Chapter Text
The sound of firecrackers and rising flames cut through the night. Several pairs of boots click hoarsely against the concrete floor. His legs feel like jello, almost like they’re gonna crumble into mush in seconds, but he pushes on anyway.
The flames get closer and closer, and he’s growing more regretful for agreeing to this stupid risky plan. For causing it to be needed in the first place-
“Exit’s there!”
He shakes off his thoughts and just continues running with them, eventually reaching their exit; a flimsy metal beam as a makeshift bridge to the next building, high over Lifivis. One wrong step, one teeter, and your food for the worms.
This really was a stupid idea.
Spirit runs first, and the beam creaks, but doesn’t shift. She lands safely on the building over, ginger air flowing in the breeze. She looks around, and scouts the are out loosely, only to turn and give a thumbs up, motioning for them to get over there.
Viridian moves next, and the building shifts to the right with a loud wail. He stumbles, but keeps balance, and after a slight pause, continues on, reaching the other side.
He assumes that he’d be going last, but instead he feels himself being pushed forward. He wobbles to keep balance, and he wants to protest, but he knows it'll be a losing battle with Sheriff if he tries. And it’s not like they even have the time.
He starts running, legs moving practically on their own, and a click sound accompanies the further half of the beam starting to fall. He panics and on impulse warps him forward, fumbling to stay standing and leaning on Viridian’s shoulder. He forces a panting breath down his lungs, only to look on and remember.
Sheriff.
Fuck.
The blonde is running down the collapsing hunk of metal, the building behind them finally finished engulfing itself with flames and starting to collapse. He runs just to the falling edge of it and jumps. He reaches to grab his offered hand.
He misses.
His heart stops, just for a second.
Sheriff manages to grab the edge of the building, and the other two, not frozen in fear, move to help him onto the building. By the time they manage to pull him up, the previous building has been lost to the heat of the fire. A loud crash echoes across the city as it starts to capsize completely. They all look at it with a small sense of shock, breath mutually hyperventilating.
“Wow,” he breathes, air rushing through his aching lungs, “C-close call, huh?” he jokes, hoping to make this situation feel less tense. The other three don’t reply, in fact Sheriff scowls.
Grian decides the least he can do is keep his mouth shut, just this once.
—
WELL HELLO THERE! BREAKING NEWS!
THE GROUP OF VILLAINS KNOWN AS THE ‘HEARTACHE’, FEATURING THE TWO HISTORICAL VILLAINS TEK AND SIV, HAVE BEEN PRONOUNCED DEATH AFTER LAST NIGHT’S DISASTER OF A FIRE IN LIFIVIS CITY.
THE POLICE HAVE YET TO STATE THEIR TRUE IDENTITIES, THEIR CAUSE OF DEATH OR IF THEY HAD ANYTHING TO DO WITH THE FIRE, SO WE AWAITS FOR UPDATES.
STAY TUNED, CITIZENS! AND CELEBRATE THE CLEANSING OF THESE ROTTON VILLAINS FROM OUR CITY!
AS ALWAYS, HAVE AN AMAZZEEING DAY1! UNTIL NEXT TIME, STAY SAFE, ‘LEST YOU BECOME SCARED FOR LIFE!
SIGNING OFF!11 - SCAR CATCUS GOOD-TIMES
—
8 DAYS LATER
Grian heaves as he places down the box. He thinks, after all the burnt-metal-filled smoke he had to inhale, and the strained rib Jimmy sweetly gave him, he shouldn’t have to help move. Though the last time he suggested that Gem wacked him over the head, so he’ll hold his tongue.
He walks out of the kitchen back to the living room, door wide open so they can move all the boxes in. It’s filled with merely awkward chatter. Grian knows that they’re meant to be polite with their new civilian roles, and that especially they should be nice to the McCanns, considering Skizz is the landlord.
“You-know it’s really nice to have you guys back here in Phoenix,” the man chuckles, gently nudging Impulse’s arm with his elbow. He has a box in hand, but it appears to be as light as clouds for him to lift. Grian resists the urge to grumble bitterly. “I really missed you two when you moved away!”
Oh yeah, and he’s also Impulse and Tango’s old childhood friend. Apparently. That’s probably more of a reason to be nice to him.
“Yeah,” Impulse laughs back, an awkward tone lacing his voice. He’s never sounded so nervous before, which is saying a lot, because it’s Impulse and there’s a reason it’s Jimmy’s job to talk them out of bullshit and not his, but this is new even for him. He has a general awkwardness with people he doesn’t know, but he seems almost worse having to speak to somebody he used to know. Grian would save him, but that would require him talking to Skizz, and he simply doesn’t hate himself enough for that.
“We missed ya too!” Tango chimes in, moving to stand next to his brother, doing everybody the favour of not having to pray Impulse didn't stammer them into jail. Okay- maybe that’s an exaggeration, he’ll admit. But still.
“Why’d you guys move back?” The excitable, pink-haired, surprisingly British, daughter of Skizz’s steps inside and asks…okay admittedly he hasn’t caught her name. Sue him, he’s been too busy thinking about more important things. Like pranks, and faking his death. He’s sure it starts with a P…or a C. Something like that.
“Well,” Jimmy starts, in his pitch-perfect ‘im about to manipulate you’ charming voice, placing one box on top of another, “Ya see Lizzie-” Fuck, her name’s Lizzie. Noted. “-Impulse got a job offer here and we thought we could use a change of pace.” He smiles, bright like sunshine, and Grian to this day will never understand how he makes it look and feel so real. He can tell the difference though, between his real and fake smiles. It’d be a little sad if he couldn’t tell that about his twin brother, in his opinion.
“Ah,” Lizzie nods, placing the small box she had on the floor. “Well you’ll love it here! The neighborhood are filled with some lovely people and-”
“And it’s boiling hot so you’re lucky you just missed summer,” Skizz’s other once again British child says, a brash boy with a black bandana and fluffy blonde hair, head popping through the door. Grian didn’t bother to remember his name either. He walks back inside, a box notably labeled ‘Jimmy’ in messy cursive in his hands.
Lizzie pouts at being interrupted, then scoffs, “Oh don’t listen to Martyn over there-” Martyn. Right. His name is Martyn. Got it. “-Summer’s not that bad around here, he just prefers the cold for some sick sadistic reason.”
Martyn rolls his eyes, “It’s not sadistic, Liz, god forbid i don’t wanna boil into liquids.”
“I’d rather be strawberry milk than a pink popsicle.” She huffs, crossing her arms, “But have fun being pistachio ice-cream.”
“Whatever,” he sighs, though it sounds almost soft. He starts walking up to Jimmy, holding out the box. He squints, “Your Timmy, right?”
Grian doesn’t remember the last time he laughed, but now it’s this moment because watching Jimmy’s face completely sink will forever be priceless. God, It’s such a shame his camera’s lost somewhere in the mess of his boxes, because he would record this moment if he had it.
His twin brother’s face burns bright crimson, and he’s too busy cackling but he swears he sees pink haired girl- Lizzie, snort looking at him. She’s officially his favourite person here.
“It’s Jimmy.” he corrects sternly, glaring at the shorter man.
“It is?” Martyn asks, and he sounds genuinely confused. Which is not helping with Grian’s laughter, or his lung problems. He starts coughing and wheezing, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen for stability, but nobody notices because it simply sounds like more laughter. To be fair to them, it partly is.
“Did you write this?” he asks, shaking the box gently to signal to the text. Jimmy nods shyly. “Well damn. You have really shitty handwriting my god, that looks nothing like a J-”
“MARTYN!”
“What?!” Martyn questions his father’s cries, holding out the box towards them. “Just look at that and I dare you to tell me you see a J! Besides I'm ninety-percent sure the sweater-vest kid over there also called him Timmy so you cannot blame me-”
“Well atleast be nice!”
The two continue bickering about the matter, but Grian kind of tunes them out because the wheezing is now officially just coughing. Impulse must’ve noticed something was off, because the man comes over and helps him move off the doorway and stand. He gently pats his back until he stops coughing. The minute he can force enough air down his lungs to function he mumbles a small quiet ‘thank you’.
And he also clocks back into the conversation. “Whatever,” Martyn scoffs, pushing the box into Jimmy’s hands with a small bit of force, “Welcome to Phoenix Arizona, Timbo.” he snarks, “Your the…1 2- 4- is wheezing baby British?”
Grian is too weak and not stupid enough to dare to speak, after his coughing fit, but does flip Martyn off. Impulse unfortunately quickly pushes his hand down. “He is, yeah.”
“Damn- where the hell did you find so many British people- wait then where the hell is Gingerbread outside from then?!”
Tango shrugs, “Canada.”
“...You people are so fucking weird-”
“MARTYN!”
“Fine, I'll leave! Go back outside with the bugs, if you all really hate me that much,” he grumbles, walking toward the doorway, but turning back to Lizzie from there for a second, “Have fun with the Brady Bunch, sis. Call me if they end up being serial killers.”
“MAR-”
“Going now!”
He walks out the door before Skizz can get another syllable in. The older man sighs, it borders dramatic in Grian’s opinion. “I’m sorry for him,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “He can be…uh…”
“A ripe little shit?” Tango asks, eyebrows raised, and this time Grian does catch pink- Lizzie, Lizzie laughing behind her hand. He can’t help but smile.
Skizz purses his lips, “We’ll…i was gonna use the word blunt, but yeah that too.”
Moving in moves (hah, get it?) on quickly after that. He already knew his sorta-family has a very very low social battery, it’s a miracle they talk to each other so often as it is. An hour and a half in and they had practically all shut down and started working in their silent, overly efficient way. If the subtle stares from the others was anything to go by, he thinks they found it creepy. He doesn’t think anybody, including himself, bothered to care.
Eventually they finished moving in the boxes, and Jimmy was kind enough to do them all the favour of being polite and sending the McCanns away. “Thanks again for the help you three!”
“Well ofcourse!” Skizz smiles, “If you ever need anything we're just down the road!” Grian holds back the groan that threatens to escape his lips at the thought. He really hopes that they don’t take being so close as an invitation to come over constantly. Talking to civilians is so exhausting. How does Jimmy ever do it?
“Right,” his brother chuckles, and it’s a little scary how genuine it appears to be. He combs a hand through his blonde hair, “We’ll keep that in mind!”
There’s some more chatter between the two, but Grian doesn’t pay mind from his place leaning on a box. The only thing he pays attention too, and sighs in relief at, is the slamming noise of the door closing shut.
“Lordy, I forgot how draining conversations are.” Tango groans in anguish, he’s sprawled on the floor for whatever reason.
Gem rubs her temple, “I forgot you're not supposed to call your dad by his first name.”
“You're not?!”
“By the look that green asshole gave me, no.” she says, shaking her head.
“Well shit,” Joel clicks his tongue. He moves and punches at Impulse’s shoulder. “Welp, you're our dad officially now Impulse, congratulations.”
Impulse sighs and rolls his eyes, “Oh lovely, I have 4 feral orphans legally bound to me. Thanks for the present.”
“Don’t bring my mother into this Impulse,” Joel scowls, “She was a lovely lady.”
“You didn’t even know her. She left you at your aunt’s doorstep.” Impulse replies in deadpan.
“Well you know what- I'm sure she was lovely. ‘Lot nicer than you.” the shorter- though he likes to think he's taller, he's really not -man bites back, walking up the stairs, likely to explore.
“Can we put him back on the plane to vomit and die?” Gem asks, pointing towards the stairs.
Tango finally sits up, but stays on the ground, “Gemmy, sweetheart, if we could abandon each other I would've left him and the apple back in Lifivis.” he scoffs, crossing his legs, “But G over there made our bed for us, very poorly might I add, so now we have to die in it.”
Grian grits his teeth, “The saying is ‘lie in it’.”
“Well if we only had to lie then we wouldn’t be here, now would we Grain-brain?”
Grian could go for many things against Tango, like how he looks like a living flame, or the stupid red sun glasses, or his mommy issues. But he decides to simply walk away upstairs, not because he’s chicken, but because he's not going to hurt his lungs just to chew the other out. Sure, he’s not wrong in what he said…but in Grian’s defense he already apologized.
“COWARD!” Tango calls out from downstairs. Grian pointedly ignores it, simply because he doesn’t have the energy to shout. And also because it’d probably come with an embarrassingly squeaky voice crack if he tried.
—
Okay, so Grian made three discoveries about Arizona in his single day here. He’s written them down actually, because Gem said that documenting experiences through words was fun.
- It sucks.
- It sucks x 2.
- Martren or whatever his name is was right it is very hot here.
He prefers documenting things with photos, personally. But besides Jimmy tripping and eating concrete when they went for a walk yesterday to the gas station, there's been absolutely nothing notable to take a picture of. Plus, even if there was…he still hasn’t found his camera. Sue him, he's lazy.
He shoves the notebook under his bed and lays down, staring at the ceiling. He probably doesn’t have the right to complain, this situation is all his fault. But he really didn't think one crappy decision would end up fucking them over like this! If he’d known, he’d never have taken the deal! But he didn’t, so now here they are, stuck in this stupid desert-hot city.
Grian knows in his heart of hearts there's nothing he can do to fix that, but maybe his crew-family-co-workers or whatever term they could go under will forgive him.
He hopes that atleast he…
Nevermind.
He sighs and pushes himself up, forcefully poking at his own cheek. He can't be sulking like this. He needs to actually do something before he goes insane, even if it's just walking downstairs and stealing the bag of Tostitos in the pantry.
He walks downstairs, finding two things; the sound of drills seemingly coming from the basement, which he somehow hadn’t noticed previously, and his twin brother.
“What construction crew is in our house?” Grian asks, looking at Jimmy. The blonde is washing the dishes, there’s barely any left from what he can see.
He shrugs, “Tango of the Tek Variety Incorporated, I guess.” he says dryly, rolling his eyes. He doesn’t even bother turning to him. “It’s just Tango messing around with his inventions in the basement. We just don't have concrete walls anymore so we can hear it.”
“Ah,” he nods, biting the inside of his cheek as discipline for how awkward it sounds. Maybe he should say something, Jimmy doesn’t seem to be in the worst mood. Maybe he can push him to forgive him, and everything can be normal again!
“So…Tim-”
“Save it.” Jimmy hisses, the bitterness is practically dripping off his tongue. The retaliation is quick as knives, cutting deep even though it was seconds.
Grian scoffs in awe, “Pardon me?”
“You're lucky I haven't given you the death penalty,” he replies with a huff, placing the sponge and dish in his hand in the sink. He turns to look at him, his jasper eyes look as judgmental and angry as they feel. “You cannot go and try to pretend everything is okay, because it’s not.”
He holds back a sigh, “Timmy, listen i said i was sorry-”
“I don’t want to hear your bullshit apologies,” he interrupts, “You're the idiot who got us stuck here, yeah? You decided that lying about fucking canoodling with heroes-”
“It wasn’t canoodling.” Grian spit back.
“Might as well have been,” Jimmy glares, shoving his shoulder, “You lied to my goddamn face for- for how long huh? Was it two years or four-”
“I did what I had to do to protect you!” he shouts, “We would’ve been killed if i haven’t made that deal-”
“And y’know what, i’d rather be fucking dead.” Jimmy grins, but it’s not a nice or smug smile, just an empty cold one. Just like the one he gives strangers. Grian wants to strangle him. Yet somehow also wants to hold him and never let go.
Grian finds himself frozen, for just a second, lost in his mind without an answer to that. Jimmy laughs, it's hollow. “What? Cat caught your tongue Slayer?” he asks, voice mocking, “For the record, you might as well have not made that stupid deal. Because you might be breathing, but you're certainly dead to me.”
His brother storms off upstairs, and he wants to go after him, have the last word, tell him that he was right in what he did. But it’s not worth it. He has no excuse that Jimmy will accept or acknowledge, not this time.
He hears a creaking noise, and turns around to find Impulse standing in the doorway of the basement door. His face flushes just at his ears.
“Oh. Uh…how much of that did you overhear?”
“Just the tail end,” Impulse shrugs, stepping towards him, “You alright?”
Grian scoffs, “Impulse I’m not five,” he snarks, though he really shouldn't be looking a gift horse in the mouth. “...I’m fine. It’s nothing new, just the same as he’s been since he found out. He’ll forgive me…eventually." He feels as though he’s more-so trying to convince himself than the other man.
“I mean, I'm saying this kindly, but ‘you're certainly dead to me’ doesn’t sound like the words of somebody on the road to forgiving someone,” he says, gently nudging his shoulder, “But you know him better, so I'll trust your judgement i suppose.”
“You probably shouldn’t…” he mutters quietly, only to sigh. “Look it’s fine i’ll- i’ll figure it out. Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it handled.”
Impulse looks him up and down with disbelieving eyes, “Okay.” he drawls, squinting. Grian likes to think, for his own good conscious, that he just hasn’t visited an optometrist since he was 12. “If you say so.”
Before Grian can think of anything else to say to convince his alleged dad that he does in fact have his relationship issues with his twin brother under control, the doorbell rings like a savior from the heavens. Thank the lord.
“I’ll get it!” he chirps, walking past Impulse to the door. Out of the corner of his eyes he can see him turn as he does so. He just keeps b-lining it for the front-door.
“Hey wait- we don’t know-”
Grian, completely ignoring the other, unlocks the door and yanks it open. He’s greeted with the sight of pink short hair, and a beaming face who’s bouncing on her heels. Oh, it’s Skizz's daughter. What was her name again? Fuck- it was…Lottie? No- Lizzie. Lizzie! Her name is Lizzie.
“Hello there.” he says, tone a little too deadpan to be friendly.
“Hi!” Lizzie greets back, her smile somehow growing wider. He doesn’t see how she can manage, it looks painful to him.
“Can I help you?”
“Sorta,” she sheepishly nods, chuckling brightly, “Can I come inside?”
Oh boy, this’ll be fun.