likeababyduck | psl-land } { you will never be my, you will never be my

Entry tags:

psl-land } { you will never be my, you will never be my

The zombie apocalypse is not really made for extroverts.

In a way, it’s the thing that brings Maggie and Sweets together, the needing to connect with someone despite the isolation of the world they live in, and if Sweets is being completely honest, going out to her farmhouse to hang out with her dogs is one of his favorite places to be. Spending time with real people and not having to regulate his life through a computer is pretty much a dream and a much better use of his profession than trying to shrink someone over video chat.

Plus there’s Maggie too.

In fact, Maggie’s pretty damn important.

So much so, that when she mentions having gotten shot in one of their video chats, he requires zero persuasion to make his way up to the farmhouse to take care of her. While he probably should be concerned about the bloody nature of a gunshot wound, he also doesn’t want her to be up there alone either. What he doesn’t anticipate is the entire After the End Times team being present with her, so when he opens the door and is met by both the dogs and the glaring faces of Georgia and Shaun Mason.

“Uh. Hi.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Lance. Sweets? I’m Maggie’s … ” He pauses as he tries to read the room on how to end that sentence. “ … friend.” There’s a pause as he looks up from the dogs for a moment, and then he squints at the woman to Shaun’s left. “… Aren’t you …”

“Don’t worry about it.” So Shaun Mason is ten times scarier in person, good to know. “Stay with the dogs. We’ll be right back.”

“Yes, sir,” he nods and tries not to jump as the front door slams behind them. He contents himself with just the dogs, scolding himself quietly for not having realized that of course her friends would be there, and quietly wondering how Georgia Mason is somehow alive after her very public execution, but that’s a complicated puzzle that he probably shouldn’t try to solve. Not if he wants to make it through this visit alive. So he just hangs out with the dogs, soaking in the silence, until the door slams open again and Shaun has returned, same glare still in place, but he gestures for Sweets to follow him inside.

“Maggie’s confirmed you are who you say you are.”

“Oh, good.” That much is a sigh of relief and he keeps one bulldog tucked under his arm as he makes his way inside. “Not that I was worried that she wouldn’t. We’re totally friends in good standing and all that.”

“Uh-huh.” Shaun doesn’t seem phased by the rambling, but he doesn’t seem endeared by it either, so Sweet just waits until he’s addressed again, which doesn’t take too long in the grand scheme of things. “So. What do you do, Lance?”

“I’m a psychologist.”

He honestly should have known better. The way Shaun almost fumbles is clear enough that that isn’t an answer that the other man is expecting and he scolds himself almost as soon as he says it. Not that he thinks lying would have been a better option, but maybe he should have tried to soften the blow a little. Maybe “works for the FBI” would have been a better play and not completely a lie.

“A psychologist.”

“ … Yeah?” He doesn’t really know how to answer that without sounding nervous but given Shaun’s reactions to things, he’s not really sure how else to phrase it. “Mostly I just work with the FBI, but I do have a few private clients.”

“The FBI?”

“Yeah, I provide counseling services to their agents.” He gives a bit of a half laugh before he continues. “I’m not a profiler or anything, I just make sure their agents can do well in the field.”

“Uh-huh.”

The tone of that phrase will never not be concerning, and he just swallows and continues to follow Shaun through the house, trying not to speak out of turn, because he is fairly certain that it would only dig him into a bigger hole. He’ll answer the questions that are asked of him, and not much else. That’s safer.

“You know, I have to say you’re one of my favorite Irwins. Your style is always the most engaging, you’re always willing to get right into things.”

It’s safer if he manages to actually keep his mouth shut. Clearly he can’t.

“Thanks.” The response is almost droning, as though it’s a compliment he’s not willing to accept at the moment, and that’s fair. Sweets really needs to learn how to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he just walks him to Maggie’s bedroom door, and gestures for him to head in ahead of her. “There you go. If you run into trouble, yell.”

“Oh, trust me. If I run into trouble, you will hear me.” There’s a pause as he realizes how awkward that is and shakes his head before heading inside. “Never mind. Thanks again.” And once he is in, the door closes behind him with a slight slam, and he blinks, before turning to Maggie. “Okay, so … your friends are more than a little terrifying.”

Maggie laughs, and it’s just such a nice thing to see her alive and in one piece and most importantly – not a zombie. “What are you doing here?”

“You mentioned you had gotten shot and I wanted to make sure you weren’t stuck here recovering on you own.” He makes his way over to sit on the edge of her bed with a small smile, before reaching forward to take her hand. “I should have figured that the rest of the staff would be around.”

“They probably won’t be around for long. They’ve still got a story to chase. So your company will be very much appreciated once they’re gone.”

“Good, I’m glad.” He smiles softly. She then inches over, gesturing so that he can sit closer. He takes that opening easily, only pausing to kick off his shoes, before settling in. “So. If I survived Shaun Mason, does that mean I can safely call you my girlfriend in their presence?”

She tips her head to the side confused, before she realizes what he means and laughs. “What did you tell them?”

“That I was your friend,” Sweets sighs, because he knows how wimpy that sounds. “It just didn’t seem like you had told them anything about me so I figured we’d work it out later.”

She laughs again, shaking her head before leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek softly. “For future reference, you are absolutely allowed to call yourself my boyfriend.”

He grins a bit at that, leaning in to match her and nodding his agreement. “Good.” He’s wanted to call her his girlfriend for a while. He reaches for the remote from the nightstand and turns his attention back to the TV screen. “So. Now that your friends are chasing their story elsewhere, which horror movie are we going to start this marathon with?”

He’s fairly certain that she wouldn’t want to spend her downtime any other way.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Maggie is exhausted and hurting and still has morphine running through her.
A lot of the people she loves are leaving in the morning to keep going, and while Maggie was braced to be left behind, she still isn't ready to lose them all. All of it became just a little easier to bear when she saw who'd come through the door.

"Something funny, please," Maggie requests, shifting to lean against his side with her head on his shoulder. "A mockably bad one."

After a second, she adds, "I never meant to make a secret of you, you know. I'm used to juggling the media vultures that follow the Garcia name alongside people who value their privacy. Hardly anyone takes discretion to the extent that Buffy did, but I still don't like anyone in the tabloids on my behalf unless they sign on for it willingly."

Sweets shakes his head as he pulls up the guide, letting the channels scroll past as he tries to see if there's something on TV, before opting for a different source. "Don't worry, I'm not taking it personally." Probably because Maggie still prevented him from getting shot, and that's the important thing. "They always seem like they have a lot going on anyway."

There might not have been an opportunity to bring up "Oh beeteedubs, I'm seeing someone, his name is Lance."

"My parents want to come check on me too. You could get the full boyfriend trial by fire, if you'd like." She smiles. He can also tell her that he'd like to avoid that, and she won't hold any hard feelings over it. Maggie is half-dreading her parents' arrival because of what she knows she'll have to do when they arrive, but she's so relieved at the thought of them coming.

When she continues, Maggie sounds braced for battle. "I need to... tell them all of the things I've been keeping secret for the past year."

Then she adds softly, with a wry grin, "You weren't ever an intentionally kept secret, Lance, but I haven't mentioned you yet. They aren't as scary as Shaun and Georgia unless you hurt me. And the CDC is available as a convenient target for all of their anger and worry."

"I would love to meet your parents."

And that is the honest truth. Even if the other half of things is that he'd hate leaving more, he still has been looking forward to meeting them and if now happens to be the moment, then he can live with that. He's sure they'll have bigger things to worry about than a boyfriend.

"And you shouldn't have to dump all that on them alone."

A grin breaks across Maggie's face. "I didn't expect you to run screaming, but..." But she tries very hard not to push people into things they don't want or aren't ready for. It's nice to hear that Lance does want to.

"Alright. They're coming tomorrow night. I can call and let them know if you want to fetch them from the airport, or you can stay with me and they'll take a taxi like they were originally planning." Maggie, however, is not getting out of bed. "I don't think you lose points either way. You look after their daughter or you give them a ride."

Reaching for his hand, she adds, "And you're right, it's easier to face things with you here."

He nods as he takes her hand, giving it a small squeeze as he does. "I will do whichever you prefer. I happen to be a very good airport taxi, but I'll stay here with you if you want me to." If he doesn't lose points either way, then it's probably for the best to let her decide.

"And good. That's what I'm here for. To make things easier."

She leans over the few inches necessary to kiss him. "I can manage, if you're sure you don't mind. You shouldn't be gone long. Wake me up to call them later if I fall asleep during the movie?" She doesn't plan on it, but painkillers are making her sleep schedule erratic at best.

"How long can you stay?" She hesitates before admitting it, then adds, her voice slightly muffled against his shoulder, "I thought I was resigned to being left behind. That was the plan long before I got shot. But I hate watching my team leave without me to finish what we started together."

He nods in acknowledgement of the request, before inching closer so that she can rest more comfortably against his shoulder. "All of my patients this week are usually the ones I video chat with rather than seeing in person, so I can stay at least a week. Longer than that, and I'll have to make other arrangements, but I'll try and stay as long as you need me to."

He knows all too well the kind of stir crazy spirals that can come with being injured and alone. He doesn't that to happen to her if he can help it.

She nods slightly against his shoulder so that he can feel the gesture rather than see it. "I think things are going to happen much faster now. If I haven't heard from my team by then, though... I might ask." That she's willing to ask him to rearrange his schedule for her is a sign of how worn out she is.

Maggie isn't really paying attention to the movie. She's seen it before. It's just pleasant background noise. It feels more like home.

"How have you been? Obviously your life has been at least marginally less eventful, thank God, but we can talk about things other than my mildly damaged liver and how tired I am."

"I've been good. Things have been busy back home, but the good kind of busy."

He doesn't blame her for being rattled by all of this. Whatever is going on, it's likely dangerous and he doesn't want her to feel like she has to be alone in any of it. One of the best things about the zombie apocalypse, as much as he may hate it, is that video communication is much better than it was before. His patients can deal with video chat for a week.

"I think I'm this close to getting my friends to admit they're in love with each other."

Considering where he works, Maggie will count that as a good thing. The bad kind of busy in his job could potentially entail some very upsetting things.

She grins. "A worthy cause. You've been trying to do that awhile, haven't you? I wasn't aware matchmaker came with your job description." Her voice is light, teasing. She's well aware that he's doing that in his capacity as their friend, not their therapist.

"Be careful your absence doesn't let them go back to pretending."

"Oh, the denial is strong with these two. It was going to take some time before I took a vacation to begin with, but one of them is starting to pick up on things."

Naturally, it's the more intuitive one. Thank God for Seeley Booth, or he'd really be banging his head against a wall.

Denial is easier than vulnerability," Maggie muses. In some respects, she can understand that. In others... she's incredibly grateful to have something better. "I'm glad at least one of them seems on the right track."

On a mostly unrelated note, "Speaking of vulnerability, how patient are you feeling? I don't have the energy to untangle my hair, and Becks doesn't have time to spend forty five minutes dealing with this mess." Maggie's waist-length curls were never actually brushed after her last decontamination wash, and they dried in a half-matted mess. "There's no way to stop them worrying, but I would like to present an impression as far from 'death warmed over' as possible by the time my parents get in."

If he weren't here, she would leave well enough alone. Since he is, though...

Sweets can be very patient. That much is true. But there's a difference between brushing someone else's hair and brushing your own. He eyes the situation for a moment, before turning back to her with a small smirk.

"Will you forgive me if I tug a little too hard?"

Maggie's smirk is even more pronounced. She hopes that was an intentional opening, because the only possible response is, "Of course I'll forgive you, but still, do your best to save tugging my hair for a time when I'm in a condition to enjoy it."

Sorry, Lance, she couldn't help herself.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject