Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Stop squirming,” Vanessa tells him, trying to get a grip on the gauze around Noah's head.

“I need to breathe, don't I?!”

“Not with your arms and neck. Now sit still and let me check on it.”

“I am.”

“I've wrangled less obstinate pigs.”

He glowers at her from under the white medical gauze covering his forehead and left eye. She gently removes the white bandage that's soak with bright red blood, the cut across the boy's forehead continues to slowly ooze more blood. She frowns and quickly changes the damp cloth to a new one produced from her oversized bag. He twitches under her hands and growls at her, but she doesn't let up until she's firmly wound it round his head.

“It's a good thing you're not a proper doctor,” he grunts at her when she's done.

She narrows her eyes at him, but doesn't give him the satisfaction of a reply. Or rather, she had no intention of giving him one, but “cheeky little bugger” slips from her lips whether she wants it or not. She also can't stop giving the bandage an extra tightening for his comment.

A frazzled nurse appears at the reception desk and hollers, “Noah Dingle.”

Vanessa gets up and takes his coat and prods him in the side to get to him to his feet, he reluctantly follows her lead. As they approach the nurse Vanessa plasters a beaming smile on her lips, and Noah scowls again at how easy and effortlessly it seems to appear, she's always so damned nice, it's not normal. The nurse instinctively returns the smile and brings her hand out in greeting, “Nurse Panahi”.

The wattage of Vanessa's smile increases. “Vanessa,” she introduces herself as she returns the handshake.

The Nurse's smile dims slightly as she spots the surly boy trailing behind the blonde woman. “And this must be Noah.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but Vanessa's hand finds his shoulder and she squeezes lightly giving him a knowing look, and the snarky response he'd prepared is forced to die on his tongue. “Yeah,” he brays in a pubertal squeak.
“If you'll come with me we'll get you settled and the Doctor will see you shortly.”

They follow her in silence and are guided into an exam room where the bright fluorescent lights shine with the same intense sterility as the smell and look of it. “If you just hop on Noah,” the nurse says and gives a pat to the examining table before leaving the room again.

The room goes quiet as soon as she's left, with the exception of the airconditioning that hums incessantly in a broken rhythm and a wall clock that ticks too loudly.

“Behave,” Vanessa warns him.

“Or, what?”

Vanessa doesn't have time to answer him before a young man walks through the door with a big smile on his face. “Good afternoon,” his tone is so jolly Vanessa and Noah share a quick disbelieving look. He reaches out his hand towards Vanessa and the stethoscope around his neck swings dangerously, coming close to falling off of him, “I'm Doctor Stevens, Mrs...” He leaves it hanging waiting for her to fill him in.

“Woodfield. Vanessa.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” the smile grows bigger and increasingly sugary, and Vanessa and Noah share another disbelieving look behind his back. “And you must be,” he looks down at the journal in his hand, “Noah”. After shaking Noah's hand he hooks his foot around a stool and pulls it up to where Noah was seated. “Lets have a look at you, shall we.” Donning a pair of plastic gloves he gently begins removing the makeshift bandage around Noah's head. “So how did this happen?” he asks while gently untangling the many layers.

“A drunken stumble down the stairs,” Noah quips.

Vanessa rolls her eyes at him. “He rode his bike into a tree.”

“You must have given your mother quite the fright,” he says with a smile as he's uncover the boy's forehead, dabbing at the blood and trying to get a good look at the extent of the rather nasty looking cut.

Noah narrows his eyes at him. “She's not my mum, she's just some lady my mum is sleeping with.”

“And he's quite the charmer,” she shoots back at him.

Slightly startled by their exchange the young doctor's smile briefly falters, but he seems to recover as he sits back and reaches for a penlight from his breast pocket. He awkwardly clears his throat before looking back at Vanessa with a slight red tint to his pale cheeks. “Any vomiting or headaches, or odd behaviour since the accident?”

“Oh no, this is his normal charming self,” Vanessa quips at him and gives a cheeky one-sided smirk at Noah.

Doctor Stevens clears his throat again before turning the pen light on and shining it into Noah's eyes. He hums encouragingly at the results, but doesn't say anything else. “If you're lucky you'll live,” he tries to joke which makes Vanessa take a step closer and square her shoulders. The doctor looks up at Vanessa with a smile that disappears as soon as he sees her look. “What I meant to say is, it looks good. Good, good.”

She silently narrows her eyes at him.

A look of insecurity flashes across his young face and he quickly adds. “A nurse will be in shortly and we'll give some local anaesthesia before we do a couple of stitches and he'll be right as rain.”

“Stitches?” she asks.

“It'll heal nicely, I'm sure,” he tries to reassure her.

Noah doesn't speak, but his cheeks take on a slightly paler hue. “Is stitches necessary?”

“It's quite deep unfortunately. Give me a sec and I'll be right back with the nurse and we'll get this over with.”

The boy's face becomes a mask of slowly building dread as the seconds tick by and as soon as the nurse and doctor re-enters the room with a small tray of medical equipment he is decidedly green around the gills.

“Ness,” the boy pleads.

“It's okay,” she says and takes his hand in hers giving it a gentle squeeze as she strokes his arm with her other hand. “Just a sting and a stitch, love, you'll hardly feel a thing.” His clammy hand returns the pressure and he hangs onto her firmly as the doctor prepares the anesthesia. She continues to stroke her thumb across the back of his hand.

“You're lying, aren't you?” he asks her with a concerned look.

“Stretching the truth, darling.” She gives him a reassuring smile. “You'll do fine. Relax and don't look at the needle.” His hand in hers tremble, but she holds firm and his shivering slowly calms down. “Trust me.”

He closes his eyes and keeps his fingers firmly around hers.

Chapter Text

Something wakes Charity. Maybe it was the nightmares. Safe bet. The sensation is almost like a punch. Rude and rousing. Two worlds a million miles apart yet connected in so many places, little pinpricks across her mind. From dark dreams she didn't think she could escape to the tiny blonde woman holding her arms hostage firmly against her own sleeping body. It's all linked and unrelated at the same time. Asleep and awake.

She breathes out slowly, and then inhales the first conscious breath of the day. Unwilling to open her eyes, she wants to linger for a while, linger in the smell of Vanessa's shampoo. Wanting to stay there in that sensation. Chasing the dreams away by slowly imagining reality into being. Imagining Vanessa next to her. The way her hair falls across her face and the pillow. The duvet covering most of her. Except for her neck and her shoulder which are bare and on display. But Charity is not a patient woman and quickly the idea isn't vivid enough, so she opens her eyes to the reality so close to, almost exactly like, she's imagined.

In her embrace slumbers this annoying spoiled hothead who makes everything ten times worse and a thousand times better. And this is where she should be, asleep in her bed and arms. Drooling on her pillow. This damn person who bloody well messes up everything. Who writes new scripts and sets new rules with absolutely no concern or second thought. She's like an ill-tempered storm that tears through everything, who cuts wounds open with words and a look. That look, that sodding look. All open and vulnerable, but deceptive because it is strong, so unrelenting. It's like an addiction, smarting, hurting, a rush, a need, undeniable. That's the best way to describe her. Or rather it's the only way Charity allows herself to describe this thing between them. It's a safe metaphor, a fix she needs, craves, can't deny. She knows there's more, but not now. For now it's an addiction she enjoys.

Self-discipline and restraint have never been hers, but despite the strength of her addiction there's a struggle now. Because the skin in front of her it begs to be touched. She feels it as if there is a thread running between them, from Charity's lips to the crook of Vanessa's neck. It's a path well travelled. A muscle memory quite recent but Atlas strong. But then there's the look on Vanessa's face, the peace, the calm that feels like a crime to disturb and disrupt. A stark contrast of what's to come once Vanessa opens her eyes. She's many things, but to describe her as calm is an outright fat lie. As soon as she wakes up she is fire, she is a bright dynamo that burns with relentless energy. It is stupid and it is hot. So intense it's almost scary. But apparently Charity is a bloody moth. She can't stay away from roasting herself at this dumb blonde fire. For now though, for now Vanessa is peace and calm. So Charity sighs and remains still. For a second at least.

Her fingers are splayed around Vanessa's arm and her own arm is trapped between hers. All wrapped up and entwined. Like some bloody puzzle to be solved, she muses. A Celtic knot of limbs she takes a moment to appreciate before carefully disentangling herself from. Slowly removing her fingers. Slowly retrieving her arm. Slowly losing the heat from another body, this specific body that makes hers feel... Loads of things.

She gets up. Reluctantly leaving her girlfriend asleep and untouched.

While shrugging into her dressing gown she looks at her, or rather keeps looking, her eyes have stayed and not once strayed since they opened. Silently admitting to herself that she really likes Vanessa there. Likes her asleep in her bed. The sentiment echoes in her mind for a bit, seemingly getting stronger rather than fading. It's true, the words are true, but...they somehow begin to sound stale as they bounce around her head getting louder.

She grimaces, it's too early for this.

Chapter Text

“Bloody hell kid, what have you done?” Charity exclaims as Johhny comes running up, hands and tiny knees raw with blood and grit.

“I fell,” he responds, tears streaming down his face, but otherwise the boy seems to be suffering in silence.

“Damnit, lad,” she says and drops the glasses she'd come outside to collect. “Come here.”

He seems hesitant at first, looking at her a little suspiciously from behind the tears. “Come here, we need to look at that.”

“Where's mum?”

“You know she's at work, babe.”

“With the cows?”

“Yeah, with the cows.” She bends over, ready to pick him up and after only a second more of hesitancy he reaches up and locks his arms around Charity's neck. She does her best not to jostle his hands or knees too much. ”You know we'll always play second fiddle to them cows, kiddo,” she tells him as she walks back into the pub with him in her arms. A couple of curious looks follow them as she heads towards the back, but she pays them no attention.

“Move!” she growls at Marlon as she tries to steer herself and Johnny around the tall man blocking the entrance to the back of the pub.

“What happened?” he asks looking concerned at the bleeding Johnny.

“What does it look like?!” she shoots back. “Now move that skinny excuse for a arse, or I'll move it for you,” she says and pushes past him.

“Wha-” Marlon isn't even allowed to utter a word before she bumps the door closed in his face, before heading over to the kitchen table where she puts Johnny down.

Noah looks up from his video game session and does a double take. “What happened with him?”

A curious Johnny looks past Charity from his perch on the table, glancing at Noah quickly before lowering his gaze again. Catching a glimpse of the blood slowly seeping down Johnny's legs Noah throws the controller to the side and gets his lanky form out of the couch. “Jesus, mum. Ness is going to kill you.”

“Go be helpful or shut that gob of yours, eh babe.”

“What's gob?” Johnny asks, tears still streaming down his face.

Noah laughs. “Yeah, she'll-”

“Noah!” Charity warns. “Go get the first aid kit from the bathroom upstairs.”

“We have a first aid kit?”

“Vanessa-”

“Of course,” he says rolling his eyes, but obediently heads up the stairs, two at a time.

“I hurt,” Johnny says.

“I know you do, babe. It's going to be better in a tick.”

He tries to wipe his bloody hands on his shorts. “No, no, no, we have to wash your hands first. Don't do that,” she says and catches his wrists in her hands. She pulls up a chair and sits down in front of him, his legs dangling and hitting her knees. “Put your hands like this, love,” she says and puts her own hands in her lap, palms up.

He does what she asks. “That's better,” she says and wipes at the rivulets of tears running down each of his cheek.

“Don't be angry,” he says looking at his hands.

“Why would I be angry, you silly squirrel?” He doesn't reply, but his shoulders pull upwards towards his ears in a shrug too big for such a small boy. Even though his cheeks are now dry, she continues to let her fingers stroke them reassuringly.

Noah comes crashing down the stairs again, kit in one hand and a package of plasters in the other. He dumps it on the table next to them.

“Babe, make sure he sit stills and doesn't wipe at his hands or knees while I get some tissues,” Charity tells Noah. Noah slides into the same chair Charity previously occupied.

“What happened?” he asks, trying to get Johnny's attention. The boy seems reluctant to meet his gaze, shoulders still bunched up close to his ears. “Did you start a fight with Bob?”

Johnny's eyes shoot up and look over at him. “No.”

“Was it, mum? Did she push you?” Noah asks in a stage whisper and gives his mother a grin.

“Oi, watch it or I'm going to push you!” she warns him as she comes back over and sinks down in front of Johnny.

“Charity didn't push me. I fell,” Johnny says sniffling.

“Johnny, this is going to hurt, but I need to wash your hands, okay?”

“I don't want to hurt more.”

“I know you don't, but you can't walk around with gravel in the scrapes. Now sit still.”

Johnny looks over at Noah with a scared look on his face. “It's going to be okay, mate. Trust me,” Noah says and squeezes his shoulder.

Charity begins to gently try to clean the dirt out of his wounds and he winces and the silent tears start up again.

“So which plasters do you want?” Noah asks trying to divert his attention from the pain. “The puppies or the kittens?” he asks and holds up the two versions with different types of baby animals on them.

Johnny sniffles before he replies, “kittens”.

“Good choice,” Noah says and gives an exaggerated nod of approval.

“It still hurts,” Johnny says and looks up at Charity.

“I know. It does that when you fall down,” she tells him while inspecting his wounds for any lingering bits of dirt and debris. “But you'll live.” She moves over to his knees and repeats the process. “There we go,” she says as she leans back.

Johnny looks down at his hands and knees that are no longer bleeding, then he looks back over at Charity. “You didn't kiss it.”

“And why would I do that, squirrel?”

“That's how it gets better,” Johnny informs her. “Mum always does that.”

“Your mum is a bit daft, Johnny,” she says shaking her head and his eyes go wide. She sighs. “Come here,” she adds however before bending over and placing a quick peck on the kitten plasters now adorning the boy's knees. “I can be daft too.”

“Ain't that the truth,” Noah says with a dry chuckle.

Charity looks over at him and gives him a warning finger. “Watch it!”

“It's better now,” Johnny tells Charity encouragingly.

“That's good, kid,” she says with a smile and gives his hair an awkward ruffle. “No more falling. Go sit still and I'll make tea.”

“I like fish fingers,” he says as she helps him down from the table.

“I can do fish fingers,” she hums.

“Barely,” Noah quips. Charity narrows her eyes at him, but doesn't reply. “Come on, mate, lets put a movie on,” he then adds as he puts a hand on Johnny's shoulder and guides him towards the sofa.

“Right,” Charity sighs as she opens the fridge.

Chapter Text

The afternoon regulars mindlessly fill up the Woolpack under the supervision of a bored Charity perched behind the bar, clicking her pen and throwing dirty looks at the crosswords in front of her. At the end of the bar a young Johnny is sat hunched over his textbook seemingly undisturbed by the music and the buzz of people talking, looking as comfortable as any other fixture in there.

“What are you doing?” Charity asks Johnny throwing her pen down with an annoyed look.

“Reading,” he replies, looking up at her with a curious expression on his face.

“Come here,” she tells him.

“What for?”

“Babe, you're too young to be this difficult, come here.”

He looks at her suspiciously, but shuts his book and jumps down from the barstool he's been perched on. “Is this going to get us in trouble?”

“Trouble isn't all bad, kid.”

“That's not what you said last time, when mum-”

“That was different,” she says and motions him closer, before she helps him up onto the bar-top with a groan. “You're getting too big for this. How can you be so heavy when you're nothing but skin and bones?!” she asks him and pinches his stomach, making him squirm and giggle.

“Cause I'm old,” he tells her with a smug expression that he's seen enough times on her face to be able to imitate perfectly.

“Seven is not old unless you're a gerbil.”

“I don't think they live that long, actually,” he corrects her.

“You're as insufferable as your mother.”

“Which is why you love us?” he asks in a rhetorical question he's heard thrown around his home many times, only a little bit of insecurity shining through his words.

She gives him a gentle push so he sways to the side, his face taking on a true smile as he recognises the familiar gesture for when she think he does or says something daft. “You maybe, your mum, definitely not,” she tells him with a grin.

“I'm going to tell her you said that,” he says and smiles so wide it almost splits his face.

“You wouldn't dare, you little son of a sea biscuit!” she warns him. “Besides if you do, then I'm not going to teach you how to pour.”

Johnny's eyes go wide. “I'm not allowed to do that, am I?”

“Why not? You're old aren't you?” she arcs an eyebrow at him in challenge and his eyes light up like fireworks. “Doug, you ready for a top up?”

Vanessa steps through the doors with a big smile on her face as she sees her people behind the bar. With ease and familiarity she slips behind the bar and gives Charity a quick peck on the cheek before walking over to Johnny who's still sitting on top of the bar, legs dangling and on his face a smile as wide as can be.

“Hello, love,” Vanessa says as reaches over and places a kiss on Johnny's cheek. As if stung she pulls back again, “Why do you smell of beer?”

“Don't be mad,” Charity tells her and takes a step closer to them both.

“What have you done?” Vanessa demands to know, eyes narrowing.

“Charity is teaching me a valuable life skill,” Johnny informs his mother whose eyes snap towards Charity like the crack of a whip.

“I said, don't be mad,” Charity repeats off the look on Vanessa's face.

“Do I look mad?” she asks as the tension in her jaw makes her muscles twitch.

“You definitely look mad,” Johnny tells her. “She looks mad, right Charity?”

“Johnny babe, you're not helping,” Charity tells him with an exasperated look.

“I'm not mad, I'm just very curious to know why our seven year old smells like a brewery.”

“Relax babe.”

“It's cause I was serving,” Johnny helpfully provides.

“Johnny,” Charity warns him belatedly with a sigh.

Vanessa's mouth falls open and her eyes jump from Charity to Johnny and back again. “It's because he was serving,” she repeats the words, glaring at Charity.

“Well he is seven,” Charity begins. Which by the look on Vanessa's face clearly was not the right thing to say. “You're the one who keep telling the boys to never say no to an opportunity,” she continues on, trying to make amends.

“No, I'm pretty sure that must have been your mistress.”

“Vanessa-” Charity groans.

“Fine, I told Noah that once and it was about his UCAS application,” Vanessa huffs.

“Same thing, really babe.” She grabs the hem of Vanessa's coat and coax her closer, pulling her in and letting her lips ghost across her jaw.

“He's seven, Charity,” Vanessa complains, but her tone falters and doesn't sound nearly as upset as it had a moment ago.

“Got to strike while the iron is hot, babe. He's like a sponge,” she says when they pull apart.

“Which is why he shouldn't be around alcohol,” Vanessa grimace at Charity's metaphor.

“But I like it in here,” Johnny says concern in his eyes at the idea of not being allowed to spend his afternoons in the pub with Charity.

“That's not what I meant, sweetie,” Vanessa reassures him, cupping his cheek.

“You shouldn't be hard on the lad, after the mishap with the first and the explosion with the second, by that third pint he seemed to get the hang of it,” Doug offers from where he's sat by a table with a full glass in front of him.

“No one asked you, Doug,” Charity growls at him before turning back to face the upset woman next to her. “Vanessa,” she pleads. “Babe, whatever life throws at him, if you can pour a pint you'll always land on your feet.”

“Besides, it's fun, mum,” Johnny tells her, the worried look still on his face, mostly because of that niggling feeling that always developed in the pit of his stomach when his mum and Charity were fighting. “I wanted to, it's not Charity's fault. Please don't be mad.”

“Babe,” Charity sighs and squeezes his shin as his legs bounce nervously against the side of the bar.

Vanessa sees the worried look on his face and her shoulders seem to relax. “Honey,” she says and catches his chin in her hand, forcing him to meet her eyes. “I'm not mad.”

“You sound a little mad,” Charity interrupts. Vanessa glare over at her. “What? You do.”

“I'm not mad, I'm just a little worried,” Vanessa replies in an exaggeratedly calm tone.

Charity doesn't reply she just hums a little and as Johnny meets her eyes she gives him a wink.

“Fine!” Vanessa says and puts her hands up in surrender. “I was a little mad.”

“We would never have guessed,” Charity quips, unable to leave well enough alone.

“Watch it,” she warns as she helps Johnny down from the bar.

“Good thing you love me then,” Charity says as she walks over to get Johnny's textbooks and his backpack from beneath bar. She stuffs the book back into the bag before handing it over to him and leans over to place another kiss on Vanessa's cheek.

“Hold me when you get into bed, yeah?” Vanessa says as they pull apart, her hands lingering on the hem of Charity's blouse.

“How else would I warm my cold hands?!” Charity replies and they share a soft smile for a second.

Vanessa turns her eyes back towards her son. “So tea and then you can tell me all about how to pour.” She holds out her hand for his and he gladly slips his into hers.

“It's about the angle, mum, and the wrist,” he excitedly begins to tell her as they make their way out of the pub.

Two seconds after the door has shut behind them it swings back up again and he runs in and yells, “bye, Charity!” before running back out again not even waiting for a reply.

Chapter Text

The reception hall is busy, full of content looking graduates in their black robes and silly little hats, fussed about by even more content looking parents.

“You should be proud,” Vanessa says as she brushes some lint off Noah's shoulder, the young man's height forcing her to stand on her toes.

“Don't fret,” he tells her.

“I'm not fretting,” she shoots back with an annoyed look and misty eyes.

“Ness, you're crying,” he says matter of factly.

“I'm not. It's age, my eyes get moist sometimes.” She sniffles.

“You are so full of it,” he tells her and wraps his arms around her, making her almost disappear in the embrace.

“Even if I were, which I am not,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “Then I'd be entitled to some fretting. It feels like it was just yesterday you were that surly and stubborn little kid giving me shit at every turn, now look at you.”

“You mean I stopped being a dumbass and grew up.” He chuckles.

“Never, it's in your genes, can't outgrow that,” she tells him and hugs him harder, he smiles.

“You're squeezing me to death.”

She pulls back from the hug and looks up at him with a suspiciously teary-eyed smile. “I'm proud of you.”

He beams a wide and happy smile at her.

“Vanessa? Vanessa Woodfield?” A voice from across the room interrupts their moment and a man in his early fifties approach them with a pleasant smile on his face. Both Vanessa and Noah turn around in surprise and look at the man as he comes to a stop in front of them.

“I'm sorry?” she asks. He clearly looks familiar to her, but she can't seem to place where this well-dressed man in a most stereotypical tweed costume would fit into her life, coming to the conclusion that would be nowhere.

“It's Vanessa Woodfield, isn't it?” he asks her again, smiling even wider now.

“Not for a while it hasn't been,” she replies a little cautiously.

“It's me, Keith Adams.”

“Oh!” realisation dawns on Vanessa and a wide smile breaks out across her face. “Keith!” she throws her arms around his neck and gives him a bear hug. “I haven't seen you in-” she laughs a little as they pull apart.

“Lets not linger on how long, because that is only depressing,” he says with a little laugh of his own.

“Noah, this is my old Uni drinking buddy,” Vanessa excitedly introduces the man with happy disbelief on her face.

“I have met Professor Adams,” Noah answers her clearly embarrassed.

Vanessa's mouth falls open and she looks back over at Keith with an astonished look on her face. “Professor?”

He smiles bashfully and nods, before looking over at Noah with a grin. “All this time and I had no idea it was your boy chewing my ears off with questions every Wednesday morning lab.” He gives Noah's shoulder a light squeeze. Noah looks like he's about ready for the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

Vanessa beams with pride and laughs. “He's got a mouth on him for sure, but I don't think I can take credit for that.”

“Don't sell yourself short, when he gets going he's as relentless at arguing his cause as you were. It's impressive.” He pauses for a second as if he's a little taken back by seeing his old friend and to realise she's connected to one of his students, or rather former students now. “You should be proud,” he finally adds.

“Trust me, I am,” she says and smiles at Noah who visibly squirms under the scrutiny. Luckily for the young man the focus on him is diverted as a ball of energy comes barrelling across the room towards them hollering his name.

“Noah!” Johnny doesn't come to a stop until his arms are firmly around Noah's middle. With some effort Noah picks the ten year old off his feet and into his arms, giving him a good shake, much to the delight of the kid.

“Put him down before one of you breaks something,” Vanessa chastises them. The brothers share a smile before Noah lets Johnny down onto his feet again.

“Where's mum?” Noah asks Johnny.

“She said she needed another five or she'd risk strangling one of these toity tweed twerps,” Johnny replies, doing his best Charity impersonation.

“Johnny!” Vanessa exclaims and Noah gives a full belly laugh.

“What? Mum, I swear it's what she said.”

“Yeah, I don't doubt that for a second, but maybe not in front of people next time, love,” she tells him with a nod in Keith's direction.

As if suddenly realising his mother and Noah weren't alone Johnny looks shyly over at the stranger.

“I take it this is another one of yours,” Keith says with a smile holding out his hand to Johnny in greeting.

Vanessa nods. “This is Johnny. Johnny this is an old friend of mine, Keith. Johnny, Keith, Keith, Johnny,” she introduces them.

“Good to meet you, Johnny. “ He shakes the boy's hand gently. “I have to say, Vanessa I never thought you of all people would end up with-” he drifts off, realising what he was about to say might not have been entirely appropriate or socially tactful, but the tone of his voice couldn't be undone even if the sentence was left unfinished.

She arcs an eyebrow. “No, please do finish,” she tells him sweetly while looking the exact opposite of sweet.

“I don't-” he coughs a little embarrassed. “I don't mean it as an insult. You simply never struck me as the conventional marrying type.”

Noah chuckles. “Yeah, that's us. Real conventional.”

Johnny looks up at Noah with a suspicious look on his face, “what does that mean?” He lowers his voice a little so only Noah is meant to hear him, “Is he picking a fight?”. Noah just shakes his head and puts his hand on Johnny's shoulder.

“Johnny you better fail your GCSEs because bloody hell I am not doing this again,” Charity takes that moment to interrupt them as she appears. She eyes the stranger standing next to Vanessa, giving him a quick glare and dismissing him, before placing a kiss on Vanessa's cheek and diverting her gaze towards her son instead. “You look like an absolute tosser,” she tells Noah and wraps her arms around him.

“Thanks,” he mumbles into the hug.

“We're proud of you,” she says as they part.

“I know.” He smiles. Vanessa's eyes start to water again. “You should stop though, before you make Ness cry again.”

“I'm not,” Vanessa objects and Charity and Noah roll their eyes in perfect synchronicity. Charity lets her hand stroke down Vanessa's arm casually though.

“A little late to be buttering up the professors, eh babe?” Charity says with a none too subtle nod towards the man next to them.

“Keith Adams,” he introduces himself with a smile. “Not much buttering needed. We have however established it's a small world. Turns out Noah's mother is an old friend from Uni. And you are?”

Charity gives Vanessa a questioning look and she just shrugs. “I'd be Noah's mother. Someone who's spent a lot of time with a lot of muppets, but can't say I remember you.”

Noah and Vanessa groan “mum” and “Charity” in unison.

“Oh, I thought-” he says and looks over at Vanessa confused.

“I've got two of them,” Noah takes pity on him an explains. “Because the universe didn't think one was embarrassment enough apparently.” He makes pointed eye contact with Johnny who breaks out into giggles.

“Cheeky. I'll remember that when you want to move back home because you're an unemployed twit,” Charity warns him.

“Noah's mother, my other half,” Vanessa interrupts them before their verbal sparing get out of hand. “Keith meet Charity. Charity meet Keith, an old friend from Uni.”

Charity reluctantly shakes his hand as his face stretch into a smile again.

“Oh, you're married to a woman, that makes more sense,” he hums, making it very clear social decorum had never been this man's strongest suit.

Charity frowns at him. “He didn't think mum was the convent type,” Johnny tries to inform her surreptitiously. At which Charity looks even more confused.

“Conventional,” Noah corrects him.

A sudden realisation hits green eyes and Charity look over at Keith in a new more amused light. “Gay as a Christmas tree in a tutu, back then too, eh?”

He blushes crimson. “Maybe not the words I would have used,” he stammers.

“Hey!” Vanessa objects, but Charity just smiles sweetly and Keith coughs awkwardly and starts rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous tick.

“I should- I should-” Keith stammers. “Good luck, Noah. When you change your mind about doing post-grad work, you know where to find me.” He shakes Noah's hand.

“Thanks, professor.”

“Vanessa it was great seeing you. If you're ever in Leeds look me up for a coffee,” he says as he disappears hurriedly back into the crowd leaving them alone again.

“Right, that wasn't awkward at all,” Charity says when he's just out of earshot. “So, how long until we can get out of here?”

Chapter Text

“Vanessa, you need to talk some sense into your son!” Charity hollers as she burst through the front door, slamming it shut behind her.

“I need to what?” Vanessa looks up from the laundry she's currently folding.

“He's bent on playing Rugby!” Charity continues with agitation as she advances. “The stubborn little hothead,” she practically growls.

“Moses?” Vanessa asks with a surprised look on her face.

“Of course not,” Charity says and shakes her head as if that's the most stupid thing Vanessa could possibly have said or thought. “At least he'd have the shoulders for it,” she muses briefly, before remembering she's upset. “Johnny!”

“Johnny?” Vanessa says and decides it's time to leave the laundry and focus entirely on her agitated and seemingly rambling partner.

“I'm not stuttering, am I?!” Vanessa gives her a decidedly unamused look. “Fine, I'm sorry,” Charity immediately apologises before she continues with a plea. “But do something!”

“What exactly do you want me to do?” Vanessa asks with a humourless look on her face as she squares her shoulders, annoyance creeping into her stance.

“Forbid him! Talk to him. Smack some sense into him. I don't know. Something.”

“Why?” Vanessa challenges.

“Are you blind as well as hard of hearing?” Vanessa glares at her with narrow eyes. Charity throws her hands up in a placating gesture, but continues, “He's a twig. I've seen toothpicks with more heft to them than Johnny.”

“So what?” Vanessa is growing increasingly defensive and her posture becomes more rigid. “You don't think he can do it?”

“Of course not. Have you seen the boys his age? That Richard kids has a bloody moustache and two sets of shoulders.”

“And?” Vanessa's mood is close to catching proper fire and her eyes shine with a rising intensity as her son's abilities are questioned. “Rugby isn't only about brawn.”

“Yes it is. It's all brawn. Literally nothing but brawn and tiny butt-flapping shorts.” Charity's voice is shrill and her words spill out in an angry staccato. “Jesus, Ness. Those kids are going to kill him. Make him not do it, damnit!”

Vanessa's temper seems to deflate as she realises it's concern that drives Charity and not a dismissal of Johnny's capabilities. “Have you talked to him?” she asks after a couple of calming breathes.

“Of course not, he'll hate me if I tell him no,” Charity states as if it's a simple fact.

“So you think I should do it instead? Crush his dreams.” Vanessa quirks an eyebrow.

“Yeah...” Charity at least has the decency to look a little ashamed at the admittance.

“I'm sorry, but if it's what he wants to do-”

“Vanessa, you're clearly not thinking straight,” Charity interrupts her.

“So you don't think he's good enough?” Vanessa asks, deciding to try to turn the tables and break Charity out of her spiral of concern.

“He's eight, Vanessa! He's scared of cows and is skinnier than Marlon's left leg. This is mad. We can't let him go out there and get hurt. He's practically still a toddler.”

“You're making it sound as if we're about to send him to war.” Vanessa pulls her lips into a tight line, shaking her head at Charity's hyperbole.

“We might as well!” she says throwing her hands up.

“And you accuse me of being melodramatic,” Vanessa says with a bemused expression.

“Well, you are.” Charity huffs. “I never realise you also had so little concern for our kid's well-being.” She continues on trying to find the button that will trigger a response.

Vanessa's eyes light up for a second, but she quickly controls her temper. “That's not going to work.” Vanessa takes a breath and walks over to Charity, taking her hands in her own. “If this is what Johnny wants to do we'll be there to support him.” Charity opens her mouth and is about to interrupt but Vanessa doesn't give her the opportunity. “No. Just shut up and support.”

“But- he's tiny. You gave him shit Rugby genes.”

“He's fast though.”

“Babe, he's so small,” Charity pleas.

“So are the other kids.”

“No, seriously babe, you haven't seen this Richard kid.”

“Charity,” Vanessa says and makes sure she's got eye contact. “It's going to be fine.” She briefly cradles Charity's cheek with one hand in reassurance.

“If one of those kids hurt him – I swear-”

“If that happens we'll smack them around as a family, okay?” Vanessa suggests with a lop-sided smile.

Charity narrows her eyes at her, trying to judge if she's joking or not. After a moment she releases a sigh and her shoulders seem to relax, at least a little. Her fingers find their way into the fabric of Vanessa's blouse and she pulls her in for a hug, wrapping her arms around her and breathing deeply into the crook of Vanessa's neck. “I'm going to hold you to that.”

“It's a deal,” Vanessa agrees with a hum into Charity's collarbone, letting her hands softly and slowly run up and down her back in comfort.

Chapter Text

“So?” Vanessa says and tries to not appear as curious as the expression on her face makes it painfully clear that she is.

“So what?” Noah asks from his reclining position on the couch, craning his neck towards the kitchen to look at her. While mindlessly tracing the corners of his phone where it's resting on his stomach.

“Who's the girl that keep making you smile every time you check your phone?” she says, abandoning her attempts at being tactful, or sneaky, fully giving in to her need to know.

“I don't know what you mean.” Noah replies quickly looking away from her again, his cheeks however turning scarlet at the embarrassment and the lie.

“Don't pretend you know how to lie,” Vanessa chastise him. “Now tell me!”

“It's nothing,” he insists.

“Right-” she draws the word out into a long pointed exclamation of disbelief. She pours two cups before heading over to the couch juggling both of them in one hand and a stack of magazines in the other. She drops the magazines on the coffee-table where they spill out and cover most of it, before pushing his legs to the side so she can sink down beside him. She hands him one of the cups and keeps the other for herself. Painstakingly slowly taking a sip of it before she continues. “I don't know who you think you're fooling, but we both know it's not me.”

“You're a nosy old woman.”

“Watch it!” she says, reaching over to cuff his ear, almost scalding them both with hot tea in the process.

“Careful!”

“You're the one who should be careful,” she warns him leaning back. “Trust me, I'm not that old. If need be I will chase you down and smack you around.”

He scoffs at her. “The best you can do is to bribe Johnny and Moss to do it for you.”

She narrows her eyes and pinches his calf where its resting in her lap, hard. “Ouch!”

“Now spill!”

“It's nothing,” he insists.

She lowers her cup and sighs at him, clearly change her tactics, giving him her “I'm disappointed in you” look instead. She sighs once more for emphasis before reaching over for one of the magazines, a dejected look on her face. “If you say so.”

He seems to falter a little and gives her a sigh in return, recognising what she's doing, but still feeling guilty enough to be able to resist it. “Not really. It's just someone in one of my lectures.”

Her eyes light up and she drops the magazine and leans back again, but she refrains from making a comment, forcing the silence to grow awkward between them so Noah will have no choice but to fill it with more details. Which he does. “We've had coffee a couple of times and...I don't know...”

“You like her,” she decides.

He shrugs, awkwardly as he's laying down in the sofa. “Maybe...yeah.”

“What's she like?” Vanessa can't keep from pushing for more details.

“What do you mean?” he stalls, his hands fiddling with the seam of his sweatshirt.

“You know exactly what I mean.” She gives him a pointed look.

“This is is awkward, Ness.” He blushes again.

“My prerogative,” she grins at him. “Now tell me, what's she like?”

He sighs and grows quiet for a moment, his eyes taking on a slightly faraway look. “She's funny. Smart. Really into molecular ecology.” He finishes off with a chuckle.

Vanessa's expression turns so soft it's almost feather light. “Cute too?”

He smiles and shrugs again. Her face split into a blinding smile. “So when are we meeting her?”

“Not going to happen.” His expression drops instant and he shakes his head emphatically.

“And why not?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?” he says with a frustrated look on his face. “Remember Sasha?”

Vanessa opens her mouth, before closing it again, looking a little apologetic. “That was-”

“Yeah, I still have nightmares about that.”

She shakes her head at him, but doesn't actually answer him. “And don't you dare blame, mum for that. That was a team effort.”

Vanessa tries not to let her smile be too obvious. She fails and Noah's scowl deepens. "You two are the worst."

His phone buzzes and is about to slip off his stomach and plummet to the floor before he quickly places his hand over it to keep it in place, but he makes no real effort towards answering. They both look at it, Noah with a frustrated expression and Vanessa with a beaming smile.

“Don't mind me,” Vanessa says encouragingly, giving a small wave towards it.

He groans before looking down at it again, a weary expression on his face. He seems to make up his mind and somewhat reluctantly answers it as he's scrambling to his feet. “Hiya,” he answers the person on the other end, the doubt on his face being replaced with a slow smile. “Give me a second, yeah?” he continues. “Nosy parents, you know.” Vanessa reaches over and slaps his leg as he scurries past her towards the upstairs for some privacy.

Chapter Text

“Look at her!” Charity exclaims from behind the bar, arms crossed over her chest.

“Look at who?” Chas wonders as she sidles up next to her.

“The lesbian sheep farmer.” Charity narrows her eyes and nods towards the corner table.

“The what?”

Charity narrows her eyes further and gives another no towards the woman having a pint with Vanessa.

“That much flannel and the woman is clearly compensating for something.”

Chas sighs. “Not this again.”

“What?!” Charity glares at her.

“Every time. Let the woman enjoy a drink in peace.”

“I would. If she wasn't practically frothing at the mouth. I mean, look at her, babe.”

“She's not frothing. She's having a pint with Vanessa.”

Vanessa takes that moment to laugh loudly unbeknownst to the intense scrutiny from behind the bar.

Charity throws an elbow into Chas's side. “See! She's trying to be charming.”

“And you're being ridiculous.”

“I'm ridiculous?!” she looks at Chas in disbelief. “I'm not the one making eyes at someone else's wife.”

“Charity, you're not married.”

“Well I might as well be. I'm the one who has to endure that thing she does when her hands get cold.” She says and looks at Chas as if that proves her point.

“Who knew you were such a romantic,” Chas teases.

At which point the lesbian sheep farmer laughs in return at something a smiling Vanessa says.

Chas leans over and studies Charity's face with morbid fascination. “Did your nostrils just flare?”

Charity press her lips together and glares at her cousin.

“Have you even talked to her?” Chas asks.

“No, why would I?”

“She's nice actually.”

“You too?!”

“All I'm saying is that if you got to know her-”

Charity rolls her eyes. “And what would we possibly have in common? Share a brew and talk about foot and mouth disease?”

Chas laughs. “You said it, not me.”

Charity tries to whip her with the kitchen towel hanging behind the bar, but the other woman dances out of the way with a big smile on her face.

“Vanessa seems to like her.” Chas says and unintentionally pours fuel on the fire. Charity's eyes light up, burning and green, she glares at Vanessa and her friend again before turning her back on the bar. “Charity-” Chas tries to get her attention as she heads towards the back. “Don't do something stupid.” She doesn't get an answer. “She's going to do something stupid,” she sighs.

“Johnny, you want to go see your mum?” Charity asks as she walks into the back where Johnny and Noah are bent over the kitchen table, crayons and papers strewn around them.

“Why?” he asks, looking confused at Charity and then back over at Noah. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, babe, you've done nothing wrong. I-”

“What are you doing?” Noah asks with a stern look on his face as he puts down the crayon in his hand.

“Nothing. I just need Johnny's help with this small thing.”

“Why?” Noah demands, his shoulders setting.

“I thought Vanessa's new friend would like to meet Johnny, is all.”

“What are you doing?” Noah looks at her, eyes seemingly drilling into her.

“Babe-” she tries to placate him.

“No, mum. We're busy, we're colouring,” he says and hands Johnny a couple of more crayons from his side of the table, trying to catch the boy's attention again.

“I could draw more later,” he says questioningly up at Noah.

“You don't have to go with her buddy,” Noah says and looks at him openly. “Not if you don't want to.”

“I can go with Charity,” Johnny replies and begins climbing down from the chair.

“Come here,” she tells him and reaches down to pull him into her arms. “When did you get this heavy?” she asks settling him on her hip with a groan.

“I had a big lunch. Lots of fish fingers,” Johnny informs her, and a smile slowly spreads on Charity's lips. “Is that so?” she asks him.

“Yeah, probably twelve,” he informs her and holds up four fingers for her to see. “Don't draw all of the drawings, please,” he says as he twists in her arms and looks at Noah.

“I'll try not to,” he says with a faint smile, before throwing a wary look at his mother.

“Don't give me that look, babe. You'd think we're off to flog a horse and join the circus,” she tells Noah with a smile on her face, one he doesn't return. “So, Johnny, you want to make a deal?”

“Mum,” Noah warns.

“What's a deal?” Johnny asks, his hands holding tight to the fabric of her jacket.

“What are you guys doing here?” Vanessa asks, her face lighting up at the sight of Johnny in Charity's arms.

“Johnny fancied a visit,” Charity says and the little boy frowns and looks as if this was news to him. Charity gives him a pointed look and squeezes his calf. He looks even more confused at this.

“I don't think we've officially met,” the woman sitting next to Vanessa introduces herself. Charity glares at her, openly and contemptuous, wordlessly disgusted by the sense of pluck the woman seems to radiate through a mere greeting. She reluctantly seem to put Johnny down before extending her hand to the woman. “Sure.” She drawls and Vanessa gives her a funny look. “Charity-” slips from Vanessa's lips and it sounds like something in between a question and a warning.

Charity tries for a smile, the result does not appear healthy. “Charity,” she introduces herself and with great reluctance extends her own hand.

The other woman grabs hold of it and gives her a healthy squeeze. “Bonnie,” she greets her with.

“Charmed, I'm sure.” Charity drawls. Johnny keeps hold of her trouser leg as the woman extends her hand to him as well. “And who's this little darling?” His fingers seems to dig further into Charity's trousers and he looks at the stranger with a stern look on his face, his eyes briefly darting over at his mother. Charity unconsciously place her hand over his back, holding him close.

“I'm pretty sure she won't bite, babe,” she tells him. “Remember the deal?” she adds in a hushed voice.

He looks up at her and his face lights up, shaking his head up and down emphatically.

Bonnie laughs easily. “Nope, I try my best not to bite.” She keeps her hand extended and slowly Johnny reach over and take it.

“Bonnie Iverson,” she says as she gently shake his hand.

“Johnny Dingle,” he returns the gesture with a stern face, briefly looking back at Charity for reassurance.

“Dingle now, is it?” Vanessa says with a lop-sided smile and a head shake.

“Lad must have gotten confused, seeing how it's the name on our door.”

“I guess he'll end up being really confused once he learns how to read,” Vanessa says and gives Charity a pointed look.

Bonnie looks between them with polite confusion. Johnny breaks the moment by letting go of Charity and running over to his mother, using the table for purchase making their glasses clink precariously as he climbs up into her lap. She leans over and places a kiss on his cheek as he settles down, wrapping her arms around him in a full hug. At which the polite confusion on Bonnie's face turns into polite curiosity.

“So can I leave him with you for a while, babe?” Charity asks with feigned politeness. “Noah had to be off for something.”

“Sure,” she hugs him again. “You don't mind spending some time with mummy and her friend?” she asks him.

“But, Noah-” he began.

“Don't sweat it, tiny dancer, you can spend time with your favourite when we have tea, deal, yeah?”

“More fingers.”

“All the fingers,” Charity agrees with a smile. “I should get to work,” she says with a nod in Chas direction. Vanessa narrows her eyes at her, but doesn't actually say anything. Instead Charity press her lips together in a sheepish expression before leaning over and placing a quick peck on the side of Vanessa's mouth. “Later babe.”

As Charity approach the bar again, a smug look on her face, Chas shakes her head. “Smooth, like a rockslide.”

“Shut it, Chas.”

Chapter Text

It's a lazy Thursday afternoon, outside the sun beats down with an intensity that almost feels rude this early in the year. Inside the air is stuffy and the pub is almost entirely void of patrons, people preferring the sunshine to a pint. Charity is bent over a crossword puzzle, not moving an inch away from the fan next to her, trusting the artificial breeze to stop her hair from sticking to the sweat on her neck.

The door opens and some of the sunlight from outside hits the edges of the bar before it shuts again with a dull whoosh, leaving behind a mix of car fumes and the scent of jasmine.

“Hi, uncle Zak,” Johnny says as he pass the old man in the corner.

“John-John,” he greets him with a grunt, pressing his pint glass against his ruddy forehead.

Johnny drops his rucksack on the floor and pulls over a barstool and clambers up on to the bar. Charity doesn't look up, but either the noise of him settling down in his favourite spot or one of the clues in her crossword amused her enough to spread a slow smile across her face.

Johnny sits down with a dramatically loud sigh, looking over at Charity from the corner of his eye, then back at his hands which that are worrying the hem of his shorts, picking at a small hole with frayed edges. It takes a few more moments of silence before he finds his voice and when he does find it, it's uncharacteristically frail. “What's a dad for?”

His voice is quiet enough that Charity almost doesn't catch it over the noise of the fan. “What's that, love?” she asks him, looking up at him while lowering the setting on the fan.

He quickly looks around him in the nearly abandoned pub, with what looks a little like shame on his pale features. “What's a dad for?”

Charity slowly puts down her pen and her flight instinct makes her eyes turn towards the backdoor.

“I know it's a stupid question, but-” Johnny says and lowers his head.

The look on her face shifts into something softer and she takes a step closer to him, giving him a gentle push.

“All questions are daft, babe. You know that.” She tells him, trying to cajole him into looking up by giving him another little push.

He smiles a little, but doesn't meet her eyes.

“I know.” He repeats, his finger now digging into the hole in his shorts, eyes trained on it as if his life depended on it.

“So you want to know what a dad is for?” she repeats his question, resting her elbows next to him, touching her arm to his, but without making eye contact. “Not a fat lot, if you ask me,” she says and leans into him briefly.

“No, but I mean-” he starts and now looks over at her. “A fork you use to eat with. And like...a brother is someone you share a room with, and wrestle with and whose old clothes you get, even if you don't want them. I mean like that, what's a dad meant for?”

She looks at him for a second, pushing his hands away from the tear in the fabric of his clothes. “You shouldn't pick at it, you'll make it worse.”

“I'm sorry.” He stops what he's doing, but instead his fingers begin to nervously drum against his knees, absentmindedly picking at the scabs covering one kneecap.

“A dad is supposed to take care of you,” she begins a little hesitantly, not knowing how much brutal truth or rosy dream she should serve the boy. Feeling very much like this is a discussion she'd prefer if Vanessa would have handled.

“That's it?” he prods when she doesn't offer up anything else quickly enough for his short attention span.

She leans back slightly and this time it's her hands that nervously fiddle with a beer mat. “More or less, babe. If they're the good kind,” she emphasises the good part. “They take care of you, tell you when to brush your teeth, get you to school on time, all them boring things.”

“So like you and mum then?”

“You calling me boring?” she teases him.

“Yeah-” he drawls out, smiling wide enough to show off the gap from his missing front teeth.

“Cheeky!” she narrows her eyes at him and grabs his chin. Placing a quick kiss on his cheek before he even has time to react.

“Not in public, it's embarrassing,” he grumbles and demonstratively wipes at his cheek.

“If you're going to be that cheeky there's no telling what I'll do. And that's a threat, babe, so don't forget it.” She smiles wickedly at him. “So are you going to tell me why you're suddenly interested in the do's of a da?”

He seems to hesitate momentarily, or perhaps he merely takes his time to find the right words. But after a few seconds of silence he replies, “There was someone at school who kept trying to tease me about it. I think he thought I should be sad about it. But I mean if that's what a dad does, then why would I need one?”

“Which kid?” Charity's back goes ramrod straight, the muscles in her neck twitch. “Is it Gabriel? That's the lad with the shifty eyes, isn't it?”

“No, it wasn't Gabriel. What's shifty eyes?”

“You remember Rodney?”

“Yeah.”

“That's shifty eyes. You're trying to avoid the question, Johnnybob.”

“Don't call me that,” he says and squirms. “I'm not a kid anymore.”

“Babe, I will still call you that the day you learn to shave the fuzz from your face, and then- for the rest of your life. All you can do is to learn to live with it.” She pauses briefly and gives him a pointed look with a raise eyebrow. “You're still doing it.”

“I don't want to tell you, because you'll just tell mum and then she'll get weird about it like when Charlie said that thing about me having two mums.”

“Fair point.” She looks up and Zak catches her eye from across the room, signalling for another round. Taking a step away from Johnny she begins to draw a pint. “Whoever it is, love, they sound like an absolute arsehole.” She lets the amber liquid slosh into the glass in silence, until it reaches the brim and she puts it down on the bar. “I'm going to give you a piece of adult advice, babe. People will spend your entire life telling you what you should want and do, the sooner you learn to stop listening to all the tossers and the twats, and go for the thing that keeps beating inside of here-” she says and raps her knuckles gently against his rib cage. “the happier you'll be.” She meets his eyes. “Do you wish you had a dad?”

He looks at her, his brows knit together briefly as he clearly thinks it over. “Not really, no. It gets crowded enough when Grandpa comes to stay. I think it's better I don't have a dad, he wouldn't fit.”

Charity can't stop herself from barking out a laugh. “You're not wrong, love.” She squeezes his knee, making the ticklish boy squirm a little as a smile spreads on his lips. “Next time this unnamed kid pesters you though, tell him you've got something better than a dad, you've got family and if you mess with one Dingle you mess with all of us. And we never forget the face of wanker.”

His eyes go huge. “I'm not allowed to say that, am I?”

“Of course not.” She says matter of factly, before continuing on in the next breath. “Unless you are completely sure no one but this kid can hear you.” She lifts the pint off the bar and motions for Johnny to get down. “Now, get this to uncle Zak, before he croaks in the heat.”

He jumps down and lands with a thud on the floor. Taking the glass in his hands, careful to not spill any.

“And for both our sakes, if you're mother asks, we've never had this conversation, yeah?”

“Got it. One of the gone-gone-gone conversations,” he says with a knowing nod, making it very clear this is far from the first time one of those conversations have taken place.

“But babe, if this kids says something daft again tell your mum. Because if they do it again, they deserve what's coming to them, yeah?”

He gives her a lop-sided smile that makes him look so much like Vanessa Charity couldn't stop her responding smile even if she wanted to. “It's a deal.”

Chapter Text

“So what do you think, Johnny? Chips or hash browns for tea?” Charity asks, looking over to where the young boy is curled up on the floor silently playing.

He looks up from the little caravan of toy trucks and cars that he's been assembling and nods vigorously in response.

“See, this is why I like you Johnny, always succinct.”

“There you are, Charity. We've been trying to get hold of you for ages,” Paddy says in an out of breath huff as he crashes through the door.

“You could always try the phone, Paddy,” she sighs with an annoyed shake of her head as she closes the fridge door. "It's been called a technological wonder." She rolls her eyes at him.

“We have. Rhona tried it four times. We were starting to worry something had happened to you too,” he says.

She reaches over for her phone on the kitchen table, only to realise it's been turned off. “I guess someone must have pressed one too many buttons on it,” she says and gives a pointed look at Johnny who purposefully looks at the toy car in his hand and not at her.

“Well you found me, so what do you want?” Charity tells Paddy as she turns her phone on.

“It's Vanessa,” he scratches the back of his neck, looking a little uncomfortable. “She's in the hospital.”

Charity's eyes shoot up at him, the muscles in her jaw clench and her phone gets dropped back onto the table. “What did you just say?”

“Vanessa's in the hospital. She had an accident.”

She takes a few quick steps over to Paddy as if she didn't quite her him. “She what?”

He rubs at the back of his neck with a greater intensity. “She was over at Peterson's. I had planned to go, but then – and with the – I mean-”

“Paddy!” she tells him and grabs the front of his shirt. “Now is a very good time to spit everything out before more accidents happen.”

Baffled he looks down at her hand that's bunched up in the fabric of his shirt, watching as her knuckles whiten under her firm grip.

Johnny has dropped his truck and as the loudness of Charity and Paddy's conversation increase so does his wide eyed look.

“She took a tumble and hit her head on an iron enclosure.”

Charity looks at him, the air leaving her body through her parted lips, slowly in through her nostrils. Several silent breathes pass and her eyes glaze over in a confused look. She finally lets go of his shirt and gives him a hard push in the chest. “What exactly are you telling me?”

“She passed out,” Paddy says rubbing at the now tender spot on his rib cage. “Rhona's with her in A&E.”

Charity grows quiet again and her chest rise and fall rapidly, her eyes growing a shade darker. “Paddy, you are going to be very clear with me now, or otherwise I swear-” she trails off and stares him down in anger. “What exactly has happened to Vanessa?”

He wrings his hands nervously, gradually increasing the nervous tempo, not entirely able to meet the intensity of Charity's glare. “She had an accident at the Peterson's farm, fell and hit her head. According to Peterson she was out of it for a few minutes, so Rhona is taking her to the hospital to make sure everything is okay.”

“If you pass out everything is not okay,” she explains to him as if he's five years old. “Why is she so infuriatingly stubborn and reckless?!” Charity growls into the air. “Noah!” she suddenly hollers.

“What?” comes a moody response from upstairs.

“Come down here, now!” Lowering her voice she turns back towards Paddy. “So she's awake now?”

“I- I think so,” Paddy stammers.

“Paddy, I will end you-”

“Last time I spoke to Rhona she was,” he quickly supplies.

Noah comes trailing down the stairs with a petulant look on his face. “Your majesty called?”

“I need you to watch Johnny,” she tells him.

“What? What am I supposed to do with him?” Noah asks annoyed.

“I need you to watch him while I go with Paddy to the hospital, Vanessa's been in an accident.”

Various emotions seems to fight for dominance in Noah's face, before his expressions slips into a mask of apathy. “So?”

Charity's jaws clench in anger again. “I need you to step up and look after Johnny while I'm gone.”

“He doesn't even know me,” Noah says and points towards the young boy now hiding behind the armrest of the sofa. “You can't just drop him with some stranger.”

“Don't be a little shit,” she warns him.

“Mum! Really!” he throws back at her. “You can't leave him here. Go get Tracy or someone. I don't know. Rhona? I'm not taking care of some crying kid.”

Charity looks panicked for a moment, her indecision and fear jostling for pole position. She looks from Noah's angry face to over to Johnny's tear streaked one, the young boy hasn't said a word, but silent rivulet of tears are rolling down his pale cheeks.

“Come here, you,” she tells him and his arms extend upwards before she's even take a step towards him. She lifts him up and his arms tangle around her neck like a miniature boa constrictor, his wet cheeks pressing against her throat as he keeps silently crying. She returns the embrace as tightly as she dares, swaying from side to side as if he was a much younger child being hushed to sleep. Wrapping one hand around his tiny little shoulder she lowers her voice to a gentle whisper, “Why are you crying, Johnnybob?”

“I want my mummy,” he tells her, but doesn't stop trying to hug the life out of her.

“Me too, babe. We should go get her, yeah?” she hums into his ear.

His head gives her neck a couple of silent headbutts of approval.

“She's okay, mostly.” Paddy tries to reassure them and is rewarded with an icy stare from Charity in return.

“We'll be the judge of that,” she tells him, hurling another frosty glare at him. “And since you scared the shit out of us you're driving us there.”

“I-” he begins, but values a life free of pain and changes his tune into. “Yes, of course.”

“Vanessa, please sit down.”

“I'm fine. This is ridiculous.”

“Vanessa,” Rhona pleads. “You threw up twice in the car on the way here. According to Peterson you were out for a few minutes.”

“That's ridiculous. I would have remembered that!” Vanessa exclaims and raises her arms in frustration, turning around quickly only to have a wave of dizziness sweep over her and almost make her lose her footing. Rhona's eyes doesn't miss the way she steadies herself on the plastic chairs to keep her balance.

“Vanessa,” her voice is softer now but the plea is the same. “Please.”

Vanessa glares over at her, but the paleness of her cheeks speak volume as she slides into the seat next to Rhona. “I'm sorry about the car.”

“It's fine,” Rhona says and leans into her. “You can clean it up once the Doctors have decided you're alright.” A heavy emphasis on the Doctors.

“You know all of this is Paddy's fault,” Vanessa laments and steadies herself on the armrest as another wave of dizziness hits her despite sitting down. “He was supposed to take the Peterson call, not me.”

Rhona takes hold of her hand and gives it a quick squeeze.

A nurse steps out into the rather quiet waiting room. “Vanessa Woodfield?”

“Yes, that's me!” Vanessa says and bounces to her feet glad to get going and get this over with. Except as soon as she stands up the dizziness returns with a vengeance, spots immediately beginning to dance aggressively across her vision before fading into a complete darkness. She doesn't even have time to straighten up before her feet seem to disappear from under her as she collapses. Both nurse and Rhona jumping towards her to intercept before she hits the floor.

Chapter Text

Vanessa wraps the extra blanket closer around her body, shivering as the paper thin fabric feels like sandpaper against her skin while being entirely useless to stave off the cold with. Her eyes are tired and feel raw, her head is aching, her stomach is still upset and it was a long time since she felt this sorry for herself. After having been prodded and poked by one too many strangers she was admitted and is now forced to spend the night in a strange room surrounded by sick strangers. One of which snores loudly enough that she's convinced she's going to end up having nightmares, if she can actually fall asleep in the first place. Vanessa rubs at her aching temples, trying very hard not to cry.

“You're an arsehole.” An achingly familiar voice informs her from the entrance of the room, Vanessa's bleary eyes look up to find Charity with a cross look on her face and with Johnny's hand firmly in hers.

“Charity!” Vanessa exclaims in a mixture of surprise and disapproval. At the sight of his mother Johnny tears his hand from Charity's and runs over to her bed, his trainers squeak loudly against the linoleum floor.

“What?” Charity shoots back, still not having moved into the room, her eyes cautiously taking in the vision of Vanessa crawled up under the washed out beige blanket, looking pale and small.

“Not in front of Johnny.”

“He if anyone definitely agrees with me,” she says as she crosses her arms defensively over her chest. “Don't scare us like that.”

“No promises,” Vanessa says as she helps her son climb up into the bed with her, planting kisses on the dried tear tracks on his cheeks. Kisses meant more for her own sake than his. “I thought visiting was over.”

“Johnny turned on the waterworks and we had that nurse eating out of our palms,” Charity gloats, still seeming unwilling to leave the doorway.

“I don't doubt that,” Vanessa says, the corner of her mouth curling into a brief one-sided smile.

“What in the world are you wearing?” Charity asks as she's reluctantly step into the room and get a better look at Vanessa.

“A pillowcase?” she answers and looks down at the hospital issued nightgown, self-consciously running a hand down it.

Charity snorts and Vanessa smiles at her, it's an honest smile even if there is no energy in it. Cautiously Charity edges closer to the bed. “I hate hospitals.”

“You're telling me the lady in the pillowcase and with the needle in her arm that?!”

Charity stops by the bed and lets her eyes wander over the needle stuck to the back of Vanessa's hand, her fingers stroking the pale skin around it. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.”

Charity raise an eyebrow in disbelief and Johnny voices a similar concern. “Who hurt you?” the boy asks.

“No one, darling. I got a bit too close to a spooked cow and got myself a little push for the trouble, slipped in some muck,” she tells him, kissing the top of his ear. “But I'm fine now.”

“You should spend less time around spooked cows who hurt you,” Charity tells her.

Vanessa tilts her head and gives her a questioning look. “Where's the fun in that?”

Charity scoffs. “Are you okay?” Her fingers entwine with Vanessa's.

“I'm fine,” Vanessa assures. “Headache that could drop an ox, but otherwise I'm okay. ”

“Rhona said you passed out.”

“You know what she's like. Exaggerations and the lot.”

“Twice.”

Vanessa scowls at her. “Don't start you too. It's bad enough with the doctors poking me with needles and keeping me here for observation.”

“I'm not starting anything, I promise, babe.” She holds up both of her hands in a placating gesture. “But you should be careful, yeah. What with having a small person to take care of and all, your words not mine.” She nods towards Johnny who's happily curled up on the bed watching their interactions. “Because I can't be running after this one all of the time, I do have a job.”

Vanessa wraps her arm a little more protectively around her son and her jaw clenches visibly. “I'll get Frank to take him.”

“Don't be daft,” Charity tells her. “You know what he's like when he's stayed with Frank. Takes a ruddy fortnight to wash the smell of pomade out of his hair.” She lets her fingers comb through Johnny's hair as if to put emphasis on her words. “That wasn't my point.” She looks at Vanessa silently for a little while. “My damn point was for you to be careful and don't give us frights like this.”

“I'll do my best.”

“You better.” Charity sighs. “Come here,” she tells her and leans in for a kiss. “You know I bloody well love you?” she says as they part.

“Yeah,” Vanessa replies with a wide slightly dopey smile.

“We can go home now,” Johnny interrupts to inform them.

“No darling, mummy has to stay here tonight,” Vanessa tells him, stroking the side of his face.

He looks over at the bed next to Vanessa's, wearily watching a very loud snore rattle through the old woman sleeping in it. “No, we should go home,” he repeats, hoping they'll get the point the second time around.

“You and Charity will go home tonight and then tomorrow you'll come back and then we can all go home.”

Johnny does not look convinced, even less so when another loud congested rattle followed by an ominous creaking sound can be heard from the other bed. And as the woman coughs loudly he inches closer to both his mother and Charity.

“Go on, give your mum a kiss and we'll be out of this deathtrap,” Charity encourages the kid.

“Charity,” Vanessa warns her again. Charity shrugs and manages to look like she wouldn't even know the meaning of contrite.

Johnny does as told, stands up and plants a kiss on Vanessa's cheek before looking over at Charity as if to say, “your turn”.

She shakes her head at him smiling, but does lean in and slowly kiss Vanessa too, letting her lips linger against Vanessa's. Before pulling back she lets her nose briefly skim Vanessa's cheek, breathing in her scent, annoyed at the hospital smells filtering through. When they finally pull apart Charity holds out her arms for Johnny. “Come on, kid.” He gladly climbs into her embrace. “We'll bring you some clothes tomorrow.”

“I'd appreciate that,” Vanessa says with a faint tired smile that only barely touch her red-rimmed and shiny eyes.

Charity looks at her for a moment, quietly lingering in the doorway looking like there's more on her mind. Finally she smiles briefly before turning around to leave.

The answering smile stays on Vanessa's face as she can hear Charity keep up a one-sided dialogue to distract Johnny as they're heading towards the exit.

“So you're one of those,” the lady in the bed next to Vanessa's suddenly pipes up when Charity and Johnny are out of earshot.

“One of what now?” Vanessa asks, surprised at the voice, not having realised the woman was awake. The realisation causing unbidden tension to immediately square her shoulders and tightening her neck at the idea of having been watched.

“Them modern families,” the grey old lady says with a smacking sound as she sucks her false teeth into place.

Vanessa's brow furrow and she looks in the direction Charity and Johnny had disappeared. “I guess- we are.”

“Fancy name for it,” she sucks her teeth again. “When I grew up we called your lot spinsters. We had two living out on the next farm. One of them had that same look in her eyes as that lady of yours. We were convinced she ate wee toddlers and knew how to throw hexes.”

Vanessa looks at her for a second with a blank expression on her face before bursting into laughter, wincing as it triggers the headache, but unable to stop it.

With a pleased look on her wrinkled face the old woman leans forward and fluffs her pillows, fussing about a little while making herself comfortable. As she sinks back into them again she turns her eyes back towards Vanessa. “So what are you in for? Anything good?”

Chapter Text

The winter time slush makes the night dark and the roads wet, but the soft lights from the dashboard light up the interior of the car as it makes its way along the motorway, taking turns with all the other people on their way home or away for Christmas. In the backseat two large bags share space with more than a handful of wrapped gifts. The radio is playing softly, no matter which channel it seems impossible to find anything other than Christmas songs, it's simply a matter of deciding if you want them sung by Mariah Carey or Bing Crosby. Noah's hands are resting casually on the wheel while his eyes carefully watch the traffic around them. In the passenger seat a woman his own age is lounging, a lazy smile on her lips as her head rests against the seat, her eyes taking turns in watching the dark landscapes around them and Noah.

“What's your family like?” Valerie suddenly asks breaking the silence between them.

“Mad,” Noah answers instantly and without a seconds hesitation, making her laugh.

“Everyone thinks that.”

“You haven't met mine,” he says and lets his eyes leave the road for a second to look over at her, something that looks a little like insecurity visible on his face.

“What's so mad about yours then?” she asks, letting her hand find his knee in a gesture of reassurance.

“Chronologically or?” She gives him a slap on the arm and he smiles at the road. “Where do you want me to begin beyond having two mums?”

“That's not mad though. Maybe different from most people, but not mad.”

“True in theory,” he replies nodding gently. “But you haven't met the two I have.”

“That's why I want you to spill. What should I expect?”

“Anything,” he gives a serious nod. “My mum is absolutely mad. She has no filter. None. And Ness...” he drifts off for a second, trying to find the right words. “Have you seen Terminator 2?

“I have. Don't tell me, she's badass super mum like Sarah Connor?”

Noah looks over at her with his brows furrowed in confusion. “Oh god no. You know the robot, the T-1000 – that's her.”

She laughs, it's light and melodic and makes Noah smile in return.

“You think I'm kidding,” he says. “Trust me, I am not. She is relentless and scary as hell. She once threw a man twice her size out of the pub, because she was in a mood.”

“I feel like you're exaggerating.”

He gives a short bark of laughter. “Remember you said that in two days time.”

“What about the rest of them? You've got a big family, don't you?”

“You could say that. My family tree is advanced algebra.” He turns to throw a glance over his shoulder before he shifts into the next lane. “I've got one older sister and two older brothers. Debbie, Ryan and Joe. Then there's the brats, my younger brothers Moses and Johnny.”

“Five siblings?” she asks a little surprised. “That's impressive.”

“Oh yes,” he nods slowly. “Or well- I- Johnny isn't actually my real brother, he's my borrowed brother. He's Ness kid, but you know-”

“So will I get to meet all of these brothers and the one sister?”

“I hope not,” he says and smiles at her with a sheepish expression. “Moses and Johnny will be there though.”

“Does sound like a big mad family,” she says and gives him an affectionate smile.

He looks over at her with a wicked expression. “I haven't even started on the aunts, uncles and cousins yet.”

Noah pushes the doors to the pub open, immediately hit with familiar scents and sounds. No matter how long between his visits some things become so ingrained into who you are that they will forever be familiar. And certain places seem to be stuck in time and space, like The Woolpack. He holds the door open and lets Valerie enter before following her inside.

She looks back at him with a smile. “You're smiling.”

He shakes his head. “This place-” he begins but doesn't offer her any more of an explanation.

“Good to be home?” she asks with an arm on his shoulder.

“Something like that.”

Behind the bar is a lanky teenager with ash blonde hair that flops over one side of his face, his blue eyes sparkling as he's smiling widely at an older gentleman while handing him a pint. Noah's smile grows a little wider at the sight.

“When did you get this tall?” he asks the teen as he comes closer.

Johnny looks up at him, his face immediately splitting into a goofy grin and he gives a little shrug. “When you moved away there was finally food left on the table for the rest of us.” The smile on his face grows even wider and he easily rounds the bar and heads for Noah.

“What are you doing behind the bar?” Noah asks, his question ending in an oomph as Johnny wraps his arms around him in a bear hug, squeezing for all he's worth.

“Helping out,” Johnny says and gives Noah another good squeeze before pulling back.

When they part a smiling Noah asks, “Mum being a slave driver?”

“I don't mind,” Johnny says with another shrug, before giving a pointed look at the woman next to Noah.

“This is my not so little brother, Johnny.” Noah gives Johnny's shoulder a little squeeze as he introduces him to his girlfriend. “Johnny, this is my fiancée, Valerie.”

“The youngest?” she asks and extends her arm.

“Yeah, Moss' got me beat by a year, not that you'd believe it.”

“He's home?” Noah asks.

“I don't know. There's no keeping track of that little weirdo.”

“Watch your tongue. If Ness heard you call him that she'd clip you so hard you'd lose your front teeth,” Noah warns.

Johnny just gives him a cheeky grin and a shrug in reply.

“Or do you still hide behind mum every time you've done something you're not supposed to?” Noah teases.

“I do not,” Johnny replies in an indignant huff.

“Liar,” Noah says with a smile before turning to his girlfriend. “You should have seen him when he was little. He literally used to hide behind mum as soon as he was in trouble. He had her so wrapped around his pinkie he could do nothing wrong.”

“What can I say?! I was the wee baby. I'm adorable,” Johnny presses his lips together and flutters his eyelashes.

Noah scoffs. “You were a right terror, you only looked sweet enough to fool everyone.”

“That too,” Johnny says no longer trying to contain his grin.

“Speaking of the devil, where is she?” Noah asks.

Johnny gives a little cough. “She went to change the barrel,” he looks down at his watch. “An hour ago.”

“Do I dare?” Noah asks and nods in the general direction of the backroom.

“I wouldn't,” Johnny replies. “Mum went to help her out.”

Noah makes a face at him and Johnny replies with an emphatic nod.

“How about a pint instead?” Johnny asks and slips back behind the bar again.

“Please.”

“Right up. And what can I get for you, darling?” he asks and fires off a charming smile at Noah's girlfriend, but before he has a chance to deliver he's interrupted.

“Johnnybob!” A voice hollers from the backroom. “Get your lazybones in here and help me out.”

“I'll be right back, hopefully,” he says apologetically and disappears.

Noah turns to his girlfriend and tries to ignore the many curious faces watching them, trying not to feel self-concious under the scrutiny. She seems to catch on to his slight discomfort and strokes his arm reassuringly.

“He seems nice,” she says encouragingly.

“He is, for the most part. Way too much of a smartass for his own good, but he's a good kid.”

“He's the one who wasn't your real brother?”

Noah nods. “He's Ness' kid. Not that you'd believe that giant is related to her.”

“But you grew up together?”

“He grew up with me. I think I must have been around his age, maybe a little younger, when mum met Ness. He was a wee toddler though.”

The door to the backroom is pushed open to reveal Charity who throws a, “Cheeky!” over her shoulder at the grinning Johnny who is standing in the doorway to the cellar. When she turns around completely she catches sight of Noah and her face softens into an almost hesitant smile. “So, you're just going to stand there smiling like a daft cow?” she asks him.

He shakes his head and rounds the bar, stepping into her open arms for a hug. “Good to have you home,” she says and holds him tight. When they pull apart her face immediately turns into a grimace and she grabs his chin. “What's this?” she asks and angles his face both ways, narrowing her eyes. “You've got a moustache?”

Noah pulls his chin free. “Mum.”

“Babe, what have you done to your pretty face. You look like serial killer with a cat fetish.”

He scowls at her. “Ness said she liked it,” he says and lets his fingers nervously stroke the blonde hair on his upper lip.

“She's seen this atrocity?”

“She made me send her a picture.”

Charity shakes her head. “That woman has no taste.”

“She's still with you so I guess you're right,” Noah shoots back.

“You'll have me in stitches soon enough, babe.”

He smiles at her and throws his arms around her again, taking her by surprise. She awkwardly returns it with one arm before he pulls back again.

“Mum, I'd like you to meet Valerie.”

Charity narrows her eyes briefly and look over at the young woman next to her son, not the least bit apologetic about her open scrutiny. The woman smiles back at her undeterred and extends her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs Dingle.”

“Mrs Dingle, eh?” Charity looks between the young woman and her son for a moment. Noah catches the glint in her eyes and the reality of spending a week home for Christmas with his mad family lands on his shoulders with enough of a thud it's hard for him to contain the groan that wants to escape his lips. It was going to be a very long week. And only time would tell if they'd all survived it.

Chapter Text

Final warning. This is based off of potential spoilers. Do with that whatever you chose.

Noah is angry. In fact he’s fucking furious at Vanessa. She meddles. And she always has that smug look on her face doing it. Like she’s smart, like she’s figured things out, cracked secrets and deciphered code. Then there’s the part where she is reckless. She might not look it. She’s small and smiles like she means it. But it’s treacherous, because half of the time that smile is a weapon. She wields it like a bloody machete. Acting like she’s a pitbull dressed as a kitten. But she isn’t a pitbull, she just comes across as one. And Noah hates her for it.

Right now he is so mad he feels like his nervous system is a live wire, fury like a living thing inside of him. It feels like his entire body is burning, his eyelids like they’re rimmed with napalm, and he doesn’t want to open his mouth because he’s scared he’ll breathe fire. He’s seen his mother do it far too many times to count. Scorching words meant to burn and destroy in a single breath. He thinks it might be in his blood. Her gift to him, a messed up family tree and fire always present on the tip of his tongue.

He looks over at his mother, the dried tear tracks on her face, the bloodshot eyes. For once she doesn’t look like she’s fire, she only looks broken and helpless. They way her fingers play with Vanessa’s, she’s rubbing the knuckles on Vanessa’s unnaturally white hand. It almost looks like she’s trying to rub warmth and blood and life back into the unresponsive hand. Such a pointless gesture, it’s making her look so lost. There is a small part of Noah that fears that look, but it’s tamed and trapped behind the wall of his anger right now.

Anger that feels justified as he takes it all in. The way Moses is curled up at the foot of Vanessa’s hospital bed, currently sleeping, snoring lightly in that way that Noah can’t deny is sort of cute as long as he isn’t too close and get drooled on. Even when he was awake the kid didn’t say much, but he kept constant vigil with those big eyes of his. Looking determined and brave in a way that a kids aren’t supposed to. Then there are the sharp little fingers that dig into Noah’s chest, clutching at his t-shirt, tiny little digits poking him in the ribs, holding him close, so close it almost hurts. Noah tightens his arm around Johnny instinctively, feels the tiny little chest moving erratically under his hand and he hates Vanessa all over again. Why is she so stupid?! She can’t just fucking do stupid shit like getting hurt. Not when his mother is addicted to her. Not when she’s got Moses fooled into thinking she’s sunshine. Not when Johnny is shaking in his arms and needs his mum.

Doesn’t she realise she’s needed? Doesn’t she realise that if you make people love you you’re tied to them through responsibilities? She’s not fucking invincible. She’s human and fragile. For someone who thinks she’s so smart she’s bloody stupid. Stupid. She’s the mad structure holding them together. It looks messy, lacks logic, but it holds. He rubs at his eyes and swallows the lump in his throat. Now she needs to wake the hell up so he can tell her how angry he is at her. He needs her to wake up so he can tell her she’s not allowed to be stupid, she’s not allowed to be reckless, she’s not allowed to get hurt, not when they bloody well need her. And he needs it to happen now because he's not sure how much longer he'll be able to hold on to the anger, and because he is not ready for whatever feeling that comes after it.