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"It's Gerrys Fault."

Summary:

“Melanie and Daisy are in police custody.” The words fall dead in the room.

Well Martin doesn't know what the issue with that-

“WHAT?!”

Or: Rusty Quill Gaming was Martin's and Melanie's middle school RPG club

Or Or: I gave Martin blackwood a childhood

Notes:

This fic can be renamed: FUCK BLACKWOODS GODDAMN MOTHERUCKING MOTHER IM GIVEING HIM GODDAMN FREINDS FUCK TOU

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Just as Martin creaks open the door to the shop, the sound that's been hunting him down the street rings past. The loud and angry sounds of police sirens. It's not common, but also not uncommon enough to where he needs to be overly cautious. 

“Gerry you…?” The goth teen raises his hands in surrender, “I didn't do anything!” He pleads as Martin lets the door fall shut with the soft ring of a bell. 

The comic book shop is damper than normal. Martin suspects it's from the slowly growing wet stop on the ceiling. The spot everyone ignores because of the fact that the moment it breaks they can pretend they didn't notice.

 (”Free money” Daisy said gruffly, shifting in the nervous way only she could. With all the power and might of a bull dozer and fear of a elderly dog. )

“They were going faster than normal.” Elias looks pointedly at Gerry, the goth lets his mouth hang open, hands still up. Martin slides into the chair opposite from the betrayed (not really Elias only loyal to weed) man. His back packet sits on the floor in the same spot it has for a few months now. 

Deciding to pick on someone half his size, Gerry grins at Martin over the pills of shredded paper. His brows wiggle stupidly on his face. “I know.” He huffs. 

“Late! Late! Late!” Micheal sings and Geryy shakes his head like theirs a bad smell in church. “To your own game!” He wiggles a finger at Martin as if two other people aren't noticeably missing. 

“I'm not the last!” The wonderful protection for Martin, from Martin, gets an ‘eh’ from Elias. 

 Gerry burst into giggles. Palms held to his mouth as he rattles with the action. Prick. Micheal coons at Martin like he's a fussy stray cat and it's only at the noise that Martin realizes he was puffed up like one.

He ignores all of that in favor of staring into the weights of Gerry's eye. Watching him straighten himself from his giggle fit, and settle into the seat with a blazing energy. 

Micheal, not looking up from browsing, (read: re-arraging every comic he could from the last letter of the title and first letter of genre.), says “I bet on Martin.” 

Elias hums disapprovingly, but Martin still hears the click of quarters against the glass table that separates the backroom and front room. “I don't think you can do that.” Elias speaks like he's been studying the law “He's autistic he doesn't like eye contact.” That almost gets Martin break just to yell he isn't at the man. 

He doesn't though, because he will win this. He knows it. 

Garry's face is very stupid. This isn't the first time Martin has thought this, during a staring contest no less, but its repetitive nature didn't make it false. Very stupid punchable face. 

A scream.

 Martin blinks as the phone rings, and Elias groans. Martin rubs his eyes and Gerry looks stupidly cocky. “I did think you would win.” Micheal has moved three different sorting boxes by now, knowing Micheal he won't stop at boxes and move the tables next. q

( ”I bet on the slug.” Micheal and the rest are crouched over the thing. 

“What??” Daisy can't keep the disbelief out of her voice as Melanie chackles like a mad man. Melanie slaps four dollars onto the pavement, manic grin on her face. 

“I bet on the fucking cheeto.” 

Melanie won six dollars that day.

Martin rubs his eyes. Planting his head onto the cold cheap metal of the folding table below. The heating in this building sucked. 

“Can you start a fire?” Martin mumbles into the metal.

“You don't even gotta ask.” 

The smell of smoke and soft sound of Micheal warning Gerry to ‘not set off the fire alarms’ is familiar. It's actually pretty peaceful. As peaceful as it can be with too teens chiding each other beside him, one counting coins like a gambler the other a fanning a flame. 

When did Micheal sit down? He swears just a moment ago the man was lingering at the front. Probably shuffling around a set of dice like mix and match dolls. Martin rubs his cheek against the warming metal. It's like a lukewarm kettle in his palms. If his palms were his cheek, and the kettle a on-fire-metal-table. 

“Elias, you alright?” Speak of the devil and he may come. Micheal sounds actually worried, which is weird considering its Elias. 

Elais doesn't even question the small growing fire, instead just looking past them with a dead look of regret in his eyes.

“Melanie and Daisy are in police custody.” The words fall dead in the room. 

Well Martin doesn't know what the issue with that-

“WHAT?!” 

Gerry seems taken back by Martin's act of nearly throwing himself into the growing fire with the force he used to stand. Micheal shifts to help put out the twisting flame, hands coming to stomp it down. 

Martin can't focus on that! He sputters “What do you mean!”; Elias holds up his hands pacingly, the soft churn to his voice “They called to tell me to bail them out.” 

“What did they do?” Gerry asked and for all they joked about the two ending up in ‘the slammer’ he was concerned. “They didn't say anything.” Elias looks.. not upset but… like how Martin images an overly worried parent would look. Chewing at their nails as they wait at the door for their child to come home.

It's hard to remember he's only twenty-one. He feels so responsible and- and- Martin's upset. He's upset and he doesn't know why. “Can we bail them out?” His voice cracks at the question and Elias hesitates. Witch means everyone fucking hesitates. 

“Elias, we are not letting them go to jail!” Surprisingly it's Micheal that demands that. Not says, demands, like he'll skin Elias ear to ear if he lets it happen. 

 


 

“You think they're coming?" Melanie asks for the fourth time. Daisy really started to wonder if a minor concussion would make waiting easier. Daisy can feel the rough brick at the nape of their head, “Their coming." Melanie still worries herself a hole in the pavement. 

Daisy honestly thought Melanie would be concrete about having been shot (even if it was with a rubber bullet) then if they were going to get picked up. “Did you really tell him we had a bail?” Melanie tenses, untense groans like the world hates her, and continues pacing. No fucking way. “Mel you told him we had bail?” holy shit no wonder she's nervous.

 


 

“Sir please calm down.” Martin has no fucking ides how this got out of hand. Well actually he does have an idea, but the loosely knit together story of ‘where all related fucking act like it’ did not included Gerry trying to punch a cop. “That is my sister! My baby sister you!-” Martin lets Micheal cover his ears with his hands and holy shit he is so glad he knows Gerry. 

Another officer leads them into the back. A vaguely apologygetic look in their face as they watch their co-workers wrestle with a teenager. 

“I'm so sorry he has hallucinations and I knew we should have-” They calm Elias down with practice. Moving to sit the man in a chair. Elias, still in the gist of a not-so-fake panic attack, gladly takes the chance to sit. 

Somehow this leads to Martin being questioned. 

He has no idea how he ended up in point B. He didn't connect anything. 

“What's your connection to the people in holding?” Shit. Martin wasn't supposed to be the one answering this. All he remembers of quickly tossed ideas and trying not to slam into the wall of the van at Michael's turns. 

“Uh-” Fuck it we ball, “well um technically I'm not, but their my sisters.” Mx. O'Reilly nodded in basic understanding. Scrapping notes onto a small pad of paper. 

“Could you explain that?” 

Martin stumbles for words, “I uh, well we were all at a um.. it's hard to remember I'm sorry,” despite the soft response that ‘its okay’ it's so very not, “Elias he adopted us from the uh foster home. Kinda just, singed the paper?” There's no way in hell they don't get caught. 

 


 

“HOW?” 

Gerry has no idea how! Still though Melanie's yelling is going go drag attention and that's the least of what he needs right now. “Shush! Shush shut up! Shut up!” 

Quickly he shuts the metal door behind him. Shooting a grimace twords the camra in the corner of the room.

“GERRY WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU-” 

Daisy rears her head. 

“HE SAID SHUT UP!” 

All of them shut up. 

“Thank you.” That gets Gerry a round of aggressive shushing from the two girls. The girls who have both decided that this might as well happen, even if they have no idea what's happening.

Gerry pulls a pin out of his hair. Daisy mouths enough causes to make a sailor blush, because sure! The right way to fix this is of course breaking the law more! Sure! Fuck it! It's not like they fucking live here! 

The lock clicks open. Melanie has this catatonic grin on her face and Daisy can feel the rearing head of excitement burning in her gut. The feeling of a chase, of being chased pulling through her bones like a wound doll. 

Gerry pops his knees as he stands, groaning slightly. 

“You need to dye your hair again.” 

“Fuck you Daisy.” 

Maybe a chase won't be so bad.

 Melanie grabs her hand, uncaring to hold it gently and drags. Deeming this to have been enough small talk. She nicks Gerry by the ear as well, though he goes with far more whinging.

They round a hallway. A very long swindling hallway and the lean over the side of the wall to see down it. “It looks like a trap.” Melanie hits her over the head for speaking. Rude. 

It was a trap. 

How do they know that? Well other than Daisy's good instinct they know it because Gerry's the dumbest asshole ever. 

They found out because Gerry pushed Daisy, which led to Daisy punching Gerry, which meant that Melanie got caught in the cross fire, and was also being pushed out of the fight because she's the only one that used knives. 

Anyway all of that to say they ended back where they started.

“I blame Gerry.” 

“FUCK YOU!” 

 


 

Is that fucking Martin? No goddam way. No goddamn fucking way. 

"What?" That drawls Daisy and Gerry from their fist fight in corner. The kid looks embarrassed like the simple fact that he's here isn't proof Elias is also here. 

Gerry dosnt count, he'll fuck woth the cops any day of the week.

"The baby!" Gerry yells wiping the blood from his now broken nose. Martin grumbles something as he's pushed into the cell, burying his head in his hands. "What they'd do to you?" Melanie bearly has the thought to tell the goth not the tear the poor boy apart with his worry before Martin breaks into sobs. 

Oh fuck. 

"Martin your okay!" 

"I'm awful at lieing I'm so sorry!" 

Melanie feels like she just kicked a sickly dieing puppy. From the look on the others faces they do too. 

Through stuttering tears and a small bag of gummy bears Daisy on her Martin tells them what happend.

Witch just makes Melanie feels even worse! Becuses apparently Martin didn't really know what the plan even was! Elias knew, Micheal knew, he was just backup for the facdee. And now he's getting cops sent to his house to qustoin a woman that refuses to admit her dementia gotten worse. Who Martin can't help becuses she wont accept the fact she's dying.

Jesues christ, Melanie is never dragging Martin into anything every again. Also he's now legally her brother. Don't tell him that.

 


 

“How.” 

The four people in the cell all began to grumble and point like toddlers. A distinct choreography of ‘not my fault’ filling the air. 

The man in the middle who Jahvet believes is named ‘Elais’ or ‘Asshole’ looks like a mom. Despite the fact they are a man. They have their arms crossed over their chest and a soft smell of weed. Jahvet takes a long sip from the coffee cup in his hand. 

“How did you even achieve this! I gave you one rule! Be-fucking-have!” 

The blond raises their hand. 

“What.” Jahvet nearly flinches at the venom spilling from the word. Yet at the teens foolishness he wishes them peace. 

“It's Gerry's fault.” They say simply. 

“HOW?” 

The room burst into a choir of yelling and Javhet has a distinct feeling that this family's going to be regulars at the station. 

Notes:

*scampers away on all fours*