuckin adult, that's old enough to drink.” Colt huffed, sneering slightly. 

“Not according to the law.” You replied, smiling a little when he rolled his ember bright eye lights, feeling happy that he was more comfortable with you. 

“Uh-hu, if you respect the law so much then you really don’t wanna know what the law says about the modifications we got on these.” He replied, thumbing the thick steel collar still around his neck, always there even when he was in his nice formal clothes. 

“That's between you and my father, and it doesn't sound like it's any of my business.” You replied, before blushing brightly when Joffery joined the conversation through the lowered glass window. 

“So we are just pretending that you didn’t start drinking when you were eighteen?”

“I- What!? How did you know that?” You gasped, turning around. 

The flat look he directed at you in the rearview mirror just made you blush brighter, especially when Colt erupted in deep peals of rumbling laughter as the butler spoke. “Really ma’am, I was born at some point, but it wasn’t yesterday.” 

“But I was so careful.” You whined, making Colt laugh harder. 

“THEY ALWAYS THINK THEY ARE.” Carbine added, and you blushed more brightly.

“Okay, fine, but I can’t drink publicly for another year, so that's still not an option.” You protested. 

“ Honestly I don’t see what the big deal is. In my mothers country you could have started drinking at home at sixteen and in bars at eighteen, I think the age being restricted to twenty one is a bit excessive when you can join the military at eighteen.” Joffery added, musing to himself as he pulled around the front of the convention hall. 

“SIGN UP FOR A BUSINESS LOAN.” Carbine added, “OR STUDENT LOANS…THOUGH I SUPPOSE YOU WON’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT THAT?”  

Something twisted in your chest, you didn't know if he was just being conversational or not, but no matter what his intention was you couldn't help feeling slightly called out by what was honestly a simple statement of fact. 

“...no I won't have to take out loans of any kind…but my scholarship is a merit based scholarship.” You added weakly, because you hadn't even been the one to apply to that school or for their excellence scholarship program. That has been your politician mother. Nepotism at its finest. 

But as guilty as you felt about it, how do you even begin to fix it? 

“HMM? OH NO, THAT WASN’T A CRITICISM, JUST AN OBSERVATION.” He replied, smiling softly, and for the first time you wondered if he was being genuine. 

The pros of getting to know the skeleton more meant that he reminded you less of blue, the cons were that you were starting to suspect that he was very good at toying with you. 

The only reason you could spot what you were beginning to suspect was a purposeful misstep, was because you had grown up surrounded by incredibly intelligent business men who regularly implemented manipulation tactics in negotiations. 

The most useful thing you learned though, is to not let them know that you're aware that they're trying to manipulate you. 

“Sorry, I’m probably a bit sensitive because of the nerves.” You replied, gesturing towards the convention hall. 

“It's going to be like navigating a den of vipers, gentlemen.” Joffrey offered, before getting out so that he could open the door for you.

“I wouldn’t say it that way…there are some people who might be snide and back handed, but most of them will be polite and congratulatory…mainly because they want to continue having a good relationship with my family, but still, polite is polite.” You explained, shrugging before sliding out of the car. 

“Sounds exhausting.” Rifle murmured, glancing at his brother. 

“You get used to it, and I am actually really friendly with some of the people here…just maybe not close enough to call them friends.” You explained leading the way towards the large building, only hitting one hiccup on the way in. 

“Your monsters will need to be on leashes inside the building, ma'am.” A security guard said, stopping you from entering.  Over your shoulder you heard the telltale gritting sound that you were starting to associate with bone grinding against bone.  

“I beg your pardon?” You asked, blinking a few times.

“It's venue policy ma'am. The monsters must be on leashes.” He repeated. 

“I don't own leashes for my monsters.” You replied simply. 

“Again, I'm sorry ma'am but it's policy.” 

“Well then, perhaps  you should inform the attendees that there will be no debutante at this debutante ball, because I will not be going in without them and my guards cannot function on leashes.” You replied coldly. You knew talking like that didn't do anything to beat the ‘spoiled rich girl’ allegations, but you wouldn't have been able to beat them anyway so there was no reason not to use all the tools at your disposal. “Honestly it's like you don't even know who I am.” 

“I…ma'am-” The first guard started, pleadingly before a second placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Let me radio management.” The second said, sounding defeated and tired. You would have to leave a good tip for all the staff to make up for that, since they were just enforcing the company's policy. 

Another delicate question you didn't know the answer to; people needed to pay their bills, they likely had families to support, they could be fired for not supporting company policies, so how responsible were they for enforcing discriminatory policies that they had no part in creating?  

You didn't know, but whether they were innocent or not, you still weren't going to let them treat your body guards like animals. 

It took about twenty minutes for you to be allowed in, with the monsters not on leashes, but most of that was waiting for a call from the supervisor because all you had to do was  drop your family’s name into the conversation. Joffrey had let you go in with just your body guards, while he went to pull the car around. 

“THANK YOU MA’AM.” Musket said as you led the way into the building. 

“You don’t have to thank me…I don’t…” You trailed off, trying to think of how to express how you felt about the leashes, but you never got the chance because some photographers caught you on your way into the ballroom and you had to put on your ‘politicians daughter’ face.  

A soft smile, a dainty fold of hands, small and soft steps that cross over each other. After the pictures were taken that was how you walked into the ballroom, where a host announced your arrival. Your guards hovered for a bit before eventually splitting off, spreading out through the loosely crowded room. With fewer monsters around you individuals finally started approaching, loose clusters of people making small talk and congratulating you, only two stood out. 

The first was Rebecca Mackenzie, the daughter of a family that owned power companies, for example walked right up to you with a beaming smile and cold eyes. 

“Hello Hello!” She greeted, cheerfully, “Gosh it has been so long, I’m sorry I missed your birthday, I heard it was unforgettable.” 

You didn’t even flinch as you met her cold gaze with your own, paired with a polite smile, “Yes, but you know how it is with politics, honestly I got off better then the Kennedys.” You replied, moving your hands in practiced dainty movements to emphasize how blasé you wanted to seem about the incident that still haunted your nightmares.

“Oh, of course, of course.” She replied, with a trilling laugh, “by the by! Have you gotten your letter from Julliard yet? Because I have.” 

“Oh, I’ve received my acceptance letter, but it was from Harvard.” You replied, watching surprise and something darker shift in her eyes. 

“The Harvard school for the arts?” She asked and you laughed mockingly.

“Oh. no dear, Business. Honestly, hobbies are fun, but they're just hobbies you know.” You deflected. 

When she had eventually walked off Colt had huffed, “What a bitch.” under his breath. 

You snickered, but didn’t respond. 

The second was Kent Donavan.

“...why the hell was he invited?” You whined under your breath. 

“UNWANTED SUITOR?” Carbine asked curiously. 

“Ex-Fiancé.” You answered, “Our fathers have been best friends and business partners since they were in their teens, so it made sense to us that we should give it a try, we probably took the try too far before backing out, so…like we aren't on bad terms but it is so awkward.” You explained before the man made it to you. 

“I’m so glad to see that you're alright, dearest, we were all so worried about you.” He said, pulling you into a hug that maybe lasted a second too long, but he was moving on before you could mention it, “Do you need anything, my father has been offering to come up and visit, but your father said you wanted some space.”

“Yeah, I’ve been doing alright, really I think the papers exaggerated some of the events, it really wasn’t that bad.” You replied, lying flawlessly. 

“I was so relieved to hear that your father got some extra security for you.” He added. 

“Thank you so much for your concern.” You replied, maybe being a little short, but you didn’t want to be too encouraging since Kent tended to be long winded. 

“Of course, our fathers are practically brothers and I consider you a very good friend. It makes sense that we would worry about one another.” He replied, making you feel a little guilty for wanting to hurry and shoo him away. 

“You are a very good family friend, Kent.” You replied, a little more warmly, regretting it instantly when he took your hand. 

“You too, just remember we're always here if you need anything.” He offered, running a thumb over your knuckles. 

“We aren't really permitted to let strangers touch her for too long.” Rifle said, lying but it was something you latched onto. 

“Daddy has the restrictions set to be very strict, you know how he gets.” You deflected, taking your hand back. 

“Of course, sorry.” He replied, laughing and shooting you a pair of casual finger guns, “We’ll have to come and visit when your dad gets home, so that we can loosen some of those restrictions.” 

“Looking forward to it.” You replied with a tight smile, before Kent turned and walked away, you waited a polite amount of time before turning a sheepish smile to Rifle, “...Thank you.” You whispered softly. 

“S’ what we're here for.” He replied, making your smile drop slightly. 

“I guess it is.” You agreed. 

The rest of the night was unremarkable, you talked to people, older men and women asked you about your future business plans and you answered hemming and hawing here and there about your fathers business and the fashion brand that your mothers family ran. Answering without saying anything definitive, just some nice sounding placations for the older people there for your debut.  

By the time you got home that night, you already had an email for the early access of the article that was going to be posted about your debutante. It sounded like you knocked it out of the park, they had nothing but good things to say about your plans for the future and your charm, despite having a run of bad luck and bla bla bla. 

You did well, an expert performance, and you wouldn’t have to do any PR management when the magazine article went public. It was great. 

You of course had no way of knowing what that one article with pictures of you and the skeletons start, but as soon as the article went live two days later you got the call.

Chapter Text

Your phone ringing off and on throughout the day was something you were used to, answering it with a quick professional greeting was second nature until you could determine if it was someone you knew personally. 

You couldn't have been more surprised when you picked up the phone to hear a very, very young sounding voice. 

“Hey, is this that rich lady who was on the cover of vanity fair today? Her website said this was her number.” 

“...ummm…perhaps.” You replied hesitantly, feeling a small amused smile curl at your lips. You had never gotten a call like this before, so you said your name, laughing when the child reported back that ‘it was the rich lady.’ 

“And to whom am I speaking?” You asked. 

“I'm just relaying a message for a friend that can't speak sometimes…they want to know about the monsters you had with you in one of the pictures.” The child said and your smile dropped. 

“Really?” You asked softly, ready to hang up.

“Yeah…they wanna talk to Sniper or…I don't know that word, spell it slower…R-O-U-L-E-T-T-E.”

“Look, I’m sorry but there really busy I can’t bother them right now.” You started, to say, but they kept talking,

“Wait, they said to just tell them it's…puppy? no…Little pup, if you tell them it’s little pup they will want to speak to them.” The first child rushed, before another voice spoke up, sounding so small and desperate, 

“Please.” It whispered over the line, sounding like it would break them if you said no.

“...I can ask.” You replied, laying the receiver down on the table and poking your head out of the office, more often then not one or more of the skeletons stuck close to you while you were working, luckily it was Sniper and Carbine today.

“Sniper,” You started, bracing yourself when his fuzzy eye lights turned to you. “I’m sorry to bother you with this, but there's…a little pup on the phone for you?” You asked hesitantly, watching in wonder as those fuzzy little pin pricks of light sharpened into glittering stars and his jaw fell open.

“I…WHAT…THAT'S-” He stuttered, before rushing past you, yelling louder than you had ever heard him for Roulette to come downstairs as he rushed into the office. It was a bit of a shock watching bright white tears collect in the corner of the normally stoic man’s eyes as he picked up the receiver and hesitantly asked, “PUP? 

“Sniper?” Roulette asked, rushing into the room and pushing you behind him, breathing hard from running down the stairs.

“IT’S LITTLE PUP!” Sniper replied enthusiastically, scooting over and leaning down so that they could both crowd around the receiver.

“No way…kid?” Roulette asked, smiling just as wide as he leaned against his brother, “Hey there kid, how did you pull this one off…you didn’t, really? That’s smart kid, really smart.” He replied to something on the other end with a proud smile and your stomach bottomed out. They were so happy to hear from this little kid, and images of families being ripped apart danced through your head. Was this another sibling? Did one of them have a child? What were the laws about buying and selling monster children? You wondered glumly, before Sniper’s smile dropped.

“OH…OH PUP I DON’T KNOW…I CAN…” He trailed off, turning to look at you. He passed the receiver to Roulette and he took two purposeful strides in your direction, before falling to his knees, “BOSS, PLEASE, THERE BEGGING TO SEE US, PLEASE I WON’T EVER ASK FOR ANYTHING ELSE IF YOU WILL JUST LET US GO SEE THEM?” He begged, those sharp diamond white eye lights boring into your eyes pleadingly. 

“...Sniper…get up please.” You replied, stiffly. When his face crumpled, you grabbed his hands and gently guided him up, “You don’t have to beg Sniper…just tell me where there at.” You said, not expecting to be pulled into a crushing hug.

“THANK YOU! THANK YOU, THANK YOU MADAM.” 

“Can do, where are you kids at?” Roulette asked, and he even offered to drive since Joffery was busy with Rifle down in the garage, which was how you ended up outside of the brightbill orphanage.

A human orphanage…you probably should have asked some questions about who you were going to see before you were walking up to the gate, but here you were.

“...what does…little pup look like exactly?” You hedged, looking over at the skeletons who were scanning the children staring down at your approach through every window. 

“YOU'LL KNOW EM’ WHEN YOU SEE THEM, BOSS. THERE JUST SOMETHING ELSE, I MEAN LITTLE KID SEES A PICTURE IN A MAGAZINE, TRACKS DOWN A BUSINESS NUMBER, RECRUITS AN ACCOMPLICE, AND PUTS THEIR PLAN INTO ACTION.” He beamed proudly. 

“Well, they definitely do sound like something special.” You replied, leading the way into the building. 

A sharply dressed older woman with her graying hair pulled back into a tight bun greeted you as you walked in, you didn't get two words in before a small gray blur with brown hair barreled into Roulette first, then Papyrus. 

“Francis, what on earth is this?” The older woman asked, addressing the child, who made a face at being called ‘Francis’ but otherwise didn’t seem to react to the older woman.

“This little one is actually why I’m here ma’am!” I jumped in. pulling a copy of vanity fair off the receptionists desk and distracting the older woman so that the skeletons could have their moment with the child. “I was so impressed by their initiative, finding my business number and reaching out to ask about excelling as a woman, since they have such great role models here, I just had to come and offer a donation for the people raising such determined future business leaders.” 

“Really? They said all of that?” The older woman asked, bringing a hand up her her lightly flushing face.

“More or less.” You agreed. 

“Well…really that is quite impressive…if you want we have a sitting room with board games for potential adopters to talk with children, would you like to go and speak with the young lady there?” 

“I think that that would be wonderful.” You agreed easily, giving the boys even more privacy for their reunion, you would have left them alone for a few minutes but before you could leave the room the kid ran up to give you a hug as well. Their little hands wrapping around one of your thighs holding onto your pants suit tightly. 

“...oh…umm…hello?” You asked hesitantly. 

“NYAHA THEY REALLY APPRECIATE THIS BOSS.” Sniper said, smiling as the little kid turned to them again, fluttering their hands. Then his smile did something funny, and it was only because you had started paying closer attention to Carbine that you noticed it. It was a wavering twitch, but he kept up appearance pretty well. “NOW MIGHT NOT BE THE BEST TIME PUP…REMEMBER WHEN YOU'D GO SPEND A FEW WEEKS WITH MISS TORIEL WHILE WE WERE WORKING? THIS IS JUST LIKE THAT.” 

“...they're asking if they can come home.” Roulette explained, and you couldn't help the little jump you did, because you hadn't noticed him walking up beside you. 

“Home?” You asked softly, glancing at the skeleton and then back at the child still pouting up at Sniper. 

“With us…Sniper fought like hell to keep us from being separated, but…with the collars on there was nothing we could do except watch them be taken away.” He explained and your heart ached as you imagined being ripped away from your family, because it was obvious that they were family.

You felt something hot and angry surge up in your chest and you looked at Roulette, missing the way that Little pups head whipped around. “Is there a logistical reason why they can't come home with us?” 

“...what?” Roulette asked, blinking twice.

“Is the house unsafe? Do you think they wouldn't be happy there? Is there a reason they can't come with us?”. 

“...you're an unemployed, unmarried, twenty year old. There's no way they'll let us take them.” He replied, and you squared your shoulders back. 

“I am also a very rich, very powerful young lady and I'm tired of that not being enough to help anyone.” You replied, putting on a saccharin smile and leaving the room to find the headmistress.

“Excuse me ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm just so impressed by that child, I think I'm already quite attached. How does the adoption process work at Brightbill?” You asked pulling out your checkbook to make your “donation.” 

A part of you knew it was immoral to bribe your way into leaving with a child today, but it was more immoral for them to have been separated in the first place, so it balanced out, right?

“What name would you like me to put down on the paperwork?” You asked, gesturing to the section of the paperwork called new start, where you could file name changes. 

The little kid spelled out Frisk and the headmistress chuckled,

“She heard it from another girl we had in the honor hall, and just fell in love with the name.”  

“I went to school with about three Rebecca's, so Frisk it is, little one.”

You were signing the paperwork when the gravity of the situation fell on you. You just…adopted a child. 

Shit. 

You really did it this time.

Roulette drove again, with you and Sniper in the back and the small child bouncing excitedly between you…you needed a car seat. They didn't look big enough to just be in a seatbelt. 

…And toys and clothes…books? 

Joffrey would probably know what to do.  

It was fine! It would be fine, you just had to put on a happy face until you could figure it out. Which was made easier by Frisk’s deep brown eyes going wide when Roulette pulled up in front of the manor, looping down towards the garage. 

“Madam, welcome back! Where did…you…go?” Joffrey greeted as you walked in, trailing off as he looked down at the child and the manila folder in your hands.

“... Joffrey, could you help Roulette and Sniper find a bedroom for Frisk while I try to think of how to tell my father I've adopted a child.” You hedged watching the old man blink a few times before his face split in a broad smile. 

“Well young miss, tell me do we prefer stuffed animals or dolls? I think we still have some of the madams up in the attic.”

“Little pup doesn't really go by miss…it's kinda a monster thing they picked up from us.” Roulette hedged, “young monsters don't really pick pronouns until they're down to two stripes.” 

“...Will young master suffice?” Joffrey asked, opening one of the toolboxes and pulling out a metal diecast car.  Frisk nodded enthusiastically as they took the offered car.

“Well young master, stuffed animals or dolls?” He asked again, leading the way up into the house with a smiling Roulette trailing after them. You split off to go to your office, only realizing that you were being followed when you sank down into your office chair with your head in your hands wondering how you were ever going to tell your father. 

“I'LL NEVER BE ABLE TO REPAY YOU FOR THIS MA'AM.” Sniper's voice had you lifting your head. 

“You don't have to repay me…you obviously never should have been separated in the first place.” You replied tiredly. 

“BE THAT AS IT MAY…I JUST WANTED YOU TO KNOW…NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS IN THE FUTURE. YOU HAVE MY LOYALTY FOR LIFE MA'AM, I PROMISE YOU THAT.” He said so seriously, that you had a feeling he was saying something important, but your brain was absolutely too fried to worry about that.

“Thank you Sniper, but really…I couldn't imagine being taken from Joffrey or my parents. I wouldn't be able to sleep at night if we just left them there.” You replied, noticing that he was actually looking at you as he spoke, his eye lights sharp and observant. 

“YOU'RE THE ONLY HUMAN TO EVEN CONSIDER THAT A HUMAN COULD HAVE MONSTER FAMILY MA'AM…THEY WON'T FORGET THAT, AND WE SURE WON'T.” He replied, tipping his hat as he left you alone with your turbulent thoughts.

You didn't regret what you did, you never would, but…there would be consequences.  

You just needed to be a big girl and deal with those consequences you thought as you picked up the phone and started dialing. 

Chapter Text

You had never been relieved to get your father's voicemail before. It normally left you feeling down for the rest of the day, but in this case it was a relief. 

You left a message saying you had something important to tell him that you thought he should hear from you and not a voicemail and you left it at that. 

It was…probably going to be fine. Joffrey was good with children and Frisk had reached out to you mainly to get to Roulette and Sniper, you probably wouldn't have to do anything. 

Have to, being the key phrase. It was actually very easy for Frisk to worm their way into your heart. 

It started small, a tiny bit of respect blooming as you watched the childlike ease with which Frisk interacted with the Monsters. It was obvious that Roulette and Sniper were the only ones the child had known, but after a few days of initial shyness they treated the other four skeletons just as warmly. 

Then there was the bolt of affection when you caught them following either you or Jeffery around like a little duckling copying you. It was…just so cute. You noticed it first with Joffrey. Frisk would trail behind him, clasping their little hands behind their back. 

Then later while you were giving Carbine a run down of the month's compensation, you glanced at movement out of the corner of your eye and saw Frisk meticulously folding their hands in front of them, looking down at their hands then up at yours before crossing one leg over the other. 

Cute. So freaking cute. 

The last nail in your coffin was over breakfast. You had been telling Frisk that they could have anything they wanted since you brought them home, but they had never asked for anything, instead Roulette or Sniper would mention that they needed more clothes or more kid friendly books, until they brought you a sketch while you sipped your coffee. 

“Hmmm…oh where did you find that?” You asked curiously, looking over the design. It was one of yours, you were practicing layering with it. It was an older fashioned dress with ribbons and frills. You always thought it would look really good in white with red or black accents.

“SORRY, THEY GET INTO EVERYTHING. I’M NOT SURE WHERE THEY GOT IT, BUT THEY REALLY LIKE IT.”  Sniper explained, smiling sheepishly.

“If you like it we can order you something similar.” You offered them, biting your lip when they shook their head and pointed insistently at the drawing. “You want this exact dress?” You asked for clarification.

They nodded excitedly.

“Oh sweetheart, this one doesn't exist, it’s just a concept.” You explained, feeling like you were shot through the heart when their little smile dropped. You had said that they could have anything they wanted after all, and you were a woman of your word…and just like that Frisk had you completely wrapped around their little finger. “Well…there might be a way for you to get this one if you don’t mind a wait.” You offered, laughing a little when they brightened up.

“YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THAT BOSS. THEY CAN LIVE WITHOUT IT.” Sniper said softly.

“They could, but I'm a little bored and it will give me something to do.” You replied, as Joffery brought out eggs, “After breakfast of course.” 

“...wait…are you going to make that?” Rifle asked, leaning over to look at the sketch. 

“Yeah, we have a studio around the back of the house…I think we mentioned that before.” You explained absently. 

“YOU MUST BE QUITE TALENTED.” Carbine commented looking over the design and you started to brush him off, deflect away from the topic, but Joffery spoke before you could.

“I’ve always thought the madam was quite good.” He praised easily making you blush. 

“Yes well…” You started, fighting down your blush, “It's just a little something I have always done to occupy my time when I’m bored…I actually considered offering to make you each something as an apology for it taking so long to get you new clothes, but it would take me so long to just make one outfit that I thought it would be insulting.” 

“...we got the time to wait for them now.” Rifle offered, and you smiled over your coffee politely. 

“If you want we can do some measurements.” You offered hesitantly, half expecting him to politely decline. 

“Sure.” He said, and your eyes flashed up to his face, trying not to seem too hopeful.

“Oh, okay.” You agreed, thinking you had a really nice pastel that would look good with his white suit jacket. “We can go out to the little studio after breakfast.” You offered, hoping you seemed nonchalant, but the small smile curling up on his skull made you think that maybe you didn’t exactly pull it off. 

There were still occasions when you got small bolts of anxiety leaving the house, but with all of the skeletons deciding to tag along and since you were only going into the back yard you pushed it down as you led the way to the studio.

“Little?” Colt huffed as you approached the old guest house. 

“Okay, maybe its not that little on the outside, but trust me, there isn’t a lot of free space on the inside when you account for all the bolts and tables and machines and mannequins.” You explained reaching for the doorknob and stalling. The nob didn’t turn. Of course it didn’t turn, you kept the door locked because of all the expensive equipment and fabrics in the building, but that was also where your portfolio with all your sketches was. 

“...Frisk…how did you get this sketch?” You asked as you fished out your keys and opened the door.

The child blinked up at you before shrugging and Sniper laughed a little nervously. 

“SORRY ABOUT THAT BOSS, THEY GET INTO EVERYTHING.” He said, sounding apologetic, though he didn’t really look it. 

You waved him off with a small laugh of your own. “No, it's alright, I was just curious.” 

You heard a whistle behind you as you led the way into the building, bolts lined the wall from floor to ceiling, there were small nooks for draft tables, with papers strewn across the tops, there were two large sewing machines and several mannequins taking up floor space around the middle of the room, not to mention the half finished projects here and there.

“...okay it's a little more cluttered in here then I remember.” You said sheepishly.

“Honestly it's better than I remember it.” Joffrey hummed, making you blush.

“Okay, just watch for needles and make yourselves comfortable.” You replied, grabbing a long ribbon of measuring tape and a notebook from exactly where you left them. “Frisk, step right up please.” 

You asked, gesturing to a (mostly) clear area that was backlit by large radius windows. Then you started measuring. It wasn’t going to be a form fitting dress, so you didn’t need their overbust or underbust, instead you just wrote down numbers for around their chest, waist, and hips. Then the length for their arms and legs, easy. You were just finishing up their measurements when you noticed something Musket was looking at. The exact same bolt of fabric that you thought would look really nice on him. 

He was appraising the quality, running one clawed hand over the deep red of the fabric, watching as the light caught the paisley pattern. 

“You know, I thought that that would make a nice accent shirt, under a flat black.” You hedged, catching his attention. 

“What the hell, little lady, go ahead.” Colt replied, jumping in as he stripped his suit jacket off. 

“What do you even want?” You asked playfully, turning over a page to start getting Colt’s measurements, around the neck, chest, bicep…you made it to the bicep before your brain caught up to the disparity between what your eyes were seeing and what numbers you were getting from the tape.

“...Colt…could you do that again?” You asked hesitantly, re-measuring his bicep while he chuckled. “...what!?” You gasped, staring at the skeleton while glancing at the little number 18 for his bicep circumference. 

“Yur impressed, I understand.” He teased, making you blush. 

“How?” Was the only thing you could think to say…and of course the only thing you could think to do was give the bicep a squeeze since your hand was already there…”Come on for real how?” 

Colt just laughed at you as you moved on to measuring his shoulders. 

“Come on, please, you have to explain that a little.” You replied playfully, then the collar beeped. “Oh! Shit, abort.” You rushed, feeling the flush that had been creeping up your neck go cold as you hurried to cancel what the collar perceived as an order. 

“I’m so sorry.” You said, as the collar’s light flashed green and went off. He waved you off, seeming more subdued now,

“Don’t worry bout it.” He muttered, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Kinda surprised that hasn’t happened before now.”

“I went to a very expensive etiquette program.” You explained, continuing when Rifle looked over curiously. “Proper young ladies do not make demands, for example we do not say ‘go make the tea.’ we say ‘I think it's about tea time.’’ 

You snickered when Frisk made an exaggerated retching noise. “Though I agree, there are more polite ways to express distaste.” 

“Stars that sounds exhausting.” Rifle mused. 

“You get used to it.” You replied absently doing Colt’s inseam, just to have the measurement, at least it was absently until he hummed,

“Not even gonna buy me dinner first?” He teased, making you blush brightly. 

Musket reached one of his long arms out to smack the back of Colt’s skull without saying a word. 

“Dude. Kid.” Roulette also scolded. 

“Little kid, they ain’t gonna know what I’m talking about.”  Colt defended, but even he turned red when Frisk made a few gestures with there little hands.

“WHA- PUP WHERE ON EARTH DID YOU LEARN THAT!?” Sniper shouted, louder then you had ever heard him before, after a few more signs he crossed his arms, “WELL WE WILL BE WRITING THAT ORPHANAGE IMMEDIATELY ABOUT THOSE OLDER KIDS…I…IF THAT'S…”  He trailed off glancing at you. You didn’t get the chance to reply though as Joffery was sliding his glasses on, his hands mirroring his words.

“Indeed. It was highly inappropriate for them to let you overhear those kinds of jokes, we won’t need to write them, I can handle it this evening.” He explained, you didn’t even know that he knew sign language. 

“I have no idea what's going on, but I trust you to handle it Joffrey.” You said, writing down the last of Colt’s measurements, and moving along to Rifle as he stepped up, smiling down at you. 

“We can teach you some hands…it’s the version of sign language we had underground.” Roulette offered. “They know more hands than ASL anyway.” 

“I think I would like that.” You replied. 

You took each of the skeletons measurements, and asked them about fabrics and styles while Joffery left to do whatever it was that he deemed handling it. 

Then the days fell into a pleasant routine. You would get your work done after breakfast, then instead of forcing yourself to find extra paperwork you would go out to the studio and work on clothes until lunch. You practiced some small hand signs with Frisk and Roulette, small things to begin with; ‘drink,’ ‘food,’ ‘more,’ ‘thank you.’ It was small simple sentiments, but you felt like it was a fun way to bond with Frisk. 

Then if you still had the mental energy you would go back out to the studio. Sometimes Rifle would come in and ask you a question about the machine and the different stitches you were doing. Your machine was an expensive one, so it had a wide variety of stitches it could do. You weren’t sure why he was so interested at first, until it dawned on you.

“...you know you don’t have to do that…I know this probably isn’t very interesting.” You said, pinning some fabric in place. 

“Well…a lot of people think that auto mechanic stuff isn’t very interesting, but you still kinda…let me go on about that…just seems like something you really like doing.” He explained with a little shrug. You stared at him for a minute, blinking a few times before intently turning back to your sewing. 

“...How is the Jaguar going?” You asked intently. He whistled between his teeth and smiled.

“It’s a mess. I can see why your grandad didn’t have time to fix it up…I kinda looked at the other cars he refurbished, so I can tell his work, it’s like a signature, but the Jaguar has someone else’s fingerprints all over it, and they had no idea what they were doing, stuff ain't in the right places, and a few of the parts are for a different model of Jaguar, and it's all locked up.” He explained, starting to describe the work he was doing.

It was nice. 

Much more relaxed than it had been the entire time the skeletons had been living in your manor. 

You got Frisk’s dress done first, smiling when they jumped up and down excitedly. One by one you finished a shirt here, a pair of pants there. 

You finished a lovely pastel shirt with a wrench hidden in the stitching of the cufflink for Rifle late one evening and instead of waiting for the next day you decided to bring it up to his room. You knocked on his bedroom door, vaguely hearing the shower running, you decided that it probably wouldn’t hurt to leave the shirt in his room, since you knew the private bathrooms had doors that could be closed and locked. 

So you slipped in, laying the shirt down, then you froze…your heart stuttering before you picked the shirt back up and slipped out of the room, deciding to just give him the shirt tomorrow so that he wouldn’t know what you had seen.

Did you even know what you saw? You just glanced, there's a chance you saw wrong.

But, it had almost looked like his collar was sitting on his nightstand next to a small screwdriver.

That…probably wasn’t any of your business though. 

Chapter Text

Steam rose from the coffee cup on your desk. You had grabbed it and a waffle and ran to your office first thing in the morning. You knew the skeletons could read your poker face pretty well, so until you were sure you could be normal about what you saw your best option was to avoid Rifle.  

Which was a shame because you had been growing very close to him recently as you talked about his work in the garage and your work in the studio. It was really nice to have someone take so much interest in your clothes, you had even willingly shown him your portfolio. 

…Maybe you hadn't even seen what you thought you saw. You didn't know much about cars, surely there was something under them that was a thick metallic circle? 

Yeah…it was probably just…some kind of car part. You reasoned, trying to convince yourself that you didn't see what you thought you saw. 

You sighed, pushing the thoughts down. You weren't going to settle anything by overthinking it, so you might as well try to actually get some work done. 

You went through your email, the president of the monster liberation organization you had emailed a while ago finally got back to you. 

Mr. Balsamiq Serif ( weird name but okay. ) thanked you for reaching out and for your donation, then he expressed interest in access to the PR team you offered.

This was what you needed, work that you could get lost in. So you emailed him back with resources, and asked if he could let you know if there was anything else he might need in the future for his organization. 

A soft knock drew your attention away from your computer screen and you called out for whoever it was to come in. You had been meaning to leave the door open, but you kept forgetting. 

Musket opened the door, standing in the doorway primly. 

“MADAM, YOU HAVE A VISITOR.” He said, drawing your full attention to him, you never got guests. 

“Oh..okay.” You replied standing up and following him into the foyer, where Kent fucking Donnivan was waiting and talking to Joffrey.

…god why? 

“Kent, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You forced out with a smile. 

“Hello darling…friend…my darling friend.” He floundered for a moment and you cursed the bolt of affection that that sent through you. You used to be really good friends years ago before you tried dating. You wished you could go back to that, but when he pulled a bouquet of pink flowers out from behind him you trampled the thought. “I wanted to come check on you and my father wanted to invite you out on our yacht, but I didn’t think you would want to do that this time of year.” He rambled slightly.

You accepted the flowers but made sure to pass them off to Joffrey, so that he could find a vase for them. “Thank you, really, I’m doing alright though, just busy.” 

“Oh, I understand, trust me. I was just worrying about you and since I was in town I thought I would stop by.” He replied casually.

“Well, I really appreciate it.” You replied, clasping your hands together in front of you as the silence dragged. 

“...so…I'm going to be in town a couple more days.” He hedged.

“That's nice. I know your father has had you traveling a lot for business.” You replied placatingly.  

“Yes…while I was in I was actually wondering if I could get a suit…you know for old times sake?” He asked, and you melted slightly. You used to always make him something whenever he came to visit. In fact, when you looked closely, he was still wearing the tie you made him when you were sixteen. 

So…you caved.

“Yeah, what were you thinking?” You asked and Kent brightened. 

“Something fitted…do you have any more paisleys like this one, but not as bold? I know your work, and this is lovely.” He asked, pointing towards Musket before cringing when he met the monster's eyes before stepping away slightly from his cold stare. 

You glanced over and sure enough, Musket was wearing the shirt you had made for him. It really did look good with a black tie and suit jacket, though that could also be because of Musket’s tall imposing figure. 

Looking at how obviously uncomfortable Musket made Kent, you thought of an idea to make sure he mostly behaved.

“We can go out to the studio now,” You offered before turning to Musket, “Would you like to come with us?” 

Kent balked a little and glanced at you, “You just take them everywhere don’t you?” He teased and you smiled.

“Well, given our history I thought it would be inappropriate to be in an enclosed space with no chaperone.” You replied and Joffrey jumped right in, leaning close to Kent.

“Highly inappropriate, really two unmarried twenty something year olds, I don’t want to imagine what you could get up to.” The old man scolded gently, making Kent blush.

“I- that wasn’t…inappropriate, right of course. Sorry.” He sputtered nervously. 

“Right, so…” You trailed off turning to Musket, “If you're too busy, I can ask someone else.”

“IT WOULD BE MY HONOR TO CHAPERONE, MA’AM.” He replied, sending an absolutely devious smile Kent’s way. 

“Perfect, let's go, shall we.” You replied, clapping your hands as you led the way out to your studio. “Now, that particular fabric is a special selection that I had ordered, I don’t believe I have anything exactly like it, but I think I have a soft green fabric that is similar in style. You can look through what I have though.” 

“You have great taste, I’m sure that I can select some options and let you decide from there.” He agreed easily, though before he could become too complimentary Musket jumped in.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHEN YOU SAY SPECIAL SELECTION?” He asked, looking appraisingly at the fabric of his shirt. 

“Oh, it was a limited run distributed by a high end brand that I had to have imported to a business account. I order some fabrics through the Silk Flower boutique, and I pay Mrs. Esther a little extra for allowing me to do that…I just really liked that fabric and had been hoping to find something to do with it.”  You explained. 

“YOU SPOIL US, MA’AM.” He said, leaning slightly closer to you.

“Please, It was partially selfish on my part. It is such a lovely fabric, but it’s hard to find something to do with it since it is such a bold colored fabric, I was excited to finally get to work with it.” You brushed off, smiling up at the skeleton. 

“Some things never change.” Kent mused as you opened up your studio and you couldn’t help but laugh slightly.

“That's true, I’m really hoping you like that green fabric I recommended because I would love to work with it.” You agreed, gesturing for him to follow you in. 

“I’ll have to see the shade of green, but I trust your expertise.” He replied, “...speaking of which, have you talked to your mom about Juilliard yet?” He asked and you looked down away from him.

“No…I’m actually…going to be going to the Harvard school of Business.” You answered sullenly. 

“Oh…I’m…I’m very sorry.” He replied, sounding sincere. He probably was, in fact sincere, if there was anyone who understood the pressures and expectations that were piled on your shoulders it would be him. His father was just as meticulous in cultivating his ‘bright’ future as yours was. 

“It’s alright, it isn’t like I can’t still come in here to make things whenever I have the opportunity…and of course the clientele.” You said, brushing him off, as you pulled your measuring tape out. 

“Well…I will always be happy to receive anything you make.” Kent replied smoothly.

“AND OF COURSE, THERE'S US. I’M SURE COLT COULD ALWAYS USE ANOTHER SUIT JACKET, WITH THE WAY HE CONTINUALLY CREASES THE SLEEVES OF HIS OWN.” Musket chimed in, reminding you of something and blessedly giving you another avenue of conversation.

“Shoot, I made Rifle a shirt and I keep forgetting to bring it to him.” You mused aloud purposefully. You had been avoiding Rifle a little bit, but if you could imply that that was accidental then that would be for the best. 

“IF YOU BRING IT IN WITH YOU THEN I’M SURE THAT YOU COULD CATCH HIM WHEN HE COMES OUT OF THE GARAGE FOR DINNER.” Musket said, offering you an infuriatingly simple solution.

“Would you…” You started but caught yourself, making sure to use very specific language when addressing any of the skeletons since your slip up with Colt. “If it isn’t too much trouble, it would be nice if someone could remind me to bring the shirt in when we head back to the house.” 

“You are very good to your monsters.” Kent mused, and you paused, feeling comfortable enough with him to level him with a stern look. Kent threw his hands up in the air and smiled sheepishly, “Wait, umm I just meant…My father saw how safe these gentleman kept you so he invested…I mean…I was trying to ask if I could commission you for some nicer clothes for my monsters, I’m sorry if it came out…disrespectfully.” 

“...I try not to speak in possessives…I hate how people treat monsters, I think it's awful.” You say honestly, to maybe the only real friend you had ever had…before the monsters, before Blue and Rifle, Roulette and Sniper. 

Kent looked down at you almost sadly when you knelt down to get the measurements for his legs. “You’ve always been so kind…business really doesn't suit you.” He started and you shook your head knowing exactly where this was going. It was his main bargaining chip he used to use when you would tentatively talk about breaking up in the beginning, that if you stayed together, you would be able to do whatever you wanted and he would handle the business aspect of things. 

But that little tiny glimmer of want wasn’t enough for you to marry someone you didn’t love. “Don’t make it weird Kent.” You warned and Musket stepped just a little bit closer. 

Kent laughed nervously and shook his head, “Sorry, I’m really not trying to make it weird, it’s just…our families are so close, I can’t help but to worry…maybe in another world we could have been siblings instead of…whatever this is.”

“...THAT SOUNDS EVEN WORSE.” Musket mused and you couldn’t help but snort before you schooled your features.

“I know what he meant…and don’t worry, no matter how this shakes out in the end I will always be more than happy to help when you miraculously get your entire foot to fit into your mouth.” You teased in return. 

“Haha, well some things never change.” Kent replied, laughing sheepishly. 

You showed him several bolts of fabric after you got his new measurements and you don’t know if he picked the green one simply because you had said you wanted to use it or if he genuinely liked it, but that was the one he picked and you happily laid it out. 

“Alright, I should be able to have the suit done in about six weeks…but just in case we can say eight, that way you don’t have to make unnecessary trips.” You explained going over your checklist. 

“Well, I was hoping I could visit a few more times to watch the progress.” He replied and you paused. That used to be something you guys would do all the time when you were younger. He would come over almost everyday while you were making him something, but that was before things got so strained between you. 

“I don’t know…” You trailed off hesitantly, ready to say no when Kent sighed. 

“No, that's alright, I understand.” He said, so easily, just giving you that space. 

“...I suppose a couple supervised visits couldn’t hurt, but you know we really don’t want the tabloids speculating about us getting back together again.” You teased and he laughed a little more freely.

“Goodness no, you have no idea how excited my father got, he rushed into my office with the magazines.” Kent replied in obvious amusement before his face fell again, looking away from you. 

“Well…maybe we can placate him by announcing a business partnership or something.” You offered. 

“...maybe.” He agreed with a small hopeful smile, and for the first time you considered that maybe he wasn't as interested in a relationship with you as he was in making his father happy. 

“Alright, broach the topic with him and see what he says while I get started on the initial patterning, then in a week we can reconvene and discuss.” You said enthusiastically, tidying up your little studio and getting ready to leave.

As you did something orange came into your field of vision and you glanced up at Musket, holding the shirt you had made for Rifle. You smiled at him and took it. 

“Thank you, Musket.” You said, as you led the way out of the studio, taking Kent back to the foyer and seeing him off before you turned to the monster again. “Really, thank you so much.” You said, noticing that he was still staring at the door Kent left through. 

“MA’AM, I THINK YOU NEED TO BE CAREFUL WITH HIM.” He said, surprising you. 

“...why?” You asked softly and the monster’s red eye lights locked onto yours.

“HE’S VERY CONFIDANT CARRYING A GUN INTO THIS HOUSE.” He said and you relaxed. 

“Oh, that? I know Kent has a concealed carry permit. It's…given his family’s standing it's something that makes him feel safe, I honestly forget about it most days because he almost always has it on him.” You explained, trying to brush off his concern, but he shook his head. 

“IT ISN’T JUST THAT HE HAS A GUN. IT’S HOW HE CARRIES HIMSELF WITH IT…I WOULD JUST MAKE SURE THAT ONE OF US IS AROUND WHENEVER HE IS HERE.” He suggested again and you nodded having no idea what he could possibly mean by that. 

“Alright.” You agreed easily, since that was the plan even before Musket’s ominous warning. 

The skeleton just nodded once more before excusing himself to meet Joffrey for dinner, leaving you alone in the foyer with the strange thoughts and an orange shirt…

Shit the shirt! You thought, hurrying to the garage door, hoping to catch Rifle before he went to get his shower. 

You just managed to catch up to him as he was headed upstairs. 

“Hey! I got you something.” You called, holding the shirt out to him when he turned around, one foot poised on the first step he tipped, unable to catch himself on the banister as he flailed. You didn’t think as you stepped forward. He was too tall and lanky for you to catch, but you could at least keep him from cracking his skull against the floor as you went down with him. You ended up in a crumpled heap on the floor with his head nestled in your hands, half in your lap.

“I am so sorry! Are you alright?” You asked, looking down at him. 

“Y-yeah…” He stuttered, just looking up at you. 

“Are you sure?” You asked, trailing a hand over his skull appraisingly. 

“Yeah. M’ sure.” He confirmed again, still just staring up at you. 

“Did you hurt one of your legs or your back?” You hedged.

“Nope. I'm good.” He answered and you laughed a little as you looked down at him.

“You're just not getting up. I was worried.” You answered and his sockets widened, a faint dusting of orange rose to his cheekbones and he shot up.

“Shit! S-sorry.” He stuttered quickly sitting up in the floor across from you and you giggled again.

“It's alright. I'm just glad you're okay.” You said, smoothing your clothes down habitually and finding the shirt tossed aside to offer him. “I think you'll like what I did with the cufflinks.”

He blinked a few times and took the shirt, looking down at it curiously before a small smile curled his mouth up before it dropped slightly. “Hey boss…did…did I do something wrong?” He asked, finally moving to stand up so that he could look down at you. 

“Something wrong?” You asked, having no idea what he was talking about.

“It's just…I'm kinda good with patterns and stuff…just seems like…maybe you're going out of your way to be in places I'm not.” He explained and your mouth dropped open. You guess you weren't being as subtle as you thought you were.

“Oh…no you didn't do anything wrong.” You replied sheepishly, looking down at the ground. 

“...but you are avoiding me?” He hedged and you glanced up catching the glint of his collar. So you swallowed and decided to broach the topic.

“I just…I actually went to bring you this shirt a few days ago and…” You chickened out, “You weren’t dressed and I’m so sorry. I know it was kinda implied that I wanted a particular type of company when you first got here, but I would never…just never, I didn’t even mean to.” You rambled, mixing fact with fiction until he chuckled. 

“Is that all?” He asked, tucking the shirt under his arm and leaning closer. “Ya know…I wouldn’t say never.” He hedged.

“...what?” You asked, feeling a little stunned. 

“Just…I mean I…we’re both adults, if you get lonely and want a particular kind of company?” He hedged, leaving the question open ended and your eyes flicked down to his collar again. 

Maybe too obviously, because his hand comes up to touch the metal. “Never mind.” He said softly and your eyes flashed up to his sockets, he was at least smiling. “I get it…you’re a good person, ya know.” 

You can’t stop yourself from muttering, “I’m sorry.” Softly, but he waved you off. 

“Nah, like I said, I get it…it’s…I get it.” He repeated, giving you a reassuring smile. “It’s just nice to know that you weren’t, like mad at me or something. I missed talking to you about stuff.” 

“Yeah…I’m making a full suit now.” You hedged and he brightened up.

“That must take awhile.” 

“A couple weeks at least.” You agreed. 

You managed to fall back into a comfortable orbit, swallowing down what you knew (what you thought you knew), telling yourself that it didn’t matter and that it didn’t have to be weird. You could go back to getting updates about the Barracuda and it didn’t have to be weird. You even invited Rifle and his brother to be your chaperons for Kent’s next visit, thinking that it could be a lot of fun. 

But then you opened the door for Kent’s visit and your stomach dropped.

“God what happened!” You gasped, stepping forward. 

He laughed you off, turning his face away.

“I might have gotten into a car accident, I wasn’t wearing my seat belt so my face slammed into the steering wheel.” He said, with a laugh while you stared at the mottled red and black bruising on his face. “...dad was…pretty angry since it was the Bugatti…Furious actually.” He added softly and something in your stomach dropped because the bruising in his face wasn’t in the shape of a steering wheel. 

“...Kent…are you alright?” You asked softly and his expression shuttered crumpling slightly and you reached for him, but he caught your hands, taking a deep breath and getting his expression back under control. 

“Yes. I’m fine.” He said, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles, “...well maybe not fine, I’m obviously sore, but it isn’t all that bad, really you worry too much, darling.” He said in such a soft sweet way, that it instantly made you uncomfortable, it was way too intimate and you instantly pulled your hands away. 

“Well…as long as you’re sure you’re okay.” You replied hesitantly, heading towards the garage to let Rifle know that your guest was here.

“No chaperon today?” Kent asked, teasingly stepping closer to your side.

“Oh, we’re going to go get one of them now.” You deflected, taking a step away. 

“One of them?” He asked.

“I really think that you will like them, they're so fun…you really like cars right?” You asked. “I think you guys will have a lot to talk about, if not him you will definitely like his brother, you’re both very mathematically inclined…I just think that you might like them.”

“You think so?” Kent asked, smiling as you walked to the garage door, calling down for Rifle, you weren’t sure where Carbine was but you were sure Rifle probably would. 

“Of course.” You answered, waiting for Rifle to lop up the stairs. 

“Ah, yes, I remember you.” Kent said, shooting a charming smile at Rifle and holding his hand out. “I don’t think I introduced myself properly, Kent. Kent Donnivan.”

The skeleton looked him up and down before locking his eye lights on Kent’s face. 

“I remember you.” He said, before holding out his hand. “You lose a fight with a crowbar or something?” He asked as soon as he had a hold of Kent’s hand.

“Rifle?” You gasped, having no idea why he thought that would be appropriate to ask.

“Totaled a car more expensive than you’ll ever touch.” Kent replied and you turned on him.

“Kent!? What the hell?” You demanded, stepping between the two men. 

Maybe this had been a mistake. 

“Just a little friendly banter, darling, that's how men talk.” Kent deflected and Rifle snorted.

“Oh, yeah that wasn’t patronizing.” He mumbled and you felt a headache starting to come on.

“Do you know where Carbine is?” You sighed out, rubbing your temples, but they didn’t really seem to hear you. 

“Wow that's a big word for the help, I didn’t know you knew that one.” Kent shot back.

“Two for two, though you were supposed to be her best friend or something. Ya should know how she feels about talking to people that way.” Rifle replied and in sheer desperation you walked over to the stairs and did something very unlady-like. 

“Carbine, Joffrey! I think Rifle and Kent need help getting their dicks back in his pants!” You shouted up, turning back to the men when you heard them sputter. “Are you two done?” You asked, blushing in your own right then Carbine ran to the top of the stairs.

“WHAT!?” He gasped and you remembered why it was always best to think through your actions before you went through with them. Especially when Joffrey called into the foyer,

“Young lady! I absolutely will not tolerate such vulgar language! Honestly, I will be having a stern talk with Colt about this mouth you’re developing…” He might have continued shouting, but you hurried your little party out of the room towards the back of the house, feeling like your face was going to catch on fire. 

Really what had gotten into you?

“I am so sorry.” You muttered softly as you hurried your way to the studio. 

“OH NO, PLEASE CONTINUE, I'M VERY CURIOUS ABOUT WHAT COULD HAVE POSSIBLE INVOKED SUCH A REACTION.” Carbine encouraged, side eyeing you and then Rifle in kind. 

“Just introducin myself.” Rifle replied with a shrug.

“A friendly discussion, really, I don't know why the public humiliation was necessary.” Kent added nonchalantly.

You sighed, shaking your head. “Men.” you huffed, but did not elaborate. 

Things were not any less hostile in the actual studio, with Kent feeling more comfortable in openly flirting with you then he had been with Musket as the chaperone. You could have bit your tongue and let it slide, if it weren’t for a snide remark of a different kind. 

“Oh Darling?” He started and you rolled your eyes, continuing to focus on your sewing machine “Could you make sure the collar isn’t too tight? I hate when they're too tight, makes me feel a bit like a dog on a short leash.” He sneered and you spun to glare at him, finding exactly what you were expecting. He wasn’t looking at you.

“You can get out of my house Kent.” You said calmly. 

He spun to look at you, looking hurt. “What? Darling-” He started but you shook your head.

“No. I’m serious, I don’t know what has gotten into you, but it better get right back out of you, because I am not going to tolerate whatever this is. I want you to leave and think very hard about your actions before you ever consider coming back.” You scolded, taking one more long look at his badly bruised face. 

He said your name in a soft broken whisper, taking a step forward, “Darling, I’m sorry-”

He didn’t get anything else out though, because Carbine was stepping up between you. “I BELIEVE THE LADY OF THE HOUSE HAS ASKED YOU TO LEAVE, MR. DONNIVAN.”

“...I…I suppose she has…I’m sorry.” Kent muttered one more time before turning to leave. 

“I’m so, so sorry. I’ll be right back.” You told your guards before rushing to follow him out. You caught up with him easily, and reach out for his arm.

“Kent? Is something wrong, this isn’t like you, I told you those were my friends and you still thought it was appropriate to talk to them that way.” You started, but he jerked his arm away.

“I’m fine.” He snapped and you flinched back, staring up at him wide eyed. Kent’s eyes widened as well, and for a second he stared at you like he didn’t know what to do. “...I…I am so sorry.” He eventually stuttered out. 

“...Kent…what’s going on with you?” You asked softly and his lower lip wobbled slightly, before he looked down at the ground.

 “I…I’m in a bit of trouble…nothing I should have taken out on your monster…your friend…I’m sorry.” 

“What kind of trouble?” You asked and he hesitated, looking into your eyes, before looking down at the ground again. 

“...I was drinking.” He said hesitantly, “When I crashed…it's causing some legal trouble we’re trying to keep out of the tabloids.” 

“Oh, Kent-” You gasped and he laughed humorlessly. 

“I know, trust me…I really fucked everything up.” 

“I’m sorry you're having a hard time, but I would really like it if you didn’t behave like that.” You said. You were still angry with him and that wasn’t going away any time soon, but he used to be your friend and you could almost see that boy peeking through as he stared down at the ground. “And I would like you to apologize to Rifle before you even think about coming over again.” 

“Of course dearest.” He agreed easily and you cringed.

“...Kent, can you stop calling me that as well…It makes me think that you have the wrong idea.” You added and he swallowed hard.

“Of course…I’m…I am truly so sorry for how I behaved today.”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.” You replied firmly.

“Of course, I will apologize to your…to Rifle.” He sighed out. 

“Alright then…goodbye Kent…I really do hope everything works out.” You said, turning back around. Carbine and Rifle were waiting outside of the studio, you smiled sheepishly as you walked up to them, “I’m really sorry about-” You started but Rifle just nodded at you and walked off before you could get the rest of the words out. 

“WILL YOU BE ALRIGHT ON YOUR OWN THE REST OF THE EVENING?” Carbine asked as coldly as if you hadn’t spent months trying to build a relationship.

“I…yeah I should be.” You answered hesitantly. 

He nodded, straightening his tie and turning away from you. “YOU SHOULD BE CAREFUL ABOUT THE COMPANY YOU KEEP, MA’AM. A REPUTATION IS LIKE A HOUSE OF CARDS; HARD TO BUILD AND MAINTAIN, BUT EASY TO BLOW OVER.”  

You didn’t know what to say in response to that as he walked away, leaving you feeling exactly like a house of cards that had been knocked over.

Chapter Text

‘If he starts getting handsy, say blue and he's gone.’ Roulette signed, while pretending not to be paying attention and you had to bite back a snicker. 

It had been a couple of weeks since Kent’s incident and he had, as promised, shown up at your home ready to apologize for his actions the only way he knew how. With gifts. 

Not to say he was trying to buy forgiveness, but he simply didn’t know what else to do when he had wronged someone, so his first impulse was to bring in a ten thousand dollar, tool vault elite into your garage.

“Kent, you actually have to say the words.” You had scolded gently when that seemed like it was all he was going to do.

“...I don’t like you.” Were the first words out of his mouth and you gaped at him. “I don’t like you, but I still should not have said some of the things I said…not everything but…certainly some things were below the belt.” 

“Noted.” Was all Rifle said to him and you didn’t press it, things weren’t that different between the two of you, but you couldn’t deny that he had every reason to not like Kent. You made sure that outside of Kent’s apology, Rife wouldn't have to be around the man. 

“If you don’t want that in here, I can get rid of it.” You offered when Kent was up the stairs and out of earshot. Rifle had laughed and looked at the new box.

“Nah, I won’t turn down his money, but it don’t do much for my opinion of him.” 

“I understand, I am really sorry for…for the way he talked to you and for even inviting him back if it makes you uncomfortable…I just thought that you deserved a proper apology.” You said sincerely, but he shook his head. 

“You said you would do something for him, so ya gotta do it. Your word is worth what you make it, I understand, Boss.” Rifle had laughed you off, shaking his head like he thought you were worrying about nothing. “I appreciate the concern though.”

“...Sweetheart? You aren't drinking your coffee?” Kent mused, leaning over your shoulder making you cringe and bringing you back to the present. 

“Ah, yes, it seems that Joffrey didn’t quite get all the soap rinsed out of my cup when he poured my morning coffee.” You replied, pensive. 

You knew for a fact that it was on purpose, but this was starting to go on for far to long…even if the night after your outburst Frisk had asked you what Rifle needed help with in the foyer, you thought floundering and looking to Sniper for help explaining that one would have been punishment enough, but apparently Joffrey had finally made good on his promise to put soap in your coffee by simply refusing to properly rinse your cup.

‘Sweetheart?’ Roulette signed, curiously, rolling his eye lights towards Kent.

‘Asked him not to call me darling.’ You replied, with one hand under the sewing table. It did make you think that you should talk to him about that one too, especially when Kent settled a hand on one on your shoulders.

“I could go and get you a fresh one.” He offered easily. 

“No thank you, that's very kind, but I shouldn’t be drinking in the studio anyway.” You replied, brushing him off gently. 

“Of course.” He agreed, taking half a step back and turning to your chaperone. “So, tell me, Mr. Roulette, how do you like working for our darling host here?” 

“Is that an order, sir?” Roulette asked, turning to face Kent. It seemed like word of Kent’s dickbagery had spread quickly and all the monsters in your home had chosen to act accordingly. Kent at least had the good graces to look ashamed. 

“No…I actually think my dear friend here would stab me with a sewing needle if I tried to order any of you around.” Kent replied sheepishly. 

“Under your fingernails.” You agreed absently and Kent sputtered.

“Why under my fingernails!?” 

You laughed, shaking your head slightly.

“Sorry, getting kidnapped and then having these fine gentlemen move in has been a horrible influence on me.” You replied, lining up a seam and closing it off until it looked perfect. 

“Well…let's just thank our lucky stars that any threats made by your kidnappers were simply threats.” Kent mused and you turned to look at him, remembering that you had been working hard to keep up a good public front about the whole thing at your debutante. 

“They broke three of my ribs and dislocated my wrist…if the police hadn’t found me I don’t doubt that they would have gone through with their threats.” You explained and he paled, staring at you in horror and for a second you regretted saying anything.

“But you weren’t…It was a ransom they weren’t supposed to actually hurt you.” He sputtered. “Thats…Thats not how ransoms work. You were never…You shouldn't have been hurt.”

“Yes, well as it turns out, the best way to get people to pay out on a ransom is to make sure that you aren't exactly safe from harm. It isn't like the movies, Kent.” You replied with a shrug. 

“I…I’m so sorry, I had no idea.” He replied, but you waved him off.

“I tried very hard to make sure that very few people knew how bad it was. We have to keep up appearances right?” 

“...right.” He agreed hesitantly. “...you know…you’re making such good time on the suit…perhaps we could take a break and go get lunch at a cafe?” 

“Joffrey is probably already in the middle of making lunch I’m afraid.” You deflected. 

“Yes…I just…want to take you out somewhere…I’ve noticed that you don’t really go out anymore and we used to get lunch almost every day.” He hedged.

‘Buddy isn’t good at taking hints.’ Roulette signed, behind Kent. You didn’t respond to him this time as you looked at him. His eye lights were sharp as diamonds boring into the back of Kent’s head.

How long had he been looking at Kent that way and why? You hadn’t been paying attention.

“Yeah, we used to.” You agreed easily. “But some things change.”

“Of course, you're right.” He agreed, “my father is very intent that I do something for you, because of our family's relationship…could you think of anything you would be comfortable with?” 

“The flowers were plenty Kent.” You replied. 

“Yes, but he was hoping for something more public, to present a unified front.”  

“I don’t think the Boss is interested, kid.” Roulette said, but his hands said something else, ‘we still don’t know who pulled off the kidnapping the first time. Maybe making a public appearance with another high standing member of your society wouldn’t be a bad idea. With us there obviously.’ 

You weighed your options, contemplating before biting your lip because he had a point. 

“Perhaps when the suit is done we can go out and show it off.” You agreed reluctantly and Kent brightened up enough to make you regret it immediately. “As friends, Kent.”

“Yes, of course!” He agreed excitedly. “Such a nice suit, we will have to go somewhere very nice.”

“I’m paying for myself and my entire security detail is coming.” You added, “That includes Rifle, so you better be on your best behavior.” Though you wouldn’t force Rifle to hang around for the entire ordeal, it was mainly to warn Kent. 

“The entire security detail?” Kent hedged hesitantly. “Including…the tall imposing fellow?”

“Hmmm? Oh, you mean Musket? Yes, he is really one of the main ones I like to keep with me.” You answered, making that up on the spot, but if it got him to behave even a little bit while he was going through whatever crisis he was going through, then you could allow him to believe that you took Musket with you everywhere.

“Ah…I’m sure we will…have a great time together.” Kent muttered. 

“I’m sure we will.” You chirped enthusiastically and Roulette turned back away to keep from laughing. 

‘You are a menace, boss.’ He accused with his hands, and you turned back to your own sewing with an amused smile turning your lips up. You finished up, planning to meet again in two weeks to get a final fitting and finishing touches done a week before the planned dinner. 

That was the plan at least, until your machine jammed. It wasn’t just that it jammed, you could handle that, you had been using the machine for years it happens sometimes. But no, it jammed on a day when you had received another ‘no new leads’ call from your private investigator. It jammed on a day when you had answered twelve incredibly annoying condescending emails from people who called you your dad’s secretary. It jammed on a day when Kent had texted you saying that he saw a sunrise over a garden and thought of you. To sum up, your sewing machine jammed on a really bad day, and you simply didn’t want to fuck with it. 

You messaged Kent to push the final touch ups back one day and then you silenced your phone, and went back inside to get something to drink that was stronger than coffee. You were an adult dang it, you should be able to drink. You had barely gotten to the liquor cabinet in the sitting room when you felt tiny hands patting your hip.  

You glanced down and there was Frisk, looking up at you. 

“Hey, buddy, how can I help you?” You asked, taking a step away from the cabinet. 

‘Lights.’ They signed, and you…had no idea what they meant. 

“...ummm…Lights?” You asked and they nodded and reached up to grab one of your hands. They were so small that you had to bend down slightly as they led you up the stairs and then down the hall to where their room was. It was down the servants hall, right across from Roulette’s and Sniper’s. 

Walking in it was obviously a child’s room. Joffrey and the skeletons had decked it out to the nines. There were some dolls and several diecast cars on one of those little rugs with roads and buildings. There was a bench framed by two small bookcases. Their small bed had a dark gossamer canopy over it with white speckled stars. The walls were a soft blue to yellow ombre with large cartoon character stickers on them, some you recognized and some you didn’t. 

You didn’t have long to look around though, because as soon as you were in the room they were letting go of your hand and hurrying around to the other side of their bed where they pulled out long strings of fairy lights. 

“Oh, lights.” You said, dumbly as you stared at the strings. “...You wouldn’t rather have one of the guys help you, I don’t know if I can reach to hang those.”

Frisk shook their little head, their hair bouncing around as they did. You sighed, looking down at the little string of lights…it couldn’t be that hard to hang a simple string could it? 

You really have no idea how you got your wrists tangled in the stupid string, but you also couldn’t really be bothered to care, because of the trilling laughter that was coming out of Frisk. You understood that they weren’t entirely mute, but this was the first time you had heard them laughing, and it pulled a laugh out of you. 

“Okay, I get it, this is hilarious, but could I maybe get a hand?” You asked, laughing out loud when they nodded and then clapped. “...Roulette would be proud of that one, but come on?” You asked, pulling a little at one end of the string that loosened around your left wrist, but somehow tightened it around your right.  

“WHAT WOULD ROULETTE BE PROUD OF?” Sniper’s voice had you jumping slightly, and half turning to look over your shoulder at the man who walked into the room. 

“They have jokes.” You deadpanned, while Frisk signed. 

‘We’re a bit tied up at the moment.’ 

Sniper’s eye twitched, but a small smile fought at the corner of his mouth. “BOSS…HOW DID YOU MANAGE THIS?” He asked, as he blessedly stepped forward to help you. 

“I honestly don’t even know, I don’t think I could replicate it if I tried.” You answered honestly as you held your hands as far out to him as you could, without pulling down the work you had managed to do. 

“NYAHA, DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT, WE’LL GET YA DOWN.” He replied, smiling as he carefully untangled the string of lights from your wrists and arms. “WHAT WERE YOU TRYING TO DO ANYWAY?” 

You looked down at the lights and then back up at the skeleton, “If you want to help me hang the rest of this I can show you.” You offered and he blinked before nodding. 

“SURE BOSS, HOW CAN I HELP?” He asked. 

With him being so much taller than you it was easy to finish up much more quickly than you could have done on your own. You attached the little switch on the wall next to the light switch for the room and turned back to the skeleton.

“Alright, ready?” You asked, smiling slightly when he cocked his head to the side, then you flipped off the switch and turned on the fairy lights. The room looked almost magical with the starry canopy and the soft gradient on the walls. Frisk’s face lit up and they clapped their little hands as they looked around their room. 

“WOWIE…LOOKING GOOD BOSS.” Sniper praised, smiling under the soft light. “WHAT DO WE SAY, PUP?” He encouraged and the small child turned to you signing ‘thank you’ enthusiastically over and over again as they bounced. 

You couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling up inside of you as you smiled down at the small child. “You are very welcome, but I really didn’t do much besides get tangled up in half the lights.” 

“I REALLY DON’T KNOW HOW YOU MANAGED THAT.” Sniper mused. 

“Well, I think that's the closest thing I've ever done to work, so it makes sense that there were some hiccups.” You replied, but Sniper shook his head.

“YOU WORK ALL THE TIME BOSS. IT MIGHT LOOK DIFFERENT THAN MANUAL LABOR, BUT ITS STILL WORK.” He replied absently, and it struck you harder than you thought a simple statement should.  

“...Thank you.” You muttered shyly, “for saying that…a lot of people wouldn’t see it that way.” 

“PEOPLE TEND TO SEE WHAT THEY WANT TO.” He replied, before glancing away, “I THINK IT'S ABOUT TIME FOR DINNER.” 

“Oh, that's right. I think Joffrey mentioned something special for dessert.” You added, looking back down at the child. Sniper laughed again, shaking his head.

“YOU TWO ARE GOING TO SPOIL THEM.” He said, ruffling the child’s hair before they took his hand.

“A little bit.” You agreed before biting your lip, “If it's too much though, please let us know.”

“OH, NO THAT WAS HARDLY A COMPLAINT BOSS. MAYBE WE'LL TALK ABOUT IT MORE LATER THOUGH.” He deflected and you nodded, understanding that maybe in front of the child isn’t the best time to talk about the quality of their care.

“Of course.” You agreed easily, starting to lead the way down to the dining room, when Frisk grabbed your hand with their other hand.

Oh. okay. You thought, slowing down to walk beside them, as they walked between you and Sniper. 

It was a nice way to end a bad day. 

If only you could bottle up that happy feeling to take with you while you finished up Kent’s suit. 

“Keep yur hands to yourself.” Colt grit out, the rough baritone of his voice drawing your eyes up, not to him but to Kent, whose hand was hovering over your shoulder. 

“S-sorry, habit.” Kent defended, putting his hands back down to his sides. As uncomfortable as Musket made him, it seemed that Kent took for granted that he hadn’t said anything to him. Colt didn’t have any problem doing that though. 

“Yeah? Maybe make it a habit to keep them in yur pockets.” Colt replied and you snorted as you stood up, before covering your mouth to quickly hide your amusement. . 

“Alright, everything is looking good. I just need to tidy up a few things and it will be perfect.” You said, shooting a small look at Colt encouraging him to behave. At least you were hoping to encourage him to behave, but he really wasn’t a ‘play nice’ kind of monster, if you wanted someone to play nice you probably should have invited Roulette or Sniper. 

But then again maybe you didn’t want someone to play nice. 

“Oh, I made the reservation for our dinner…I hope you don’t mind but my father wanted to come…he hasn’t seen you since your birthday so I said I would ask.”

“I don’t mind.” You answered before hesitating. The Donnivan family was responsible for the sale and manufacturing of the monster collars, as well as other things, you imagined that with how close your father was to Kent’s that he had worked very closely with him to get the special permissions pushed through on your monster’s collars. “as long as he can behave with my guards. I don’t like the way you talked to Rifle, and I won’t make special exceptions for your father.”

Kent paled a little and looked away, “I’ll talk to him about it.” 

“Good.” You replied, moving to take the suit jacket down off his shoulders. 

“If I do that could you…” He hesitated, trailing off and looking away nervously.

“Could I?” You encouraged and he seemed to shake his head before forcing a smile.

“Oh, nothing too serious, maybe just consider bringing one or two of your guards instead of the whole lot.” He said, and for a second you didn’t think that that was what he was going to say, but you couldn’t be sure. You had grown apart over the years, so you couldn’t be sure. 

“Well…I’ll ask if Musket is busy that day, Colt would you also like to come?” You asked, smiling at the broad skeleton. 

“M-Musket and Colt?” Kent stuttered, staring at you. 

“Of course Musket and Colt, why not?” You asked, turning your attention to Colt who was smiling broadly at Kent. 

“Sure Boss, me and Musket would be honored to be your only guards for the evenin…sounds fun in fact.” He agreed 

“It's settled then.” You replied, settling on a date and time for the dinner, then Kent left, looking just a bit paler then when he arrived and you would have been lying if you said you didn't find it a little funny. 

“...boss…serious question?” Colt asked, drawing your attention to him, he had walked Kent to the door and you had assumed that he left, but you guess he hadn't. 

“Yes?” You prompted, giving him your full attention.  

“How well do you know him?” He asked, smoldering red eye lights finding your eyes.   

“...I used to know him very well. We were best friends a long time ago, his father and my father are business partners and best friends…but recently I would say that we have drifted apart.”  You replied honestly. 

“Know him well enough to know when he's full of crap?” Colt asked again and you hesitated. 

“...I…don't think he's being entirely honest with me if that's what you're asking.” You replied, clasping your hands together at your waist. The drinking and driving, the bruises that didn't look like a steering wheel, his constant pausing and rewording of things. 

“Good. Ya ain't naive.” Colt said, nodding as he pushed off the wall. “Keep that in mind at his little fuckin dinner, pay attention, and maybe me and Musket can teach ya a thing or two about callin a mans bluff.” 

“Well…I'm surprised you didn't throw an innuendo in there, I'm proud of you.”  You praised watching his eyes cut to the door.

“... I'm tryin to watch my mouth so that the fuckin butler stops leaving soap in my coffee cup.” He grumbled and you burst out laughing.

“Oh my goodness! Is he doing that to you too?” 

Chapter Text

You methodically took the curers down from your hair, careful not to touch your face so that your makeup didn't smudge.  

You didn't do anything fancy with it, dark neutral tones because the clothes you had chosen to wear for the night were bold. You thought it would be a bit of a nice visual cue, in case anyone took pictures of your outing. Whether people realized it or not, they made subconscious connections. It was something your mother taught you early on, in small ways. 

If Kent was dressed in pastel greens and grays, you were going to be in deep bold reds and blacks to match your guards instead of him, setting the narrative visually. So you chose a long burgundy evening dress, with a slit in the satin fabric up to just below your hip. The straps sat off your shoulders, fabric draping together in a low sweetheart neckline. 

Since it was a plain dress you accented it with quite a bit of gold jewelry. A large ruby on your middle finger, a bracelet on the opposite arm, and a golden choker around your throat that dripped diamonds down towards the neckline of the dress. You finished the outfit with a black mink shawl to cover your shoulders and black heels. 

When your appearance was perfect, every single hair and lash in place, you stepped out of your bedroom and slowly click clicked your way to the foyer. Your heels were taller than you had worn in awhile, so you were taking your time until you got used to them again. You definitely weren’t stalling to make a grand entrance…and even if you were you had taken forever to get ready and you thought you looked fucking gorgeous for all the effort, so a grand entrance was rather deserved. 

You, of course, got the exact reaction you wanted while walking down the stairs. You had noticed that your guards keyed in to any sound and any movement, so you didn’t even need to announce yourself as you walked down the stairs, their eye lights found you almost immediately anyway. 

A long low whistle came from between Colt’s teeth somehow as he looked you up and down. “Damn, boss, ya look good in our colors.” He teased, smirking broadly. 

“Musket, I take back what I just said.” Joffrey interrupted, and the taller skeleton smirked and popped Colt on the back of the head.

“What!? That wasn’t inappropriate ya old codger.” Colt grumbled, rubbing the back of his skull and you had to bite back giggles.

“You look lovely madam.” Joffrey said, ignoring the skeleton’s comment and stepping towards you to offer his arm, which you happily took. 

“IS THERE ANY REASON FOR THE CHOICE MA’AM?” Musket asked as you got closer. 

“The madam of the house is an expert at playing the social game.” Joffrey praised effortlessly, making you laugh more freely. 

“I didn’t want to match Kent.” You explained simply. “People make correlations, so if we’re dressed too similarly, tabloids might draw comparisons. I have the advantage of knowing exactly what he will be wearing, so I can dress accordingly.” 

“So you would rather match us?” Colt asked, letting his eye lights trail over you again, slowly. 

“Unified front and all that,” You deflected with a shrug, “now can we please just get this over with, I want to go sit down then come home and take these shoes off.”

“...you know you could switch them before you leave?” Joffrey offered, but you pulled him towards the door.

“Then the train of my dress would touch the floor.” You replied, not wanting to change them, simply because they looked really good with the outfit. You would mostly be sitting anyway so it wouldn’t be a problem. 

Or it shouldn't have been a problem. You didn’t anticipate having to stand at the front of the restaurant with the Maître d' for twenty minutes, taking pictures and shaking hands. You weren’t really sure what all the fuss was about, until he said something that made you feel warmth blooming in your chest. 

“We saw the pictures from your debutante you know, and we just knew…you know with the necklace and everything…and of course word travels, the Silk Flower’s special helper speaks very highly of you when she sends messages to…well my own little helped.” He whispered conspiratorially. 

“Oh, well, it is nice that people know where I stand.” You replied, smiling warmly. 

“Of course…just not too many people…not right now you know, but my girl is so happy that someone like you is on our side.” He replied making your skin crawl slightly at the strange air of secrecy the man was projecting…crawling a lot actually.

Oh fuck. 

There was a massive black spider on your arm. You had barely squeaked when Musket gently took the creature, looking at it before dropping it onto the counter.

“S’ a monster.” Colt whispered close to your ear. “Spider monsters like Aurantia…and I'm guessing his monster, control whole clusters of them, they got overlooked when the collars were assigned.” 

“I don’t care if it's the pope, I would prefer some warning before it decides to crawl all over me.” You hissed back, collecting yourself as the Maître d' laughed.

“That's fair, sorry, he’s a big fan, but I’ll have Missy talk to him about not just climbing on people. Thank you for not swatting…anyway, I suppose you want to get to your table.” He said, and you nodded. As nice as it was to have your tiny act of rebellion noticed, you were not planning on standing in these shoes long and you might have been regretting not changing them when Joffrey suggested it. 

“Yes thank you.” You agreed, glancing at Colt when he snickered.

“Really…spiders boss?” He teased quietly.

“Like I said, it could have literally been anything, if it's going to crawl all over me without me knowing I'm going to be…spooked.” You defended, choosing your word very carefully because the spider definitely hadn’t scared you, and even if it did it was massive! 

“Sure, didn’t think that think bout human hair standing up was real till now.” He teased quietly, and you thought you were entitled to a silent glare, until you were brought to a secluded corner of the restaurant where Kent and his father were waiting. Victor Donnivan was a tall imposing man, with hair and eyes the color of cold steel. He had a large scar on one side of his neck, that matched up with another down his right arm and once when you were really young you had asked about it.

He had started to tell you the story of the time someone tried to slit his throat, but your father had quickly hushed him and sent you and Kent to play outside. Kent had said it was a boring story anyway, and you had never brought it up again.

“There's my girl, how are you dear?” Victor asked as soon as he noticed you. 

“Mr. Donnivan, it's so nice to see you again. I’m doing alright, really I don’t know why everyone is so worried.” You said, preparing to sit when he stood up to pull your chair out himself instead of letting the server or one of your guards do it. You sat down, because you were still on the opposite side of the table, and your color choice was working well for any scene framing. Victor always wore gray pinstripes, it was like it was the only thing he owned, very unimaginative. At least Kent let you incorporate some color into his clothes. 

“That's how you treat a lady Kent.” He grumbled, sending a scolding glare at his son, as he pushed your chair in. Kent blushed, ducking his head slightly. 

“Sorry, I just didn’t think…sorry.” He sputtered out before sitting up straighter, “I am really happy you could come out with us though. It has been too long since we saw each other.”

“Of course, maybe next time my father can be in attendance, he’s just been so busy.” You replied, brushing him off as you gestured for your guards to sit down on either side of you. You thought you saw Victor’s eye twitch, as Colt took your offer. Musket stayed standing behind you. 

“Yes…it has been awhile since we have seen your father. Not since we stayed the week with him trying to aid in any way we could to help find you, did you know that?” Victor asked, taking up his menu as soon as they were handed out. 

“Hmm, no it didn’t come up.” You replied, reaching for your menu and looking over at Kent. 

“Yes of course, Kent was very worried about you…he hired private investigators, independent contractors, we bought several dog monsters who were supposed to be able to track you for miles, I had to stop him multiple times from going out to find you himself.” Victor continued to explain. 

“No one told me that.” You mused, and Kent seemed to shuffle uncomfortably under your gaze. 

“Well…it didn’t matter…Joffrey's team found you so my efforts didn’t amount to much.” Kent replied, seeming to duck behind his own menu. 

“It’s about showing you care Kent,” Victor interrupted before you could say anything, “Maybe you two wouldn’t have broken up if you were more overt in your care.” 

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think we just work better as friends, Kent is like a brother to me, we really don’t work as a couple.” You rushed to assert, making sure that it was understood that you weren’t interested in Kent.

Victor hummed and made a show of turning back to his menu. 

“The suit fits wonderfully.” Kent said into the quiet.

“I’m glad to hear that…I need to make you a new tie though. That one doesn't match the suit.” You mused, and he looked up fondly. 

“Or you could make me a suit to match the tie. I…this one has always been my favorite.” He explained, smiling as he brought a hand up to touch the old tie. 

“He’s worn it almost everyday since he was sixteen. If that isn’t deduction I don’t know what is. He’s always held you in such high regard, it would be such a shame to throw all of that away.” Victor mused, making you uncomfortable. Had he always been so insistent and creepy about you and Kent dating? No wonder Kent was being so…

“Dad was pretty angry…furious actually.” You remember Kent saying as he touched his bruised face, after you had suggested he talk to his father about a business partnership instead of a romantic one.

…no, he wouldn’t…would he? You wondered, staring at the man, before he could look up and notice Colt’s hand brushed your thigh and when you jumped and glanced down it was a warning.

‘You look like you saw a ghost, pull your face together.’ He signed, and you schooled your expression, before either of your dinner partners looked up. ‘What did you see or hear, tell me why that was a big deal?’ 

You looked back up across the table, making sure to keep your eyes on your menu while you signed, ‘I don’t have any…’ you didn’t know the sign for it so you spelled out ‘P-R-O-O-F, but I think Kent is in trouble because we broke up.’ 

“Your favorite is still the lobster, correct? This place has a very good dish I could recommend.” Kent said, and you met his eyes over your menu. He looked…the way he always did…maybe you were just reading too much into it and it was the stress from his legal issues.  

“It is, but I was thinking of trying something new, it's our first time out in a long time after all.” You replied, offering him a warm smile. 

“Why don’t you recommend something Kent.” Victor encouraged, setting his menu down and waving over a man so he could order a scotch. 

“...do you want a recommendation?” Kent asked, shrinking under the disappointed look his father shot at him. Why had you never noticed any of this before?

“...do you have a recommendation? I was hoping to eat light because the desserts look lovely.” You said, unable to turn him down with your thoughts twisting and spireling the way that they were. 

“Oh, ummm actually I do.” He said, perking up and smiling again. “Since you're definitely looking at the chocolate cake, I would recommend the tilapia with the cob salad or the spring soup with the chef salad. I think you would like either of those.” 

“You can have my cherries.” You offered, looking at the picture of the cake again.

“You can substitute them with strawberries.” Kent added, making you snap the menu shut and lay it on the table. 

“Never mind, touch my cake and I might stab you with a fork.” You teased, feeling for just a second like you were friends again. 

One small second.

“I still can't believe you broke up. You get along so we'll.” Victor mused, smiling over his scotch. 

“Well, you know what they say about kids these days and commitment.” You deflected. “Oh! Speaking of getting along though, I don't know why that reminded me of this, but you would not believe what Rebecca said to me at my debutante.” You said, perhaps not the smoothest transition, but Kent perked up. 

“Do tell.” He encouraged. 

“I thought I was out to dinner with two promising young adults, not petty teenage girls.” Victor muttered with a smirk, and even if you thought it was amusing, Kent settled back down not asking you to elaborate any further. You didn’t understand until Victor muttered under his breath, “maybe that's why you broke up. Tittering like a little girl.”

Every time you almost got Kent to engage with you like a normal person, his father would take the reins of the conversation and steer it back to the direction he wanted, and you were maybe starting to understand Kent’s strange behavior recently. You decided that there would be no harm in gently correcting his behavior before dessert came out. 

He was your father’s best friend after all, it should have been fine.

“Victor, Kent is one of my best friends, but I really honestly never see us getting back together, it isn’t happening. I would happily continue a business relationship and even a cordial friendly relationship as long as he behaves, but I will not be getting back together with him.”

Victor, to your surprise, smiled warmly at you. “Really? Well you should have said so sooner…sorry for pressuring you.” 

You laughed him off, shaking your head, “Sorry, maybe I should have been more specific.” You said despite your internal feelings because WHAT!? 

You fucking had! So many times! But you supposed that it was dealt with now. 

“Well…I’m getting old for dessert with the young guys and its getting late, you two enjoy.” He said standing up to excuse himself.

“Have a good night Mr. Donnivan.” You said, turning a smile to Kent, only to falter because he looked incredibly pale. 

“...Kent, are you alright?” You asked, your voice making him jump slightly as he looked at you.

“I…yeah, that's…” He trailed off, looking down nervously. 

“I don’t know if I believe that.” You replied softly, “Come on Kent, what's going on?”

“...what would it take to make you reconsider?” He suddenly asked, sounding almost desperate.

“What!?” You gasped, staring at him in flabbergasted horror, did he not just hear everything you just said. 

“Buddy-” Colt started, a warning edge in his voice.

“Not right now!” Kent snapped, interrupting the monster, before meeting your eyes intently, “Please you don’t…is there anything I could offer…at this point I wouldn’t even mind affairs as long as they were discrete.” 

“Kent, what the fuck?” You asked, shaking your head.

“Everyone knows the Davenports only got married for the financial benefit and their best friends.” He said, quickly. That was true, it was a very open secret that the elderly Mr. and Mrs. Davenport had only gotten married for the business, and you would never disparage the choice, they were obviously happy with their arrangement, but…you just didn't see yourself marrying someone as a business transaction. If you were even going to consider marriage, you wanted what your parents had. A real marriage. 

“No Kent…what the hell is wrong with you?” You asked shaking your head and he deflated, sagging down miserably in his seat and glancing around you towards the front of the restaurant. 

“...sorry.” He muttered softly, “I’m so, so sorry…for everything.” 

Then before you could question him more he also stood up and left, throwing a thick wad of cash down on the table before the dessert even came out, leaving you blinking in confusion down at the table. 

“Well…that could have gone worse.” You muttered, gesturing for Musket to sit across from you now that the other humans were gone. 

“Didn’t like that. Didn’t fucking like that.” Colt grit out shaking his head. 

“Yeah, your fucking telling me.” You agreed, but he shook his head.

“Nah, not the petty shit in the middle. I’ve had monsters apologize for getting me shot with less fucking conviction.” Colt explained. 

“I CAN’T HELP BUT AGREE…I CAN’T EXPLAIN WHAT IT IS, BUT I HAVE A BAD FEELING ABOUT THIS.” Musket added, holding your gaze. 

“...maybe we should get back to the house and get everyone up to date.” You hedged.

“I THINK THAT WOULD BE BEST.” Musket agreed.

You cancelled your desert, and paid for your dinner, a pit of dread forming in your stomach. You guards seemed extra on edge after Kent’s strange apology and whether it was infections or not, you couldn't deny feeling like something bad was about to happen as you left the warm restaurant. 

Cold prickled your skin as you stepped out into the dark night. You pulled your shawl tighter over your shoulders as a feeble shield from the looming dread. You honestly didn’t even have anything to be nervous about, you had no idea what could possibly be coming, but your guards having something make them nervous, was enough for you to want to go back home. 

Safety in numbers right?

Chapter Text

Two days had passed since your tense dinner. You hadn’t heard anything from Kent in all that time, but it didn’t stop your guards from being on high alert. You sighed, shaking your head and getting out of your deep clawed tub. You thought a long soak would help soothe your nerves, but soaking in the quiet room with nothing to distract you did the opposite. 

You dried off, slipped into a long nightgown, and sat down at a vanity to brush out your damp hair. You looked at your reflection while you ran the brush through your hair, obviously looking tired, with dark circles under your eyes. You hadn’t been sleeping well, and the hushed conversations that stopped whenever you entered a room weren’t helping. You huffed, shaking your head and stood up from your vanity. 

Something warm and a good book might help you relax. It had been awhile since you did any pleasure reading, you had spent months reading history books and old diaries, you think you earned a pleasure break…after you got something hot and full of sugar…and alcohol. 

Spiked hot chocolate it is. You thought, stretching and standing up to pad barefoot through the halls of your manor and down into the kitchen. 

You paused though, blinking a few times as you walked past the foyer. Joffrey was standing in the door having a hushed argument with someone on the other side. 

“Is everything alright?” You asked from the top of the stairs. Joffrey glanced back up at you, one small flick of his eyes, but it was enough. 

There was a loud bang, like a firework going off inside the house, then Joffrey was grabbing his side and sliding to the floor. 

“Joffrey!?” You screamed, taking two steps forward, before a skeletal hand wrapped around your bicep, pulling you back behind a wall of black. You were able to peek around Colt to see Victor stepping around Joffrey with a gun pointed down at the old man as he grabbed at Victor’s leg. 

“I WOULDN’T” Musket warned from behind you as the sound of guns being cocked sounded all around you, but your eyes were locked on your butler as you peeked around Colt. 

“Ballsy fucking move coming here alone.” Colt goaded, and Victor smiled warmly up at the stairs.

“Oh, but I have all the help I need, right here.” He replied, flicking his wrist until his watch clicked. As soon as the loud click echoed into the quiet air you knew something was wrong, Colt tensed in front of you a pained grunt escaping him followed by a string of expletives. Rifle cried out and you turned, finding him gripping his neck tightly. Sniper was the first to fall to the ground, followed one by one by the rest of your guards. 

The collars.

“Stop it!” You screamed turning back to Victor, but as you did your eyes caught a quick sign from Sniper.

‘pup.’ 

Your heart broke, staring at his pleading eye sockets. 

Then you were moving, legs carrying you down the hall as fast as they could. You rushed in and scooped the child out of bed, their sleepy little eyes barely cracking open.

“Shhh, go back to sleep sweetheart…we're just doing a little moving around.” You said quietly, moving on instinct…maybe, you half remembered something, something hazy like it was from a dream. 

Your dad picking you up out of bed and shushing you back to half sleep. Quickly going into his and your mothers bedroom, into the closet, pressing his palm to the wall.

It opened. You thought, all these years you had half convinced yourself that it was a dream. It was a small cozy panic room, and you dropped the sleepy child into the bed then decided to shut the door with you on the outside, the same way your father had done all those years ago. 

Then you ran to your bedroom, your phone still didn’t have any service, but you didn’t need paid service to call emergency services. You had barely gotten the first two numbers keyed in before your phone turned blue and was thrown out of your hand and across the room. You gasped and turned to look at Roulette. 

He swallowed hard, putting his outstretched hand into one of his pockets, looking like the perfect picture of pain and misery. He worked his jaw a few times, before looking down at the floor, unable to look at you while he spoke. 

“...I’m…I am so, so sorry boss…just…please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”  He pleaded softly. You swallowed hard, looking at him before squaring your shoulders and stepping over to him. You settled your hand on his arm like he was simply escorting you down the hall and he sagged into the touch, laying one of his hands on top of yours and beginning to slowly lead you down the hall. 

“...is…is Joffrey…” You started quietly, faltering over the question. 

“The gunshot won’t kill him.” He answered, just as softly, but the way he said it didn’t soothe your nerves at all. 

You flinched back when you saw the small trail of blood leading down into the garage. You thought you heard the tail end of a conversation as you were led down the stairs. 

“... your fault really. All you had to do was let me in.” Victor’s voice hissed cruelly. “No one needed to get hurt.” He continued as they came into view. Your guards were lined up near the open garage doors, Your old butler was lying in front of one of the cars gagged with a greasy rag, his hands were tied behind him and you couldn't help but gasp when Victor kicked his injured side, drawing the man's attention to you. 

“Ah, there is the lady of the hour.” He said, sounding kind and warm. The same way he always sounded when he brought you birthday presents and Christmas gifts. You felt faint. 

“Where's the child?” He asked, looking at Roulette. 

“Child?” You interrupted. 

“Please, I'm no fool. The tabloids have been absolutely rabid going on about you walking into an orphanage and walking out with a child.” Victor replied, gesturing for Roulette to lead you closer. 

“And you believed them?” You scoffed rolling your eyes. “Really what orphanage in their right mind would let an unmarried twenty year old just walk-” you started, but the back of his hand connected with your face hard. 

You fell back against Rifle’s toolbox and slid to the floor as Joffrey renewed his struggling. The box was open where Rifle and Joffrey had been moving things and organizing it, and the sound of several tools clanking against the floor echoed through the room. 

Tears instantly brimmed in your eyes. Aside from your kidnappers, no one had ever hit you before, and here was the man who bought you your first bike slapping you hard across the face. You had planned on teaching Frisk to ride on that bike, but now you wanted to burn it. 

“Your father might act like he's allergic to disciplining you, but I assure you, talk to me that way again and you'll lose teeth.” Victor sneered and distantly you could hear the sound of bone grinding against bone. 

“Discipline?” You grit out, angrily  from the floor, your only solace that he was distracted from asking more questions about Frisk. “Is this how you discipline Kent when he doesn't want to play your game?” 

“Little good it did.” He ground out, reaching down on reflex to polish your blood off his rings. With all the stinging you almost hadn't realized that one of them had caught your lip and split it. “He couldn't even follow simple instructions…he was supposed to be the one to save you, you know. Come to your rescue so your father would finally see reason and give you to me.” He explained making you want to retch. 

“Little fag couldn't even do that right…though I suppose that's what happens when you send a boy to do a man's job.” He continued to mutter, wiping at his rings like them being dirty was the biggest problem he had going on at the moment.  

“...what the hell is wrong with you?” You gasped at him. Had he always been this way? Had the years of almost being family all been a lie? He glared down at you icily before snapping his fingers. 

“One of you pick her up off the floor.” He ordered, turning back around. For a second no one moved, but you were struck with an idea. A risky, stupid idea, but still the only one you had. You locked your pleading eyes with Rifle and as if he was drawn forward by the look alone he stepped up to help you out of the floor. 

Victor wasn't looking as Rifle knelt down to wrap his arms around you, so you pressed two small screwdrivers into his arm, between his radius and ulna (yeah you started googling what bones were called what, you thought it would be useful). He jumped like he thought you were trying to stab him, but you looked meaningfully between his collar and his eyelights hoping and praying your message came across as he continued to help you up. 

Then he stepped back into the line behind Musket and Colt, just barely out of sight, and you knew he would need a distraction. 

“What did you mean…when you said Dad was supposed to give me to you if Kent found me.” You asked, turning your eyes to Victor and firmly keeping them there. “did...did you actually have me kidnapped? Why?”

“You can figure it out surely.” Victor replied. “Years of carefully cultivated interactions, having to smile at old money and pretend like I didn't want to vomit, years of back breaking work just to be ruined by one spoiled brat. I couldn't allow it…of course my plan hinged on my worthless son actually playing his part…I should have known better.”

“So what do you expect to happen now? Me and Kent are going to get married in secret and not tell my father? You've lost your mind. Even if this goes well it ends as soon as my father gets home.” You replied, speaking louder when you heard a scrapping metal on metal sound. 

“That, my dear, is exactly what I expect.” He replied, finally turning to face you fully with a golden necklace in his hand, at least from the outside it looked like a necklace, when he opened it you could see the ring of electrodes. 

It was a golden collar. 

“I'm done letting Kent handle it. So your father is going to get a call that there was a break in. The butler was tragically killed,” he began to explain, taking slow measured steps towards you, “the same mysterious kidnappers as before disabled your guards, and we're getting ready to do unspeakable things to you when Kent came by to thank you for his suit. You rekindled your passion over black eyes and busted lips, got married in a heat of the moment ceremony, and you will not tell your father anything to the contrary or this will kill you.” 

“What do you even get out of it?” You rushed, hoping to stall for more time. 

“Only someone born of privilege would even ask that.” He sneered, a manic light flashing in his steely eyes.  “A legacy. My grandson will be the head of the Donnivan syndicate and your family's organization. My line will have more money and power then my ancestors ever dreamed.” he grit out, standing in front of you, raising the collar.

“Now, human souls are a tad more complex than monster souls, so do feel free to scream, because this will hurt a lot.” He explained, smiling wickedly. 

You were out of time. It didn't work.

But then a skeletal arm covered in a cream colored jacket was around Victor’s neck pulling him back. You had never given much thought to the sound a screwdriver would make going into someone's lungs, but you think you'll never be able to forget it. 

The sickening shunk of it piercing Victor’s back over and over would be burned into your brain forever. 

Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two…

You think Rifle must have stabbed him at least thirty times in quick succession before letting him fall limply to the floor, the gold collar clanking against the concrete. 

You sank back against the tool box not knowing if you were going to faint or throw up. 

“J-Joffrey.” You managed to stutter out, half turning before Rifle caught you by the arm.

“He's in good hands, we got him…just…look I know this is a lot but I need to know how you knew I could…” He trailed off, looking at you pleadingly. 

“... I've known for awhile…I just didn't know how to bring it up without…sounding like I minded.” You admitted, biting your lip before being reminded of the stinging split in it. “I don't mind, by the way…in fact if you…if you could get them all off you don't have to wear them in the house…We would all get in trouble if you were caught outside without them, but no one would know in the house.” You offered watching his eye lights brighten before he pulled you into a crushing hug. 

“Do it now.” Joffrey grit out, sitting up and grabbing his side as Musket untied him. 

“What?” You started to ask. 

“Get them off now and get as many fucking guns as you can carry.” He ordered, standing on shaky legs and opening the back of his car to pull out several guns. 

Joffrey…just swore. 

“DO YOU THINK HE HAS BACKUP COMING?” Musket asked, shadowing the old man.

“I know they will now. Because the Don of the Donnivan syndicate is dead in our garage and ours is in a Japanese blackout room negotiation and arms deal with the Yakuza. He is going to be unreachable for two more days and we must hold the fort until he can be contacted.” He rushed to explain, and your mind blanked. 

“...holy shit…I killed a Don?” Rifle gasped, going pail. You had your own crisis to focus on however. 

“...What did you say Daddy was doing right now?” 

Joffrey looked at you sadly before taking a deep breath. “I'm sorry for not telling you. I'm sorry for the years of lies and secrets…I'm…I'm sorry ma'am, but now isn't the time. I'll explain everything later, but right now I need you to go to the panic room. Rifle, get Sniper's collar off first he's going with the girls- the madam and the young Master.” He self corrected, shaking his head and grabbing his bleeding side. 

“PERHAPS YOU SHOULD GO WITH THEM.” Musket suggested, still shadowing Joffrey, but the old man shook his head. 

“I have guarded this family and this home since I was nineteen and  fresh off a dishonorable discharge for fist-fighting a superior, whose only job prospects were whisky running with the master's father. I have served three generations of this family's leader's loyalty, with every drop of blood I have and I will not stop now.” He grit out, determination flashing in his fierce eyes. 

You…didn't know any of that. 

Sniper's hand settling on your arm snapped you back to reality. His collar was off. “I THINK WE SHOULD GO NOW.” He suggested, and all you could do was nod. “LEAD THE WAY BOSS, I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE PANIC ROOM IS.” 

You took two steps before pausing and turning back to Joffrey. “Joffrey…I expect an explanation later, from your mouth only, you understand.” You said, trying to sound firm as your voice shook.

Joffrey looked at you beaming with pride before he started hearing a flat piece of metal over a blow torch. “Yes ma'am…you know your grandfather gave me a similar order once. He instructed me that I wasn't allowed to die without his direct order.” 

“Good. I hope you won't start breaking orders just because you've been shot.” You replied, turning away from him as he started to move the white hot metal towards his skin. 

His answering, “Yes ma'am.” echoed in your ears long after you had left the garage.

Joffrey waited until you were gone to finally touch the heated metal to his skin, closing it up bullet and all, he could have it surgically removed later. The sound of collars falling to the floor was the only sound for a while before Joffrey was sure he could speak without screaming. 

This kind of thing never got any easier, if anything it was harder with age. He was getting too old for it. But as they say, ‘promises to keep, miles to go before I sleep,’ and all that. 

“Rifle,” he started, gesturing to the gun he was holding. “I have another one of these in my room, use it and set up a nest.” 

“Colt, Musket front of the house. Carbine, Roulette the back. I will provide cover from the opposite end of the house from Rifle.” He began to list.

“If we leave ya any, codger.” Colt said with a husky laugh. 

“I can snipe at three thousand meters my boy, that's only eight hundred short of the farthest range ever reported.” Joffrey half bragged, rising to the challenge. 

“Yeah, but we're off the leashes now old man. And we got a lotta’ tricks we ain't shown off yet.” Colt goaded, his right socket flaring to life, the electric crackle of two years of repressed magic feeling the garage.  

“Well we shall have to award points for style, but I guarantee I have more experience then you have fancy tricks.”

“Wanna bet?” Colt asked, smiling broadly. 

“...no. really, Mr. Colt that's just juvenile…besides I would feel bad when I won, since you have no money to wager with.” Joffrey replied, coolly, but there was a quirky arch to his brows. 

God he had almost missed bantering with the men. Almost, if only it didn't mean they were in mortal danger. 

Chapter Text

You shivered a little, staring down at the floor in the panic room, running your tongue over the split in your lip again. 

“ARE YOU SURE YOU DON’T WANT ME TO TRY AND HEAL THAT, BOSS?” Sniper asked, barely glancing at you the polite amount of time before his eye lights flicked back down to a small bank of security cameras. Frisk must have been used to his loud voice, because they didn’t even stir, still when you answered you kept your voice barely above a whisper. 

“No, thank you…just not right now, save your energy.” You replied, poking at the split again. The stinging ache was a bit grounding, while your brain was busy recontextualizing everything you had ever known. 

Your dad was some big shot mobster…a Don…you think maybe you had an understanding of what that was. When it came to media you preferred romances and mysteries over those old mafia dramas, but even you knew that a Don was at the top of the hierarchy. How many of his business meetings were actually for his business and how many of them were for ‘ business’ you wondered absently. 

“OF COURSE, BOSS.”  He agreed easily, still staring at the screens, so you allowed your eyes to wander. His cervical vertebrae dipped down into his shirt, finally free from the thick metal collar. Looking closer at the small delicate looking bones you wondered if the heavy collar had caused any damage. 

“DOES IT MAKE YOU NERVOUS?” Sniper asked and your eyes flinched up, catching his eye lights before he looked back towards the screens. “NOT HAVING THE COLLARS ON, CAUSE I WOULD NEVER HURT YOU, BOSS. IT KILLED ME TO NOT BE ABLE TO KEEP MY WORD AND PROTECT YOU.” He rambled slightly. 

“It's not that Sniper.” You said, trying not to wake Frisk as you spoke. “I don't need or want you in a collar…I don't feel like I'm in danger around you. I'm just lost in thought…did…did you guys know…about my father?” 

“WE HAD OUR SUSPICIONS, BUT WE CERTAINLY DIDN'T THINK WE WERE IN A DON’S HOUSE.” He explained, smiling slightly. “THE SCARRING ON HIS KNUCKLES MADE US THINK HE WAS AN ENFORCER…GOTTA RESPECT A MAN WHO'S NOT AFRAID OF BEING HANDS ON.” He said, cringing when there was a small popping sound after he stopped talking. Like a distant firework, he cleared his throat asking some inane question, but you couldn’t focus on it, because you had finally realized what he was doing. 

“...It's a little late to try and hide what's going on now.” You hedged. 

“I SUPPOSE IT IS.” He agreed, and this time when a series of pops rang out through the night, he didn’t try to talk over them. “YOU ALWAYS BEEN THAT OBSERVANT?” He teased.

“I…noticed a lot of things that I didn’t want to mention, I didn’t want to make it harder for you…but I noticed a lot more than I let on.” You admitted.

“OBVIOUSLY.” He agreed, smiling broadly despite not looking away from the screens, and he gestured to his neck.

“...Can you see everyone on there?” You asked, changing the topic and stepping closer.

“NOT RIFLE AND NOT JOFFREY. THERE AREN'T ANY CAMERAS UP ON THE ROOF.” He explained.

“...are they alright?” 

“THEY’RE PROFESSIONALS BOSS, DON’T YOU WORRY ABOUT THEM, THEY’LL BE ALRIGHT.” He replied encouragingly. 

“I think I’m probably going to worry anyway.” You muttered, glancing around him at the grainy little black and white images of the outside of the house and the entry points. You slammed your eyes shut and covered your mouth when you saw Victor’s body still laying on the floor in the garage, a black pool spreading out from his body. 

“I’M SORRY BOSS, I WISH YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO SEE THAT.” He sighed, and you shook your head.

“It’s…it’s fine, it’s not…I didn’t care when it was strangers, but…as opposite as we were, Kent and Victor were supposed to be like family…Kent was one of the best friends I had ever had and…he knew, he apologized the night we had our dinner because he knew what Victor was going to do…and he didn’t try to warn me or anything…Joffrey got shot and my best friend just let it happen.” You ranted, hugging yourself slightly. “Actually I don’t know what would be worse…if he was willing to play along with whatever his father wanted or if that wasn’t the first human collar Victor had his people make.” 

“IT’S A BETRAYAL EITHER WAY.” Sniper replied, reaching towards you, most likely to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. If his hand hadn't stuttered just slightly you never would have known anything was wrong. His face didn't betray anything. 

“W-what?” You asked, peeking back around him before he could answer. Colt and Musket looked fine in front of the house, hugging the shadows cast by the porch light. Roulette and Carbine were on opposite sides of the back garden, thick foliage covering their positions. 

You weren't sure what it could have been, until he pointed back to the garage.

“THEY BROUGHT MONSTERS…ALL THE AMBIENT MAGIC IN THE AIR I’D BET ROULETTE DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE.” He explained as your eyes widened in horror. 

A skeleton was standing with his hands clasped behind his back, purposefully not looking down as Kent knelt next to his father. 

You couldn't see his face, but his shoulders were shaking, he crossed his father's hands over his chest and closed Victor’s eyes before standing and pulling his gun out from the waistband of his pants. He said something to the skeleton next to him, because the skeleton nodded and then they both started stalking towards the door to the house. 

“Oh God.” You gasped, your mind working a mile a minute, this wasn't good. 

“IT'LL BE ALRIGHT BOSS.” Sniper said, maybe trying to be encouraging but,

“You don't understand. When we were children we told each other everything…once when we were about ten we looked all over this house for secret rooms because of a dream I had…he's coming straight here.” You warned looking over at Frisk. 

“HE WON'T MAKE IT HERE.” Sniper assured you, standing up, but you caught his hand biting into the stinging split in your lip to help fight off the panic. 

“Sniper…I have to ask, do you have the skills that your name sake suggests?” You hedged looking into his eye lights. 

“I'M NOT AS SKILLED AS RIFLE BUT I CAN MAKE DUE.” He answered hesitantly. 

“...I want to try and talk to him…I think-” 

“NO. THAT'S A BAD IDEA BOSS.” Sniper interrupted. 

“That's why we're gonna make sure you have a clear shot, I'm not stupid Sniper, but I think I can talk to him.”

“WE KILLED HIS FATHER.” 

“Then we can reunite them if he tries to hurt me, but I think I can get through to him.” You tried again, watching him sigh while shaking his head. 

“FOR THE RECORD, I DON'T LIKE THIS.” 

“For the record, that's been noted.” You replied, leading the way out into the halls. There were heavy shadows down the hall with the bedrooms, a slight bend led to your parents room giving you the perfect set up for him to hear you out.  

You waited, listening for footsteps walking up the stairs. You took a deep breath before calling out, 

“Kent…I don't suppose we could talk about this?” 

Silence answered you before a cruel scoff broke the quiet. “Talk? What's there to talk about? My father is dead!” He snapped. 

“I know, I'm sorry…for your loss anyway, he shot Joffrey.” You called, finally feeling brave enough to step around the corner when he asked,

“Is the old man alright?” 

His gun was down at his side, but his finger was on the trigger, you walked out with your hands up, not for his sake but to tell Sniper not to fire. 

“They keep telling me he'll be okay, but I didn't have the chance to check.” You explained walking into the moonlight streaming through the windows. Even in the pale watery light you could see the black bruising on his face. One of Kent’s eyes was nearly swollen shut. 

To his credit his eyes instantly found the blood on your clothes and your badly split lip, but then he shook his head staring at you.

“...there's no way out of this, you know?” He asked sadly. 

“There's always a way out of it. If we just sit down and think about it hard enough I know you c-” 

“You don't know anything about me!” He snapped, raising his gun. “Not the real me, it was all a fucking lie to get you to marry me. Every second of it. I never fucking loved you.” He grit out. 

“...boss,” the skeleton next to him said softly and for the first time you glanced at him. He was in plain white clothes with bright purple eye lights. 

“Shut up, Singer.” Kent grit out, the collar flashing with his order, and you narrowed your eyes at the man with a gun. 

“I don't know you? Kent I knew you were heading straight to the panic room, because we used to explore this entire house looking for hidden rooms. I know that you can't stand cherry tomatoes but you get your salad with them so I can have extra. I know you wear the tie I made you when we were sixteen every fucking day!” You listed desperately. 

“Sure we never loved each other like that, but don't you try to convince me for one second that you didn't love me at all. You tried to warn me damn it, you were trying to keep me safe, you said I was never supposed to get hurt!”  

He flinched back at your accusation, his hand starting to tremble. “It doesn't matter. It's fucking war now, what's done can't be undone.” 

“It can't…and I am so sorry, but that doesn't mean there's nothing we can do.” You tried, your heart starting to pound as Kent obviously started to fall apart. 

“What are we supposed to do!? There Don is dead, those people out there want blood!” 

“There old Don is dead Kent…there new one is right here.” You said, meeting his eyes as realization struck him. “You're in control now.” 

His hand shook before he finally dropped the gun, sliding to his knees a sob wracking his body. You stepped forward, not even pausing when his skeleton moved like he was going to stop you. 

“Sniper, stand down.” Was all you had to say to have the other skeleton's eye lights snapping away from you so that you could wrap your arms around Kent. 

He held you tightly, so tight it took your breath as he sobbed against you. “I…I hated him.” He sniffled, shaking his head, “but…he was my dad angel…he was still my dad.” 

“I know…I know I'm sorry.” You soothed, trying to hold him back just as tightly, but you flinched when his hands found the back of your ribs where you had fallen against the toolbox. He let you go instantly, pulling back to look into your eyes. 

“...I never wanted you to get hurt…you really are the only real friend I've ever had.” He said softly. 

“I know…we'll work it out…but first we gotta fix this.” You encouraged, standing up and pulling him up with you. 

Kent nodded looking at you pleadingly. “You were always better at image management and public perception.” 

“Just follow my lead and do exactly as I say.” You replied, laying out your plan. 

Kent made a few phone calls while Sniper radioed Joffrey. Singer, the teleporting skeleton with the purple eye lights was scent out to stop the firing on Kent’s end. 

It was a tenuous ceasefire, but a ceasefire was still issued. It was enough for you to work out exactly what to say. Kent was able to explain that Victor was the first to fire, there was video proof of that, you and yours just retaliated. 

“Our fuckin Don is still dead!” One of the men standing around for the negotiations snapped. 

“Your fucking Don is standing right here Gio, and don't you start fucking disrespecting me now!” Kent snapped back, like you had practiced with him. “My fucking father is dead, but I gotta be fair cause I'm in charge now. He went after a rival…no not even a fucking rival. He went after another Don's daughter, one that we we're supposed to be allies with. You know that can't stand.” 

“That being said,” He turned to you with hard eyes, like he was going to make a demand of you just like you practiced. “We want the fucking body back.”

“Of course. I'd like for all this unpleasantness to just be over.” You replied placatingly. “Joffrey, could you open the garage and let them in?” 

“Alright…once he's in the car we're done for tonight, is that clear.” He barked at his men before turning to you and reaching out like he was going to shake your hand, that was what you had agreed to, but he brought the hand to his mouth kissing your knuckles. “For what it's worth, I think only a sorry bastard would lay his hands on a woman.” 

You swallowed hard, looking at his bruised face. “Only a piece of shit would lay hands on his own blood.” You added, gripping his hand tightly, “but I'm still sorry it had to come to this.” 

He blinked, the muscles in his jaw jumping as he grit his teeth to keep from seeming weak at his first shot at being in charge. 

Then before you knew it they were gone and you were sagging back against the door. 

“Sniper!” Joffrey growled, “what. In. The. Hell. Was that?” 

“Oh shush, that was the best you were going to get on short notice. Now, do we take you to a hospital or call someone? What do we do about…that?” You asked, gesturing to his blood stained side. 

That at least shocked a laugh out of the old man and he shook his head. “ We don't do anything. I will handle this, you should get some sleep Madame.” 

“...you know what…that sounds good. Don't think you're getting out of story time though, I have questions.” You warned, pushing yourself off the wall to go upstairs. 

“GET SOME REST BOSS, YOU'VE EARNED IT.” Carbine called after you. 

“You're one to talk.” You grumbled, “try to take shifts and get as much rest as you can tonight.” 

“Sure thing, boss.” Colt answered, nodding towards you. 

The good thing about being as emotionally exhausted as you were, was that you fell into a dreamless sleep the first night…not so much for the nights that followed, but that night you slept soundly. 

You saw on the news later that Victor Donnivan died in a drunk driving accident, where he was the driver. The body was so burnt and full of shrapnel that it was only able to be identified by dental records. 

You have Joffrey a few days of rest before asking him any questions…much to his annoyance. You think you even heard him threatening Musket for taking away his spatula, so you thought it was a good time to distract him with like a million questions. 

Joffrey was the son of immigrants, he was born in the States to a family that didn't have much, but they were happy, ready to reach with all their might for the ‘American dream.’ 

That was why he joined the army. The GI bill was gonna turn his entire life around, he was going to go to school, maybe get some officers pay while he was at it, when he was done he could be a lawyer or a business owner or something. 

Then his mom got sick. He started sending his entire paycheck back home but it was still barely enough. Then he fucked up and got his pay docked, he was a dumb 18 year old and they wouldn't listen when he told them he couldn't have his pay docked, he was so frustrated and overwhelmed. So he took a swing at his superior. 

Dishonorable discharge. He said he could see his life falling apart as the Sargent fell and hit the ground. His job prospects were next to nothing, his education prospects were gone, and his mother was still sick. 

He only had one option when he got home. The mafia. Your grandfather was always recruiting, looking for people to run illegal booze and guns.

So he started as a lowly little errand boy, he got paid well though. Enough to pay for his mother's treatment and have a little extra. With no prospects for his future he didn't know what to do with the surplus of money, so he bought the first batch of diecast cars. 

Joffrey was ten years older than your father, and he had younger siblings, so he didn't think twice about it when your dad asked for one. That was it though, he had caught your grandfather's attention. 

Which wasn't a good thing at first, but as your grandfather got to know him he softened, and eventually Joffrey became his most trusted guard. Not just because he was trusted to look after your father, but because he was trusted around your grandmother. Who was, and you were quoting,

‘The most gorgeous woman in the city, maybe in the country. Perfect body, perfect hair, perfect face. She was just perfect, and she knew it.’ She was loyal though, despite this your grandfather didn't want just anyone around her. He wanted her to feel comfortable in her home, so he had to pick his guards carefully. 

For his service, your grandfather offered to pay for Joffrey’s mother to live comfortably for the rest of her life, he even paid for Joffrey's brothers to go to college.

The rest was history. He served your grandfather until your father took over the business, and then he served your father. Unwaveringly, with everything he had. 

He told his stories to you and your guards, and at some points even the skeletons seemed impressed by his work history, when he got to his sniping experience with your grandfather.

The day after you found yourself in the smoking room with the skeleton's, you had convinced Joffrey to get some rest under the guise of taking Frisk shopping, with the child ropped in to make sure he took it easy. 

They seemed so free, without the collars on. It was like a small celebration; you broke out the good scotch, Colt lit one of the expensive cigars you got him, someone even cut on the record player and started a fire. 

Everyone was smiling when Colt shot up, “hey boss, you dance?” 

“Umm…I took ballet in middle school.” You hedged, but he scoffed, putting his cigar down.

“Nah, not that, I mean do you really dance? Do ya swing, boss?” He teased, holding a hand out to you. 

“No.” You replied, but you still took his hand.

“Follow my lead then.” He replied, spinning you around effortlessly. He twirls you around, dipping you around and lifting you up as if you weighed nothing. You were giggling before long as you were spun back towards him. 

“Colt, if I knew you could dance like this, I might have tried to at my debutante.” You replied, gasping when he sat back down pulling you into his lap playfully. 

“Nah, all those stiffs, that ain't dancin.” He huffed, picking his scotch back up just as the door to the room opened. You felt Colt’s entire body stiffen as he stared at the door. 

Granted, in his defense, the worst possible time to reacquaint yourself with the Don would probably be while you were drinking his scotch with his daughter in your lap. 

Chapter Text

Colt eventually un-froze and wrapped his hands around your waist lifting you up so he could stand. 

“Hi daddy.” You greeted, lifting your hand up to wave and your father finally blinked, looking away from Colt. His unblinking staring contest with the skeleton probably wasn’t a good thing but then he was across the room wrapping you in a tight hug. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here Princess.” He said softly against the top of your head and you wrapped your arms as far around him as they would go. He was a tall imposing man and you used to assume that it was just because he worked out, but now you think that his physique had a much more practical purpose. 

You buried your head into his chest, hiding from the world for just one second, one small second, before you remembered that you hadn’t hid when the gunmen were outside your door, you had left the panic room and dealt with it. So you pulled back, smiling up at him.

“It’s fine daddy. It’s why you brought my guards into the house right? They handled it.” You said, and his attention was back on Colt.

“Oh, I see that. I bet you have been taking real good care of my daughter Mr. Colt.” Your father asked stepping up to the skeleton. Red sweat beaded at his temples but he managed to meet your father’s eyes confidently. Something very few men you had ever met were able to do. 

“We were just havin some fun sir.” He said calmly, despite not looking it. 

“Dad, I’m twenty years old, is that really necessary?” You tried to chime in, but he didn’t even seem to hear you.

“Some fun? I should show you some fun-” He started trailing off as he looked at Colt, more accurately, he looked at the collar of his shirt where a different collar normally sat. Then he glanced around the room, at each of the skeletons. Your heart hammered in your chest before your father nodded, coming to a conclusion,  “...well, I’ll be damned… I guess that it’s about time to talk about some real compensation to keep you boys on.” 

“WE COULDN’T ASK FOR MORE, THE BOSS HAS MORE THEN TAKEN CARE OF US.” Sniper said, and your father laughed.

“The boss? We’re gonna talk about that to boys, come on, let's go to my office.” 

“Can I come?” You asked, feeling…had he always just talked around you like you weren’t even there before, had you always let him before?

“...Princess,” He sighed out, looking down sadly, “I don’t know…you really don’t have to worry about any of this, You should be getting ready to go to your dream school next fall.” He said softly, and you swallowed, squaring your shoulders.

You had grown since he had left the skeletons with you all those months ago, maybe not much, and it certainly hadn’t been comfortable, but you had grown. You were a woman who could negotiate a ceasefire between two crime families who were absolutely out for blood, you could be honest with your father, and it would only make you feel like you were dying if he was disappointed in you, but it wouldn’t kill you.

“Daddy, my dream school was Julliard, I never even applied to Harvard. Every time you walk out of this house I worry, because even if you were good at keeping me in the dark, it was only because I had to purposefully ignore very obvious red flags and ‘mind my business’ whenever people were over.” You explained, doing very obnoxious finger quotes before squaring your shoulders, “Besides, I’ve been trying to offer them something equitable for their time so Carbine and I will have to go over whatever you agree upon anyway to account for it.”

Your father blinked before shaking his head and nodding for you to follow him. “Alright princess. Come on.” 

As it turned out, super secret mafia meetings were just as boring as regular meetings. Discussing pay, expectations, with one tiny exception. 

“I also have…an associate who had to be taken care of in Italy, his body won’t be found but it would be better for me if his business continued functioning as usual, so who would like the alias, Angelo Lombardi?”

“WHAT SORT OF BUSINESS DID MR. LOMBARDI CONDUCT?” Carbine asked, leaning forward. 

“The front was actuary management, but his firm handled enough money going in and out for an efficient laundering scheme to operate under the radar for years…until he started skimming off the top.” 

“I COULD TAKE OVER ALL ASPECTS OF THE MANAGEMENT REMOTELY, SO THAT IT’S OFF YOUR PLATE.” Carbine offered, since you knew him so well you could see the subtle shift in his expression. He was fighting down excitement, trying not to want it too badly. If your father didn’t give it to him you would probably try to convince him to.

“Hang on, I gotta give everyone else a chance, I just got the one right now.” Your dad replied, it didn’t surprise you when no one else wanted in. They supported each other through everything. 

“I actually don't need one…I already got a human alias…” Roulette hedged, his eye lights meeting  your eyes intently, “Balsamiq Serif…the resources you suggested are really good, Boss.” You were going to say something, to ask him how long that had been going on, but your father beat you to it with a scoff.

“I don’t know if I hate you boys callin her boss, or if it’s the best outcome.” He mused, shaking his head, before the skeletons had a chance to ask anything further he clapped his hands, “Alright, Carbine the alias is yours, and I’ll give you a trial period running things. I gotta wrap this up so I can call Kent and set up a meeting with the boy about the way things are going to go moving forward.”

You swallowed glancing at your dad, “I’ve known Kent since we were six daddy, I could talk to him for you.” You offered, ready to be shot down. 

“What?” Was all he asked.

“Besides, he said he owes me one anyway for getting him out of his mess.” You explained with a shrug.

“...you got him out?” Your father asked, before sighing. “All of your skeletons will be with you.” He said firmly. 

“Of course daddy.” You agreed easily, just as Joffrey got home with Frisk.

“Madam, is the master home?” The old man asked, coming into the study when you suddenly remembered that you were never able to get ahold of your father to tell him about Frisk, when he asked,

“Oh, and who is this? A niece Joffrey?” 

“...well…no.” You hedged, standing up. “Frisk, this is my father. Daddy this is Frisk, I adopted them four months ago, now if you’ll excuse me me I’m going to go call-”

“Sit.” Your father ordered, and you fell back into your seat. “...gentlemen…could I have a moment alone with my daughter.” 

“SIR IT WAS OUR-” Sniper started, but Joffrey simply grabbed him and directed him out of the room with a shake of his head. 

Your heart rate spiked, but not for the reason most people would imagine. Your father didn’t yell at you, he never chastised you cruelly or excessively, his brand of parenting was somehow worse. 

“Princess… first you don’t want to go to Harvard, then you're negotiating with mobsters, hiding that your monsters don’t have their collars on, and now I find out that you have adopted a child…what's going on baby?” He asked so softly and so ready to understand. 

That you told him. You told him everything you have ever felt about how your life was already planned and laid out the day you were born. You told him how guilty you felt for feeling that way because of how horrible monsters were treated, how they had nothing. You told him about hating that monsters were enslaved to begin with. 

You told him everything.

“...it sounds like you need a win, princess.” He mused nodding. “You handle Kent, but keep me updated…now introduce me to my granddaughter!”

“Grandchild.” You corrected gently, “It’s a monster thing.” 

You left the study, looking around a little before you found everyone in the dining room.  “There you are!” Your father greeted, smiling broadly. “How would you like a Ferrari?” he asked. 

Frisk cocked their head pointing to one of their diecast cars, where they already had a Ferrari. 

“No, I was thinking something a little bigger.”

“What? No, dad they can’t have a Ferrari.” You scolded, balking slightly. “They're like six.” 

“Sorry you're right…a Miata is much better for a starter.”

“Daddy!” You scolded again, shaking your head as Frisk beamed mischievously, “Don’t encourage them, they're becoming a bit spoiled as is.”

“There’s nothing wrong with spoiling a child just a bit.” He replied with a laugh, his smile crinkling the edges of his eyes. You had a feeling that Sniper and Roulette didn't know that the kind of spoiling Frisk was about to get even existed.

A few days later you had your meeting with Kent. You set it up to look like you were having morning tea in a small circular greenhouse in the backyard. Though no one since your grandmother gardened, so the planter boxes had been removed and replaced with a nice table and some chairs. So your mother could enjoy the back garden when she was home for the winter.  

You and Joffrey had set up a little early, in case the glass room needed more setting up then just a little wipe down. A sunny yellow tablecloth went on the table and then tea, sandwiches, cakes, and coffee were laid out. 

“Is all of that really necessary?” Rifle mused, looking at the spread on the table. 

“Help yourself, we made enough for everyone.” You replied, taking a seat at a good approximation for the head, though how anyone decided who had the head of the table with a circular table was still a mystery to you.  

Most of your guards sat around the room on different lounging furniture, but Roulette sat next to you. His chair pushed out some with his hands visible in your peripheral vision. 

The more things change, the more they stay the same. You mused as you poured your coffee. 

Kent arrived with his monsters exactly on time and you did a double take. He was wearing the same yellow tie he always was. The one you made him when you were sixteen, but his normal gray suit was swapped out for a warm canary yellow suit, with the jacket left unbuttoned. 

“Glad you could make it, I don't believe we've been introduced.” You said conversationally, as Kent took his seat. You did recognize one of them though. Singer, the teleporting skeleton with the violet eye lights. 

There were three more though. A tall skeleton with pink eye lights, and then two truly monstrous skeletons, towering over even Musket. It had been hard not to comment on the state of them, but you were trying to be casual. 

One was missing a chunk of his skull for fucks sake, and the other had a bladed prosthetic on his right arm. 

“Right of course. Allow me to do introductions.” Kent said starting with the skeleton with the large hole in his head. “This is Candy and his brother Sugar.” 

From your right Roulette filled you in with Intel. ‘aka, the Candyman or the axe man. Brothers the same. Sugarcane or the button man. They both clean up. They have unorthodox ways of getting rid of people.’ 

“Of course you met Singer and then there's his brother Baretta.” Kent continued. 

‘infiltrators and assassins. Underground they used to run the prostitution rings with their boss.’ Roulette added.  

“Well it's nice to be formally introduced. You of course know my men.” You replied, sipping your coffee and gesturing for Kent to help himself. 

“Allow me, daddy.” Singer said with a wink directed at Kent as he poured his tea. Which wasn't anything to take note of, until Kent blushed lightly. 

“Forward isn't he?” Kent said, as he met your eyes. “I was actually wondering if you would be willing to take their collars off…even I don't know how to do that, and there's an issue with consent while it's on, you know?”

You blinked a few times processing what he was telling you. “...Kent are you saying you're…” you trailed off, there was no polite way to ask someone's sexuality, at least none that you knew of. 

“I was genuinely attracted to you if that's what you're about to ask…in all honestly I'm probably somewhere between bi and pan, but I've never had the chance to get to know myself very well.” He admitted before huffing out a small laugh. “I actually didn't even realize that freedom like this existed. I should have had you kill my father ages ago.”  

“Well…we'll see what we can do about the collars, given some time. I believe Singer did teleport you into my house to kill me after all, so forgive me for needing some time.” 

“Don't blame him, he also tried to talk me out of it. Said it would make me look bad if I shot an ex.” Kent replied. 

“Hmm…does it make me look like a jealous ex if I don't help you get the collar off?” You mused playfully.

“Just a little.” Singer huffed, but Kent waved him off.

“Be nice. We were never that attached to each other anyway.” He said.

“Not in the romantic sense.” You agreed. 

“And let's be honest. As beautiful as you are…you're a bit boring in bed.” He teased sounding like the sassy cunt you knew he secretly was; sounding like your best friend. 

Rifle growled and Roulette slammed his hands down on the table ready to stand up, but you quieted them with a wave of your hand.

“Boring? Really, did you ever stop to think that I was just bored?” You teased back, smiling broadly. “Come on Kent you have the same three moves, that led up to boring missionary…I even started keeping my condoms in the same drawer as my handcuffs and you didn't take the hint.”

Kent choked on his tea, turning red. “Those were yours!?” He gasped, and you laughed freely. 

“Of course they were mine, why else would they be in my nightstand?” 

“I thought you were just cheating on me.” He said so calmly and matter-of-factly, that it sent a bolt of pain through your heart. 

“I've never cheated on anyone. Even if I was never very attached to you romantically, I still wouldn't do that…did you cheat on me?” You asked, setting your coffee cup down.  

“God no.” He scoffed. “My father would have actually castrated me if we broke up for something like that, literally.” 

“Hmm…shame a man can't be killed twice…if I knew what was going on I would have done something sooner.” You hummed, feeling happy when he smiled. 

“You really mean that?” He sighed, shaking his head. “I should have said something but…well it doesn't matter. I'm in charge of my life now.” 

“Speaking of being in charge, I don't believe we're just here to reminisce.” You prompted getting to the meeting. Your father made it clear that after the act of aggression against his family there would have to be changes but Kent was more than willing to do what it took to appease your father. 

And you of course, you had one thing you wanted from the meeting. You told him that you thought it was time you finally agreed to one of the invites you were constantly getting to talk about the breakup publicly. 

You would align your stories obviously, saying that the reason you broke up despite being together for so long was morally related. You couldn't marry someone whose family manufactured the slave collars, and over time he came to understand that you wouldn't compromise in that belief, yada yada, PR fluff. 

The intense meeting was bookended with more pleasant conversation when Kent suddenly remembered something. “Oh, by the way, do you think you could make me some suits for my boys? I think I asked about that before. The white is a bit boring and there are no jackets that fit Candy or Sugar.” 

“I can see what I could do.” You agreed easily. 

“WITH SUPERVISION.” Musket practically growled. 

“WE'LL BE ON OUR BEST BEHAVIOR WITH THIS LITTLE CUTIE.” Baretta replied with a wink. 

“Hmm…did you know my great grandmother made suits for Al Capone?”  You deflected, watching Baretta’s eye lights widen. “Feels a little bit like continuing a legacy you know?” 

“Starting a new legacy.” Kent added holding his cup up for you to click yours against. 

“A new legacy.” You agreed, finishing up the meeting. You made plans to get his skeletons measurements and then went your separate ways, at least that was the plan until you saw a large black spider in the corner of the room. 

“Fuckin spies.” Colt growled, picking the little thing up by two of its legs. Though little was subjective when talking about a fist sized spider.

“...I think I need to go to the silk flower for some seasonal prints anyway.” You mused holding your hand out for the spider. “We'll talk to Ms. Aurantia about this while we're there.” 

“YOU'RE RATHER GOOD AT THIS BOSS.” Carbine observed. 

“Well, I do pay attention when you guys talk, you know.” You replied, huffing out a little laugh as you shrugged. Carrying the shaking spider with you as you walked back into the house. 

You had a feeling you knew exactly what you would want to trade the little spider for. 

Chapter Text

“Boss.” A soft feminine voice drew your eyes up from the proposals you were working on with Roulette and towards the door to your office. 

Weaver stood there with one set of arms clasped in front of her and two sets clasped behind her in a nice white blouse and a black pencil skirt. You were in the process of making her a suit jacket to go with it, but accounting for all the arms was proving to be an interesting challenge. 

You honestly had no idea what the guys thought you were going to talk to Aurantia about, but they seemed surprised when you asked her if there were any spider monsters in her network who hadn’t been purchased yet and who were willing to work for your family. 

Surprised but pleasantly so. Spider monsters didn’t send their little spiders into another Spider monster’s den, it just wasn’t done. You of course didn’t know that at the time, but it was a nice way to ensure that outside eyes didn’t end up where you didn’t want them. The main thing you wanted was the massive information network that the Maître d' of The Velvet Vine told you about.  

With Aurantia’s help you found two monsters up for sale who were willing to do the kind of work you wanted. Recluse, who turned out to be an acquaintance of Roulette and Sniper, and Weaver who seemed to be a close friend of Rifle’s with a flair for the dramatic. 

When they first arrived Rifle had rushed to hug her and speak for a moment before she turned to you. If you hadn’t practiced with Roulette; then when she knelt before you and swore her services, unleashing an inky cloud of thousands of spiders spreading out and parting around you like a dark crawling sea heading for every door and window, every nook and cranny ready to watch and listen for your family; you might have fainted on the spot. You had been practicing though and you didn’t even flinch. You felt a swell of pride when she nodded approvingly at Rifle and Carbine.

“Mr. Donnivan is here with his associates.” Weaver informed you when she had your attention. “They should be knocking on the door in the next ten minutes.”

“Alright. Thank you Weaver.” You replied, standing up, “Roulette, we’ll continue this later, could you go and get Musket and Colt for me?” 

“Sure, boss.” He replied with a lazy smile, “Sniper will probably want to be there too, if you're doing the measurements for Candy and Sugar today.”

“He’s welcome to join us.” You replied, turning to leave the room before pausing at the door next to Weaver. The office hadn’t exactly been silent while you and Roulette worked, there was an unending clicking and tapping coming from the couch near the large bay window that let light filter into the room. “Carbine…I would like to remind you that attending one meal a day is not a request, Joffrey isn’t afraid of cutting the internet out if you miss dinner again.” You warned. 

“OF COURSE MA’AM.”  He replied placatingly, “I WILL BE THERE.” 

You somehow doubted it, and on your way back into the house you were already planning on stopping to get him from the office for dinner. Sending emails on your cell phone was a fucking pain. 

You walk towards the door and at some point you heard Weaver stop following you. The Spiders preferred to work in the shadows and not be on the front lines in case anyone got aggressive, which was fine by you. You knew that they were information gatherers when you brought them into the house. 

When the doorbell rang you were already there to answer it, greeting Kent and his four monsters. Kent seemed a little surprised and you couldn’t stop the mischievous smile from curling up at the corners of your mouth. 

“We’ve updated security a little.” You explained and he laughed allowing you to lead him in. 

“I see…you know I’ve accepted that I was wrong about you not being good with business, but I don’t think I was prepared for just how wrong I was.” He mused, putting one hand in his pocket and offering you his arm good naturedly. For the first time in a long time you took it without worrying. All the cards were on the table now. The two of you hadn’t done your public statement yet, but it was scheduled. A definitive end to your entanglement made you feel much steadier in your friendship. 

You met up with your men in the lobby, trading Kent’s arm for Snipers so that Musket and Colt could fall in step behind you. You had chosen Musket and Colt on a whim, not to try and intimidate the young don, but because it was something closer to tradition that they accompany you when you deal with Kent. 

“YOUR HOME IS LOVELY.” Beretta complemented. “YOU MUST HAVE AN EYE FOR DETAIL MA’AM.”

“Thank you, I really don’t do much with the house though, the sewing studio is the main area I oversee and…well when you see it you’ll understand why I don’t handle the day to day upkeep of the manor.” You replied, smiling when Kent laughed. 

“It’s gotten better since we were teenagers.” Kent added looking back over his shoulder at his men. 

“...well…it was better.” You hedged, leading the way out to your little studio. You just…really liked making feminine clothes and with two female monsters in the house, with six arms each to account for, you had maybe ended up as what Rifle affectionately called a ‘creative little tornado.’

“OH…WELL YOU CERTAINLY HAVE  A VARIETY HERE.” Beretta said, as he took in the studio. 

You laughed slightly and took off your suit jacket. “You don’t have to struggle to complement it, it’s a mess in here right now, but it works…so I can only get one person's measurements at a time, while I’m doing that feel free to look at any fabric you might want, I have a portfolio you can look at or if you describe what you want I can draft something up, if you have any colors you like I can direct you towards those…” You trailed off, glancing at your guests. “...Mr. Candy and Mr. Sugar it might take me a while just to get your measurements so would you rather get that out of the way or save it for last?” 

“...My Brother Is…Deaf Ma’am.” Sugar said softly, his own voice sounding scratchy and underused. 

“Sugar normally relays anything for us, monsters have their own version of sign language that's a bit more complicated than ASL.” Kent said, before his eyes widened. 

“That's alright, hands isn’t that much more complicated than ASL…so you know hands?” You asked, bringing your hands up to echo your mouth. The massive skeleton’s one large candy apple red eye focused on your moving hands, then he looked at your face before slowly raising his large hands. 

“You know hands?” He asked slowly, his voice barely above a whisper as his hands moved.

“Yes, I’m still learning, but I can make due.” You explained, signing and speaking aloud so Kent wouldn’t be left out of the conversation with his men. “So, would you like to do your measurements first or would you like to pick some colors first?” 

“...you won’t be able to reach…” He replied, making you laugh. 

“Well, not without a stepping stool.” You agreed, pulling out your measuring tape and looping it over your wrist. 

“...We Can Go First…Since It Will Take Some Time.” Sugar’s raspy voice offered, his one good hand echoing his words for Candy. 

“Alright, I have a little stool for getting fabric down somewhere around here. Step right up and we can get started.” You replied, smiling up at the massive skeleton. 

“I’VE GOT IT BOSS.” Sniper said, pulling your stool out, even with it you had to reach some to get up to Sugar’s shoulder. 

“Could you…would it be too much of a bother if you held this tape for me here for just a moment?” You asked, waiting for him to reach up with one long spidery hand, placing one long thin finger on the tape. “Thank you.” You chirped, hopping down and bringing the tape down getting his torso then kneeling to get the entire height. 

He was so freaking tall. 

“...hmm probably should have got the shoulders while I was up there.” You mused, climbing back up the stool to get his shoulder width, and his collar while you were at it. Then you lined one end of the tape up at the top of his shoulder.  

“Would it be any trouble if you held it again?” You asked, before hopping down and getting his arm. 

“How do you do that everytime?” Kent asked. 

“Do what?” You asked, taking note that the prosthetic Sugar was wearing this time didn't have the sharp blade the last one did, you made a note to ask how he wanted his sleeves once you started drafting.   

“Ask for something without the collar picking up on it?” Kent elaborated. 

“That's just the difference between women's prep school and men's, I'm afraid. Even before monsters surfaced I had years of practice choosing my words very carefully.” You replied honestly.  

“Ya keep starin like that and we're gonna have a problem.” Colt's gruff voice redirected your attention and you glanced at him, then up at Sugar. 

“Didn't Mean Nothing By It…It's Just…Most Humans, And Even Monsters Avoid My Right Arm.” Sugar mused, holding his false hand up while maintaining eye contact with you. 

“Hmm…oh sorry, should I get the circumference from your other side?” You hedged, watching as Sugar glanced back at Kent in obvious surprise. 

“Told you she was something special boys… just think of her as extended family.” Kent explained, prompting you to snicker when Singer chimed,

“Oh, so that's the kinky shit you're into, boss? Should I call you step daddy instead?”

“What!?” Kent demanded, turning bright red. “I’m not into any kinky shit, shut up.” He joked, pailing when the collar flashed, “Son of a bitch, I didn’t…teach me how to do that thing with the careful wording?” 

“I could, it might be quicker just to show you how to get the collars on and off…they can’t be caught outside with them off though or we’re all fucked.” You explained, as you looped your measuring tape around Sugar’s narrow waist, he was surprisingly thin since you knew that with your other skeletons there was usually something there that the tape brushed against a lot sooner than it did for the tall skeleton.

“I guess it would ruin our cover story.” Kent mused.

“I mean yeah, but I was mainly thinking about going to prison for the rest of your life, if they didn’t find a way to put you on death row for conspiracy to commit high treason.” You explained casually as you moved on down to the measurements on Sugar’s long thin legs.

“...jesus fuck you are terrifying.” Kent said, and when you looked over at him he was staring slack jawed. 

“What? Why?” You asked, laughing slightly. 

“Just…death row?” He added, unhelpfully.

“That's just a fact, anyone who has been arrested for freeing monsters or working towards that kind of thing has been tried to the fullest extent possible.” You replied.

“Well…yeah, but you said it so casually. Sure there are risks for living the way we do, but even my dad didn’t talk about going to prison like that…I definitely didn’t think about death row if we got caught.” 

“We? Oh, no Kent, you misheard me.” You replied, standing up to give him your full attention. “I said you. I have people who can show you how to get the collars off, but if you get caught with that information that's all on you…your family manufactures the collars after all, it wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination to assume that you would already have the information, and even if you tried to take me down with you, I still have the texts from when you were desperately trying to get back together and I was shooting you down. Jealous ex, trying to take me down with him…they certainly wouldn’t find any evidence that I showed you how to get them off.” 

“...you dropped the ball so hard, boss.” Singer mused, making you roll your eyes. “Seriously, that was so hot.” 

“Hey! What did I just say about family, show a little respect.” Kent scolded, still blushing lightly as he looked at you. “Why aren't you reminding him to behave?” He added, looking at Colt.

“...I dunno, that was pretty fuckin hot.” The skeleton replied with a sharp smirk. “Yur a fuckin natural, boss.” 

“Natural? No, I have just had many years of practice cultivating the perfect public image and I plan to take full advantage of it.” You replied, getting the last measurement for the towering skeleton. “Alright, Sugar, I have everything. Do you have any requests for style or color?” You asked, looking up at him. 

The towering skeleton glanced back at Kent, and when the man nodded encouragingly he started rolling up his sleeve. “I Don’t Know If It’s Possible, But…” He trailed off as he revealed a bladed add-on to his prosthetic hadn't been left off, it was folded up between his radius and ulna. He hit a button causing the blade to extend, unfolding in an arc until it was facing forward. “I Hate Ripping My Shirts, And Rolling Up The Sleeves Isn’t Ideal For Quick Action.”

“Hmmm…alright.” You mused thoughtfully, raising the measuring tape again. “May I?” 

“BOSS?” Sniper said warningly, stepping forward, but you waved him off before raising the tape, careful not to directly touch the broken splintered bits of bone as you measured the blade and the area it tucked into when it was folded.

“Relax, you heard Kent…we’re all going to get along here.” You replied, making a note to try and find a solution as Sugar folded the blade back between his bones, then he rolled his sleeve back down, concealing it.

“Thank You.” Sugar said softly. 

“Alright, so who’s next?” You asked, pulling your stepping stool back up when, after a brief exchange, Candy shuffled forward. He wasn't as tall as Sugar, but he was still taller than Colt or Musket and he was broad. 

“Alright…any colors or styles you're interested in?” You asked, remembering to look up and sign as you wrapped the tape around his large middle. 

He blinked owlishly a few times before shrugging. “As long as it fits, I ain't too picky.” He said, though Kent had some ideas. 

“The suits you made for Musket and Colt are very nice, the dark blacks and reds.” 

“I think Sugar and Candy would prefer blacks and grays though.” Singer added conversationally. 

“Boring.” Kent huffed playfully. 

“ARE YOU INSULTING THE BOSS’S WORK?” Musket asked, his tone not giving anything away. You chuckled but waved him off.

 “I know what he means when he says that black and gray is boring.” You replied, remembering the only colors Vitor ever bought for him. They didn’t suit the vibrant person you knew he was, That was why anything you ever made for him always had a bold pop of color. You could make a damn nice gray suit though, if the work you did for Roulette and Sniper was anything to go by. . “I do have a lot of nice grays…I’ll pull some out as we start drafting.”

“YOU CERTAINLY DON’T HAVE A SHORTAGE OF MUCH.” Beretta mused looking around at all the bolts dotting the room. 

“If there's something I don’t have I can order it from the Silk Flower.” You explained before glancing at Kent, “for the usual fee of course.”

“WHAT IS THE USUAL FEE?” Beretta asked while you continued slowly getting Candy’s measurements. 

“Just the price for bringing it in, so it would depend on the quality of the fabric and the amount.” You answered absently. 

“...YOU DON’T HAVE A LOT OF PINKS.” He continued to observe, and you finally looked up away from you measuring tape.

“...Third drafting table on the back wall…if you open the large center drawer it should have my larger selection. I ran out of room on the walls.” You said, getting the last few measurements you needed before rising up off the floor, and bringing your hands up in front of you, “Alright Candy, that should be everything, let me know if you think of anything you want.” You said smiling up at the towering giant. It didn’t escape your notice that your guards all tensed when Sugar took two steps towards you and Candy, getting close enough to tap his brother on the shoulder and sign a quick,

‘Pockets.’ 

Candy blinked a few times before nodding, “Right…some extra pockets would be nice.” He said softly, his large clawed hands echoing his raspy words. 

“That should be easy.” You agreed. 

“...would it be too much to ask for you to teach me hands too?” Kent asked. 

“Can’t ask your own monsters to do that for ya?” Colt huffed, his red eyelights focusing on Kent. The young Don blushed and glanced at Singer. 

“Oh, he absolutely can, anytime he wants. It would be a very hands-on lesson.” The skeleton with the violet eye lights teased, before Kent cleared his throat. 

“Yes…that…just, perhaps not the most informative lesson.” He replied.

“Kent you fucking hedonist.” You teased rolling your eyes playfully, before every eye and every socket in the room turned to the opening door. 

“Mr. Donnivan…The master of the house would like a word with you while you are here.” Joffrey said, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. All of Kent’s men found their way back to him, flanking both his sides as he stood up straight from where he had been reclining against the wall.

“Singer, Beretta you two can stay here and get this finished, I can handle this with just Candy and Sugar.” Kent said to his men before turning his attention to Joffrey, “How…umm how are you feeling, I heard you had a bit of a workplace accident a while back.” 

Joffrey took a deep breath while looking at Kent. “...I would not call being shot in the chest a hazard of being a butler, Mr. Donnivan.” He said coldly before turning and beginning the long walk back towards the house. 

“...I get the distinct impression that he doesn't like me.” Kent mused, starting to follow him out. 

“Yeahhh…but that has nothing to do with your dad trying to kill him, he hasn’t liked you since we were dating.” You explained, not expecting him to pause at the door and look back indignantly. 

“What? Why?” 

“I’m not really sure, but he was very happy when we broke up.” You explained, giggling slightly when he shook his head and continued following the old man into the house. 

“Alright, who would like to go next?” You asked, nodding  and smiling when Beretta stepped up until Musket growled.

“KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF BERETTA.” He warned. 

“I DIDN’T EVEN DO ANYTHING YET.” Beretta defended. 

“What do ya mean ‘yet’ ya fuckin perv?” Colt  added and you sighed, turning to face your men.

“If you aren't capable of behaving I can switch you out for Roulette, Carbine, and Rifle.” You warned. 

“WHAT DID I DO?” Sniper asked and you shrugged while pulling out your measuring tape again.

“Guilt by association.” You threw out, before turning back to Kent’s men. “Besides it’s not like you're trying to reign them in.” 

“YOU LEAD WITH A FIRM HAND MA’AM. I LIKE THAT IN A WOMAN.” Beretta teased stretching while you measured his chest. 

“Oh! Sniper, would you mind putting this little step stool back?” You asked, ignoring Beretta’s obvious flirting…as long as you could. He purred, running a pink tongue over his teeth when you wrapped your arms around him to measure his narrow waist, and he winked when you measured his hips.

“...are you going to make it weird when I do your inseam?” You asked, sighing as you looked up at him. 

“I’m about to fuckin make it weird.” Colt grumbled and Beretta blushed.

“OH…I UMM…HAVE A TENDENCY OF COMING ON TO STRONG…ON OCCASION.” He hedged sheepishly. 

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” You replied, kneeling down in front of him.

“SORRY, I GOT A BIT EXCITED, WE HAVEN’T REALLY BEEN ALLOWED TO BE OURSELVES BEFORE THIS, I GOT A BIT EXCITED WHEN THE BOSS SAID HE WOULDN’T CARE IF I TRIED CHATTIN YOU UP.” He explained, making you look up at him curiously. 

“Beg your pardon?” You asked, sounding a little sharp.

“WELL, HE’S MY BOSS, IF HE STILL MISSED YOU AFTER THE BREAKUP I WOULDN’T IMMEDIATELY START FLIRTING WITH YOU.” Beretta explained, with a little sassy quirk of his hip. 

“Ya could try not flirting with her at all.” Colt growled.

“Jealousy isn’t attractive on anyone.” Singer added, rolling his own neon bright eye lights. 

“You ain’t got nothing for me to be jealous of, sweetheart.” Colt sneered. 

“Colt, I don’t think you would be very happy if I handled this the same way I handled it when Kent and Rifle had their little cock measuring contest.” You warned.

“I ain’t got no shame boss.” He shot back with a wink.

“Really? Even if I went and told my daddy you were having trouble keeping your dick in your pants?” You asked, watching him pail as his jaw slammed shut with a click. “That's what I thought, also Singer you are a guest here, try not to antagonize my men, or I’ll ask Kent not to bring you back to my house.”

“...you know I have trouble believing that the boss ain’t into you, if this is how you were when you were dating.” Singer mused, pouting slightly. 

“...Now whose fuckin jealous.” Colt muttered and you sighed because you knew that however long it was going to take Kent to get back, it was already too long. 

“I’M SORRY, IT SEEMS I’VE STARTED SOMETHING.” Beretta had the good graces to muse, looking down at you with his head cocked slightly, and his hand on his hip in a sassy little ‘oops’ pose. You sighed, kneeling down to get his long legs.

“Do you have any idea what you might like?” You asked, changing the topic. 

“A FEW, I HAVE A COUPLE IDEAS BUT I WAS GOING TO LEAVE IT UP TO THE EXPERT. I LIKE A LOT OF THINGS, DRAPING FABRICS OR VERY VERY TIGHT CLOTHING.” He purred, with a wink. “I REALLY LIKE PASTELS AND PINKS.” He continued when you didn’t react. 

“Did you find any shades you liked in the drawer?” You asked standing back up. 

“YOU HAVE SO MANY LOVELY SHADES, I CAN'T DECIDE ON SILKS OR SEQUINS.” He said and you paused trying not to seem too enthusiastic as you pulled out the little book you had been recording notes in. 

“I could see about incorporating both.” You mused as you began on a rough sketch.  “Perhaps a little beadwork or other design elements…if I knew if you wanted something more fitted or flowing I could get a better idea.” You mused, as you started playing with bead patterns and sequins. “At my senior prom I actually saw this beautiful black suit with purple sequin patterns up one side in this really cool asymmetrical design…if you like the pink fabric I can play around with that and something in white or gold?”  You continued, playing with swirling and floral patterns.

“THAT'S QUITE A BIT OF DETAIL.” Musket mused, making you snap the book shut. You were getting off topic, but you still shrugged at his observation. 

“It's the most any of you have given me to work with besides the colors you want.” You explained, “when it comes to making custom designs the more detail you can give me the better.”   Then you looked back at Beretta.

“Alright, that should be everything. Unless you think of anything else?” 

“I LOVE SURPRISES SWEETHEART.” He replied leaning down, pausing at the flare of magic that crackled through the room. 

“...I think it would be best if Rifle and Carbine came with us to the rest of the fittings.” You mused. 

“HMMMM? OH I SEE…SORRY I HADN'T REALIZED YOU WERE SO CLOSE.” Beretta said with a wink, making you pause and glance back at your guards. You had no idea what he was talking about, though maybe he was just making the implication to get on their nerves. 

Either way you wanted to hurry this part over and done with, so you turned back around. “Your turn Singer.” You said nodding for him to switch places with his brother. 

“...you know up close you are really pretty.” Singer said, snickering when Colt growled behind you. 

You sighed and tried to finish up quickly. “Do you have any idea what you would like?” 

“I like lavenders and cotton candy blue…I think I'd like a full length coat instead of a suit jacket. Maybe something with a fur lining, I didn't see any furs though.” He started listing, latching onto the topic enthusiastically. 

“I don't typically keep furs in here cause I rarely work with them. I can have some brought in though. Kent did say whatever you wanted.” You replied, making a note in your book. 

“Mmm daddy does know how to treat us.” He teased, clasping his hands behind his back and looking out one of the windows. 

“Gift giving is definitely one of his love languages.” You agreed absently, freezing from getting his chest measurements when his violet eye lights snapped to yours. 

“What's with the tone?” He asked seriously.

“I don't like expensive gifts.” You explained, continuing with your measurements like you didn't notice his sudden change in demeanor. 

“Oh? Is that all?” He asked, relaxing slightly. 

“Yeah, why?” You asked, flipping it back on him. 

“I love expensive gifts.” He said shimmying in place slightly. 

“IS YOUR INCOMPATIBILITY THE ONLY REASON YOU TWO BROKE UP?” Beretta asked.

“I DON'T SEE HOW THAT'S ANY OF YOUR BUSINESS.” Musket interrupted, but you waved him off before sliding to your knees in front of Singer. 

“I don't see the harm in it. We never really liked each other like that. We only started dating because we were supposed to.” You explained. 

“HE WAS GOOD TO YOU THOUGH?” Beretta asked curiously, and Singer cut his eyes towards his brother, glaring slightly. 

“He's one of my best friends. He wouldn't be that if he was like a prick or something.” You replied. 

“You know you could just trust me.” Singer grumbled crossing his arms and almost absently spreading his legs so you could measure his inseam. 

“OF COURSE I TRUST YOU BROTHER, I'M JUST HAVING A PLEASANT CONVERSATION. GETTING THE GOSSIP. ” Beretta replied.

“I know what I'm doing, daddy is wrapped around my little finger.” Singer tossed back and you…you felt a fire flare to life in your chest. 

“...is he now?” You asked, standing up. “What exactly are your intentions with Kent, if we help you get your collar off?” 

“ohhh jealous?” he tried to deflect.

“answer the question and don't lie to me.” You ordered, watching as the collar around his neck flashed green then orange. 

“...just wanna have some fun.” Singer replied, meeting your eyes. 

“Just some fun?” You repeated coldly, “...I really think you have a dangerous misconception about me, Singer. You're thinking of me as his ex, but he said it himself, we're more like family than lovers. And if you think I'm going to let you hurt him…” You started to warn, before the door opening interrupted you. 

You smiled, waving as Kent walked back in. “We were just finishing up here.” You said watching him sigh and stalk forward sagging against Singer. 

“Has your dad always been this scary?” He mused. 

“Well I don't think my dad is scary.” You replied, putting your book down on one of your drafting tables. 

“Well I...what happened?”  Kent suddenly asked, interrupting himself while looking intently at Singer, then he glanced at your men. 

“Oh that was me.” You admitted, watching surprise flash on Singer and Beretta’s faces. “What, I have nothing to hide. I wasn't there for him once, that won't happen again.” You explained watching Kent  cross his arms. 

“Angel, if I have to play nice with Rifle then I would expect the same courtesy from you.” He said sternly, before sheepishly glancing at Singer. “Sorry, when we were little she was always over-protective of me. I thought she had grown out of it and matured with age.” 

“WATCH IT.” Musket growled. 

“S’ fine daddy…I can respect someone watching out for their family…ya know even if I had to step up and do it while you weren't there.” Singer replied, a fierce bite in his voice. 

“Singer!” Kent gasped, his mouth falling open. 

“Listen here you little fucker!” Colt growled, but you laughed holding your hand out for a hand shake. 

“No. That's fair.” You agreed, gripping his hand firmly, but not overly hard when he reached out to grab your hand. 

“That was not fair! Don't agree to that, you had no way to know.” Kent said defending you now as he glanced frantically between you and his maybe lover.

“...YOU KNOW I SEE THE SIBLING THING NOW.” Beretta muttered and Musket nodded his agreement.

“...oh yeah, what did my dad want to talk to you about?” You asked, changing the topic and turning back to your drafting table. 

“Ughh right…he wants to get to know me better since…he's letting you handle communications between our families. He wants to take me and my guys out to a casino.” He said, groaning. 

“Oh…well you guys have fun.” You replied, forcing a chipper smile. 

“Not even gonna offer to come for moral support?” Kent asked. 

“Nope…I can send Colt along with my dad though, cause I think that he would find it hilarious.” You shot back.

“You're so cruel.” He huffed, checking the time and then nodding for his men to follow you.  “Alright, if your all done I guess we better get going…we'll see you in…what would you say, four or five weeks for each outfit?” 

“Hmm…give me six for Candy’s.” You replied, absently doodling some designs. “We can divide it up and do some fittings between that?” You offered, checking the time yourself. “I'll get started tomorrow.” 

You said your goodbyes, walked with them out of the house and then turned to grab Carbine for dinner, making sure that he attended the meal so that you wouldn't lose internet access.  You didn't make it there though, Recluse in her long black dress seemed to appear from the shadowed ceiling, catching you before you made it that far. 

“Boss…I've got something for you.” She said softly, passing you one of the little slips of paper her spiders like to carry around. 

You took one look at it and nodded for her to follow you up into the attic, the slip of paper clasped tightly in your hand, the words, “Found Blue.” Driving you to find out what the spiders knew. 

Chapter Text

The hardest lesson you would learn on your journey to becoming the type of woman that your guards thought you were, was that you didn't have to get along with people to be on the same side as them. Rebecca MacKenzie was a prime example of that. She was a prissy, competitive, better than you rich girl (bitch) who tried to put down everyone within a hundred foot radius. 

Her family was also anti-slavery and they owned a small island off the coast of Haiti, the first country to abolish slavery and with wording that made slavery in itself illegal, not just enslaving people. They had been periodically buying up mass quantities of slaves and secretly smuggling them out of the country to Haiti, which was why your private investigators couldn't find any traces of Blue after the furniture warehouse. From there her family had been setting them up on the island. What you thought was a luxurious display of excessive wealth was actually a tropical safe haven for monsters.

That meant that Blue wasn't a slave. That meant that the bitch who tried to make you feel bad about not getting into Juilliard saved him. That meant you were on the same side as that cunt and you needed her permission to go and visit Blue. 

You thought that might have posed a problem, given that you actively owned six monsters the last time you spoke and you had added two more to that since then. However, your necklace and your large donation to anti-slavery organizations hadn't gone unnoticed. Specifically Rebecca had said that a certain Mr. Balsamic had spoken very highly of you. 

You would have to buy Roulette a nice watch for that one or maybe a vacation home in Haiti. That might be a nice treat for the guys, but that could wait. 

First you needed a private jet. So that your men only needed to wear collars until the plane took off, then they could take them off, because they would have been taken off when you landed in Haiti anyway. 

Then you needed to rent a charter ship to take you to the private island Rebecca's family owned. Your heart was pounding hard and fast as the little boat rocked in the water. Would you showing up here be weird? You hadn't seen each other since he was in a cage and he had been free this whole time? Would he still want to see you? Did he ever really? 

“SEA SICK, BOSS?” Carbine asked softly from your right, as he glanced up from his phone. 

“No. I'm fine.” You replied, watching as the small strip of land you were heading towards got closer and closer. 

“IT WILL BE ALRIGHT. NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS, HE’S NOT A SLAVE, AND THAT'S ALL THAT'S IMPORTANT, RIGHT?” He asked and you felt like you were being tested, but your nerves were too shot to bother worrying about the right answer. 

“Look, Carbine, I'm not freaking out cause I have a savior complex and didn't get to help him myself, I'm freaking out because I don't have a lot of real friends and there's a good chance he was just being nice to me because he didn't have a choice.” You rambled, swallowing hard. “I just don't know what's going to happen when we get to that island and that's terrifying.” 

“...UNKNOWN VARIABLES OFTEN ARE.” He agreed, crossing his arms over the banister as he leaned next to you. “I SUPPOSE YOU COULD THINK OF IT LIKE YOU COULD HAVE HAD A FRIEND BUT DON'T, OR YOU COULD THINK OF IT AS HAVING SOMEONE WHO WAS KIND TO YOU IS LIVING A GOOD LIFE.” 

You took a deep breath as you stared out at the shifting water. “Maybe…” you answered absently. 

“HE LOOKS A LOT LIKE ME IF I RECALL?” Carbine asked, and at that you blushed and looked back at him. 

“I wouldn't say that.” You admitted sheepishly. “...it was dim in the warehouse and I spent most of the time crying or panicking…the only thing I remembered vividly was that he was a skeleton and that he had big bright blue eye lights.” 

“REALLY, YOU LAUNCHED YOURSELF ACROSS THE ENTRYWAY AND WRAPPED YOUR ARM AROUND ME BASED ON MY EYE LIGHTS?” He teased and you blushed brighter, your face heating up more under the bright sun. “WE MUST HAVE BEEN MORE ALIKE THAN THAT.” 

“...honestly I don't think you're anything alike, but…at the same time I really couldn't say. I don't really know much about him, I think it was like…some kind of trauma bonding…I know that that's not exactly right but I don't know what else to call it. Just…I was scared and he held my hand and…I was saved and he wasn't.” You explained, glancing around his face before meeting his eye lights. 

He was just listening; no judgment, no placations,  so you kept talking. 

“Finding him and repaying some of that kindness was something I could focus on besides…what happened.” You admitted, looking down at your hands. “I was saved and he wasn't so I could pour all my energy into finding him and saving him instead of…being small and scared and helpless.” you admitted starting to spiral a little, going back and forth. 

Blue let you sleep on his shoulder, but there was nowhere else in the small cage to sleep and at least then he could use the taffeta of your skirt as a blanket. 

He told you it would be alright, but he had no way to know that. He could have just been being kind. 

Then the two of you joked a little, trying to find humor in the dark situation, but if you were a monster wouldn't you want to stick it back to some humans no matter who was doing the sticking? How close were you really? 

You jumped when a hand on your shoulder brought you back to the present. “I WOULD SAY THINGS DIDN'T TURN OUT SO BAD NO MATTER WHAT HE THINKS OF YOU. YOU'RE CERTAINLY NO HELPLESS LITTLE GIRL, BOSS. AND YOU AREN'T ALONE.” Carbine encouraged, nodding back to where Rifle and Weaver were talking next to Sniper and Roulette. 

You had chosen to leave Musket and Colt at the manor with Joffrey and Recluse just in case. Frisk was used to Sniper and Roulette having to be gone for long periods of time while they worked, but you didn't want to leave them alone without any protection, especially when you considered the types of people you had started involving yourself with. 

Still, Carbine was right. You might not have had a lot of friends when you met Blue, but then you met Carbine and his brother. Sniper and Roulette, Colt and Musket. You were still getting to know them, but Recluse and Weaver finally gave you more women in the house and making clothes for them was so much fun. 

You even got Kent back as a friend since you had met Blue. So, you weren't sure why you so desperately needed to reconnect with Blue and why you wanted him to like you…you also didn't have time to unpack it as the dock came into view so you decided to just say it was trauma related and you would have to deal with it later. 

You took a deep breath as everything was slowly docked, another spider monster was waving from the shore. Weaver's contact on the island, Missy. 

You let Weaver walk up to her first, falling back a little next to your skeletons as your bags were unloaded. The humans working the charter boat were treating them like they would treat anyone else, but it was obviously something that they weren't used to from humans. 

Even if they put on a good front you wanted to hover in case they needed a buffer. Though you weren't able to hover long since the spider in the cute vest and bow tie grabbed your attention. “So this is the employer that I've heard so much about?” Missy said, holding one of her hands out for you to shake. 

“Talking about me Weaver?” You teased, taking Missy's offered hand. 

“Only good things, Boss.” She replied, trilling out a small amused laugh.  

“So, I have a small bakery a little further inland. I thought that would be the perfect place for a little meeting. When Weaver got in touch with me describing who you were looking for I thought I might have known them immediately.” Missy explained, nodding towards a small road. 

“A bakery?” Rifle asked, perking up slightly. 

“You're absolutely shameless.” Weaver chastised while you snickered. 

“Would you like something while we're there?” You offered.

“OH, PLEASE, ALLOW ME BOSS. I CAN COVER YOU AS WELL, IF YOU WOULD ALLOW ME TO TREAT YOU.” Carbine offered, pulling out a black card, with Angelo embossed across the surface in gold. 

“Well…I suppose just this once. If you have some suggestions.” You replied, feeling more confident in allowing it when he smiled confidently. Rifle even seemed to relax a little, forgetting the new humans around you in favor of leaning over his brother. 

“I have a couple recommendations if the menu is similar to what Weaver sold underground.” He chimed in enthusiastically. 

“Well, mine isn't a bar.” Missy explained as Rifle fell in step beside you. 

Her bakery was a cute little pastel thing, with lacey white web designs on the tablecloths and placemats. There were several monsters and a few humans dotted around the dinning area. 

Seeing it in action you could almost imagine what your home would be like without monsters in collars. Before you could think about that too deeply Rifle was ordering, distracting you from the sweat collecting on your palms and the rapid pitter patter of your heart rate spiking every time the little bell above the door jingled. 

“...oh wow, these are actually amazing.” You mused, giggling slightly when Rifle beamed. 

“I know. Spider doughnuts are great.” He said, nodding towards Weaver. “I'm sure she wouldn't mind whipping some up at home.” 

“I wouldn't want to impose…these are great though.” You complimented.  

“I DON'T THINK IT WOULD BE AN IMPOSITION. RECLUSE HAS BEEN TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO SQUEEZE IN SOME TIME IN THE KITCHEN BETWEEN JOFFREY AND MUSKET FOR AWHILE.” Sniper added conversationally. 

“I won't deny, that is absolutely Joffrey's domain. I can try to talk to him though.” You replied, thoughtfully.

“Oh, if you're gonna do that can we have some honey ordered in, cause Weaver has this amazing honey cake recipe.” Rifle said and Carbine rolled his eyes, laughing slightly. 

“AS IF THE HONEY WOULD MAKE IT TO THE CAKE IF YOU KNEW WHERE IT WAS.” He teased gently. 

“huh? Ya know it didn't even occur to me ta ask, but there aren't a lot of condiments in the fridge.” Roulette mused, perking up slightly. 

“BROTHER IF YOUR ABOUT TO ASK FOR KETCHUP I MIGHT LOSE MY MIND.” Sniper dead panned. 

After some more conversation it became obvious that they were trying to distract you, but you couldn't really be too upset about it this time, since you were so nervous about the whole meeting. 

You had nearly relaxed when the door jingled followed by the sounds of voices. 

“I KNOW YOU EAT A LOT OF SUGAR BROTHER, BUT REALLY? ORGANIZING A SURPRISE FOR ME AT MISSY'S?” A familiar voice had your heart rate spiking again.

“Hey, I dunno what it is either bro, I just know Missy said to have ya here.” The other voice replied with a slight laugh. You looked towards them, your breath catching when you saw big, bright cyan eye lights. 

“Blue over here dearie.” Missy called, and you sipped your coffee to keep your face neutral. Blue initially beamed, but then seemed to hesitate when he noticed a human at the table. 

“...what's goin on Missy?” The other skeleton asked, eyeing you suspiciously and you thought you felt like you remembered the voice but it wasn't one you focused on while you were kidnapped.  

“Blue, that's a human, leave it.” You Vaguely remember it sneering, but you couldn't be bothered by that now either, as the skeletons approached the table. 

“UMM WELL THIS IS DEFINITELY A SURPRISE. HOW CAN I HELP YOU HUMAN?” Blue asked, smiling tightly. 

“Oh, I don't need anything, I just wanted to see you. I heard you're doing well.” You brushed off nervously, as the skeleton's eyes widened when you spoke. 

“WAIT...MAIDEN?” He asked, sounding stunned. 

“I guess I look pretty different without all the bruises…but I promised I wouldn't stop looking for you-” you said, barely getting the words out before you were jerked into a tight hug. 

“I'M SO GLAD YOUR OKAY!” He said, pulling you tightly against him. Your anxiety dissolved and you relaxed as you returned the embrace. 

“Of course I was going to be okay. You're the one who was left in a cage when I last saw you.” 

“YES BUT YOU WERE INJURED AND I HAD NO WAY OF KNOWING IF YOU REALLY WERE BEING RESCUED OR NOT.” He replied, pulling back to look at you. “I'M GLAD YOUR OKAY.” 

“me to.” You agreed, laughing slightly. “I mean, with you. I…I looked everywhere, but I was so happy to hear that you were here and that you weren't someone's slave.” 

“Sure ya were.” The tall skeleton that came in with Blue said, eyeing your guards. 

“ORANGE-”  Blue sighed, but he was interrupted. 

“WE AREN'T THE BOSS’S SLAVES, NOT IN THE TRADITIONAL SENSE. WERE EMPLOYEES.” Sniper interrupted for you. 

“Really? Do you think I would bring someone who was pro-slavery into my shop?” Missy asked, crossing one set of her arms over her chest. 

“Well…I'll admit that things at home aren't ideal…I am happy that you're here instead, but hopefully with all the work people like me and Rebecca are putting in, my home will be a lot like this place one day.” You mused honestly. 

“REBECCA?” Blue asked curiously.

“The heiress to the MacKenzie fortune.” You supplemented. 

“OH! YOU KNOW THE MACKENZIES?” Blue asked, sounding surprised. 

“I went to school with their daughter.” You replied, watching his face light up.

“WOWIE! YOU REALLY ARE A PRINCESS, AREN'T YOU?!” Blue chirped enthusiastically. You giggled, covering your mouth as he stared at you with large sparkling eye lights. 

“I wouldn't exactly say that.” You forced out between fits of laughter. 

“HEY, ARE YOU GOING TO BE VISITING FOR A WHILE? BECAUSE THERES THIS REALLY NICE BEACH DOWN AWAY FROM THE DOCS. BOATS NEVER COME IN THAT WAY.” He explained enthusiastically. 

“Yeah, we were planning on staying for a day or two at least. Rebecca offered us one of the new constructions that hasn't been filled yet.” You explained, smiling as he looped his arm with yours. 

“THAT'S PERFECT! COME ON, LET ME SHOW YOU AROUND.” Blue offered, enthusiastically. 

“Alright.” You agreed, smiling over your shoulder. “What do you boys think? Want to go to the beach?” 

“Sounds fun, Boss.” Roulette agreed with a lazy shrug. 

“Alright let's go…I didn't really bring a suit though, I didn't plan on getting wet.” You mused. 

“I COULD-” Carbine started to offer, but you shook your head. 

“You already covered lunch, you don't need to cover everything on the trip just because you can.” You brushed off gently. 

“THEY GET A SALARY?” Blue asked in surprise. 

“Of course…well as much as we can get away with until things change.” You admitted, letting Blue lead you out of the shop. 

“Wowie you must be a princess,” Rifle mocked quietly as they trailed behind the boss and her friend. 

“THERE EXCITED TO SEE EACH OTHER.” Sniper replied, gently scolding the other skeleton while keeping his voice lower than usual as well. 

“I just can't belive the boss is eatin up that obvious trash when she's been callin Carbine on his more obvious games all month.” Rifle continued. 

“DON'T ACT LIKE YOU DON’T LET WEAVER GET AWAY WITH MORE BECAUSE OF YOUR ATTACHMENT.  YOU SHOULDN'T HOLD OTHERS TO STANDARDS YOU DON'T KEEP.” Carbine added, chastising his brother. 

“Besides,” Roulette jumped in. “You're getting distracted by the wrong skeleton. I don't like the way the skeleton in the orange hoodie is looking at the boss.” 

Rifle looked away from the boss walking arm and arm with the blue skeleton to the taller one. Orange, Blue had called him. 

Sure enough, Orange was glaring daggers at the boss, making Rifle bristle. It wasn't hard to guess why, the guy wasn't being subtle about his disdain for humans, which to a point Rifle could get, but the boss was obviously on monster's side, this new guy was letting his judgment be clouded. 

“Idiot would have been lucky ta end up with the boss if they didn't end up being here.” Rifle huffed, keeping his eye lights on the other orange skeleton for now. 

“We'll just keep an eye on it. We won't be here long anyway.” Roulette encouraged.

“Hey! Do you guys want to go swimming?” The boss called back, not being able to hear their conversation, but keying into the fact that they were obviously talking about something, since she walked up to us. “Everything alright?” She asked softly, soothing a little of the irritation that had been building, making Rifle’s bones itch. 

“Yeah boss…I was just thinkin of going ahead to the house were stayin at to scope it out and get set up.” Rifle replied, rolling his eyelights when Carbine chimed in. 

“I'LL GO WITH HIM IF THAT'S ALRIGHT.” It was completely obvious that he just wanted to go get some extra work done. 

“Sure…are you guys sure you don't want to have some fun though? You work all the time.” You mused, making Rifle smile. 

“Some other time. Safety first right?” He asked, smiling at you before leaving you with Sniper and Roulette. Intent on getting a break, his face instantly split into a broad smile when he got to the place they would be staying at. 

“Hey bro?” He said softly, as Carbine pulled his laptop out.

“HMMM?” Carbine encouraged without turning away from his computer.

“There's only two bedrooms.” Rifle explained, snickering when the tapping sounds filling the room stuttered. 

“OF COURSE THERE ARE.” Carbine huffed, shaking his head as he worked. It might not have been the news Carbine wanted to hear, but it definitely put Rifle in a better mood. He couldn't wait for you to get back with Sniper and Roulette. 

Chapter Text

You sighed as you stretched out across the towel you bought with your suit. “I'm so glad we could come out and do this…I'll have to get you something special as a thank you.” You offered, glancing back at Roulette. 

Roulette and Sniper had taken off their jackets and rolled up their sleeves, but that was about it, they didn't seem interested in swimming either, so it had just been you and Blue until you decided to stretch out under the sun. 

You debated getting changed, but your skin was still damp, so you stayed in the cutesy sailor suit looking two piece. It wasn't exactly something you would have picked for yourself, but it seemed like everything monster made on the island was cuter looking, and you didn't want to seem picky. (Especially when Blue had directed you to these types of suits specifically.)

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” Blue asked curiously. 

You glanced at Roulette, as much as you wanted to brag about him, his work was technically a secret.

“Just pulled some strings for the boss.” Roulette replied with a lazy shrug.  “It wasn't nothin special.” 

“WOW, SO YOU GUYS HAVE REAL, IMPORTANT JOBS?” Blue asked curiously. “WE TRY TO BE SELF SUFFICIENT HERE, BUT MOST THINGS STILL HAVE TO BE SHIPPED IN AND MOST OF THE JOBS ARE ON THE DOCS.” 

“DOC WORK IS IMPORTANT WORK. IT'S HARD MANUAL LABOR, BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN IT'S NOT IMPORTANT.” Sniper replied, making Blue smile brightly. 

“What do you guys do anyway?” Blue's brother asked, taking a long drag from a cigarette. “...just curious, if you aren't slaves.” 

“Bit of this and a bit of that.” Roulette replied cryptically, but with his easy smile you could see how it would be hard for anyone to call him on it without seeming like they just had an issue. 

“It's getting a little late.” You mused, trying to play nice for Blue's brother. It wasn't like he didn't have every reason to be distrustful of humans, and you supposed that extended to your monsters. 

“When are you guys leaving again?” Orange asked, not being subtle to all. 

“We were thinking either tomorrow evening or early the next morning.” You replied, forcing a smile.

“OH, IF YOU WAIT UNTIL THE NEXT MORNING I CAN SWING BY AND SEE YOU OFF ON MY MORNING JOG!” Blue offered excitedly.  

“We'll think about it.” You agreed easily before standing up and dusting the sand off your skin, planning on taking a shower once you got back to the house you were staying at. 

“HE SEEMS HAPPY HERE BOSS.” Sniper commented as you walked back with you boys. 

“Yeah…do you boys think you would want to stay in a place like this?” You asked, glancing out at the ships moving back and forth from the island. 

“Tryin ta get rid of us, boss?” Roulette joked, with a lazy smile. You snorted and rolled your eyes.  

“Of course not, but I can see the appeal something like this would have.” 

“And have to start all over, make new contacts, build our network up from scratch, no thanks…we're making progress, boss. I ain't the type to call it when we're about to hit payout.” Roulette explained, brushing off your offer. 

“BESIDES…WE AREN'T GOING ANYWHERE BOSS. I MADE A PROMISE TO YOU AND MONSTERS DON'T BREAK PROMISES.” Sniper added, “YOU'VE GOT MY LOYALTY FOR LIFE.” 

“Well…we'll talk about it more later, I don't think having a place where you can go and not have to worry about anything would be breaking your promise…but there's no pressure.” You replied, smiling up at him. 

“OF COURSE, BOSS.” He said, looping his jacket over his arm. “GOTTA SAY THOUGH, CAN'T WAIT TO GET INSIDE OUTTA THIS HEAT.”  

“I completely agree.” You answered, smiling up at him, before an idea occurred to you. “You know, you guys only own suits, I could make you a few outfits that aren't as warm or smoothing.”

“We like lookin sharp, boss.” Roulette replied with a shrug.

“Ye of little faith.” You scolded playfully, “Of course they would still look sharp, just something a little cooler…I think suspenders are kinda cute.”

“Ha, noooo.” Roulette brushed you off, shaking his head.

“What's wrong with suspenders?” You asked, laughing slightly at his blatant refusal. It was…strangely nice. You wondered for a second if he would have told you his preference if you were home in your manor. At home, even with the collars off, you couldn’t think of a single time he had answered one of your questions with a refusal. Here though, his usual casual relaxed attitude seemed softer somehow, more natural. 

“NYAHAHA! DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT BOSS.” Sniper replied, smiling brightly. 

“I’m not worrying about it…if you don’t want suspenders though…maybe something with sleeves that are easier to roll up? With the little buttons up around the bicep…well…you're humorous.” You mused, thinking out loud as you walked up the long winding path to the house you were going to be staying in. 

“YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THAT BOSS.” Sniper said.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” You replied, brushing him off, “I really like making clothes, and the only people I’ve ever had around to make things for in the past have been, myself and Kent. It’s nice to have others around to make some nice clothes for.”

“Huh…so before us you only made clothes for yourself and your fiance?” Roulette asked curiously. 

“Ex-fiance.” You corrected, playfully, not expecting him to nod like he was absorbing some important information. 

“WELL, YOU DO GOOD WORK, BOSS. WE APPRECIATE IT.” Sniper said, using his long legs to take two long strides ahead of you, so that he could hold the door open for you. 

“Thank you.” You said, walking past him and into the sparsely furnished house. Carbine was sitting on the one couch with his laptop open next to Rifle, while Weaver stood talking to Rifle. 

She turned to you as you walked into the house and smirked. “That's cute.”  

Carbine's eye lights flicked up. You were used to the barely perceptible movement, a second of attention before he returned to his computer. The constant stream of tapping, pausing as he blinked was new. 

“I'm going to go and get changed.” You said, shattering the moment as his eye lights darted back to his screen and the tapping resumed. 

You laughed it off and went down the hall, first to the small bathroom to wash the sand and salt out of your hair. You changed and decided to store your used clothes in one of the rooms,then you paused in the door. There was only one queen sized bed in the room and a small dresser. Without storing your clothes you went down the hall and found another room laid out identically to the first, with only one queen sized bed. 

You rolled the suit up and stuffed it into your bag before deciding to go back to the living room to discuss sleeping arrangements. 

“...there are only two beds.” You said softly as you walked back into the living room. 

“Yeah, we noticed that.” Rifle said, shrugging it off.

“Hmmm…oh dear…I suppose I could go sleep at my cousins tonight to make the arrangements easier. They have some space.” Weaver offered making you nod. 

“Okay. I guess I could take the couch then.” You offered, thinking you found the perfect solution. 

“WHAT? BOSS YOU CAN'T SLEEP ON THE COUCH.” Sniper protested. 

You cocked your head to the side, ready to ask why not, when Rifle cleared his throat.

“You probably can’t sleep on the couch, because someone is going to need to keep watch, but that means there will only be one person in one of the beds for most of the night.” He explained and you blinked at him a few times fighting down a blush through sheer force of will. 

You were thinking of the best way to shoot them down when Roulette spoke, his eyes twinkling as he smirked.

“That's not a bad idea.” 

“Really?” You asked incredulously. 

“Yeah, in fact I'll take the first watch and you can bunk with Sniper. That way Carbine and Rifle can get some sleep.” He offered, looking over at Rifle. “Since you guys went through all the trouble of setting up while we were lounging on the beach.” 

“Well…if you wouldn't mind. I guess it isn't a bad idea.” You mused, seeing their point. It was just practical, there was no point being embarrassed. 

“My brother and I can switch off taking watch for the night.” Rifle offered but you waved him off, not missing Carbine’s snickering as he side eyed his brother.

“You guys have been working all day. At least get a good night's sleep…you know as long as you don't mind.” You said, turning your attention to Sniper. He was the only one who hadn't said anything about the sleeping arrangement. 

“OH? I DON'T SUPPOSE IT WOULD BE A PROBLEM…AS LONG AS YOU DON'T MIND OF COURSE…IF ITS A PROBLEM WE COULD JUST TRY NOT TO WAKE YOU.” He replied, nodding towards the couch. 

“Hmmm…honestly I’m a pretty light sleeper, so that might not be an option.” You mused, not saying that you hadn’t always been a light sleeper. That was a new development, since your kidnapping. It felt so long ago now, but it had changed you so completely that even the softest silk and feather down blankets couldn't keep you asleep. “Nothing has to be written in stone though, we’ll give it a try and if it doesn't work out we’ll try something else.” 

“OF COURSE BOSS, WHATEVER YOU WANT.” Sniper agreed easily. 

“Alright, in that case it's settled, do you guys want to do anything before bed?” You offered, looking around the room. It was pretty bare bones, but you imagined that if they were trying to make as many houses and furnish them as fast as they were smuggling monsters out of the country then the bare necessities were the best that could be expected. “We should at least have some dinner. I don’t know if the kitchen is stocked though.” You mused aloud as you turned and headed that way, with a prim “click click” following you into the room.

“...Ma’am, don’t take this the wrong way, but have you ever cooked anything…ever?” Weaver asked, raising one delicate hand to cover her smiling mouth. 

“No…I don’t think I have.” You admitted shyly. 

“I’ll take care of it Boss. Why don’t you go sit with your boys.” 

“It isn’t fair to ask you to cook for everyone, that isn’t your job.” You tried to protest, but you still allowed her to shoo you back out of the kitchen.

“It would be my pleasure.” She replied, her smile sharp and confident as she banished you from the kitchen. 

“...okay…well, that brings us back to the first question, do you guys want to do anything while we wait for dinner?” You asked, looking back over at the skeletons, blinking a few times as it seemed you had just missed some kind of exchange. 

Rifle was slightly orange, while Roulette and Carbine’s broad grins were just a hair too large to be anything less than the smiles you would see during some locker room hazing, directed at your quietest skeleton you couldn’t just let that stand. You smiled and decided to sit between Rifle and Carbine on the couch, looking up at the taller skeleton.

“We probably should have brought some books or some board games.” You said, shrugging as you did. Rifle perked up slightly and stood up.

“I brought something.” He said before heading down the hall and coming back with a deck of playing cards. “Do you know how to play poker boss?” 

You tried not to deflate too obviously, but your boys were observant. 

“Not a fan of gambling?” Roulette asked. 

“THAT'S RIGHT, YOU SEEMED FAIRLY UNHAPPY WHEN YOUR FATHER INVITED THE DON OF THE DONNIVAN SYNDICATE OUT TO A CASINO.” Sniper said, adding to the observation. 

“Oh, no I don't have a problem with gambling. It's just not much of a gamble for me.” You explained, looking down. “And…I was a bit disappointed because I thought I would be handling my family's connection with Kent and I won't be able to tag along to the casino.” 

“...WELL NOW I'M CURIOUS BECAUSE THE IMPLICATION IS RATHER INTERESTING BOSS.” Carbine said, looking over at you. 

“...I've been banned from six casinos since I turned 18.” You admitted shyly, “it's not gambling cause I always win.” 

“Countin cards boss?” Rifle asked, his smile large and bright as he took his seat back beside you and started shuffling.

“What? No, never. I don't even know how to do that…I just win too much and it looks suspicious.” 

“...prove it.” Roulette goaded, gesturing to be dealt in on the coffee table. “We can bet and raise with buttons or somethin.”

Well. I did warn them. You thought, nodding for Rifle to deal you in. 

You played five rounds before Weaver poked her head out of the kitchen to see what all the noise was about. 

“Ain't no fuckin way.” Roulette said, shaking his head. Rifle had folded again, like he had been doing every round without calling.

“Told you so.” You replied with a small shrug before pulling your winnings towards yourself. 

“AND YOU AREN'T COUNTING?” Carbine asked skeptically. 

“No…i don't think.” You replied pulling out your phone and looking up how counting cards works. “...okay no, I'm not. I swear the cards just work out in my favor.”

“...BUT…HOW?” Sniper asked curiously. 

“Look, I'll prove it…this says counting cards requires you to keep track of the cards in play right? So if I can't see the cards then there's no way I can count.” I replied, looking around as Rifle nodded.

“Okay, deal me in.” You replied, watching as Rifle delt another round, then you spread your cards out facedown without looking at them. “Now, going a little out of order, I will go ahead and put down a bet and discard.” You replied sliding two cards forward without looking at them. “Rifle, if you would.” you said gesturing for him to give you two , then you flipped them over to shocked gasps all around as you revealed a royal straight flush. 

“...no. fuckin. Way.” Rifle said, staring slack jawed at the cards. “you didn't even look…no one else discarded?” 

“HMMM…LET ME DEAL.” Carbine said, closing his laptop and reaching for the deck. 

“I think we're out of time.” You replied, nodding towards Weaver, standing in the doorway. 

“I INSIST.” He continued. 

“Sorry guys, another reason it isn't gambling for me, I don't play when I don't know for sure if I can win.” 

“SO IT IS SOME KIND OF MIND GAME?” He said, smirking at the conclusion. 

“I never said it wasn't. I just said I don't count cards.” You said, smiling at him before standing up to help Weaver serve dinner. “Really, I did say I was banned from six casinos, that should have been your warning.” 

“Keep underestimating the ladies, boys. Makes it easy for us.” Weaver teased, smirking at you. 

“Underestimate you? Never.” Rife shot back before putting his cards back in their box. 

You had no idea how Weaver managed to whip up such a delicious dinner in the sparse kitchen, but you would definitely have to talk to Joffrey about getting her some time in the kitchen, because her meal was heavenly. 

Perfectly seasoned slabs of honeyed ham, seared and caramelized in a way that complemented the sides of some kind of green leafy vegetable that tasted of pepper and garlic and fluffy rolls slathered in honey butter. Joffrey was getting older and probably needed some more help around the manor right, because you definitely wanted to eat more of this.

“Good right?” Rifle asked, snagging another roll. You might have been eyeing the pan and debating if the stomach ache you would get from overeating would be worth it for just one or two more rolls. 

“Really good. Thank you Weaver.” You said, smiling up at the monster, before deciding to grab another roll, only to pause and blink a few times when you turned back to the empty pan. 

“I IMPLORE YOU NOT TO BRING HONEY INTO THE HOUSE, OR THIS IS WHAT YOU’LL HAVE TO CONTEND WITH.” Carbine said, plucking one of the rolls out of his brother's hand and passing it to you. 

“I mean, If its something you guys like of course we can bring it in. it’s your home for now after all.” You said, smiling and taking a bite of the roll, not expecting the wide eyed look that Rifle turned to you.

“What do you mean, for now?” Rifle asked.

“Hmm?” You hummed around your food, swallowing before answering, “Just that I’ve been considering…well hang on first let me say your always welcome to stay with me, the house feels so much fuller with you in it, but I could help you get settled in another country if you wanted, or I could get us a vacation home in France or some other country…I haven’t found a lot on it because I was focusing my research on the United States, but I’m sure there are other places like France or Haiti where all slavery is illegal, even Monster slavery.” You explained. 

“Ya had me worried there for a second Boss. Thought you might have been bored of us already.” Rifle said, jokingly. At least it sounded like a joke to you, but you had a feeling that there was a small bit of truth hidden behind the joke. 

“I would start worrying about my health if I was bored around you all…I don't think the house has been so lively in my entire life.” You teased back.

“Too much excitement for you, Boss?” Roulette asked, adding onto the conversation. 

“Didn't say that either.” You replied, with a smirk, ready to offer to help Miffet with the dishes, but with six arms she was already done with it by the time you had even thought to ask. 

Before you knew it she was telling you good night and winking on her way out of the house as she told you to get a good night's sleep. 

Winking? There wasn't going to be anything wink worthy going on…right? You wondered, fighting down another blush and fight it down hard. 

You were a respectable mob boss now! You could share a bed with your body guards and have it not be a big deal damn it!

“Hey, are you ready to turn in?” Roulette’s voice had you jumping slightly. 

“Hmm? Oh, yeah probably should. I plan on getting up early to decide whether we're leaving or not.” You agreed, swallowing at the small crooked smile he shot your way. 

“Kay, see ya there, boss.” He shot over his shoulder casually as he turned to walk back towards the bedroom…which was fine.

…it wasn’t like the only guys you had slept with in four years was Kent…

Beside! Not with! I’m not going to be sleeping with Roulette! You scolded yourself as you lost your war against blushing. 

You really hoped you didn’t embarrass yourself. 

Chapter Text

Your heart was fluttering a little faster than normal as you got ready for bed. You tried to play it off casually, but your internal monologue was a mantra of don’t stare, don’t stare, don’t stare, as Roulette walked back into the room with a towel around his shoulders. His suit jacket and shirt were folded neatly over his arm with his belt and tie, he had a nice buttoned up pajama top on over his usual pants with the top two buttons undone. 

You hadn’t seen him outside of formalwear in awhile, but obviously he wasn’t going to sleep in a full three piece suit.

“Do you have a preference for the side of the bed you're on?” You asked conversationally, brushing through your hair one more time before bed.

“Not really, they both have pros and cons.” He said, with a lazy shrug before putting his clothes down on the lone dresser. 

“Pros and Cons?” You asked, curiously as you looked at the bed. 

“If I’m on the side of the bed that's closer to the door then I’m between you and anything that comes in, but if I’m on the side furthest from the door then I have more time to get to my sidearm.” He explained casually, a complicated thought process for just deciding what side of the bed to sleep on. You wondered if those were the things you would start considering as you became more entrenched in your fathers business. 

“Huh?” You vocalized curiously as you looked at the bed.

“Welp, gave ya the chance to pick first.” He said, flopping backwards onto the side closest to the door, “Night, boss.”

Then he started snoring almost immediately while you stood there blinking. Well shit, guess I was getting nervous over nothing. You thought, sliding into the other side of the bed, making sure to give him plenty of room as you slid under the blankets. 

Roulette was surprisingly warm for a skeleton. You could feel the line of heat at your side even if you weren't touching, reminding you that you weren't alone as you tried to sleep. 

Tried.

The mattress was…not what you were used to. You understood, even if Rebecca's family was “private island” rich, they were still smuggling large quantities of slaves out of the country and trying to set them up with all the necessary amenities. 

The fact that each house had mattresses and dressers was a good enough start, even if the edges of the mattress were to rough and the center seemed to have no support at all, causing you to squirm slightly and dip towards the middle as you tried to reposition yourself. 

“Trouble sleeping?” Roulette's voice startled you, you were sure he had been asleep, the soft snoring had been consistent until he spoke. 

“A little bit.” You replied, glancing over to see one eye socket cracked open, the little white light floating inside was fuzzy and unfocused, but it was there. 

“I could go to the couch. I'm pretty good at crashing anywhere.” Roulette offered. 

“Oh, it's not that.” You replied, laughing him off and blushing. “...it's the mattress.” 

“Heh yeah.” He replied, huffing out a small laugh while stretching “This definitely ain't like home. I can sleep anywhere, but I guess if you've never had to rough-it this is pretty bad.”

“...do you remember where I met Blue?” You asked, turning to face him and watching him turn pale blue in the dark.

“...that came out wrong.” He said apologetically. 

“It's alright.” You brushed off, laughing softly. “I know…the way I am it's easy to draw conclusions or make assumptions…forget certain things.”

“You can use that, ya know?” He replied softly, “Your reputation is pristine…we dug through everything available online when we first moved in. Everything we found publicly painted a picture of someone well liked and influential, nothing mentioned how smart you are though or how good you are at adjusting the narrative to suit you… which is good, if you let people underestimate you then you always have the upper hand.”  

“That's promising to hear at least.” You replied, rolling back over and trying to get comfortable.

“If you move more towards the middle it's more comfortable.” He mentioned, making you blush in the dark. 

“I don’t want to take up the whole bed.” You said, turning when he laughed.

“Just get comfortable, boss. I can sleep anywhere.” He said, and with his encouragement you scooted a little closer to the skeleton, away from the harder edge of the bed. Maybe the jetlag caught up to you, or the worry, or maybe it was the line of warmth next to you that helped soothe you to sleep. You don’t know, but you must have eventually dozed off, because the bed dipping woke you up some time later. 

Your eyes flicked open and Sniper froze in the process of climbing into bed. “SORRY. I DIDN’T MEAN TO WAKE YOU.” He said, softly for him.

“S’ fine.” You slurred sleepily before scooting over and making some room for the tall skeleton. “Told you I was a light sleeper.” 

“I HOPE YOU WON’T HAVE ANY TROUBLE GETTING BACK TO SLEEP.” He said, slipping under the blankets.

“I don’t normally.” You replied, yawning and stretching out slightly, before blinking the sleep from your eyes with some effort. You could stretch pretty far, considering how tall Sniper was. It was a bit of a struggle to focus through your sleep-addled brain, but when you did it became obvious that Sniper was on the very edge of the bed on his side. “Are you comfortable?”

“OH, YES BOSS, I’M FINE.” He replied quickly, a little too quickly.

“Come on Sniper.” You said, patting the center of the bed. “There’s plenty of room, I'd rather you be comfortable, trying to lay like that on that hard edge can’t be good for your spine.”

He swallowed, blushing lightly, and scooting over barely a millimeter. In the morning you would blame being tired for what you did next, but you really wanted to go back to sleep and you couldn’t do that with him hanging off the edge of the bed like he was. So you wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him towards the middle of the bed snuggling against his warm chest. 

“Go to sleep, Sniper.” You instructed tiredly.

“...okay boss.” He whispered as you started to drift off, something warm snaking around your shoulders as you fell asleep. 

Sniper shifting away woke you up early the next morning. 

“GOOD MORNING BOSS!” He greeted already dressed and adjusting his tie, he glanced at you then looked away as you stretched. 

“Oh, ow. I’m going to be feeling that for a few days.” You huffed as you shuffled out of bed, trying to work the kinks out of your stiff back.

“SOMETHING WRONG BOSS?” Sniper asked curiously while you continued trying to stretch out your back.

“I’m a little sore, I just need to…” You trailed off, placing one hand on the dresser so that you could twist.

“NEED TO WH- AHH! BOSS DON’T DO THAT!” He gasped, turning bright orange as you finally managed to pop your back, relieving some of the tension there. 

“...ummm sure…why?” You asked curiously as you looked at his face.

“THAT'S…IT’S PROVOCATIVE.” He answered, making you cock your head to the side, his reaction made it seem like he was understating it.

“Like…on a scale from a little scandalous to a porno how provocative?” You asked, blushing slightly as he covered his mouth and looked away.

“PERHAPS…CLOSER TO THE LATTER.” 

“Oh…sorry.” You said, picking up your clothes for the morning and dipping around him, “Well, that is awkward, I'm going to go take a shower. Want to go make sure there's coffee ready?”

“YES! ABSOLUTELY BOSS, HAVE A GOOD MORNING.” He replied, following you out of  the room and heading in the opposite direction, down the hall. 

Sniper sighed, rubbing a hand down his skull as he got to the kitchen. Sharing a bed with the boss had been a horrible idea, he had just gotten caught up in Roulette and Carbine’s teasing of Rifle for being so obvious about wanting to be alone with the boss and he had agreed without thinking.

Sloppy. He scolded himself as he grabbed a coffee cup. As if the rest of them were any different, seeing Roulette's far off stare over his own mug told Sniper everything he needed to know. 

Like maybe he was struggling just as much to get the thought of the boss's warm body tucked safely next to him, where no one could get to her, out of his mind. 

Or maybe they were less wholesome. Like the images that the boss popping her back that morning had conjured up; of her throwing her head back against the cheap mattress as her joints released all the tension she always carried.

That probably didn't work the same way with humans. He reminded himself while shaking his head. 

“...we might have messed up.” Roulette said softly over the rim of his coffee cup.

“YOU THINK?” Sniper dead panned, before putting his head in his hands. 

You weren’t faring any better, your cool shower didn’t do much to calm you down. The cool water only reminded you of how warm your guards had been while sleeping next to you. Whoa it had been a long time. You mused to yourself while drying off. Maybe you needed to start thinking about dating again, if just sleeping next to someone had you this distracted. You contemplated leaving that evening so that you wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath of sharing a bed with your other two guards, but ultimately decided that you didn’t run from anything, especially not your weird feelings. 

Weird? Was that the right word? You supposed mafia romances were their own genre for a reason; Sniper and Roulette were well dressed, charismatic, suave, intelligent…you could go on and all of your body guards were that way. So maybe your feelings weren’t that weird and you just needed to show a little self control. 

That in mind, you got your day started. Coffee and a light breakfast while you chatted about your plans for the day. 

“DO YOU THINK YOU’LL BE SWIMMING AGAIN TODAY?” Carbine asked, glancing up from his laptop. “I NEED TO KNOW WHETHER IT'S SAFE FOR ME TO BRING MY COMPUTER OR NOT.” 

Rifle coughed into his coffee before you could answer, probably because it was so bitter and there wasn’t anything in the kitchen for him to sweeten it up with. Carbine reached out without looking away from you and knocked him on the back roughly. Once you were sure Rifle was alright you glanced back to Carbine.

“Umm, I don’t think so. If I spend much more time in this sun I’ll turn into a lobster.” You answered, not expecting Rifle to do a double take. 

“You’ll what?” He asked, sounding slightly panicked. 

“I’ll get a bad sunburn.” You clarified for him. 

“I SEE. GOOD TO KNOW.” Carbine replied, going back to his work. 

“I think today we're going to be going more inland, spending more time looking around the new constructions…Blue mentioned a couple things that sounded interesting, I think I want to take some notes. I didn’t know places like this existed, so I’m going to try having Weaver and Recluse keep a lookout for more.” You explained turning to Roulette, “It might be good to see how the sanctuary communities function, just in case.”

“I do like having a back-up plan in case our lobbying doesn't pan-out, but you sound like you're already planning to fail.” He pointed out and you took his observation and nodded. 

“Right, that was probably too negative. I could have reworded it to sound more success focused, but a couple contingencies couldn’t hurt.” You replied, and Roulette nodded, holding up a half empty cup of cold coffee.

“I like the way you think, boss.” 

That day Blue showed you around some other shops. Almost everything was run by monsters, but there were a few humans dotted here and there. Monsters seemed to give them quite a bit of distance, but they were there between nice cream shops and customs offices. 

You mostly talked with Blue and asked him questions about the island, only trying to engage with his brother out of politeness. Small orange eyelights would meet your eyes when you tried to include him, purposefully showing you that he had heard before ignoring you. 

Blue cringed, glancing at you apologetically. “I…TOLD HIM THAT IF HE DIDN’T HAVE ANYTHING NICE TO SAY, THEN HE SHOULDN'T SAY ANYTHING AT ALL.” 

“Oh, I see…” You said, trailing off. It wasn't like you blamed him. There were even times when Blue seemed nervous around humans, but he was obviously putting in the effort to hide it and be friendly,  so you weren't going to point it out. 

Even your guards weren't exempt from that treatment because of their association with you. 

“What are you reading?” Rifle asked as your group took a break from the tour for lunch, he was good at connecting with hobbies, that was what the two of you had started with in the beginning.

Orange didn't even glance up from the page when he said, “History of the Jim Crow era in America. Don't suppose your human has let you learn what that is, has she?” 

“BROTHER!” Blue scolded, looking horrified. 

“You're funny.” Roulette said, smiling in a way that looked friendly but there was a calculating glint in his eye, “but obviously misinformed, considering that your notes make multiple references to the abolitionist organization that she's running.”

“YOU…RUN AN ABOLITIONIST ORGANIZATION?” Blue asked, turning to you with wide bright eyes.

“He’s believing a damn lie.” Orange grit it. “Any monster can see that someone like her isn't running Stardust.”

“You mean not a monster, right?” Roulette continued to goad. “That's what you're implying, why not just say that?”

“Well, I'm certainly not the founder or the head of the organization, but I have been helping Mr. Serif since he founded Stardust…I'm very good with public relations so any public announcements are sent through me and my PR team to make sure they can't be spun in a way that's harmful to our goals.” You interrupted, trying to placate both men.

“She also wrote the header to the website.” Roulette continued, “we are made of stuff from the same stars.’ Sound familiar?”

“It's…just a little mix of modern romanticism, from a poem I read a long time ago…but also a reference to the Wedgwood medallion.” You added, looking down at your plate. “well…and some actual astronomy…we did a lot of research for a memorable hook that could be sensationalized and used in multiple ways.” 

“...where does the actual astronomy come in?” Orange asked, softly closing his book.

“Oh, I think…it was Carl Sagan, he was an astronomer who said something like the cosmos still lives within us. The nitrogen in my DNA, the iron in my blood,” you paused glancing up to meet his eye lights. “The calcium in our bones…it was all born eons ago in the hearts of collapsing stars…I understand that stars and dust are much more sacred to monsters then humans, but every atom in my body came from the same stars as the atoms in yours. Held together with magic or not.” 

“...holy shit…” Orange whispered like he was having an existential crisis. 

“LANGUAGE.” His brother said absently while looking at you. 

“...but…no, there has to be a monster in charge…some of the things on the website are too specific.” Orange said like everything he knew about the world was crumbling in front of him.

“Well…I’ll admit that I don’t know much about Balsamique Serif,” You replied, taking special care not to look at Roulette when you said that. “He could be anyone.” You said, knowing that your delivery was flawless, you were an accomplished liar, you were great at peppering in bits of truth and fiction so that it blended flawlessly, no one had ever called you out before.

“Liar.” Orange hissed and your eyes widened, you heard your guards shift but you waved them down, glancing at them for a second.

“Sorry boss, should have warned you that some monsters just have a sense for lies.” Rifle said, nodding towards Orange and you knew you would have to change your strategy.

“...Fine…I know more about Mr. Serif then I let on…but for public perception and legality, he can not be a monster, not yet. You understand?” You asked, looking into his eye lights. 

“Fine…he’s a goat monster isn’t he?” He asked, picking up his book again and sounding…not exactly friendly but not as hostile as he sounded before. 

“I plead the fifth.” You replied; no lies, no truths, just refusal to give him more information. 

Orange huffed, but didn’t say anything else the rest of the day. 

The balancing act you had to do all day while still paying attention and learning how the small micro-community functioned left you mentally and emotionally exhausted at the end of the day.

“Holy hell, I can’t wait to go home tomorrow.” You sighed as you walked back into the small house that you were temporarily staying in. 

“Sorry again boss, we should have warned you about the lying thing.” Rifle said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Don’t worry about it, I know now, so I can adjust the way I speak…there are plenty of ways to avoid the truth without overt lying.” You replied, waving off his apology. 

“THAT’S TRUE.” Sniper agreed, smiling encouragingly at you. “YOU ADAPTED PRETTY QUICKLY WITH NO WARNING.” 

“Improvise, adapt, overcome…or however it goes.” You replied, flopping down on the couch.

“Hey, how about some dinner, then straight to bed. Sooner we crash, sooner we can get home right?” Rifle offered, softly.

“Oh my gosh, that actually sounds so nice, please and thank you.” You said, looking up at him and smiling tiredly.  

“Sure boss, hang tight.” Rifle said, turning before his brother caught his arm.

“YOU ARE GOING TO COOK? YOU?” He asked skeptically.

“...well, sandwiches? I don’t think there's much else in the kitchen.” Rifle replied, prompting Carbine to roll his eye lights. 

“SNIPER, CARE TO HELP ME FOR A FEW MOMENTS?” He asked, nodding towards the kitchen.

“OF COURSE.” Sniper agreed, easily. 

Granted, you would say that grilled cheese and canned tomato soup wasn’t much different than just a sandwich, but you guessed that the difference was that it was warm. After dinner you managed to gather the energy to take a shower and get ready for bed, then you collapsed down onto the cheap mattress, groaning when the bed Carbine and Rifle slept on was just as bad as Sniper and Roulette’s.

“Definitely makes ya miss the comforts of home.” Rifle said, turning out the lights and flopping down next to you, making you laugh tiredly. 

“You don’t say?” You asked, turning to face him. 

“...ya know, the middle is a little bit better.” He said softly, encouraging you to scoot a little closer. 

“Yeah, figured that out last night.” You replied, scooting over next to his side. 

“Here, no point being uncomfortable.” He said, moving one arm under your pillow so that you had more support and could lean into him. You were so tired that you were slow to realize that the position was much more intimate then how you slept with Sniper and Roulette the night before. 

Slow, but not completely oblivious. 

“Is this you being subtle?” You asked, glancing up at him. 

“Nyaha…not really trying to be subtle…just…I’m not wearing a collar right now, ya know.” He replied, brushing your hair back behind your ear with his free hand. You blushed, your heart fluttering quickly. 

“If that was the only reason you turned me down before.” He continued to hedge, leaning back away from you slightly. “S’ fine if…maybe I got the wrong idea.”

“No, I think you have the right idea.” You replied, not resisting when he pulled you a little closer. 

“Really?” He asked, partly hopeful and partly suggestive, leaning towards you slightly. You took the opportunity to close the small gap, pecking his mouth with the small tentative kiss he had been moving towards. He sighed, threading his skeletal fingers through your hair and pulling you closer, deepening your first kiss since before your annulled engagement. 

Then where you were caught up to you and you pushed him back slightly, trying not to laugh. “Dude, your brother is going to come and sleep in this bed, in a few hours.” 

He snorted, smiling cheekily, “Oh, yeah, that's true…just gave me one more reason to want to go home…bet I wouldn’t bore you.” He teased, the laugh you had been fighting back bubbling out of you.

“Shut up.” You scolded playfully, “How am I supposed to get to sleep now?” 

“I could tire you out.” He replied, and you pushed at his shoulder and rolled over with your face burning.

“Go to sleep.” You huffed, trying to stop laughing. 

“Sure boss, anything you want.” He replied, softly snuggling against your back with his arms around you. “At any time.” He whispered, his smirk pressing into your neck behind your ear. You rolled your eyes and snuggled back against Rifle’s tall warm body. 

“Goodnight Rifle.” You said, feeling the second that he relaxed against you, just holding onto you. 

“Night angel.” He sighed, making you blush again before his breathing evened out as he held onto you. 

You had thought that maybe being held had helped keep your nightmares away, and maybe it helped some, but that didn’t change that that night your dreams twisted with shades of blood red and bright blue, iron bars and steely eyes. Your eyes snapped open when the bed dipped, your heart beating fast for an entirely different reason and you would have shot up. A hand gently catching your shoulder was the only thing that kept you from falling out of bed. 

“SHHH, EASY, YOU’RE ALRIGHT.” Carbine’s voice was softer than usual, taking on a soothing tone. You squeezed your eyes shut so that you didn’t have to look at his large bright eyes and tried to slow your breathing. 

“Sorry, that…that hasn’t happened in a while.” You explained, peeking at him and finally just seeing him. 

“IT’S ALRIGHT.” He replied, blinking a few times before slowly releasing you. 

“Right…probably your turn to sleep right?” You hedged, he hadn’t asked and you didn’t want to give him the time to.

“RIFLE HAD JUST COME TO GET ME.” He replied, nodding slightly.

“...You mean he made you go to bed right?” You asked, watching him huff and fall back onto the bed.

“MY BROTHER COULD NOT MAKE ME DO ANYTHING.”  He shot back, laying perfectly on his back. 

“Well, I’m glad you're getting some rest.” You said, gently laying back down. “Goodnight Carbine.”

“ARE YOU GOING TO TRY AND GO BACK TO SLEEP?” Carbine asked, looking towards you without turning his body.

“I’m going to try.” You admitted. 

“WELL…I’LL BE HERE IF YOU NEED ANYTHING MA’AM.” Carbine said before turning back up to lay flat. 

“Thank you.” You said sighing and rolling over, deciding to count to calm down and hopefully get bored enough to get to sleep, which was how you knew that it was exactly twenty sheep later (almost like he was timing it) that Carbine scooted closer to you, tentatively reaching out to put a hand on your back, and rub gently between your shoulder blades. That was what initially lulled you to sleep, while Carbine’s bright blue eyes continued to stare up at the ceiling.

Chapter Text

You were so freaking tired of airplanes and jet lag. Literally and figuratively. Just tired. 

It felt like you had just got back from Haiti, then you were immediately packing to get on another plane to South Korea, with barely enough time to invest in a traveler's guide to study on the way there. 

You had to go though. It was important. 

While you and four of your guards were in Haiti, your father had used that as the opportunity to take Kent out to a casino with Musket and Colt. The real reason for the get together finally being revealed. He wanted to know exactly what happened the night Victor died, in the kind of bloody detail that he never wanted discussed around you.

What he heard from Kent and your men, was exactly what you and Joffery had told him though. 

That your plan saved them and that you mediated the situation afterwards. 

When you got home he asked you to join him in the study without your skeletons, and over a glass of scotch he said he was going hands off with relations to the Donnivan syndicate, then he offered you another job. 

“Mr. Sako, my connection to the Yakuza has sent me a message…you know that monster sign language right?” He asked, pushing a manilla envelope towards you. 

“Hands? Yeah, why?” You asked taking it.

“Currently Sako and his men buy guns from us, but another organization is coming up that wants to take over our trade deal.” He said, sipping his scotch and passing you a glass. “We found out that they were based in Seoul, I sent a man in, but we lost contact for awhile…the last thing he sent me was that envelope before someone…else reached out.” He explained as you glanced at the contents. 

It looked like tags painted in back alleys, lettering you didn't recognize followed by a hand print with a hole in the middle. “Beware the man who speaks in hands.” Was attached to the picture, as a translation. 

“Someone else contacted you?” You asked, glancing up at him. 

“The head of the organization who wants to take our arms deal wants to negotiate for his release…and I want you to do it.” Your father said, inclining his glass towards you. “Of course with some guards, though the whole pack might be too conspicuous.” 

“...alright.” You agreed, after barely any thought, you already knew you wanted to do it. “I know exactly who I want with me.”

“Ya know, if he's a monster then you probably don't need all that?” Colt's voice had you glancing up over the top of your book. 

“Yeah, but some of his employees are probably Korean and I don't want them to think I'm purposefully disrespecting their boss…or worse, that I'm an idiot.” You explained, closing the book in your lap and glancing at your guards. 

Colt and Musket looked tense, or maybe pensive, though they hid it well with a small hand wave. “Guess your right.” Colt agreed, nodding and then looking away from you. 

“Is everything okay?” You asked, glancing between them. 

“Yeah…sorry boss, just lost in thought.” Colt said, running a hand over his skull. “Got a…feeling I guess.” 

“Okay…you know I asked the spiders about this, but I don't think I asked any of you. Do you know something about this?” You asked, nodding towards the small collection of pictures. 

Weaver and Recluse had found out a lot about the guns these guys were trying to sell. They weren't made of metal, so they were easier to smuggle in and out of the country, a new combination of magic and technology that made them accurate and high capacity. 

The leader though, they found next to nothing on him. A shadowy and mysterious figure with a brutal reputation. You probably should have asked your guys about it before you got in the plane, but you had been distracted with preparation. You hadn't even noticed that they were acting differently until the plane was preparing to land. 

“MAYBE.” Musket replied, looking down at the collection. “THERE WERE…A FEW PEOPLE UNDERGROUND THAT IT COULD BE.”  

“And…as a warning if it's a guy Candy and Sugar used to work with, we're just leaving. There's no talking that psycho down and I'll be damned if you end up being sold off as exotic pork to some street vender.” Colt added, gruffly.

“...I…what?” You asked, your mouth falling open. 

“Not to fucking mention the perv Singer and Beretta used to work with. He ain't touchin ya neither.” Colt continued to grumble, ignoring your panicked question. 

“WE…ARE NOT FANS OF THE PRACTICES THAT CANDY AND SUGAR’S OLD BOSSES REGULARLY USED TO GET RID OF PEOPLE.” Musket explained, glancing between his brother and you. “IT COULD ALSO BE SOMEONE WE KNOW.” 

“Someone you know?” You asked curiously. 

“I'm not getting my hopes up, but we'll get there when we get there.” Colt brushed off, reaching forward to pick up his collar as the plane started to land.

“Oh, you don't need those.” You said waving your travel guide in front of him, teasingly. “There's some heavy racial tension and you probably won't be allowed in some bars, but no slavery…though since you have an American accent you might just be treated like a tourist, which is normally very well, as long as you're not being a cunt.” You continued, flipping through the book again.

“...M’ tellin the old man.” He replied, a sharp smirk coming to his face. 

“Snitch.” You grumbled. Snickering when he balked. 

“Hey! I ain't no snitch!” He snapped at you.

“I'm telling the old man.” You teased, making your voice deeper and full on laughing when he glared. “Come on I'm playing, now let's go sell this tourist shtick while we wait for the meeting time.” 

Once you got off the plane you casually collected your bags and checked into your hotel in a bustling tourist hotspot, and killed time trying to sell the tourist thing. Colt and Musket never relaxed, their eye lights sharp, obviously fully in the zone and working, not just as security this time, but as your subordinates. 

You got some food, wandered around trying not to look like you were heading in the direction you were, bought some tourist trap type souvenirs and eventually when the time came, you dipped down a back alley towards the warehouse that was marked on your GPS. 

Colt and Musket flanked you as you walked in, several men in expensive suits were waiting, but it was the voice from the shadows behind them that had your guards moving.  

“You have some fucking nerve.” The voice growled before burning red light flared to life in the shadows.

“WAIT!” Musket shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the roaring of superheated air billowing from the shadows. 

You were pulled against Colt's chest, his hand shooting out as Musket stepped in front of you. You heard bone splintering, felt heat and the electric crackle of pure energy raise the hairs on your arms, you breathed in, turning to look as a tall thin skeleton with divots going down the right side of his face from his eye socket and up the left side. 

You could barely see him though, over the splintered wall of black charred bone that Musket and Colt had raised between you and the attacker.

“I am going to make the kind of example out of this American that people think is an urban myth until they find her disfigured corpse.” The monster snarled coldly. 

“Don, just wait one second please, look at us. We ain't in collars.” Colt said, red sweat beading over his skull as he pulled the collar of his shirt down roughly. Musket used one hand to undo his tie, and show his own neck while keeping one hand ready at his side.

“WE ARE ONLY SLAVES ON PAPER BROTHER, THIS IS OUR BOSS.” He explained. 

Don? Brother!? You wondered, your mind racing as you glanced between the skeletons. 

“Boss, this is our older brother. Don D.” Colt introduced. 

“...well that's a fine way to say hello.” You huffed putting a hand on your hip, trying not to cringe when the don glared or when Colt sucked in a breath through his teeth. 

D made a sound like clicking a tongue against his teeth, “well…why don't we move this business meeting somewhere more comfortable, little human?” 

You grit your teeth at being demeaned, but nodded, agreeing to sit down with him in a more familiar setting for Colt and Musket's sake.

‘More comfortable’ as it turned out was a nicely lit parlor with plush seats around a long high table. D's men were talking softly in Korean and D would respond in kind, you hadn't been able to get much on the plane ride over besides a few basic phrases, so you were frustratingly out of the loop until he raised an extra set of hands. 

‘Take the drink from the middle if you need away from her.’ he signed and you bit your lip. 

“Sorry, but if you need to have a private conversation I can leave while you speak.” You offered smiling politely as you could while he lowered his hands to the table and looked between you and his brothers. 

“WITH ALL DUE RESPECT, GIVEN THE WELCOME OUR BOSS RECEIVED I'M NOT COMFORTABLE WITH HER GOING ANYWHERE WITHOUT ONE OF US.” Musket jumped into the conversation. 

“She is just an employer?” D asked not even looking at you.

“A VERY GOOD EMPLOYER.” Musket agreed. 

“And if I wanted you to come here and set up with me?” He asked, and you had to stop your jaw from dropping open, these were his family of course he would ask that. 

“We can't D…we owe her too much.” Colt explained, making you feel completely side swiped. 

“Fair enough.” D replied, snapping his fingers. “How much?” He demanded, finally turning to you as two well dressed men placed suitcases down on the table each filled to the brim with cash. 

Your mouth fell open slightly for a second before you collected yourself. This was your game damn it and you weren't going to be thrown off.

“Sorry again, but I'm afraid you'll have to ask them what they think they owe me, because I can’t recall implying that they owe me a damn penny.” You replied, keeping a small polite smile on your face even as Colt drew in another nervous breath. 

D’s eye lights slid from you to Musket expectantly. 

“OUR LIVES D…SHE GAVE US OUR LIVES BACK.” Musket answered easily. 

“Hmmm…I see…well, I suppose we should talk about the reason you're here.” D said, finally giving you his full attention.

“Yes I think firstly we would like the return of our informant, then we can discuss your attempt to snipe our arms deal with the yakuza.” 

“I’m sure that can be negotiated, if visits with my family are on the table.” He said and you couldn’t stop yourself from huffing.

“You’re starting to piss me off.” You admitted glancing at Colt as he stuttered, reaching for your shoulder.

“B-boss!?” 

“You can see them at any time.” You interrupted him loudly,  “I am not using them as a bargaining chip, hell you can come up to a French chateau for Christmas if you want to meet on more neutral ground, but I do not say who they can and can’t speak with, honestly if they were here under duress do you think I wouldn’t have brought a ball gag for Colt, because it is really hard to project that I’m an equal player at the table when my own men obviously don’t believe it, furthermore in the negotiating going forward you are going to consider dealing with me, because my family is old and powerful, we have the backing of the Donnivan syndicate, the Italian cartel, and an information network that would make the FBI jealous, and the Yakuza would rather buy guns that can’t be disabled by an EMP from us, not because you think your brothers are something I’m willing to use in negotiating.” 

D stared at you a second before nodding and pouring a drink, sliding it across the table, “I’m surprised you said ball gag and not muzzle.” He said, at the end of your tirade. 

“You're his brother, of course you wouldn’t think of the fun way to shut him up.” You shot back reaching for the glass.

“I would also like to point out that I don’t think young punks selling party poppers to tourists in Shinjuku would have access to an EMP.” 

“They could. If you make the wrong sorts of enemies.” You warned, looking down at the liquor in the glass. 

He actually chuckled at you, smiling across the table, “Do you think you and your family are the wrong sorts of enemies?”

“I don’t want to get into conjecture so I won’t tell you what I think, I’ll tell you what I know, and that's a thing or two about reputation, my family has been building it globally since 1918 and it is essentially untouchable people would much rather work with us, I also know a thing or two about respect,” You explained, finally turning away from him and covering the lip of your glass with your hand while you downed the burning shot in one go. When you turned back towards the don his men were looking approvingly from behind him, while he glared, “another reason people would rather work with us then you.”

“...we have your room number, we’ll send word when we have come to a conclusion.” He replied stiffly, ending the meeting with a snap of his fingers. One of his men escorted you out and even called you a car to return to your hotel, in the thick city traffic you had plenty of time to think about the interaction, plenty of pensive quiet time. 

You hadn’t said a word until you were back at your hotel room, then the silence became too oppressive and you turned to Colt. 

“About…the way I spoke to you earlier,” You started, but he shook his head, meeting your eyes shamefully.

“Don’t worry about it Boss. I get it…the way I was acting was making you look weak, you were in the right to correct me in front of another don.” He said softly. 

“You’ve just been my bodyguard for a long time, I get that it's hard to change certain things.” You replied.

“Don’t mean that I don’t know better, it won’t happen again Boss. I promise.” He said seriously and you nodded as you looked between him and Musket.

“There’s one more thing I want to talk to you about, involving your brother.” You started seriously, watching them tense, their posture being borderline militant in its rigidity as they waited for what you were going to say. “I…think that, that could have gone better.” You started hesitantly. 

“And…as much as I like you and would like to keep you around…I would never ask you to pick a side, family is…” You trailed off, feeling sentimental and not knowing how to say what you wanted to say, “Look if you guys need to leave, just don’t disappear on me, let me know so that we can send you your clothes and stuff.” You eventually huffed, throwing your arms up and turning away from them, planning on relaxing with a shower when Musket caught your hand, holding your fingers gently before bringing them to his sharply fanged mouth. 

“THANK YOU, BOSS.” He said, sincerely. 

“Damn, ya actually had us worried for a minute.” Colt added, laughing for a second. His deep husky laugh helped you relax some, as much as you could while you were still waiting to hear back from D and his men. 

They didn’t make you wait too long though, a large gift basket was delivered to your room with expensive alcohol, chocolate, and a card.

“What the hell is this?” You groaned, looking up when Musket chuckled, leaning over you. 

“IT'S A CHESS TERM FOR WHEN YOUR OPPONENT FORCES YOU INTO A POSITION WHERE YOUR ONLY LEGAL MOVE WOULD PUT YOU IN A WORSE POSITION…YOU MUST HAVE IMPRESSED HIM.” He said, taking the card and smiling sharply when he flipped it over, “YOUR INFORMANT WILL BE DROPPED OFF AT THE AIRPORT TOMORROW WITH HIS PASSPORT, AND HE WOULD ALSO LIKE TO FORMALLY ACCEPT YOUR INVITATION TO CHRISTMAS,.” 

“...fucking hell.” You groaned, rubbing your head, “Fuck it, that's as good as anything, I’m going to get my shower.”

“Sure boss, ya did good.” Colt said, waving you off and smiling a broad, proud smile. “As a warnin though Don D don’t lose twice.”

“Noted.” You replied tiredly, leaving the room. 

“...you gonna call the number?” Colt asked, turning to his youngest brother as he looked over the string of numbers written in wingdings across the top of the card like a border.

“OF COURSE.” Musket replied, picking up the little land line that was in the hotel and dialing out once and hanging up on the third ring before dialing again, their code worked out underground. D picked up after three rings. 

“Are you alone?” Was the first thing he asked over the line.

“Tha boss is taking a shower right now.” Colt said, leaning close to the receiver so that he could hear. 

“Colt, tell me you aren't stupid enough to be fucking the daughter of a Don?” Was the second, making Colt turn bright red. 

“I DON’T THINK IT WOULD BE A PROBLEM IF HE WAS, OUR DON KNOWS THAT SHE AND GASTER’S BOYS ADOPTED A KID TOGETHER.” Musket chimed in, coming to his brother's defense slightly, but more importantly letting D know that they weren't the only skeletons in the operation.

“Who else is there?” He asked, and Colt stopped Musket from answering.

“Ya askin as a brother or as a gang leader?” He asked softly, “...she’s been real good to us and she trusts us, I ain’t gonna do her dirty D, even for you…if it goes south and we end up heading this way, I’d like to leave her set up good.” The other end of the call was quiet for a minute before a sigh could be heard over the line. 

“You said you owe her your lives, no brothers of mine are gonna flake out on a debt like that.” D eventually replied, tapping coming over the other end of the line for a few seconds. “I…suppose I will see you for Gyftmas.”

“WE'LL GET YA A DIRECT LINE TO US IF…YOU WANT TO SEE US BEFORE THEN.” Musket hedged.

“We might be busy coming up, Gaster really wanted this Yakuza deal, now it seems like we're back to the drawing board.”

“We can talk to the boss. Maybe she can work something out.” Colt replied, shrugging even if the man on the other end of the line couldn't see. 

D hummed over the line as the bathroom door opened. “I'll be in touch.” He said, promptly ending the call.

“Hey…so, weird request.” She started hesitantly, looking down at the floor. She looked better when she was confident, but there was something a little endearing about her being like this sometimes, like she was letting her guard down with them and only them. “Could I crash with one of you guys tonight? I know there's plenty of beds, but I realized in Haiti that I sleep better with someone beside me.”

She asked and Colt smirked to hide the little flip his soul did, because there was no way she was standing there with steam still rising off her perfect skin and asking what she was asking. “Now Boss, I know ya took me out ta dinner and all, but ya gotta make a guy feel special if ya want into his bed.” He teased, gritting his teeth when Musket flicked the back of his head. 

“IF COLT IS GOING TO BE INSUFFERABLE THEN YOU ARE MORE THEN WELCOME TO SHARE A BED WITH ME BOSS.” He said, sounding frustrated, but Colt knew his little brother better than anyone. After all the things she said today, he probably just wanted to be close to her.

“Thanks guys. You're the best.” The boss replied simply. 

Us? Nah. Colt thought affectionately, ain't got nothin on you sweetheart. 

Chapter Text

You used to think that karma was funny sometimes, in an ironic way. 

Like watching someone cut another person off in traffic instantly get pulled over for a blown tail light was a little funny.  

Or something more subtle like getting cut in line at the coffee shop, only for the cutter to get the wrong drink three times, making them wait longer than you, that was a little funny too, because it wasn't happening to you.

As it turned out, when karma came calling it wasn't as funny as you thought.  

You had crawled into the large bed next to Colt and then, exactly like you had done to Sniper, Colt wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his barrel chest.

You had enjoyed a little teasing and attention when it was Sniper and Rifle, but with Colt you weren't the one doing the teasing. 

“What's tha matter boss? Yur turning redder then my shirt.” His deep voice rumbled above your head as you turned to glare ineffectively up at him. “Hey, this was your idea. Was just moving ya over ta make room anyway.” 

“Make room?” You asked before the bed dipped, trying to glance over the top of your head you could just barely see the deep crimson red of Musket’s sleep shirt. 

“S’ something we used to do when we were just startin out…all sleep together in on bed.” Colt explained.

“THOUGH THAT WAS BECAUSE THEY WERE CHEAP SHITTY MOTELS WITH ONE CRAPY BED.” Musket added over your shoulder. 

“Potato tomato.” Colt brushed off, “being here in Ds territory just has me feelin nostalgic.” He said, smirking down at you like nostalgia definitely wasn't the first thing at the front of his mind. 

“IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE WE HAVE SEEN HIM.” Musket added softly, making you forget about Colt’s sharp smirk for just a second. 

“...you never should have been separated.” You whispered softly cradled between them. 

“Can't say I'm too torn up about how it turned out boss.” Colt replied with a deep rumbling chuckle. “That definitely would have ended a lot different if we had been with D.”

“I don't think he would have attacked me if you weren't with me.” You shot back, rolling your eyes, but it didn't stop you from wondering, where would you be if your father had never brought the skeletons into your life? 

“Probably not. D don't usually jump the gun like that.” 

“Well…I don't have any siblings but family is important…can't really be offended by the welcome I received if he hadn't seen you in a while and could only assume you were my slaves.” You mused quietly.

“We are yur slaves boss.” Colt added with a snort and a roll of his eye lights. 

“Only on paper.” You shot back. 

“IF YOU TWO AREN'T GOING TO SLEEP THEN LEAVE, YOU'RE KEEPING ME AWAKE.” Musket scolded making you blush again.

“Sorry, were sleeping were sleeping.” You said, rolling slightly to look back at him, only to have one thick skeletal finger trace over your jaw, pulling your attention back to Colt.

“Or,” He purred softly, “if ya can't sleep, we could go to the other bedroom and do some…other things.” 

“...shut up.” You gasped rolling over completely, turning to face Musket instead. “Go to sleep, Colt.” 

Which didn't help you at all, when Musket wrapped an arm around your back and pulled you closer, pressing you against his chest covered only in a sinfully soft silk night shirt. 

“EXACTLY BROTHER, WE HAVE TO BE UP EARLY IN THE MORNING TO CATCH OUR PLANE. YOU SHOULD BE ASLEEP ALREADY.” He scolded, his voice rumbling through his chest beneath your hands.

It was…a very long night. Every time you had just about fallen asleep a clawed hand would gently brush down your side as someone shifted…granted it wasn't like you were vocalizing any complaints. It was just a very long night in a chain of very long nights to come. 

When you got home your father got straight in to teaching you everything about your family that he had kept from you over the years. All the secrets that you would need to be the next head of the family. You had proven yourself. 

In between that you still had an obligation to Kent to finish the suits for his men. So you worked on that every free second you had. There just wasn't a lot of free time between the two of you to do fittings.

So, the final fitting ended up being at his place. A modern minimalist nightmare in black and white…at least it was the last time you saw it. When the doorman opened the door for you it was still modern but…holy eye strain he was going through a faze of some kind. There were bright patterned rugs on the floor that clashed with the patterned tapestries on the walls. 

New furniture had been added (still modern, but bright reds and bold yellows) and cluttered up artfully…at least what a kid running around on sugar and caffeine would think was artistic.

Colt snorted over your shoulder and you shot him a quick look. Taking stock of the rest of your men while you did. You brought all six, but Musket and Sniper were the only ones carrying suit bags, just because they were the only ones tall enough to hold up some of the longer outfits with only one bend in the middle.

“Kent, I see you've brightened it up in here!” You greeted, smiling in a friendly way, when he walked up behind the doorman. 

“Well…yeah…it's not all staying, I'm just trying some stuff out.” He admitted sheepishly.

“Oh, thank the stars, because those things on the walls look horrible with these rugs pick one or the other.” You said, laughing slightly and stepping forward to take Kent's hand and lean into a loose hug. 

“Okay but which one?” He asked, making you shake your head.

“It's your house Kent, you pick.”

“...but like…help?” He pleaded. 

“You want advice on decor, get a wife…or a husband, I'm not picky.”

“Unhelpful. My men won't give me anything definite either.” Kent practically pouted. 

“Oh interesting…I suggested a wife or a husband and you jumped to your men.” You half teased, gesturing for your own boys to come up behind you. “But speaking of. I think we have some work to do.” 

“I don't know why you insist on a final fitting. Your work is always perfect.” He replied, ignoring your teasing. 

“My stuff is perfect because I do a final fitting.” You replied, falling in step behind him as he led the way through his home. 

The guys were spread throughout the mansion. Candy was in the kitchen with his brother shadowing him silently. Singer was in the library seemingly just lounging when you walked in and Baretta was in the living room trying to gently cajole a frankly gorgeous woman into staying ‘just a little while longer.’

She almost seemed convinced too, until she saw you and Kent walk in with your collective entourage. 

“Oh umm…this was a lot of fun but I think I should…maybe go…see ya next time.” She said, waving over her shoulder as she retreated…you of course watched out of politeness. Someone who looked that much like a super model, you were basically obligated to right? Your hobby was making clothes and she just had one of those bodies that was better than a mannequin. Shining golden blond hair falling over her shoulder in soft waves, she was just… wow. 

“...I think that's the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” You mused glancing at Kent.

“Shes an… escort .” He says with the kind of emphasis that made you think that wasn’t the word he wanted to say, it did make you raise your eyebrows at Beretta. 

“OH SHE PAYS ME TO TEACH HER SOME TRICKS.” He explained with a flirty wink. “I COULD TEACH THEM TO YOU TO…SLOWLY AND IN GREAT DE-” 

Baretta’s jaw snapped shut when Musket stepped between the two of you, passing the other skeleton his bagged up suit. 

“I WOULD RESPECTFULLY ASK YOU TO SPEAK TO OUR BOSS WITH MORE RESPECT THEN THAT BARETTA.” Musket said calmly, and it might have been impactful if his brother hadn't followed it up with,

“Is no one gonna fuckin mention that the boss was definitely checking out the leggy dame?” 

Musket gave him a deadpan stare, looking over his shoulder at his brother. 

“I did say she was beautiful.” You added with a shrug not helping Musket's slow descent into madness.

“Had a body like a Porsche.” Rifle agreed, giving you a knowing look.

“...oh my god she would look amazing in red.” You realized meeting his eye lights over your shoulder. 

“Dearest,” Kent interrupted, “As well paid as she is, she couldn’t afford your commission prices.”

You tsked your tongue at him, turning back to the project at hand. “If she’s one of yours then you should pay her better so I can make her something.” 

“IF ITS A GOOD LOOKING MODEL YOU NEED I VOLUNTEER.” Beretta teased, so you stepped up to him first to take off the dust cover from his suit. 

“I like making dresses more than suits.” You explained, smiling as you pulled out the top to show it off in the light. “Though, I do get excited when I get to do some small details like these.” 

You said as you showed him the pale pink shirt with a lovely gold pattern sewn across the breast pockets. You went with a white suit jacket and dress pants with light pink accents, you didn’t want it to be too bold so the pattern you talked about originally making from sequence ended up being shimmering gold thread in a subtle floral pattern. 

“Could you go try this for our final fitting?” You asked, getting his attention back, because his pink eye lights had turned into stars as he stared down at the tiny little details. 

“Did you finish all of them?” Singer asked, leaning around Kent to look at the other bags.

“Technically none of them are done until we do the final fittings.” You replied, grabbing the other bag from Musket and revealing a pearly silk shirt, lavender dress pants, and a floor length fur lined coat that you were charging Kent extra for since it was a spotted lavender leopard print with fur dyed a cotton candy blue.

“Oh…where did you find this color?” Singer asked, his mouth falling open slightly as he trailed his hands over the coat. 

“Kent suggested it.” You explained, watching curiously as Singer’s smile widened in a way that made you think he was either the best actor in the room or he was genuinely touched by the gesture. “And he paid extra for the dye on the lining.”

That was when Singer’s smile sharpened, still genuinely pleased, but more practiced like he wanted the smile to look cooler for an audience. “Daddy does always get me the best presents.”

“Well, let's make sure it's the best, could you try it on for me?” You asked, passing him the outfit and moving on down the line, reaching for the bags Sniper was carrying. You didn’t go with the classic blacks and whites, or pinstripe grays, you had a better idea for Sugar and Candy. 

Softer foggy grays with white undershirts and black buttons and ties. You also went with a longer, thicker coat for Candy so that you could give him a lot of extra pockets. Then there were the sleeves for Sugar’s hidden blade. 

“I’m the most worried about this one. I’ve never made something that's supposed to work like this before so we might need to shred the sleeve to test and see if it even works or not.” You warned, passing Sugar his suit. 

“Thank You For The Extra Effort.” Sugar said, gently taking the new suit like it was something precious. 

“Well, it's on Kent’s tab, so really I could make any adjustments you wanted.” You brushed off.

“Anything for my best men.” Kent said with a casual nod to you, “and her work is the best. Go ahead and try them on so she can nitpick all the little details.” He encouraged as you passed the final bag to Candy, where you finally remembered that he was deaf. You scolded yourself internally as you looped the suit over your arm so you could lift your hands, but to your shock he gently reached for the bag before nodding down to you.

“M’ not too bad at reading lips…that's just something that bosses normally want to keep secret…but he said we don’t do that with you.” 

“Well…I bet that comes in pretty handy if everyone assumes you don’t know what's going on.” You mused, cocking your head to the side curiously when Rifle, Colt, and Candy all did some variation of a chuckle. 

It took a smirking Roulette signing ‘ handy ’ for you to catch the unintentional pun. 

“Oh, come on guys.” You huffed, rolling your eyes.

“Wait, that wasn’t on purpose?” Singer asked smiling in obvious amusement. 

“I THINK THAT MAKES IT WORSE.” Beretta sighed, turning on his heels and heading down a hallway. 

“Better, infinitely better.” Kent goaded and you groaned.

“Oh god I forgot you liked puns, you freaking old man.” You teased as his men started to slowly disperse to get dressed.

“You don’t like puns, boss?” Roulette asked, but in a way that sounded like a threat, the sharp smirks that he and Colt were shooting your way weren’t helping either.

“I neither like nor dislike them.” You tried diplomatically.  

“But dearest…they’re the Pun-nacle of humor.” Kent continued with a mischievous smile.

“I hate you.” You groaned, jumping slightly when Sniper leaned down next to your ear.

“I AM SO SORRY FOR WHAT'S ABOUT TO HAPPEN BOSS.” He warned ominously.

“Sorry boss, but I can’t help agreeing with Don Donnivan on this one, you must just be Pun-familiar with my sense of humor.” Roulette teased with a lazy shrug.

“...no.” You groaned, looking over your shoulder at Sniper pleadingly. 

“Oh come on Boss, yur acting like this is a Pun-ishment.” Colt goaded.

“Ohhh man.” You whined, shaking your head.

“I think we all have a pun-chent for corny jokes, boss.” Rifle added with a snicker.

“Hey, you guys are pretty humorous.” Kent continued to encourage. 

“Oh thank god, Beretta, let me look at you.” You rushed walking over to him quickly as he reappeared in the suit you had made for him. Carbine, Sniper, and Musket followed you to get away from the group still tossing puns back and forth. 

“WELL THATS MORE LIKE IT.” He said, preening at your enthusiastic greeting.

“The suit, let me look at the fit of the suit.” You clarified with a tired sigh. 

It was going to be a long visit.

Beretta’s suit was perfect. No notes.

Singer had heeled blue boots that he wanted to incorporate into his outfit, so you wanted to bring the hem of the coat down slightly to make it lay properly. 

Candy looked comfortable in the soft foggy gray, stuffing his hands down into the deep pockets of his coat and looking surprised. “...there’s a lot of pockets.” He mused, making you pause and cock your head to the side. Wasn’t that what he wanted? 

“You Asked For Extra Pockets, Brother.” Sugar said, seemingly reminding Candy. 

So in the end there were no notes. 

Then you got to Sugar’s.

“Okay…so I tried something a little different with this one. The buttons down the sleeve aren't actually buttons. They’re magnetic clasps, so if it works the way I think it should then when the blade springs loose it should just push open the magnets and then snap back closed.” You explained, gesturing for him to try it out as you took a careful step slightly to his side so that you could see. 

You were only a little disappointed when the blade easily sliced through the fabric that was supposed to be pushed open. “Well…back to the drawing board.” You hummed thoughtfully. 

“You Don’t Really Need To Worry About It.” Sugar said, but you shook your head.

“I’m not really worried, I just have a few more ideas before I call it quits.” You explained, ending your visit amicably. 

Your obligations were going to bury you in responsibility, but they would also build your reputation among the other families. So, between touching up the suits, lessons with your dad, and continuing your hands practice with Roulette you were also looking at manors in France. 

“Are you going out again?” Your dad called from the office as you rushed past with Rifle and Colt following behind you.

“I have a walk-through for a house in France, I need to have a vacation home before Christmas.” You explained tiredly. 

“...You just got back.” He said, standing and following you to the door. 

“I know, but I just have a lot to get ready, but hey you always bring me presents back from trips, I can get you something for when I get back.” You offered, glancing back at him as he blinked at you.

“...I just realized that that isn’t very…hmmm.” He mused, grabbing his suit jacket. “How about we go together from now on?” He asked and that…honestly sounded really good to you.

“Sure dad, but we really do have to get going now, we don’t want to miss our flight.” 

“Hey, don’t worry about it Boss. We know a shortcut.” Colt teased with a wink before putting his hand on your shoulder, you missed Rifle doing the same for your father before the four of you disappeared in a blink.

Oh, that was going to come in very handy.

Chapter Text

You were getting too old to sit in your room and cry. 

Plus you were like…literally a scary mobster, you shouldn't have been crying.

Scary of course not being your descriptive you thought you were perfectly pleasant, but your information network was already becoming the stuff of legends in the underground and one person even asked your dad if you knew about the money he took out of the teachers purse in the third grade. 

You hadn't obviously, but when your father mentioned it you had the new girls do some quick digging. A fish monster with thick glasses named Whisper and a small yellow dinosaur monster named Ghost. They specialized in cyber security…primarily breaching it.

Census data was easiest to find; births, household occupancy and property data, school districts, vintage yearbooks, ect. They could find more obscure things though. So it was child's play for them to find the name of the teacher and you told your dad to tell him that ‘Mrs. Ferguson had to skip lunch that day, but was he really concerned about his third grade teacher when he worked with the mob?’ 

…Okay you were definitely fucking with some of the guys, but they made it so easy.  It was getting to the point that when you went with your dad on business trips the men would stand to respect your father then look at you nervously, the trepidation that they approached you with was a huge ego boost to say the least. 

You went almost everywhere with your dad now, his nerve wracking little shadow with eyes and ears in every corner. Honestly your dad thought it was hilarious and the two of you had never been closer.

If only the same could have been said for your mother. 

It started when you asked one small question when you called her to talk, “How do you feel about slavery?” You thought you had prepared yourself for any answer, but you weren’t ready for her to say she was pro initially before asking to check her polls, then cursing when the numbers were split down the middle.

“Hmmm…I guess I’m on the fence but we really need to be focusing on the job crisis right now.” She had said over the line gobsmacking you, there were just…no thoughts in her head were there? It was all polls and what do my voters want me to believe? “Good question though, I’m glad you asked that one.” She said, like you were just helping her practice for a debate and not asking a genuine question.

You went live as the public head of Star Dust the next day and then your mom stopped talking to you. Worse than that, you had a feeling that her and your dad were fighting, but without definitely crossing a line and having Whisper get the texts off his phone you didn’t have any proof. 

So you were left in the dark with a hollow pit in your stomach, because as little as you had spoken recently she was still your mother, and it seemed she still had the ability to make you want to cry your freaking eyes out in your room, even if you were a grown woman…hell you were a frankly terrifying grown woman, but it seemed like you weren’t above sneaking away for a good long cry in your room. 

A knock on your bedroom door had you quickly trying to pull it together, wiping your eyes and making sure they weren’t too red. You might not have been above sneaking away to cry, but it also seemed like your boys weren’t going to let  you do it alone. You knew that they knew what you were doing, and they knew that you knew. Rifle still had the good graces to pretend for you when you answered the door.

“Hey, boss I got somethin I want ya to look at.” He said casually. 

“Yeah, sure.” You agreed easily, forcing a smile and gesturing for him to lead the way as you shut your bedroom door behind you. He managed to lead the way while falling into step beside you, like a practiced dance to make sure you always seemed like the one in charge, only stepping back in front of you to open the garage door. It was thoughtful. 

“Oh, hey wait!” He suddenly said, glancing at you and smiling, “Close your eyes a second?” He asked gently. 

That made you laugh slightly and you humored him, closing your eyes and reaching for the banister to walk down the stairs, Rifle caught your hand offering to help lead you down into the garage. 

“If the surprise is dirty I should warn you about the security cameras in the garage-” You teased, blushing brightly when another voice spoke up,

“PLEASE CAN THE TWO OF YOU NOT TALK ABOUT DIRTY SURPRISES IN FRONT OF ME.” Carbine grumbled and your eyes snapped open. 

“Oh wow, I don’t see a laptop, this is a surprise.” You said, smiling at Carbine. 

“That isn’t the surprise, Boss.” Rifle replied with a chuckle, then he took two long steps over to your barracuda and turned the keys in the ignition, smiling when the car cranked to life with a fierce roar. You felt a smile split your face in half as you beamed at him.

“Is it really done?” You asked, excitedly.

“Yup.” Rifle replied, popping the ‘p’ while standing beside the car proudly. “Carbine is gonna teach you how to drive.” He continued and you felt like you heard a record scratch from somewhere deep in your brain.

“Wait…what?” 

“IT IS A SKILL YOU SHOULD HAVE IN CASE OF EMERGANCIES BOSS.” Carbine replied.

“Oh you don’t have to do-” You tried to deflect, but Rifle put his hands on your shoulders, guiding you forward. 

“Common boss, don’t look so worried…if you hit it on the money shift and blow the transmission I'll just fix it again.”

“W-wait, it’s not automatic?” You stuttered nervously.

“RELAX I TAUGHT RIFLE TO DRIVE AND YOU HAVE SEEN HOW CLUMSY AND ABSENT MINDED HE CAN BE SOMETIMES.” 

“...is he actually clumsy? I thought that was just a cover until you could figure out how to get the collar off.” You mused, glancing back at a blushing Rifle as Carbine cackled.

“Ya give me too much credit, boss.” Rifle said, softly.

“OH STARS, I HAVEN’T LAUGHED LIKE THAT IN FOREVER.” Carbine said, amusement clear in his voice, “NO, MY BROTHER IS INCREDIBLY CLUMSY…THOUGH IT IS GOOD TO KNOW THAT YOU THINK SO HIGHLY OF US THAT YOU THOUGHT THAT WAS ALL SOME KIND OF CALCULATED MOVE.” He eventually added proudly. 

“...So when you hit your head in the garage that wasn’t to hide that you were sneaking screw drivers out of the toolboxes?” You asked, watching Rifle blush as he shook his head.

“...when you fell in the garage and bashed the collar?” You asked, watching him hunch down slightly.

“Actually? I was messing with the collar trying to get it off.” He admitted. 

“Okay…when you fell down the stairs the day I gave you that one orange shirt?”

“C-can we stop listing all of these?” He asked pitifully.

“I DIDN’T HEAR ABOUT THAT ONE.” Carbine teased, perking up. 

“I thought that he fell on top of me to either make a move or to have a chance where I was off balance to press me for information.” You admitted what you had started suspecting after finding out what your father did, and what all of your skeletons had done underground.

“...I just fell.” Rifle explained, blushing as his brother looked at him curiously.

“YOU ARE A NATURAL AT THIS GAME THOUGH, BOSS.” Carbine complimented, gesturing for you to get into the driver seat. 

“The joys of being a politician's daughter.” You shot back, regretting it as a pang of hurt shot through your heart. You had just focused back on the thing you were trying to be distracted yourself from. 

“I STILL BELIEVE THAT YOU HAVE A NATURAL TALENT FOR THIS WORK BOSS.” Carbine replied, “THE WAY YOU APPROACH THINGS COULD BE CONSIDERED POLITICAL, THAT BACKGROUND CERTAINLY HELPS, BUT THERE IS A PARTICULAR WAY THAT YOU THINK ABOUT A SITUATION THAT IS MORE SUITED FOR OUR LINE OF WORK.” 

“Well…thank you.” You said, sliding into the driver seat hesitantly. “So…how do I start?” 

“YOU START BY BUCKLING UP. HONESTLY.” Carbine huffed before closing the door and walking around to the passenger seat. 

Carbine wasn’t prone to panicking or blowing his top, which was good, because you didn’t feel like you were good at driving in the beginning, especially with a manuel. There was a grinding sound half the time when you switched gears that made you cringe every time. 

“So, taking a break from work?” You eventually asked, needing a small distraction as your nerves were starting to fray at the edges. 

“DOING MY OTHER JOB. CLUTCH.” He answered, and reminded you again easily. 

“Your other job?” You asked, not glancing away from the dash above your white knuckled grip on the wheel. 

“PROTECTING YOU, BUT ALSO PLANNING FOR THE FUTURE. IF YOU ARE GOING TO BE THE NEXT HEAD OF YOUR FATHER’S SYNDICATE THEN THERE ARE A FEW SKILLS WE THINK IT WOULD BE IMPORTANT FOR YOU TO LEARN.” Carbine explained, snaking his hand out to correct the wheel slightly before you hit a curb. 

“Like driving?” You asked.

“ROULETTE ALSO OFFERED TO TEACH YOU HOW TO SHOOT, YOU SEEM TO HAVE A NATURAL TALENT AND A GOOD INSTINCT FOR HOW TO CARRY YOURSELF… YOUR INFORMATION NETWORK IS ALREADY MAKING WAVES.” Carbine explained.

“I can handle a rifle a bit…skeet shooting was an extracurricular activity at my prep school.” You explained proudly, as he finally let you park the car, then you heard a cut off snerk, and glanced over to see Carbine covering his mouth and looking out the window. 

“BOSS, I DON’T THINK IT'S APPROPRIATE FOR YOU TO BE TELLING ME THIS.” He said, eventually turning back to you with a flat look. 

“What?” 

“HMMM…WE’LL NEED TO WORK ON THAT TO, THOUGH I THINK THAT WOULD BE COLT’S EXPERTISE.” Carbine mused getting out of the car, with a look that was nothing short of smug before repeating very slowly, “YOU CAN HANDLE A RIFLE.” 

You got it that time, blushing brightly. “W-what!? That wasn’t what I meant and you know it.” You huffed.

“What wasn’t what you meant?” Rifle asked, poking his head into the garage. 

“Nothing!” You rushed to say, but the small sly smile on Carbine’s skull made you nervous.

“DO YOU REMEMBER WHAT YOU DID WHEN DON SULLIAN VISITED AND GOT IN AN ARGUMENT WITH MY BROTHER?” Carbine asked and you got the creeping feeling that this was going to be revenge. 

“Well, this has been fun but I think we should get back to work.” You deflected, rushing out of the garage and right into Colt.

“Heya, where's tha fire boss?” He asked, chuckling slightly.

“Carbine was teaching me to drive then he started picking on me.” You complained.

“He was? Nuh-uh, no fuckin way.” He grumbled, taking your hand.

“...What?” You asked again as he turned you back towards the garage.

“Ain’t no way that stiff taught you what you needed to know, come on, I’m gonna teach you some real driving.” He said, the deep rumble in his voice putting emphasis on the word real. 

Your boys were definitely one hell of a distraction.