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

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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.

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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.

He laughs a bit at that before nodding his agreement. He did walk right into that one. "Duly noted. I'll try to keep the tugging to a minimum." He really will try his best to be gentle, but it's not his hair on his head, and these mats look like they're going to be tough to nudge apart.

"Have you told your family and friends about your girlfriend?" she asks curiously. "Do I need to come and visit to prove you aren't making me up?"

She's been meaning to visit anyway, but Maggie loves filling her house up with the people she likes most. Her default is always to invite people over. "There's a brush and comb on the dresser."

He slides off the bed and goes to get both tools, before coming back, shifting to the side so that she can turn her back to face him and he can get started. "My friends, yes." Because what else is he going to talk about if not his social life? "I'm pretty sure Hodgins is convinced that I'm making you up, but they are aware that you exist."

He pauses for a moment as he starts to brush, with long gentle strokes. "My parents though, they passed a while back. So it's just me now."

She reaches out to rest a hand on his leg. "I wondered whether you had any lurking cousins or uncles or aunts. It's just me and my parents. Tomorrow you're meeting the entirety of my family. Excluding, of course, the ones you've already met." Her gaze shifts toward the door for a moment. After the End Times is family, as far as Maggie is concerned.

"Give me another week or two to recover at home, and so long as the world doesn't go to hell first I'll come prove Hodgins wrong."

"Not that I know of. But, I was adopted, so who knows. Maybe I have some secret family lurking out there somewhere."

That would be nice, but he's not going out and looking further beyond his birth mother. He is quite happy with the family he's building, particularly with Maggie and those at the Jeffersonian. Found families can be just as good, even if you already have one of your own.

"And I would appreciate that. I'm definitely looking forward to seeing the look on his face."

Maggie can definitely respect found family. She's frustrated with herself for not knowing all of this sooner, though. It's the sort of thing she shouldn't be stepping on carelessly. Raising a hand to his face, she brushes a thumb over his cheek.

On the more cheerful topic, she asks, "Have you told him who your girlfriend is, or just that I exist? Either way could potentially be amusing."

She generally doesn't like who her family is factoring into anyone's perceptions, but she's confident enough in the way Sweets feels that she's entirely willing to troll his one of his friends. She knows 'Magdalene Garcia. ...yes, those Garcias' sounds much more absurd and unbelievable than 'my girlfriend Maggie.'

"They do know your name is Maggie," he says with a nod. "But not that your last name is Garcia." While he definitely is one to troll, he also isn't one to brag. Besides, name dropping isn't really his style to begin with.

It's just going to add to the way Hodgins' jaw will hit the floor when he meets her.

"I think they'll really like you, though. They're good people."

"I figured that would be your approach." She smiles. It does nothing but reinforce why she likes him.

"And I trust your judgement. If you like them, I probably will too. Are any of your friends as intimidating as you found Shaun and Georgia?" Maggie can't resist teasing him a little, even if she knows that her team is just too tightly wound to welcome outsiders easily right now.

"Booth can be, a little bit, but it's not intentional. Just the whole FBI agent ex-ranger thing. He's really a big softie once you get to know him." Booth is often the friend that he can reach the easiest, and he looks up to him a lot. "Dr. Brennan can also be a bit off putting, but that's because she doesn't always consider the emotional approach to things, but she's a good woman."

"I don't scare easily. I've spent time around plenty of Irwins, how much more intimidating can an FBI agent be? And you may not have gotten enough time with Georgia to realize it, but she's not so big on shows of emotion. I'll manage." They haven't actually discussed her no longer dead boss yet, though she bets Sweets got a look at her coming in the door.

He did. And he figures that that will come up when it comes up. Whatever story they're looking on, she assumes that Georgia is part of it, and he's never really been one to push with the complications that came with After the End Times.

"Good. They're good people, so I think we'll all get along just fine."

Maggie appreciates that about him. But she's braced to tell the truth tomorrow, and it will be so much easier if she can have her boyfriend next to her rather than banishing him from the room. "Lance, I have a request that might be offensive."

She hesitates a second to choose her words, wishing her head weren't muddled by the pain medication. "I might be able to justify trusting you with my life, but I can't put my team's lives in your hands without more precautions. Before I tell you what's going on, I want to ask you a question, and I want to run an extensive background check to make sure you answer honestly. I don't intend to look at any of it unless something relevant turns up."

At first he's confused, because he doesn't know what exactly this is referring to. But he trusts Maggie enough to know that she wouldn't ask this if it wasn't for a good reason, so he nods in agreement before actually using his words.

"Yeah, of course. Whatever you want to know."

Maggie folds her hands. There isn't any point dancing around this. "What, if any, connections do you have in the CDC?"

Sweets pauses, considering for a moment, before leaning back against the headboard. "No major ones, just tangentially on occasion. A case here or there. My work is mostly with the FBI, but sometimes I do evaluations for other agencies. I don't remember any CDC doctors off the top of my head though."

If he did, they were mostly one and done cases.

Maggie nods, pitching her voice a tiny bit louder to address the house computer. "House, I want a thorough search for connections between Lance Sweets and employees of the Centers for Disease Control. Access all databases." Because Buffy set up Maggie's computer system, which means Maggie definitely still has access to information she shouldn't, even more than a year after the other woman died.

But she doesn't actually wait for that confirmation to come back before she moves her hand to hover just above the bottom of her ribcage. "I was tracked and shot by a CDC strike team."

Hence the concern.

Edited 2018-03-24 01:18 (UTC)

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