(Un)Welcome

Thaddeus returned bereft to the parlor. His bags and things lay where he'd left them. With at least two days of cancellations, he had a very solid time of contemplation. Abby had told him he could still make it. He drank a second beer, not really enjoying it, but letting the soft buzz allow him to think. He exhaled smoke into the air. He'd have to air out the shop before Finch came back.

And quit drinking.

And smoking.

A baby?

He was nearly thirty. It wasn't unreasonable to have a child at his age. But Moriarty's child.

He imagined the look on his grandmother's face and smiled. The old bitch.

Abby had told him off for kissing her. When he'd headed to Baker Street, he'd half convinced himself he could learn to love her. Care for her, but watching the White Demon (as Thad had recently begun calling him) had picked her up with only minor protesting and hauled her back home.

Home.

It seemed something more was going on inside Baker Street than he'd realized. Abby wasn't an outsider anymore, that much was clear. If she could make it, why couldn't he? If Vance could, why couldn't he?

He wasn't entirely certain she wasn't hospitalized. He wasn't privy to that sort of information. He could only wait inside the shop, or run afoul of Moriarty protecting his lover. It burned pleasantly that he was the first to discover the child. In a way, he felt a claim on it. He'd fallen for Finch. Could he love her child?

The question whirled and whirled inside his head for days.

The bells on the shop chimed as the door unlocked from the outside.

"Yes," Thaddeus murmured to himself, getting off the sofa in the lobby to greet his boss. His pulse pounded in his throat.

She still looked peaky. Her skin held that chalky "I just threw up" look, freckles standing out against her face. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, with curls escaping from all over. And she had barely changed out of her pyjamas, wearing black yoga pants and a hoodie as opposed to her usual jeans and a tee shirt. Finch offered him a weak smile. "When's the first appointment?"

"About an hour," Thad said. "Anything I can pick up for you before hand?"

"No, I'm alright," she said, heading for her station. She had a worn knapsack over her shoulders and a bottle of water in hand. "If I catch you smoking in here again I'll have you castrated."

Thad choked over a cough.

"I aired it out," he whined. "Besides, the Dark Prince and the White Demon have stolen my flatmate."

"I'm sure you're creative. You'll get her back," Finch said with a sigh, flopping down onto her rolling stool. She took a sip of water, watching him.

"Doubtful," Thad said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the open doorway. "Well, I probably could - but in this case, I think, she's happy where she is," he murmured warmly.

"Oh. Well, good, I'm glad," Finch replied, looking vaguely alarmed. More than likely because Spencer was on his way to working things out. "Meanwhile, where are you going to stay?"

"Not sure," Thaddeus said with a shrug of his shoulders. He was quiet a moment. "Well? You? Did you tell 'im?"

Finch was quiet for a long moment, feeling sort of ill at the thought. Then she shook her head. "No. Hadn't figured out how yet."

"Oh," Thaddeus said, dropping his arms. He was surprised. He'd expected her to - well, he hadn't known what to expect, but it likely involved throwing him further out of her life. He felt a growing warmth that he knew her secret. "Did you test at least? To be sure?"

Finch blushed, but she nodded. "Went to the doctor yesterday. Said I had a check up."

Thaddeus lit up, moving closer to her. "And? Yes?" he said, barely constrained excitement.

She looked at him like he'd quite lost his mind, the 'duh' hardly contained. "Well, I'm quite sure now."

"Wicked," Thad breathed. "You ask about working in your - um, condition? Because, generally, I do enjoy having a job. And a place to kip for now. I promise I'll look into somewhere else."

"I don't want to talk about it right now," Finch said, rolling her shoulders. "I feel like I'm going to throw up my own insides and die. Can't we just work and pretend this isn't happening?"

"Can I have my room back?" he asked, teasing her with a wink.

"Nope, you were mean and awful to live with," Finch told him primly, leaning her head on the counter where her inks sat. She was breaking out in a cool sweat.

"I cooked and cleaned up after myself," Thaddeus sniffed, heading back towards the front. "You were mean and awful to live with." He turned back for a moment. "But I enjoyed it."

"Well, I guess I'll be needing the space sooner than I thought, anyway," Finch murmured, blinking. "What do you mean I was mean? You're mean. You said all those awful things."

"What things? About the- about Vance?" Thaddeus humphed. "You tried to kick me out. I was only trying to do what your father asked. Of course, it wasn't without benefits for me." He shrugged sinuously. "But you shrieked and carried on. You don't need that extra bit across the courtyard! Not hardly. And who is going to help raise the tyke?"

If it were possible, Finch paled further. Something she hadn't considered- Vance's work schedule. She buried her head in her arm. "I'll figure something out. Mum did. I mean, mostly she left me with Papa but I can do it. I can do it on my own, if I have to."

"...What if I don't want you to?" Thad said, fidgeting.

Finch turned to look at him, brows knit together. "Why?"

Thad licked his lips, flipping back his hair from his eyes. He shuffled his feet. "I dunno. I like you.. I guess," he said. I love you. "Your mum and dad weren't alone. Not even in that flat." He chewed his lip.

"Yeah, but my mum and papa had a special situation with their baby sitter," Finch chuckled, entirely missing the point.

Thaddeus tucked his hands in his pockets as he headed over to Finch. He bent at the waist, tilting his head. "That's what I'm hoping for," he murmured, pecking her on the cheek before turning around and heading for the lobby. He missed her turning a bright shade of red.

She cleared her throat. "Vance won't like it."

"He's not everything, love," Thaddeus said as the door chimed with their appointment. Her appointment. Somehow within the past two days, he'd grown intensely possessive of her. Of the bundle of cells quickly turning into life. A life that Thad could see worth fighting for.

***

Vance was glad to be home. He'd found a few things out of place - traces of the interloper, but he'd cleaned up the mostly unused master bedroom, changed the sheets and smiled at his handiwork. The room was rarely used for sleeping. He much preferred the fairytale den of the loft. The sparkling lights and warm enclosed space.

But the flat itself was truly a gorgeous creation. He could see Mary's work in it, redressings from Finch gaining it herself, and even his own surprising additions. His work boots lay beside the door, a small camera-bag that contained quite a bit more than that on the dining room table.

This place had become home. How strange, he thought as he headed for the kitchen.

Finch had been ill, so he didn't want to order take away. She'd barely kept anything down. He'd worried constantly, but she'd insisted it was flu. He checked the time on his mobile, and considered logging into the cameras at her shop to see if she'd be late. She'd promised to be home earlier, taking fewer appointments until she felt better.

The door opened, and her keys clinked into the bowl next to the door. Her voice was still croaky and rough when she called his name. "Vance?"

"Kitchen, bird," he said, setting a pot of water on the stove. "How does buttered noodles for dinner sound?"

"Bland, but manageable," Finch sulked. Food had fought her (and won) all day, and she wasn't looking forward to trying again. "How was your day?"

"Productive," Vance said, turning on the hob. He headed out to see her. He cupped her cheeks, leaning in for a kiss. "Domestic. Lovely. If a bit lonely. I'm glad to see you home."

"I'm glad to be home," the small woman said with a smile. "We were busier than I thought. I'm exhausted."

"Are you up for supper then?" Vance asked, stroking her hair back from her face. "We can watch telly a bit. I can't remember the last time we've just relaxed together, bird."

Finch tipped up to kiss the corner of his mouth, nuzzling her nose to his cheek. "Telly and noodles sounds nice. Cozy and chill. I need that."

"Good," Vance smiled. "Go cuddle up and I'll bring you some tea."

Finch changed into warm, soft pyjamas, hoping that the softness around her abdomen was her imagination. It had to be, she was just paranoid. But still, soon it wouldn't be. Gulping, she returned to the sofa, pulling her faded quilt around her body until she looked like a little Finch-er-pillar, cocooned up and ready for hibernation.

Vance puttered around in the kitchen, happy to still find everything in its place. He made two simple carb-filled meals. He carried the bowls in and handed one off to her, going to get their tea as well.

"One thing I hated about travelling abroad is the distinct lack of decent tea," he said, sitting beside her to sip at his cup.

Finch brought hers to her lips before realizing it wasn't herbal or decaffeinated. She didn't know much about babies but she was pretty sure she shouldn't have regular tea. Right? She set the mug back down without taking a sip.

"Something wrong?" Vance asked. "I thought tea would be easy on you."

"I can't have it," Finch said with a forlorn look in her eyes. "I forgot. I can't have anything with caffeine."

"I think there migh' be something in the cupboard," Vance said sitting down his cup, ready to get up. "Wait- no caffeine? Thought the doc said you were doin' alright?"

Finch blushed, pert nose dusted pink. "We are doing alright. But I still can't have caffeine. Not for a while."

Vance's brows furrowed. His eyes widened.

"We?"

She nodded slowly, mouth pulled into a small little line. "We."

Vance blinked rapidly, sinking back into the couch. "Bloody hell," he breathed. "You mean you're-?" He looked at her, nodding at her vaguely. His face had gone ashen.

"I mean, if you don't like it, it's okay. It won't, I mean, I won't bother you for anything," Finch mumbled, pulling the blanket closer around herself. She felt fragile, like the wrong word from him would shatter her into a million pieces. "I know we were taking things slow and all."

Vance was still processing, but slowly wrapping his head around it.

"So no caffeine," he said, nodding.

Finch's lower lip trembled. "Yeah. No caffeine. I think."

Vance kept nodding. "Alrigh'. We can do that," he said. "It's- you're really-.. wow." He breathed out, then reached for Finch. "Well, it's not like the little bird's gonna be here for awhile. We've got plenty of time to sort things out. Don't we?" His strange eyes were full of tentative fear and choking hope.

Finch sniffed, but she nodded. "Yeah. We've got loads of time. Or I do, I mean, like I said, I don't want to push you. It's just something that's happened. It'll work out."

"Push me to what?" Vance said, pushing the quilt away to pull her closer. "It's mine, innit?"

"Of course it is," Finch told him, wrapping herself in his arms. "No one else. I told you."

"And you're mine, too," Vance said into her hair. "There's nothing to push, Finch. We're- we're having a family."

"You don't seem very happy about it," Finch said, the constant sulk she'd felt crashing down on her hard. She sniffed again. "I thought- I thought you might like it."

Vance barked out a laugh. "I love it," he breathed. "I'm just- it's incredible, and a bit terrifyin'. For starters your mum is going to kill me. Should we get married? I should like to." He touched her stomach. "A wee little one. I'm - Hell, Finch, I'm English." He sniffed, pretending like he wasn't being emotional.

"Married and babies," Finch breathed. She nudged into his arms, burying her head in the crook of his neck. "I'm overwhelmed. I was so scared that you might leave or something."

"Leave? Why would I leave?" Vance asked. "God, if anythin' I need to tell your mum I need to be here. You're barely keepin' down anythin'. What if somethin' happened? What if you needed me?"

Finch snuggled down as hard as she could, as close as she could get to him. "Mum was in the hospital a lot with me. I think it's just par for the course with our hearts. You'll be here when you can. I know the job means a lot to you."

Vance kissed her head over and over. He rubbed her stomach gently.

"We'll make it, love," he said. "A family, a real family." He pulled the quilt back around her, around himself too. "A baby 'n everythin'. I have no idea about babes. I was good with the littles, but they were all walking and talking."

"It'll walk and talk eventually," Finch replied smartly. "We'll be okay. We will be okay. Everything will be okay."

Vance laughed again. "Which means we're utterly fucked," he said, snuggling his lover. "But we'll make it."

***

Sebastian sped along London streets, heavy foot on the pedal. Mary had made him wait until morning before ambushing their daughter. He hadn't slept a wink. The old soldier in him had awakened. His knuckles were white as he drove.

His gritted teeth could be heard churning in his mouth as he pulled out front of the flat.

"She's coming back to the cottage," Seb said. "Or we're moving back. She's too young and too ill."

"Don't be stupid," Mary said, looking entirely unimpressed. "She's going to be fine. You're overreacting."

"Your protege has impregnated our daughter!" Sebastian said for the hundredth time as they headed for the door. "I'm going to kill him!"

"You will not! What if your darling pet had impregnated her?" Mary asked, her voice full of authority. "She picked Vance, despite what you think, and before I had anything to do with him. We will be supportive and loving and so help me God, Sebastian-"

"Missus M, Mr. Moran," Vance said from the open door. "I reckon you're here to see about things?"

Sebastian growled. Mary elbowed him in the side.

"How is she, dear?" Mary asked, stepping into the once familiar home.

"Bit ill at the stomach," Vance said, head bowed as he let them in. "Can't keep a thing down long. Won't take a drop of tea. Says not to have caffeine." He lowered his voice. "She cried a bit."

Mary's cool green eyes were on him in an instant. "You. Made. Her. Cry?"

"I just asked if she wanted a shirt without mess on it," Vance said. "She had a bit of noodles on her."

Seb rolled his eyes. "Don't ever tell them they're less than perfection at this stage," he said.

"We are perfect. It's you lot that are hopeless," Mary muttered, limping into the living room where her daughter was curled up under the quilts. "What trouble you manage to get yourself into."

"Please, Mum, no lectures. I've got a splitting headache," Finch complained.

"She ain't drinkin'," Vance said, crossing his arms.

Seb pushed around the younger man, heading for his baby girl. "I was perfectly good during your pregnancies, especially when you whelped that Holmes brat," he said, reaching for his daughter. "Come here, love. What has he done to my little cub?"

"It hurts to drink. Even water comes back up," Finch whined, letting her father pick her up. Mary rolled her eyes.

"You baby her," she said.

"Don't let her fool you, I coddled her just the same," Seb said, rubbing Finch's back. "Silly girl, choosing the mutt," he whispered in her ear. "I suppose what's done. A cuppa black tea once a day, no more. Half a glass of red wine once a week. For your heart."

"Are you very cross, Papa?" Finch asked in a small voice, leaning on her dad.

"How can I be cross with you, my girl?" Seb said. "My daughter. Growing up. I suppose children are safer than criminals."

"Doubtful," Vance said.

"You! I'm cross with," Seb growled. "I might remove your bollocks and give them to Holmes for experiments."

Vance blanched, looking at Mary for help. She shrugged.

"Papa, please," Finch pleaded, trying to give Seb her best puppy eyes without throwing up. "I love him. I really do. And I never asked for anything, never wanted anything. Just him."

"I mean to make a proper father and husband if she'll let me," Vance said, trying to keep from cringing from the intimidating parents.

"You asked for your shops," Seb said. "Your mum and I trusted you."

"And she-!" Vance started, voice raising.

"And she's done a damned good job," Seb said crossly.

"Those were meant to be a surprise," Finch muttered. Mary laughed.

"You'll never have any surprises from us," Mary said, patting her daughter's hair. Finch looked up, eyebrow raised.

"Except the one."

"Well, yes. Except that one," Mary agreed.

"One," Seb stressed. "You have no idea what you're in for. A child is not a pet. They aren't something to be played with and left to their own devices."

"I'm mostly managing a criminal empire. How hard can a wee thing be?" Vance said.

"You make it very hard for me to be on your side through this," Mary quipped at him.

Vance looked surprised. "I didn't know you were on my side," he said, flushing lightly. "I'll be needing more help, Missus M. I want to be here for her."

"Don't be silly, she'll be fine. I'll be much more put out with you if you quit. You wouldn't be stupid enough to be asking that, now would you?" Mary asked sweetly. Finch glared at her mother.

Vance bristled. "Absolutely not," he said, shoulders pulling back.

"Maybe a nurse as she progresses," Sebastian suggested, petting his daughter. "Or we could move into a nearby flat, or into Jack's space across the way until she.."

"I can handle it," Vance said.

"We can handle it!" Finch corrected.

"Mary," Seb said, looking back at his wife. "Talk some sense into them. A nurse, a guard, something! You were in and out of hospital during your first, I was never certain of anything for months."

"But dearest, you said to let them grow up," Mary replied with a sickly sweet grin. She blinked innocently. "If they say they can handle it-"

Seb got off the sofa, scowling at his wife. He leaned in close to mutter. "But it's our baby. Our baby having a baby and you've let her run off perfectly good security, and I still might strangle this one," he said, pointing at Vance who flinched behind Mary.

Mary just continued to smile placidly, like a very terrifying nineteen-fifties housewife. "Darling, they're doing just fine. Or are you implying you raised someone entirely incapable of taking care of herself? It surely appears so after you practically planted a babysitter in the house for her."

"Yeah, Papa, that was just not on," Finch complained, standing behind him with her arms crossed over her chest. "Vance, stop cowering."

"Oi, he could kill me," Vance whined.

"The first time she's in hospital," Seb said, shaking a finger at Mary. "Let them play house, but for god's sake - if you don't call me immediately, I will-"

"Yes, yes, castrate me, slit my throat and make sure no one remembers my name," Vance said, edging around Mary to scoot back to Finch. "We can do it, Missus M. Iffin I can learn everythin' you set me to, I can learn to take care of a little."

"He calls it a little, isn't that adorable?" Finch cooed. Mary rolled her eyes.

"Charming," she said blandly. "If you need anything, you'll call us. Even if it's just for ice cream. We'll bring it to you." Or someone would. Probably Jack.

"Yes m'um," Vance said, leaning to give Finch a kiss on the cheek. "Missus M, if I could just- have a chat before you go? Alone?"

"You children are always so demanding," Mary muttered, but she limped off in the direction of the kitchen anyway. It was always better for Seb to have some alone time with Finch, who promptly was back at his daughter's side.

"I know you ain't real happy with me, um, Mary," Vance said, fidgeting. He had a hard time looking her in the eye. "But I was hoping, with my expenses and all, if I could manage a bit extra this next month for a certain purchase..."

"Trying to do things traditionally, are we?" Mary asked, managing to look down her nose at him even though he was taller. "I believe that can be arranged. Although you are the boss now. You are the one who controls your extra money."

"I know, I know," Vance said, pacing a bit. "It's just a surprise, y'know? A big surprise and we were going slow, but this is.. it's big! It's big and she deserves the bloody crown jewels, and wait- who has those?"

"The real ones or the ones on display?" Mary asked cautiously before shaking her head. "Never mind that. It is a surprise. She certainly seems surprised, I hadn't anticipated that." Almost to herself, she added, "I'd been concerned it was planned."

Vance blinked. He looked confused for a moment, then shook his head.

"Wouldn't matter an'way," he huffed. "If she wants a wee babe, then we're having one." He nodded again. "Planned or not. I do aim to marry your daughter, Missus M. All due respect."

Mary's smile was genuine this time. "I do so hope you win. You've got potential. And either way, I s'pose, barring any unfortunate incidents, you're family now. Father to my grandchild and all that."

Vance gave her a hopeful smile, true happiness blooming. "I've go' a family," he said, eyes glistening. "I've got to get back to my family, Missus M. I'm sorry for making you come all the way out here."

"Eh. He was itching to get away from Sherlock. She could've stubbed her toe and we'd've been in for a visit," Mary remarked, examining her nail before brushing if over the lapel of her jacket. "Hmm, speaking of, perhaps I should visit my son."

"I won't be keepin' you," Vance said, offering up his arm to help her out to the living room again.

Seb was petting Finch and whispering into her ear. He'd doted on Mary terribly during her pregnancies, worried constantly - even over Spencer - and he was uncertain about Vance's ability to provide the emotional and physical and amorous needs for her.

"Papa, please, I'll be fine," Finch said in her best grown-up voice. "I love you, Papa. You aren't cross? Don't be cross."

Seb cupped her cheeks to press a dry kiss to her head. "Yes my little bird, I'm only terribly overwhelmed that you're not my little cub, but a bird flying free from her nest."

"Poetic," Vance said, grinning at Mary.

"I didn't marry him for his smarts," Mary replied under her breath. "Come along, Tiger. Leave the new parents to celebrate. We should be off before Sherlock finds that other cherub in the tree."

Seb sighed, letting go of his daughter with a heavy heart. "Yes, love," he said, gathering Mary away from the thing that made his daughter a woman. "We'll be by again very soon."

"Yes, thank you," Vance said, leading them out. "Drive safe, enjoy your trip."

He sighed when he closed the door, shoulders relaxing.

Finch was trying not to giggle. "You were so assertive. Is that how you treat your business associates? It's a wonder you haven't been shot."

"Shot at a few times," Vance sniffed. "But your mum says confidence is key because otherwise they'd walk all over me and not respect me if I wasn't sure of m'self. Your mum still scares the everlivin' piss out of me though. Your papa, too, but your Mum - she's got secrets in her hair and guns hidden in those fluffy dresses."

"Yes, I know," Finch said with a sad sigh. "I'm not quite sure how to be a mum after surviving her." She sat down on the sofa once more, leaning forward with her elbows on her thighs. "She's terrifying."

Vance sat beside her, breathing a sigh of relief.

"I love you," he said simply, looking at her with his good eye. She reached up to trace his cheek.

"I love you, too," Finch told him.

Vance leaned in to kiss her tenderly. He rubbed his nose against hers. "Guess we'll have to start using the grown up's room, hm?"

"Not at all," Finch replied, grinning. "That would make us grown ups. Besides, that's my bed, my papa built it for me. We'll make the baby something else."

Vance grinned back. He felt like he'd just gotten off a rollercoaster, giddy, stomach flipping and a bit dizzy. As Finch rested against him and his eyes locked on something on the telly, his stomach dropped and dread flooded through his veins.

***

They celebrated wildly, of course. Snogging in the kitchen, sex in the loft, soft touches in the bathroom, hugs in the hall. Of course, there was still the morning sickness and the tiredness, but now Vance knew to hold her and encourage her. He worried as she worked, but she was careful and her work was her passion. Or at least, one passion Vance wanted his girlfriend to keep. She'd blossomed so much in the time they'd been together.

Eventually, a job came. He had to leave. Three nights, on the continent.

Vance let himself into the shop, well into the wee hours of the morning. He'd left Finch sleeping, with hazy goodbyes and lazy kisses.

"Get up," Vance said.

Thaddeus grunted and tugged his blanket tighter.

"Piss off, wanker," he mumbled.

Vance pulled out a key ring, the metal sliding against metal, clinking gently.

One almond shaped eye peeked out.

"Whassat?" Thad said, sizing Vance up.

Vance's mouth twitched, growing tight at the edge. "Flat key. I've got something, someone very precious to me that needs protecting," he murmured.

"And you-"

"Shut up," Vance interrupted. "And I'm finding you're unwelcome, yet in high demand. Why is that? More than two families, two groups angry that you've gone soft. And I hear my name, this family's name whispered and spat upon because you... you're protecting her."

"She can protect herself, mate," Thad's low rumble responded.

"Not from the things she doesn't see."

Thad laughed through his nose as he sat up. "It were only a little trouble," he said, shrugging.

Vance tossed the key across the space, and Thad caught it up.

"I want no trouble," Vance said, deadly serious. "Now I doubt you don't come with flowers and sunshine and rainbows, but the grapevine says - "

"Shouldn't listen to fruit, mate," Thad said, stretching. "But if you're asking, don't say 'nother word. I'm there. Not for you, mind. For her. She'll be all piss and vinegar again. Did you ask her?"

"Course not," Vance barked. "She'd be piss and vinegar. You get yourself in."

"And wha' you'll kick me out again?" Thad wondered. 

"Mebbe, may-be not," Vance replied. "Least three days I'll be gone. Keep an eye on her, always." His voice softened. "And see to it she eats something once in awhile."

"Git," Thad said, moving to smack the taller bloke on the arm. "Go on. Get your arse back sooner rather than later."

Surprise

Thaddeus rummaged through his bags. He still hadn't moved out of the shop. He swapped out his long sleeved tee, tossing it into his bag of dirty clothes. He picked up a charcoal grey sweater and headed back out into the front. He was looking at part of his tattoo.

"Hey, bye bye birdie," he said. "D'you do touch ups?"

Finch had finished cleaning up her station after her last client. Her hair was slipping out of it's elastic and she reached back to tighten the unruly mass. "I s'pose I can be talked into it. What were you thinking of having done?"

"This spot got a bit blurred, and I've got a space here," he said, rubbing at his lowest ribs. "Unfinished work because the shop got raided." He snorted. "Good tattooist, stupid shit for running drugs out of the shop."

"Ah, yes, that does so many tattooists in," she remarked dryly. "Do we have any other appointments today?"

Thad headed shirtless to the books.

"Mmnope, Sheila was the last one," he hummed. "Unless you want to take any more walk-ins, but I think it's getting a bit late for that."

"Definitely. I've been feeling a little off lately, could do with an early night. I'll set up my things, you get on the table. What did you want done about the ribs?" Finch asked, wondering if she should talk to him about wandering around without clothes.

"Let me lock up first," Thad said, going to switch off the open light and lock the deadbolt. He return to lay out on the cushioned table, instantly relaxing. "Free hand something watercolor. Keep to the blues, if you would, but throw in your own flair, little bird." Leave a mark on me.

"You want it to match the calligraphy strokes you have over your shoulder?" Finch asked, readying her things. "The ribs, it hurts. I mean, worse. You going to be alright?"

"Do you see how much ink I have?" Thad said, looking lazily at her. "I'm not afraid of pain for beauty. Yes, I prefer to keep the Chinese-Celtic fusion, if you can manage."

Finch rolled her eyes. She sketched on his skin, loose guidelines of what she wanted to do, shaking her head. "I could draw anything on someone so trusting. You could end up with a prick on there, for all you know. Or 'I love Vance' in big letters."

Thad chuckled, sides moving. "You wouldn't do that," he murmured. "You pity me too much," he snorted. "Besides, you're all about the work. Just like your mother."

"I'm nothing like my mother," Finch answered promptly, even though she knew that to be a lie. She started to ink his skin, painting over flesh. "And I don't pity you. I just feel guilty he almost broke your face."

Thad's ribs vibrated with splashes of pain. For a long time, Finch's music played on in the background and he closed his eyes, hissing occasionally as she worked. He didn't have to watch. She was exactly like her mother, devoted to her craft, never cruel unless it were truly necessary and honest to a fault. Thad had long admired Moriarty's work, even before he'd known SHE was not a HE.

"I might have found a place, to go that is," he murmured after awhile.

"Hmm? That's nice," Finch said, entirely absorbed by what she was doing. "How soon are you moving?"

"Not sure," Thad responded. "Whenever Abs decides your brother is too much of an overbearing prat and we settle on a place we can both afford."

Finch sat back, looking at him with confusion. "Abby's leaving Spencer? That bitch, he'll be crushed!"

"Hmm?" Thad said, sitting up. "He was moving her to the downstairs flat anyway, to play with the monster upstairs. No' much difference if she's a bit further off. She's not breaking it off, she's doing me a favor and your bruvah one too."

"But Abby didn't like you. As far as I could see. Not that it matters to me, we're hardly speaking," Finch said, with eyebrows raised. "You're going to live with her?"

"Maybe she does like me," Thad said. "Maybe she likes me a lot. Is that a problem?" He was pushing her. Probably a bad idea with a tattoo machine in her hand and his ribs sore, but he wanted that bloody room back.

"N-No. Not at all," Finch murmured, and if she dug a little harder with the needle, she didn't feel bad. "I mean, I would be upset if she were two-timing my brother, but that's their business. Spencer is made for Bran anyway. He'll bounce back."

"Curious!" Thad hissed. "Even with the blood relation? You think Abs isn't good enough for your brother? Or not the right match."

"She doesn't like my boyfriend and she's going to sleep with you. It does show terribly poor taste on her part. My brother looks like Sherlock and Sherlock is pretty," Finch told him with a sniff. "And Spencer loves Brandon. It's not like the blood relation would be a problem, they are both male."

Thad tried not to laugh. "Well pity, as she's arse over feet for your brother, hates my ruddy guts, but needs to see if she still has a place is your freaky little brav's life," he said, breathing in through his teeth. "Easy, bird!"

"Stop calling me that. Only Vance is allowed to call me that," Finch sulked, but she eased on the pressure slightly. She pulled back, taking a moment to breathe. She'd felt like she was getting the 'flu over the last few days.

"What should I call you then?" Thaddeus said, voice velvety smooth despite the soft sheen of dampness across his skin. "Love, poppet, pet?"

"Boss? Or, and here's a wild idea, you could try my name! I do have one," Finch muttered. She sucked in some air.

Thad noticed the tension in the air change. He moved to sit up. She'd been working for awhile. He swung his legs over the side of the table reaching out to touch her cheek.

"Finch," he said, low and sweet with just a tinge of worry. "All right?"

"Just feelin' a bit off. Like I said. Touch of nausea, but they said the new pill would do that," Finch said, closing her eyes. "It's nothing to concern anyone over."

"Feels like a bit of a fever," Thad said. "Or at least you're a bit warm. Rinse me off, and wrap me up. We'll call it a night with this."

"Peck, peck, mama hen," Finch muttered, but she did as he asked, sniffling as she did so. "I'm taking tomorrow off. Reschedule the appointments we have. I don't want to tattoo anyone if I'm coming down with the 'flu. Maybe I'll stay in and rest tomorrow, work a late day following just to make up for it."

Thad reached for the crumpled sweater, pulling it over his head to properly look her over.

"I'll cancel them in the morning," he said. "Any other symptoms? I haven't been ill. Has Scarface?"

"Stop calling him that!" Finch said, swallowing hard. "The nausea I mentioned, but no. Vance has been fine. Oh, I hope I haven't made him sick."

"Nausea?" Thad said, raising his brow. "Throwing up?"

Finch blushed, and she stood, cleaning her space on unsteady legs. "Shut up. I'm not answering any more of your questions. Go sleep at Spencer's or drag Abby somewhere, just leave me alone."

"Sorry, love, I'm still at the shop for a little longer," Thad said, helping by cleaning off the table. "Unless you want to take me home."

"I do not," the curly-haired angelic girl replied. "I had the worst time to get you out."

"You didn't get me out," Thaddeus replied. "Besides, I'm asking this time. May I please kip in your spare bed for the night? I really need a place to wash this tat up."

Finch considered. She really didn't feel well, and she didn't want to walk home alone. She shrugged. "You have to leave tomorrow. Vance is out tonight, but he said he'll come home."

Thad grinned wide. "Of course, I'll have to come in early to cancel those appointments," he purred. "Just tick.." He popped off to grab a quick bag of his things. A warm shower, warm girl - wait! -

"Alright, ready?" he said, holding up his shop keys.

"Yeah, lemme just get my coat," Finch said, and she slipped the faded brown suede number over her shoulders. It was warm and soft and worn. "C'mon, let's go. I do expect you to be in early, those people need to be called."

"On my honor," Thad said, restless like a pup going for a walk. "I would like to keep my job after all." He locked up the door and turned to walk beside his tiny boss. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, offsetting the aching in his ribs. Or adding to it depending on whether he thought about her boyfriend or not.

He brushed his hand across hers as they walked.

She shoved her hands in her pockets.

She was too quiet. The nausea was creeping it's way back up her throat and the moment she let them into the flat she took two antacids, changing into soft sleep pants and a large tee shirt. Finch poked her head back into the living room, looking for Thad. "You know where everything is. Make sure you lock the door."

"Already done," Thad said. "Just going to shower and head to bed. I assume the place I slept last time, and not across the courtyard? You and boyfriend share the babygirl loft?"

"Yeah, the place you slept last time is fine. Don't you concern yourself over where I sleep." Finch paused next to the sofa, deciding to sit and watch some telly. Just in case her stomach didn't settle, she didn't have to worry about steps to get out of bed. She pulled a blanket over her. "Will I bother you if I stay here a while?"

Thad sat beside her, reaching to stroke her hair. "Should I sit with you?" he murmured softly, threading his fingers through her curls like he had when she fell asleep in his lap.

Finch smacked at his hand, scowling. "You're always touching me without permission. I don't need a babysitter. Go get your stupid shower."

"Yes, boss," he laughed through his nose. He didn't let her see the worried look as he headed for the hallway. She sleeps there when HE isn't home. She's lonely, and he leaves her. She waits for a crime lord to come home, for the violent, dangerous new Moriarty to take her.

He didn't hate Vance on principle. He ran shampoo through his long hair, luxuriating in the hot water. He'd chosen hedonism pacifism five years ago to escape a life of crime. Of course, he hadn't been perfect at it. Nobody is, but as he washed and tended his new ink, he stroked over the bright raised skin. She'd done a beautiful job. The work was almost seamless, and as it healed, it would become perfect.

He peered into the living room after his shower, hair still damp. She'd fallen asleep to the telly. As expected.

"Goodnight, love," he whispered.

***

Finch woke too early in a cold sweat, her body filled with a rocking, swirling, wavelike motion. She was staggering quickly to the bathroom without even fully waking up, hurling loudly into the toilet. Her stomach emptied, and then she started making the worst heaving sounds while she heaved.

Thaddeus woke suddenly, always having been a light sleeper. He was up and in the loo in seconds. He had Finch's hair gathered up as she heaved and shook.

"There, there, have it out," he murmured, rubbing her back.

"Ugh," Finch groaned, leaning forward, spitting. "I'm so sick. I hate being sick."

"This been happening?" Thad asked softly, reaching for a flannel to dampen and wiped her face.

"Just a few days." Her words were panted out between gasps. "I'll get over it. It's just the 'flu." Finch closed her eyes, resting her cheek on her arm.

"Mmhmm," Thad said, brows knitting. "How about I go and get you some medicine and soup, yeah? It's a bit early to go into the shop and make calls."

"O-" She heaved again, her face damp with tears and her skin clammy. "Okay. Don't think I'll be able to eat it. My heart meds are in the ca-abinet, can you get them?"

Thad reached in, picking up three bottles. "Which one?" he asked, crouching back down.

"This," Finch panted, picking the one out and holding it tight. She closed her eyes. "Water, and I'll take it."

Thad got her the cup by the sink, filling it. "Here," he said, handing off the cup. "Stay here, and I'll bring some things back for you." He petted her head. "Just stay, alright? Don't pass out before I get back." He said, backing out of the lav.

"Where the fuck am I going?" Finch muttered, not moving an inch. She heaved a few more times, and finally slumped back against the sink. Her fingers wrapped around the little cup and she sipped the water, trying to take her pill. Unfortunately, she ended up hurling over the toilet again.

Thaddeus got on his jeans and yesterday's sweater, running out the door - without locking it. He didn't stop to find the key. There was a corner market not too far off. He grabbed up all sorts of things to make a ginger-garlic Chinese soup. He wasn't a chef, but he wasn't terrible cook. He grabbed a few medicines promising to cure flu. Rushing through the shop, he slowed as he passed the feminine products aisle.

Tests.

Vomiting in the morning, slight fever. Needing the room.

He closed his eyes in pain as he reached out to grab one. He had a slight flush as the cashier rang him up. Two bags felt infinitely heavy as he walked back to Finch's flat.

He let himself back in, dropping the things on the kitchen's island. He pawed through the pantry to find an old plastic cup. He pulled the box of tests from the bag. Two pack, just in case.

"Finch," he called out.

"Coming," Finch said, but she hadn't moved. She heaved herself to her feet, stumbling through the flat. Her head ached. "Oh, fuck, I feel awful. Thank God we closed the shop."

Thad caught her up. "Whoa," he said. "I think you should sit back down, love. You're terrible pale."

"I feel pale," Finch whined, aiming her body at a bar stool. "I feel like death."

Thad helped her sit and chewed his lip before setting the box of tests in front of her.

"I was rather suspecting something a bit different," he said softly. "A bit more like life."

Finch raised her eyebrow, trying her best to snort. Her hair was stuck up on one side, and she had no color to her face. "You must be joking."

Thaddeus averted his eyes. "You need the room, right?" he said, looking at her cabinets. "Last night I stayed over, you were um - rather loud. It's none of my business whether you used protection with Scarface or not, but-" he made a vague gesture. "Better know than not, right?"

"But I couldn't be. That wasn't long ago-" Finch started to count days in her head, trying to make the numbers add up. "It couldn't be... I meant far, far in the future. N-not now!"

Thad looked at her, reaching to grasp her arm. She looked even paler than before as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. She was cold from sitting on the bathroom floor. "Shh," he shushed, rubbing her cheek with a thumb. "Always so excitable."

"I'm hyperventilating. This is what hyperventilating looks like," Finch gasped, shivering. "I'm not- I'm too young- I'm-I'm- I can't!" But she wanted to. Oh fuck, she wanted it.

"I know that," he said. "Deep breaths, love. Deep breaths." He reached down to scoop her up, carrying her into the master bedroom to lay her down. "On your side," he said, laying her in the pushed back bit of blankets where he'd gotten up that morning.

"I don't feel well," Finch complained. She was weak and trembling, turning over on her side like he asked.

"Which is why I'm putting you to bed," Thad said, crawling up behind her. "Overwhelming possibility, isn't it?" He stroked up her back. "You've gone cold."

"It can't be true," Finch mumbled. She didn't push him away this time. "I can't be. I can't even say it. It's not true."

Thad snaked his arm around her middle. "Your mother managed it," he said softly in her ear, still keeping himself propped up with his other arm to look at her. "Twice, in fact. Though jury is still out on whether the Dark Prince is her spawn or not."

"You're always touching me." She didn't shift away, though. "Oh God, Mum! She's going to freak out. I'm in so much trouble!"

Thaddeus turned her head. "I enjoy touching you," he murmured. He bit his lip and leaned down. Just one kiss.

"I'm probably pregnant. With Vance's child," Finch said bluntly, Thad's face too close to hers. "Why are you trying to kiss me?"

Thad rolled his dark eyes, a smirk growing on his lips. "Probably is not a definitely until you know?" he joked. "A congratulations. To warm you up." He wrinkled his nose. "But you might want to brush your teeth first before we snog." He closed the distance for an overly familiar peck anyway.

"I'm not snogging you," Finch replied, repulsed at herself. She tugged a sheet over half her face. "I'm not brushing my teeth anytime soon- I feel like-" Her eyes widened and she wriggled out of his grasp, bare feet slapping the floor as she hurried back into the loo.

Thad looked distressed. He went back to the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of cold water this time, the plastic cup and the tests. He wanted to crush them. Could he raise another man's child? Could he steal another man's pregnant lover?

"Finch," he said, opening the door. "I think I should help you to the doctor if you don't want the tests."

"Yeah. Yeah, doctor. Straightaway. But-" Finch paused, sucking in breath. "Don't think I can. Nope. I live here now. Can't handle the car ride."

"Then piss in the cup so you can tell your fucking precious Scarface whether he's got a sick girlfriend or a new bundle of joy to look forward to," Thad snapped. He knocked his head back against the doorjamb, dropping the things on the counter.

Finch looked up at him, confusion and hurt written on her face. She steeled herself, spitting into the toilet, before saying, "Get out."

"Not on," Thad gritted out. "If you pass out and hit your head, your father will gut me. Where's a laptop? I'll make the calls from the living room, check on you until Mr. Moriarty makes it back to the den." He clenched his fists. "Then he can take you to hospital."

A tear slid down Finch's cheek, and she slumped over the toilet, shaking her head. "No. No, I don't like you. Get out."

Thad slid down the door, crawling over to her. He pulled her into his arms.

"You're cold again," he muttered, feeling like crying himself.

"It's cold down here," Finch replied, her teeth chattering.

Thad pressed his lips to her forehead. It was the only warm place about her. His hand dropped to her waist, pulling her into his lap. "You should be in bed," he murmured against her hair. He couldn't stop touching her. Even knowing-

Baby.

"Can't go to bed. Legs wobbly," Finch said, leaning weakly against him. She closed her eyes. "We didn't. Use protection. But I'm on the pill-"

"None of those were birth control, Finch," Thad murmured. "You're on pills. It's been nearly three weeks."

"No, no, I do have the birth control, I keep it in the- Oh my God, what do you mean it's been three weeks? YOU MONITOR THAT?!" Finch said, inching out of his grasp.

Thad held her tight. "Since I was last in your ruddy flat, you psychopath," he said, hefting her up. "Since you and Scarface had your epic sexcapades and broke that loft in two." He grunted getting to his feet.

"Put me down," Finch mumbled against his throat. "I'll be okay."

"Mmhmm," Thad murmured. "Bed." He settled her back in place with a kiss to her forehead. "I'll get you something more to drink and a bin so you don't have to run to the lav. I can make the calls for your clients in here."

"Over reacting," Finch whispered, closing her eyes to ward off the dizziness. There was a tightness in her chest. Hopefully it would fade, like it had yesterday, into a dull sickness that was manageable. "I'm okay."

"Hmph," Thad replied. He went to pick up the things from the bathroom, warming the hot water to drape a warm cloth over Finch's head. He stashed the pregnancy tests in her sock drawer on his way to the kitchen.  He brought in a bin and several things to drink, checking on the girl who'd fallen asleep.

He lost himself in chopping things, dumping them into one pot. Soon ginger root, onions, garlic, chicken, and a few easy vegetables were simmering low and slow. He went to fetch Finch's laptop and his mobile, setting up in the living room to make calls for the next several days. He left many apologies, reschedules and even had to flirt a little not to lose business.

He leaned back on the sofa to tap out a message to Abby.

[see you tonight? TB]

After a few moments, a text buzzed.

[i guess. whats up? -abz]

[We'll always be outsiders. Don't forget that. TB]

[I made a mistake. TB]

[what time? - abz]

[half 7, I'll pick you up TB]

Thaddeus had just finished typing out the text when the door handle rattled. He sat up as Vance opened the door. Thad saw the moment of recognition as Vance's face twisted.

"What the hell are you-?"

"She's sick!" Thad blurted out, holding out his hands. "She-she got ill last night."

Vance dropped his bags and stalked through the flat.

"Finch! Finch!" he called out.

"Vance?" Finch started, heart pounding in her chest. She sat up, and had to pause to steady her stomach. "Is that you?"

Vance pushed into the master bedroom, flying to her side.

"Yes, yes, the bloody boyfriend," Thad said, pinching his nose. "She's only just been asleep a little while. I told you she has flu," he said, trying to catch Finch's eye.

Vance took Finch's face in his hands, touching her forehead. "You are a bit warm..."

"Stay. Stay with me," Finch murmured, putting her hands over his. "I don't feel well. I'm sick."

"See, just the flu," Thad said, scowling.

"Fine," Vance sighed. "Now get out." He leaned in to kiss Finch's lips gently. "Poor bird. never well when I'm away. It was only a night trip."

Finch's thin fingers stroked over his cheek, blushing through the sickly pallor. "Clearly I missed you. Don't go anymore. I know, I know, not possible. I just missed you."

"I missed you too," Vance said, relaxing as he heard the door slam. "There's something cooking. Do you think it's poisoned?"

"Probably. Couldn't possibly make me feel any worse than I already do," Finch said, gagging and then laying back down. She turned her face into the pillow. "Not ready for this."

"Salright," Vance said. "Just rest. I'm home now."

***

It was raining that night. Thad waited outside Baker Street, hoping Abby wasn't going to stand him up. He didn't want to text her again and alert Spencer. At exactly half-seven, the door opened and Abby stepped out, in her criminal clothes. Black yoga pants and a black hoodie, all zipped up. No purse, just a lot of pockets.

"What gives?" Abby asked, stepping up to him nearly silently in her black sneakers. "Everythin' alrigh'?"

Thad's hair was getting plastered to his head as they stood there. He swooped down, cupping the back of Abby's head and planted a soft, wet kiss to her lips. She flailed, pulling back from him, glancing up nervously at the Baker Street window.

"What the fuck you think you're doing, eh?" She shivered, glancing back at him. "I'm no' available for kissin'."

Thad reached back to pull her under the cafe's awning. "Aren't you though?" he said, pulling Abby close. The kiss hasn't set his heart racing, but it wasn't bad. "Run away with me. Out of London."

"No!" she hissed, shrieking. "No! No' on your life, you maniac. What's goin' on?"

Thad's face looked like someone had died.

"Finch - she -" He shook his head. "I shouldn't have gotten involved. You shouldn't either. Your little prince'll leave you for his boytoy anyway."

Abby's heart clenched, but she steeled her nerves, gritting her teeth. "So what if he does? Ain't nothin' new to me. Everyone leaves. I'm not goin' to waste time worryin' about when, I just want to enjoy righ' now. Before it 'appens."

"Before he -" Men can't get pregnant. "He-" Thad tried. He clenched his fists, fury rising up. He shoved his palms against his eyes, shivering. He couldn't breathe. "Better to live with someone and like them a bit, then fall in love," his voice cracked. "And get hurt."

"What has got into you, mate? This isn't like you. You're always so fuckin' cheerful, even when you're getting torn to pieces by your gran. What the fuck you so sorry and pissy for?" Abby leaned closer, eyes on his face. "What happened?"

"She's gone and having a baby," Thaddeus laughed, still finding the idea absurd. "A baby, Abs! Can't argue with that! That's pretty much, 'this is love', right?"

Abby's jaw dropped. "She's knocked up? Righ' and proper? Wuz the mob boss say abou' it?"

Thad rolled his shoulders. "Said it's flu," he mumbled, shaking his wet hair. "She's not ready. Right and proper. They'll probably go to hospital tomorrow, or the next week, when she doesn't improve. It'll be a happy announcement, someone will cry. There's no more room at the inn."

"Righ'," Abby said, feeling sort of numb for some reason. Part of her hurt for Thad, but part of her- part of her worried that he was right. That they were all too close. Abby and Thad were outsiders... except... "He's an outsider."

"What?" Thad said, heart-broken face confused.

"Moriarty. He's an outsider. And he didn' even ge' a key to come in li'e you," Abby told him, blinking. "If he made it, why can't you make it?"

"Because. Because it's a kid," Thad said. "Right?"

"Who cares? Finch's got like five dads. Two ain't bad when you look at a number like that," Abby replied. She shrugged. "We're always gon' be outsiders. But when 'as that ever stopped someone like you?"

Thad looked put out. "When I started feelin' something," he said, leaning back in to kiss her. "Fuck, that would've never worked out." He shook his head.

"What on Earth are you doing?" a rain-drenched Brandon asked from behind them, glowering at Thad.

Thaddeus turned around, pulling Abby against his side. He mock-cuddled her.

"Stealing her away," he said cheerfully. "Figured you'd be happy about the lack of competition."

"Get your filthy hands off of her. She's not for you," Brandon spat, his words slurring slightly. Abby rolled her eyes. "Get off her or I'll make you."

"Oh, dear," Thad said, wanting a fight. "Make me." He pulled her closer. "This might be fun."

Brandon sneered and then deftly lifted Abby up and over his shoulder. "Fuck you. Go back to sniveling at the baby slut, this one isn't yours."

Thad's shocked expression was plastered on his face the whole way back to the quiet tattoo parlor.

Upstairs, Spencer was tapping away on his keyboard, working. His glasses were blue with the screen glare as his fingers flew over the keys. Being poisoned had put him out of commission longer than he liked.

"Let go!" Abby's shout was heard all the way up the stairs. "Put me down, put me down!"

"Stop snogging arseholes on the street!" Brandon countered, dumping her on her bottom end when he reached the top  of the stairs. She landed with a painful sounding thud. Spencer put aside his laptop and hurried onto the landing.

"What the hell?" he swore. "Abs? I thought you were just leaving."

"She was out there ssucking face with that bloke that follows Finch around," Brandon ground out. He slammed into the kitchen for water.

"Ouch, mother fuckin' drama queen! I was not out snoggin' anyone or anythin'!" Abby replied, eyes squinted up with pain. "Arse. I was tryin' to talk 'im into going back."

"If by talking you mean shoving your tongue down his throat," Brandon mocked.

Spencer crouched, examining. "Cheeks flushed, lips swollen, pink," he stated. "Did it work?"

"Did wha' work? Oh! Sendin' 'im back to Finch?" Abby asked, blushing at his analysis. "Dunno. She's pregnant, he's scared because it ain't 'is. Probably ain't even kissed 'er yet."

A glass shattered in the kitchen.

"She's what?" came Brandon's quiet reply.

Spencer's knees thumped onto the wood. He turned Abby's face towards him. "She's what?" he repeated, fire in his eyes.

"Pregnant. So says Thad, anyway," Abby breathed, wincing back from his touch. "She's not been tested."

Spencer's face grew serious. He leaned in to kiss Abby, gently, softly. "Wait in the bedroom if you please," he whispered. "He's been drinking. And I need to speak with you. Please be careful walking through the kitchen."

"Yeah, alrigh'. Don't be too long," she murmured against his lips, kissing him again. Spencer leaned in for one more slow kiss. If he was left panting a bit, he chalked it up to still healing as he got up and headed to the kitchen. He straightened his shoulders.

"Murphy," he snapped.

"Holmes," Brandon rasped, clearly still taking in the news. Finch, his Finch, had- had- had-

"To your room," he growled, grasping Brandon's arm.

"For what? I brought the slag back when she was out messin' about on the front street," Brandon said, pulling at Spencer. "Leggo."

"For breaking my glass," Spencer said. "She'll get her own. Up. Stairs."

Brandon pulled a face, growling before he stormed up the stairs. It would've been more impressive if he hadn't stumbled over the top stair. He slammed open the door to his bedroom. Spencer covered the broken glass with a tea towel, leaning down to pull something from one of the lower cabinets. He followed Brandon at a slower, if more controlled rate.

Spencer closed the door softer than Brandon would've, turning tightly. His chest felt constricted.

Finch.

"On your knees," Spencer growled.

"Or what?" the blond boy tested.

Spencer sighed. He jerked, grabbing Brandon by the arm and kicked at the backs of his knees. "I said down," he snarled, pulling the rope he'd had set aside around Brandon's elbows with quick, but unpracticed moves. "You're being emotional."

"You're not ever emotional. Someone has to make up for it," Brandon snapped, his teeth set in a growl. Spencer tied off the knot around Brandon's ankles, forcing him into an awkward crouch.  He had a pair of scissors in his backpocket to release him quickly.

"My sister is pregnant," he said. "Being emotional won't help anyone right now. You're being irrational enough for the both of us." Spencer smacked him across the face.

Brandon's jaw flexed, eyes watering. "At least I'm not made of ice."

"No, mostly you're make of alcohol at the moment, judging by your breath," Spencer seethed, snatching Bran's chin. "So you've lost. How many pints are you going to put away now? How many shots? Shall I have a room reserved for you when you finally poison yourself with liquor?"

"I just had a few drinks with my mates from my old job," Brandon ground out between clenched teeth. "It's fine. It's fine-"

"It's not fine!" Spencer roared in his face. "What now that my sister's pregnant!?"

"Shut up!" Brandon hissed, closing his eyes. "It doesn't matter what she is. She's just havin' a baby. Lots of birds do it."

"She's doing it," Spencer said, jerking Brandon's chin back up. "And not with you."

"Stop implying-"

"There's no implying!" Spencer shouted. "You love her! You bloody love her, Bran. It's not some secret. Don't give me that 'I'm gay' shite, we all know there are exceptions. And it tears you up inside because you can't handle it!"

"She's like my sister," Brandon bit out quietly, struggling against his bonds. He threw his head, white hair fanning back out of his face. "She's havin' a baby and that's bloody grand, all well and good. Doesn't matter she's got a heart problem or nothin'. And I'm not, absolutely not, in love with her."

"Liar," Spencer said. "Lies. I'll leave you like that until you admit it. She is my sister. Not yours! Of course we both know she's daft, but she was daft to fallen in love with Mum's replacement."

Brandon looked up at him with red rimmed eyes, purple skin sagging into pale white cheeks. "Why are you doing this to me? Don't you love me?"

Spencer jerked back. "Don't pull that," he breathed, chest hurting. "Don't you- don't you do that."

"Do what? You're pushin' me. I can't love her, I don't. She's a girl," Brandon objected, eyes shining. "I repulse you. What are you so bloody upset about?"

"Wh-what?" Spencer said. He lurched forward, hacking apart the ropes with the scissors, letting them drop. He crouched in front of Brandon, cupping his face. "You think I'm repulsed by you?"

"Yeah," Brandon sniffed, wincing because even he could smell his breath. "I'm not good enough for either of you."

Spencer shook his head. "You could've- Finch loves you-" he said shaking his head. "If Abby is-" he stumbled over his words. "I could never make you feel the same."

"It's nothing, forget it," Brandon said, trying to turn his features hard, like they always were. "It's nothing. You have to have Abby. She's necessary. Even with treatment, it's not like I'm immortal. You need her. For after."

"No, no," Spencer said. "Father- Mum said that to him. Don't-" He reached for Brandon's loose hair, running his hands through it. "Don't. Because if you do, you'll have some dashing bloke steal your heart and cure you and I won't get any time at all. I- love you, Bran. It tears me apart I'm not worth you quitting the drink. Finch was able to get you better than lost, but I can't pull you back. It's killing me."

"I-" Brandon choked on his own words, pushing his head into Spencer's petting hand. "I don't know what else to do. I'm trying."

"There's the pills you can take. Make you throw up if you drink," Spencer said, voice full of sorrow. "I know your meds already make you ill- Bran, do you love me?"

Bran's jaw flexed, and his hair fell back over one eye when he nodded. "Yeah, Spencer. I love you."

"Love-love me," Spencer said, eyes hard - hurting. "Not just family love."

"I know what the question was. I'm plastered, not stupid," Bran snapped back, wincing at the harshness of his own voice. Spencer's mouth pinched as he tugged on Brandon's hair.

"And I'm angry," Spencer growled. "Do you love my sister?"

"Yeah. Like my own," Brandon said, his sneering smile back in place.

Spencer leaned into Brandon's face, pulling his hair harder. "Do you love me?"

"Yesss," the blond hissed, and something in his expression changed, enjoying the pain. Slipping.

Spencer opened his mouth, taking Brandon's lower plush lip between his teeth, biting - just so - as not to break the skin. "I'd stuff you full of my brats," he hissed.

Brandon laughed breathlessly. "Anorexic alien children with blond curls. Like statues from a horror movie."

"They'd be gorgeous and brilliant," Spencer said, tugging Brandon up as he backed to the bed. "Seeing as that's implausible, come snog me."

Brandon cackled. "Make me."

Spencer snarled, pulling on Brandon's shirt, pushing him and pulling him until he had him flat on the bed, lips being bruised by his vicious kiss. He was sliding his hands up Brandon's hot stomach, flat and silky soft. The lanky drunk boy was kissing back with equal passion, his cock growing stiff in his tight jeans.

"Spencer," Brandon panted his name.

"That's right," Spencer chuckled. "You've been holding out on me." He nibbled at Brandon's neck, sucking blooming marks as he ground their hips together. "And then you go and break my kitchen things over a little news-" He bit at Brandon's jaw as he pushed one of Brandon's wrists above his head. "Making me jealous. Drinking - making me angry."

"Ah-ah, I'm, I'm sorry." Brandon arched at the bites, gasping in a breath. "I've been so bad."

"Naughty," Spencer agreed, ripping down Brandon's trousers. He licked his lips. He wanted. Oh God, how he wanted. Maybe through latex some day, but it wouldn't be the same... He curled his fingers around the rigid cock, stroking it. "If you leave me-" he threatened, low and vicious.

"I won't," Brandon promised rashly, sweat beading on his forehead, thrusting his hips up. "Spencer, Spencer, careful-"

"Shh," Spencer said, coaxing Brandon's lips back against his own. He was going to have Brandon come. He nipped Brandon's lip again. "Come on, you gorgeous thing," he purred. "Come on. Come in my hand - Imagine it's my mouth around you. Because bloody hell, that is one amazing cock, and I want it - I want it in my mouth."

"So close," Brandon whimpered, the heat coiling in his groin. His eyes slid closed, and he nudged his lips against Spencer's. "Ah, I'm so, so close."

"Yeah? You'll stay close, Bran, because if you leave, I'll find you. I'll drag you back by those long locks of hair and tie you up good," Spencer said against Brandon's mouth, he flicked his tongue inside the hot, panting, liquor-flavored man beneath him. The possessive, dangerous talk was enough to push Brandon over the edge. He was whimpering and panting in Spencer's arms.

"Spencer," his name on Bran's lips.

Spencer gave him one last soft kiss before shoving his come covered hand against Brandon's mouth.

"Abby thinks I'm scary, frightening," he hissed. "Do you think so, Brandon?"

Brandon sputtered, shocked, against Spencer's hand. Spencer wiped his hand across Brandon's chest.

"Punishment," Spencer said, sitting up. His erection still quite visible through his trousers. "I'm not afraid of dying, Brandon. Between you, me and Finch, I've come close - and I'm not afraid of it. Between death and me? You should know who's scarier."

Brandon was still spitting out bitter come, glaring at Spencer. "You're fuckin' mad."

Spencer held up a finger. "Angry," he said, leaning in to kiss Brandon on the head. "Love you, though, whiny bitch. Have a shower and clean up your mess in the kitchen. Don't forget you've got another appointment coming up. You aren't missing this one this time."

"Fine," Brandon spat, but he didn't look as tense as he had earlier. He reached for clean clothes, digging through his drawers. "Go ask the slag why she was out mackin' on other men."

"Planning on it," Spencer said, swinging himself off the bed. Anger diffused somewhat, he felt like he could face Abby now without exploding at her. "Thank you for bringing her back home."

He headed down the stairs to wash himself up. He tossed his shirt and trousers in the hamper, making sure to scrub his hands good. Spencer caught a look at himself in the mirror. He looked completely sexed out. His cock was still happily upright in his underwear. It almost made him shy as he opened the bathroom door leading to his bedroom.

"Abs?" he said, voice still a bit rough from earlier play.

She was curled up in a ball on her bed, her knees to her chest, light purple hair falling around her shoulders. Her eyes were huge in her head. "Alright?"

"Complicated," Spencer said. "Erm, I should put on some - trousers. I'm sorry if you overheard.. any of that."

"I didn' mean to mention Finch. I'm sorry if I messed anythin' up," Abby told him solemnly.

"We're about even on the loose lips side of things," Spencer said, rummaging for a pair of flannel pants. "I'm more concerned about you snogging someone just below my flat."

"He's just upset over Finch. Thad's 'arborin' a bit of a crush on your sister," Abby said, watching him move around the flat like she was about two seconds from jumping out of the window. "I tol' 'im to go back and try again. What's it matter whose baby she's having?"

"Really? You think so?" Spencer actually laughed as he curled up on 'his' side of the bed.

"Yeah. I mean, if 'e loves her, who cares where the baby comes from?" Abby blushed, realizing what she said. "I mean, he don't love her. He just needs to get laid. Ever since Liz died, he's been a mess."

"So why not sleep with him?" Spencer said, tilting his head, curious.

Abby shook her head, scooting back to lean on the headboard. "I don't even like him. Not even a little bit. He's just a person I know. You should probably like a person if you're gon' fuck 'im."

"And yet you reset him on my pregnant sister. My ill pregnant sister," Spencer said, blinking.

"She likes him, too," Abby shrugged. "Don't you think?"

Spencer smirked. "Yeah a bit," he laughed. "Reminds me someone. Don't know who. She fell for Vance too quick. Then again-" He turned to look at her. "Sometimes your first sticks with you."

She smiled at him, eyes crinkling up. "Aww, how sweet."

"Now don't you," Spencer giggled. "I'm very cross with you!"

"Why? What 'ave I done? An', on top of which, I've already apologized!" Abby replied, lips still in a grin but her eyes gone tense.

"How are we supposed to act surprised when she tells us now!?" Spencer said. He caught her expression. "There it is again."

"We just smile and congratulate her. Besides, it's not even official according to the barmy bastard," Abby replied, taking his hand in hers. "There's what again?"

"Fear," Spencer said softly. "Just here." He touched the edge of her eye as he squeezed her hand gently. Abby winced, a minute gesture, but brought his fingers up to her lips for a kiss.

"I'm no' afraid of you," she whispered. "I'm just cautious. With everyone."

"Me especially. People are planting the seeds. Think I'm abusing you, hurting you. Because of Bran and I," he said, stroking her cheek. "It's consensual, with him." I think.

"It's alright. I know that," she replied, even though she didn't quite. Abby tilted up, brushing their lips together. "I don't mind what you do or how you do it. That's all that matters."

Spencer kissed her back. "You should. You know he's HIV positive," he whispered. "I'm careful, painfully careful, but there's always risk."

Abby nodded, swallowing. "I know, you told me. I'm- I'm trusting you, Spencer. So don't worry. I'm tryin' real 'ard to understand, to follow along. I love you."

Spencer pulled back slightly, eyes wide. He blinked.

"What."

Abby's lips turned down. "What?"

Spencer surged forward to kiss her, coaxing her purple hair through his fingers. She relaxed into the kiss, arms wrapped around his neck, holding them close. Their slight bodies slithered together so well. Spencer rolled his hips, moaning. Oh God!

"I love you, too," he gasped, breaking the kiss to kiss up her face, over her jaw and behind her ear. "For fuck's sake, I do."

"I know," Abby told him, moaning, fingers brushing through his curls. "I know you do. Fuck, Spence, you're so good-"

"Awful, I'm ruddy awful," Spencer broke in, hands sliding up her shirt. Entirely different skin, enticing him. "I love you, though, I love you both so wretchedly. You deserve so much more." He kissed down her body.

"We deserve what we want," Abby replied seriously, letting her eyes slide shut. She wondered when she started to sound so wise. "And I wan' you. Oh, fuck, Spence, I want you."

Spencer mouthed through her shirt, across her stomach. "Want to taste-" he muttered, pulling down her sleep pants, nuzzling at her. He was feeling reckless. He moaned as he put his mouth to her mons, licking at wetness, feminine flavor on his tongue.

Abby blushed. She wasn't used to that sort of intimacy with a guy, but she didn't say anything. After all, he felt so damn good, so she brushed her fingers through his hair, encouraging him. Her lips formed sweet moans that sounded like music.

"Spence-"

Spencer licked and sucked. He was an equal opportunist when it came to bits. He'd wanked to any porn he could connect with - pleasure. He wanted to give people pain and pleasure. Sometimes the former, but always the latter. He dove his fingers inside Abby's body, rubbing her clit as he alternated with his tongue, pressing kisses to her cunt, licking at her folds. He was greedy this time though, his own neglected cock hung heavy and painful in his pants.

He continued to work her with his hand as he reached for the box of condoms on the table. He swiped his mouth across his shoulder to remove some of the dampness before leaning down to kiss Abby's beautiful mouth.

"Mine," he whispered. She pushed up, kissing him again despite the taste.

"Yeah, guess so," Abby agreed, but her features were soft. "Need you."

"Coming," Spencer said, laughing as he shimmied back out of the clothes he'd put on. "In a sense." He rolled on the slippery condom, sunk into Abby's body, cradling her close. He kissed her sweetly, sighing with pleasure into her mouth. Greedy. He batted away the thought. He loved her. "Love you."

"Love you, too," Abby breathed, fingers stroking his jaw bone. 

The Outsiders Getting In

Thaddeus smiled as he lead the appointment out. He flirted and cooed, admiring the girl's new ink, and slipped her a care sheet (for once, without his phone number scribbled on it). He gave Finch time to break down and renew her set. Tonight was walk-in night. Some times it was busy, sometimes completely dead. People were still getting the word out, learning there was a tattoo shop here.

He flipped his hair, wrapping up the receipts for the evening.

He was nervous - stupidly nervous. Mostly because he didn't want to have to sleep in the shop again, but it was looking more likely. Most of his things were in one of the back rooms.

"Tea break?" Thad said, poking his head into the backroom.

Finch glanced up at him from her desk, eyebrows raised. "Okay. That sounds alright."

Thad headed back to the kitchenette, setting the kettle and two cups. He fiddled with them until the kettle was hot. He checked himself in the mirror - one thing about tattoo shops - mirrors everywhere. The cut on his face was scabbed up enough to not need a plaster anymore. He scowled, not liking it marring his face. Reminded him too much of Scarface. Stupid, stupid boyfriend.

He carried the two mugs in to Finch, offering her one.

"Good job on that last one," he said, blowing his hot drink.

"Thanks," Finch said, the worry wrinkle appearing on her forehead. "You're being sweet. Too sweet. What do you want?"

"My keys back for starters," Thad said. "But if you're feeling generous, I much prefer sleeping on a bed instead of the shop sofa. Even if I do have to listen to you and the boyfriend shag it out."

"I don't think that's a good idea. Besides, I started payin' you. Why can't you find a flat of your own?" Finch asked, tapping her pencil on the desk.

"Why can't I let out the space I was using before?" Thaddeus returned. "I don't need much. Just something with a heater, and a bed, and a place I know my meager crap isn't going to get nicked. Besides, if you just had an actual door on that place, you'd never know I existed outside the shop."

Finch huffed and sipped at her tea. "I don't want a flatmate. That's my house, and I need the space. For reasons."

Thaddeus laughed. "For what? Shagging? You've got two bedrooms and your studio is here. I think you mean boyfriend is jealous. Does he know I'm working in your shop?"

"It didn't come up when we were discussing things," Finch replied with a deep blush spreading over her pert nose. "But that doesn't matter. I can hire whatever person I like. And you won't go the fuck away anyhow."

"Oh please, the ladies love me," Thaddeus purred, setting down his half empty mug. "I rather like it here, too. I think I need a raise."

"No! You just got one. And you're in a probationary period," Finch grumped back, turning away from him and back to the laptop she'd been working on. "You might get fired."

Thad ran a nail up her spine. "Only because you're worried you're too attracted by my wild manliness," he chuckled.

"I did not give you permission to touch me!" Finch said, swatting at him. "And I'm certainly not attracted to your 'manliness'. Besides, aren't I the wrong gender for you? I was pretty sure you were lookin' for a nice bloke to settle down with."

"Where'd you get that idea?" Thad asked, dancing away from her and back. "I told you I wasn't interested in your rooster of a cousin."

"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure that's one of those things where you say you don't like him and then you shag him senseless. I mean, who wouldn't shag Brandon? He's gorgeous," Finch said, concentrating on the screen in front of her.

"Alcoholic, and a mean drunk," Thaddeus sniffed. "First person I've punched in five years, too. He got me slapped with two ASBOs and a week in lock up. No thanks." He walked two fingers across Finch's shoulder, pulling her hair back from over her collar. "From what I saw, he's got his hands full, hmm?"

Finch sighed, not even paying attention to the fact that he was touching her again. "He's got Spencer. And Spencer is a handful. And there is the HIV thing."

"Oh?" Thaddeus said quietly. "And I thought that tiny ball of rage was his only problem. There are some blokes worth shagging, but there are too many red flags with that one. Besides, blokes are just for shagging. Birds, birds are for lovin'. Hasn't there ever just been someone you wanted to snog and grope and send on their way? Nothing wrong with some good old fashioned attraction." He was purring in her ear now.

"Ew, your breath is wet," Finch said, cringing with her head tilted to her shoulder. "No. I've never, um. Wanted someone like that. Y'know, before him."

Thaddeus perched on the chair next to her, leaning on the desk. "Really?" he said, genuinely intrigued. "Never saw a girl and thought - 'oi, what luscious lips'? Never saw a bloke and thought 'damn!'?"

Finch frowned, sliding her chair away from him. "No, not really. I mean, I never had time for that. I've got school and then um, reading. I read a lot... before this."

Thaddeus slid his hand over her thigh.

"Never read a passage that had your heart racing?" he said. "Two characters so tied up in each other and you're on the edge of your seat just waiting for the tension to break."

"I said, get your hands off of me," Finch told him, eyes hard, Her fingers wrapped around his, pausing his actions. "I don't like it. I don't like you."

Thad obeyed, but his brows were raised. "We both know that isn't true."

"No, feeling guilty that Vance threw you out even though you pushed your way in in the first place is not the same as liking. I don't know you, I don't know why you're hanging around. For all I know, you're trying to hurt me or my family," Finch replied, sucking on the inside of her cheek.

Thad looked away.

"I'm trying to make peace with your family, so I might forgive my own," he said, leaning backwards on the counter with his elbows back. His long hair draped across the surface. "Maybe I like the protection. Maybe I like you. Abby is probably the closest thing I have to family left. I was with her sister, you know. Before. Years ago, we all tried to go straight. Lizzy never could do it."

"Yeah, I think you mentioned it before," Finch mumbled. "I'm sorry, by the way. About um, her death."

"Her own fault. Karma. Never should've used info Abby gave her to hurt you," Thad said, lazing back. "I did bad things, learning how to take Granmum's place. Your parents don't seem the type, but you were taught anyway. Why?"

"Because I have the word 'target' plastered on my brow," Finch said sarcastically. "And even with the amount of parents we have, there was always a risk that we'd be unprotected, even for a moment, and then taken. Or murdered. So we were taught. Sherlock seemed to think I was going to take my mum's place, but then it didn't happen. Which is fine! I am totally fine with that."

"You aren't fine with the boyfriend taking your place," Thad said, swirling around in his seat. "Which came first?" He leaned forward to look over her shoulder.

"I- I guess the boyfriend. And when Mum discovered I had one, but I mean, I mean, we weren't! We were just friends, but she took him and then, I dunno. Things just happened from there." Finch sipped her cold tea, both hands on the mug. "But I like where things led to."

"Apparently, from the sounds you were making," Thaddeus snickered.

"Oh, grow up," Finch said, rolling her eyes. "When's tomorrow's appointment due in?"

"Twelve, but you know he won't be in until one at the earliest. Why, thinking of closing up early tonight?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's been sort of slow tonight. And you're irritating me." She examined the split ends on a lock of hair. "We could use the night off."

Thaddeus gave a deep sigh. "Sure," he said. "I'll go turn off the sign and lock up."

"Look, it's just not a good idea. I do actually have plans for that space, and I did, y'know. Before-" Finch hissed as a sudden tightness ricocheted through her chest. "Hmm, that one hurt." Her hand had barely touched her body before another spasm went through her.

Thaddeus turned quickly, one hand on her back and the other on her chest. "All right?" he said, worry tinging his words.

"I- I don't-" her words were choked off in a wheeze, her chest feeling like it were weighed down by an elephant. Finch's fingertips felt numb. "Know."

Thaddeus held her, rubbing her back. "Breathe," he murmured. "Lips are turning white."

"Trying," Finch gasped, the numbness creeping up her legs. "M-Mum had this sometimes. No," gasp, "big", wheeze, "deal." And then her head lolled back, eyes rolling until the lids drooped shut.

"Shit," Thad said, holding her up. "You know he's gonna blame this on me," he said to the unconscious girl. He scooped her up, moving to lay her on the sofa while he went for a warm flannel. Seb had given him a few pointers over text - don't call an ambulance immediately unless her breathing didn't return to normal ...immediately. Don't make a fuss over it, it'll only embarrass her. And finally, keep your head. She needs someone with a brain when she can't use her own.

Thad pressed the warm wet cloth to Finch's face, checking for her breathing. Soft puffs of air hit the back of his hand. He checked her pulse. There, if a bit irregular.

"Vance," Finch mumbled, her eyes still closed.

"Try again, love," Thad said, continuing to pat her down. He pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa over her legs. "Getting yourself so worked up over little old me. It isn't that bigga, love."

Her eyes blinked open, clearly confused, but after a moment they cleared. She was still wheezing with each breath, but only a little. "I'm not your love. Don't say that."

"Shh, shh," Thad tsked. "Fightin' isn't getting us anywhere. Stop that. I'll stay here, like a pup in the doghouse, but don't go worrying your heart about old Thad."

"I don't feel nice," Finch said after a long moment of silence. "Head hurts."

Thaddeus lifting her up, laying her head on his lap and stroking over her forehead and into her crown of curls. "Lack of air to the brain," he tutted. "Your papa said something like this might happen. It's why he gave me the key. To look after you."

"Papa's mean. I don't need a babysitter," she sulked, but she was biting her lip with shy regret the moment she spoke. "Thanks, though."

"Hmm," Thad responded, moving his fingers up and through her hair. "Could've hit your head. Would've hurt a lot worse." He scrunched his fingers across her scalp. "Poor love."

"Maybe you should become a shampoo boy. You're good at rubbing scalps," Finch told him in a rare moment of praise. Her head was throbbing. "Definitely want to go home early now. I'm sleepy."

"Or you could just stay here a moment," Thad murmured. "I like it when you aren't yelling at me."

"I like it when you're not being obnoxious," Finch countered, her eyes sliding closed in a nice way. "It's diff'rent."

He smiled.

"You like it when I get under your skin," he said. "Ruffle your feathers. No one else is here to do it for me. Everyone else treats you with kid gloves. You won't know what happiness is without sadness, what love is without hate. What peace is without annoyance," he tugged a lock of hair right by her ear before going back to massaging back across her head, down her scalp and neck.

"Abby and Spencer ruffle feathers plenty," Finch complained. "I know what happiness is. And love. I love him."

"Him who?" Thad asked softly. He noticed she never called him by name. "Spencer?"

"No, m'brother." Her words were a lazy mumble. "Vance. I love Vance. Beautiful."

Thad scowled. "I hope you have many fat babies together," he said sourly, but he didn't stop his stroking.

"Exactly why I need room," Finch said before dropping off asleep, not even aware she'd muttered the words at all.

Thad's hands eventually slowed. He looked down at the girl sleeping. He couldn't reach either of their phones. It didn't matter.. to him. Did it? Filling the space he'd occupied for less than a month with tiny children - gold-red hair, tall and lanky, knees and elbows. He scowled.

It hadn't mattered in the past. Numerous beds he'd been kicked out of, jobs lost. He just padded back down with Lizzy, apologized to her, and she took him back. Something about Finch had made him fight to stay, put down roots. He liked the job at the shop. He liked her. Pining about it was ridiculous when she was all but married to his families' rival.

He stroked her soft cheek, watching as her lips parted just so in sleep, color returning to her face slowly as she warmed under the blanket. A strange flutter of his heart warned him - he was fucked.

***

Vance had shown up in the wee hours of the next morning. Thad had fallen asleep in a terribly uncomfortable position, fingers coiled in Finch's hair and thumb just resting on her pulse. Vance had lifted the sleepy girl from his lap and tossed silent scowls at him. It was a strange morning. He found himself locking up the shop - keys back from Vance to do just that, and stretching out. 

He had a crick in his neck, but he could still feel Finch's warm body against his leg. He sighed, pulling out his mobile.

[Need a place to shower, luv. Help a mate out? TB]

[It's fuckin 4 30 arsehole - abz]

[cmon, your loverboy keeping you on that short a leash? TB]

[I'll be outside in 20 TB]

[castrate you ect ect ect  - abz]

Thad grinned at his phone with sharp teeth. He hopped the Tube to Baker Street station, trying not to fall back asleep with the clack of the tracks. He scratched at his slick hair, feeling dirty. The shop was unfortunately not equipped with a shower.

[Downstairs. Don't wake Dom TB]

After a few moments the locked clicked and Abby, wearing thin pyjama bottoms and one of Spencer's tees, opened the door. "Go away. I hate mornings."

"Yeah, me too. Specially when my ex-girlfriend's dead and my boss passes out in my lap and oh yeah I got kicked out of the place I was staying," Thaddeus said, pushing inside. "I feel gross." He shivered. "God, I just need someone that made sense for five seconds."

"How'd Finch manage to get you out of her place?" Abby wondered, closing and locking the door behind her. "I thought you were pretty permanen' there."

"Meathead boyfriend," Thad grouched. "Nearly beat the shit out of me. No better than any thug."

"So get your own place. It's no' like you need to live in that flat," Abby replied, leading him up the stairs to the bathroom. "Do you?"

Thad shrugged out of his leather jacket, rolling his shoulders. "Maybe, I dunno. Liked it there," he hummed. "Why're you still here?"

Abby raised an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Um, my flat burned to the ground. By your people. Or didja forget?"

"Not my people," Thad said, removing his long sleeved shirt. He shook out his hair over his tattooed shoulders. "I fucking left that. Or did you forget?"

"Blood is blood, you ain't nevah goin' to leave that," Abby said, and it wasn't sarcastic, just a statement of fact.

Thad's blue tattoos were a strange combination of Celtic knots and Chinese whorls. He dropped his things in a chair. He never felt truly naked.

"Yeah, well, hiding out in Moriarty's den seems to be working for both of us. How long you going to stick about with the little blighter? Not really your scene, Abs," he said, tossing his chin.

"Ah, I dunno," Abby scratched at her head. She was wavering, really. "I dunno if I'm goin' to leave. And um, I mean, soon. Probably soon."

"Oh for fuck's sake, really?" Thad snickered. "We're pathetic."

"Wha'? What do you mean, really? I'm no' doin' nothin'," Abby replied, averting her eyes. "Look, I just don' know right now. Spencer is- he's somethin'. Somethin' like I've never had before."

"Where's the shower?" Thad asked.

"Here, and here's a towel. Quiet, don't wake them up. I think that dragon is still upstairs," Abby told him. "I'll make you coffee."

"Bless your wicked little heart," Thad whispered. He turned on the hot water, breathing in the scent of clean things. He needed a flat, he guessed. One can't sofa surf for nearly fifteen years and not settle down eventually.

Spencer stirred, dragging himself to the kitchen.

"All right?" he drawled, exhausted. He'd gotten another shot the day before.

"Ah, erm, yes. Your sister finally evicted the pest from her flat, only to have it turn up at yours," Abby said, filling the coffee maker with water. "He's actin' weird."

"Mmrpph," Spencer grumbled. "Gun's in the freezer. I'm knackered." He yawned. "Yell if you need me to.. erm. something or something." He continued muttering as he slid his feet back to the bedroom, flopping back onto the king sized monstrosity that was his bed.

Abby frowned, watching the little Prince flounce back to his room, muttering under her breath, "Could've used a chat, y'know, like from a boyfriend."

"What was that?" Thad said, tying the towel around his head in a twisty turban. He had on a robe that had been in the loo with his jeans. His face was pink with scrubbing.

"Nothin'. Just talking to myself," Abby replied, sighing. "You're going to go somewhere else, yeah? You're not squattin' here, I think the blond one would kill ya."

Thad snorted, sitting at the table. "Yeah, I'll probably head back to the shop," he said. "Change clothes, and I guess look for a flat. Just- disappointed, y'know? Kind of liked living there with Finch. She was fussy, bossy, and.. hell, nothing like your sister."

"Yeah. For one, she's sober," Abby agreed, rolling her thin shoulders. Her hair was already fading, it would need another dye soon. She needed a job. "Can't believe she seriously wouldn't let you kip over. I mean, the boyfriend's mean but he ain't that mean."

"Well, I might've not asked properly, an' all that. Girls seem to be particular on that. Moriarty needed to show me whose place is what. And apparently, it's not in his girl's bed," Thad smirked, undoing the towel to ruffle it through his hair. "So your boyfriend."

"What about my boyfriend?" Abby took her own mug to the table, slumping down on the wooden surface. "Got one. It's weird. Not sure I like it. No' much to tell." She looked up at him. "He's into things. Weird things."

"You love him though," Thad said, reaching for her mug, twisting it around for his own. "Despite the monster upstairs."

"Dunno. I mean, what is love, anyway? All I know abou' it is that's the thing boys will say righ' before they leave you," Abby said, drawing weird lines on the table.

"His sort don't change, you know that," Thad said. "He hasn't hurt you, has he?"

"What? No, um, no, why you ask?" Abby sat up, her face twisting into something confusion. "He wouldn't."

Thad gave her an equally evasive stare as he drank her coffee. "You never picked up with someone like this," he said. "Jus' checking you're not under some sort of..." He waved a hand.

"Yeah, can you see me takin' some shit off a guy? You know me better'n that," Abby said. Her dark eyes stared back at him. "You jus' had to go for Finch, didn't you."

"I was just havin' her on," Thad said, wishing for a cigarette. "But then she sortof, I dunno," he shrugged. "She had one of those things last night. Passed out, then fell asleep on the shop sofa. She was just sort of.." Thad tilted his head, smiling at the memory. "Like she'd never had to see the evils we've seen."

"Yeah, 'at's probably why the other bloke likes her. Finch said he was homeless when they met. Mummy took a shinin' to 'im," Abby teased.

"Tiger Papa gave me the keys," Thaddeus breathed, taking another drink of coffee. "What's that tell you?"

"You're in some deep shite, because Mummy's the one that pulls the strings," Abby sighed, slouching down. "We could have a flatshare. You an' me. I mean, you're the last person on Earth I'd want to share a flat with but, if you're lookin'."

"I suppose," Thaddeus said, still trying to figure out how he could remain close to Finch. He could never afford a flat in her neighborhood. "Thought you were cozy here?"

"I- I am. Isn't that the problem? People like us, it don't do to get too cozy anywhere. Look what 'appened to my shop," Abby replied. She sipped her coffee, wondering. "It always goes. Can't let your feet plant roots."

"That won't be happening around here," Spencer said, slightly more awake and slightly more dressed than he had been.

"Ah, the dark prince rises," Thad said.

Abby's eyes were wide, and she took a convenient gulp of scalding liquid, sputtering it out. "What are you doing awake? You're supposed to be asleep-"

"With strangers in my flat?" Spencer, brow raised behind his glasses. "Sorry, mate. No room at the inn. You're welcome to the shower, even the protection you get from hanging about-"

"Caught that did you?" Thaddeus said with a sly grin.

"Shan and McCannadys? They'd have to work together to even try putting a dent in Mum's empire, and I doubt the Irish could even nick us right now after what I asked Mum for," Spencer said, stalking around the table. Thad felt the hair on his arms rise. "Nope, you're safe as houses with us."

"I count on it."

"Excuse me if I don't believe it's as simple as that," Abby propped her head up on her arm. elbow on the wood. "What'd you ask your Mum for, pretty boy?"

"Protection," Spencer said, looking a bit nervous as he reached for a cup of coffee for himself. He usually preferred tea. "For you. Back when your place burnt, and Mum still held the reigns."

"Yeah, well, now Finch's loverboy holds the reigns. And he ain't fond of me at all," Abby said, pursing her lips.

"He'll uphold whatever Moriarty set forth," Spencer said, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Or he'll break the illusion. My sister had an episode?"

Thad nodded. "Went down, but bounced back quick. Didn't think it was worth all the blue lights to have them send her back home," he replied.

"Make sure she drinks enough when she works. She forgets," Spencer said with a frown. "Water, not fizzy drinks."

"Yes, little prince," Thad said with a tiny smile.

Spencer's hand tightened slightly on Abby's shoulder.

"Spencer," Abby warned, looking up at him. "Bit tight, don't you think?"

Spencer relaxed his hand. He leaned down to kiss Abby on the cheek. "Sorry," he whispered. "I think it's best you'd be going," he added, meeting Thad's eyes.

"Oh quite," Thaddeus said, pushing out of his seat. He left both the towel and robe on the chair. "I'll be in touch, Abs. Behave yourself, love." He winked.

"Could say the same to you," Abby replied, quirking a brow. "Don't go catchin' any wild birds."

"Only the tamest," Thaddeus said, pulling his shirt over his head. "Soft, sweet, delicate little birds. See you on Saturday. We're triple booked."

"Why would you be seein' me, then? You're too busy to 'ave friends over," Abby said, watching him dress himself.

Thad glanced from her to Spencer. "Yeah, alright," he said, grabbing his jacket. "Nother time then." The unease of the situation making him double and triple think his own emotional response to Finch. Spencer was.. intense. Controlling. Thaddeus could see why Madame Moriarty hadn't picked her younger son as her successor. The boy would've taken a precarious web of feather light deals and threats and ruled it with an iron fist too strong.

"What's goin' on?" Abby asked, pushing herself up out of her chair to look at her boyfriend. "You got a problem?"

"Finch is happy. She doesn't need that," Spencer frowned. "You weren't chummy with him, then you're offering to split a flatshare? What happened to this?"

"I'm not chummy with 'im. But I don't have to be to share a flat with 'im. I mean, y'know, maybe with you an' Bran, I dunno, you might need more privacy," Abby replied. "And he knew my sister."

"Shagged your sister," Spencer clarified, possessive. "I feel like -" He put the heel of his hand to his forehead. "Abby. I don't want to choose between you and Brandon. It's - apples and oranges. You and me and him. Could you not just.. try downstairs, like we talked about?"

Abby chewed her lip, wishing she could erase the hurt look on his face while at the same time declaring a bit of independence. "It's not that I want you to choose. I know I'm diff'rent from him. It's that, y'know-" She twisted her lip to the side. "He asked if you were 'urtin' me. An' you're not, but I don't know how this all works."

Spencer looked back at her. He took her hand, leading her to the sitting room, to the sofa and reached for the blanket.

"Come here," he said, pulling it around his shoulders and laying down.

Abby paused, wondering where the 'please' was, but she laid down as he asked, curling into him. "Alright. I'm here."

Spencer curled around her. He licked his lips, pulling off his glasses and reaching to lay them on the coffee table.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said, kissing her forehead. "Not physically, and for God's sake, not emotionally either." He looked into her eyes. "If moving out is what you need, then -" He inhaled deeply. "I'll miss you greatly, and hope we can still see each other. My father attempted to keep his lovers without compromise, and he bloody well lost the person who loved him most." He laid his cheek against her fading hair. "I don't want to lose you because I fail to communicate."

"We'll work somethin' out. You make me nervous," Abby confessed, her hand on his chest, finger curling their way into his shirt. "I don't know wha' to be aroun' you. And you need..." She glanced at the noise on the floorboards above her head. "You get up to some weird stuff. It takes time to understand that."

Spencer nodded. "I know," he said. "I know. God, just- I'm trying, trying not to be like my father, Abby. I do care for you, a good deal. I want- I want to take you out, to make sure you're safe, happy." He hugged her tightly. "I need to take care of him. Can you understand that?"

"I'm trying to," Abby replied softly. She squeezed him. "I know you need him. I'm not trying to stop that."

Spencer kissed her head. "From the sound of your friend - you don't.. do this sort of thing usually. Relationships," he said.

"No. I don't really." She nudged her head further under his chin, curled as close to him as she could manage without being absorbed. "Sex is sex. People are unreliable. People who stick about too long ask questions, people who are in the life are too flaky. Never really considered keepin' someone about on a regular basis. Just weren't done."

"Maybe we can change that - distance at first. Work back to this. We skipped a few steps, missed the negotiations - illness and injury. I can't promise monogamy, you understand that. I-" he stopped. "I won't expect the same, but please remain safe with any partners. Of course, you're welcome to stay, until you've found a flat. In my bed, or downstairs. Or kick me out of my own room if you like." He giggled softly.

"Okay, we'll see what happens," Abby agreed hesitantly, wondering what the correct response would be. Part of her was a little disappointed, but she couldn't quite figure out why. She sighed, listening to Bran's footsteps above them. Spencer loved Bran. Spencer was willing to fight for Bran. She felt sort of extra. Perhaps unnecessary. "We'll work somethin' out."

"Please don't stop being my girlfriend," Spencer whispered in her ear. "Please. I know I'm rotten at this.. normal thing, but I'm trying. Please. I want this too."

The purple haired girl took pity on his desperate murmurings, and replied, "It's okay, I'm still your girlfriend. Besides, who wants normal? Normal is boring."

Spencer snuggled down. "Back to sleep, he's just going off to work," he yawned. "You can turn on the telly if you want."

"In a bit. Get some rest," Abby said, feeling like she could nap a little herself. And then go look for a job. And then, maybe, start over again.

"Feel safer with you here," Spencer sighed. "Against me." His last word trailed off in a dozy sigh. The bit of coffee hadn't done anything but warm his stomach. It was much, much too early for the late night crime chaser. He had an uncomfortable sense of worry, but he would either fly or fall. For once, he had the chance to make the choices on his own.

***

Vance had taken a sleepy Finch from Thad's arms. He driven her home, and brought her up to the loft. He'd stayed up all night worrying over her. Sometimes her work kept her late, but late became too late and he checked the cameras. Watching her pass out was worse than the first time. Especially since it was into Thaddeus's arms - again.

He kept his anger buried deep when he went to pick her up. He didn't understand it, but she didn't like him being mean to Thad. Coworker, maybe friend - Finch always said she didn't have friends. Maybe she'd made one when he'd been away. It didn't help that the friend was an attractive male.

He hadn't considered that. He rolled over, pulling Finch closer to him.

She'd made a friend. He'd been unreasonable thinking she might be unfaithful just because of his mistrust. He needed to trust his girlfriend, his lover. 

He stroked her hair. She was lightly pink in the warmth of their cocoon. 

"Hey, baby bird," he murmured.

"Mmm, Vance," Finch said, cuddling into him. She stretched, curling her toes. "Too early. G'sleep."

"It's growing close to noon," he laughed softly. "Gave me a scare there. Again. Have you remembered your pill?"

"I remembered," she replied, before starting, her heart racing in her chest. "Oh! Oh, God! I have an appointment at one, I'm meant to be at work!"

Vance pressed a hand to her chest, pressing her back down. "Hold on, love, down," he said. "Calm down. Let me fix you some lunch, alright? Take your next dose and get some food in your stomach?"

"I'm alright," Finch said, but she laid back down next to him. The space was warm and cozy. She laced her fingers with his, holding his hand. "I didn't forget my dose. I've even set an alarm so I wouldn't forget."

Vance smiled, looking down at her. He stroked his thumb over her warm hand.

"That's a girl," he cheered. "I was thinking. Maybe we should get a dog."

"I don't want a dog. You're always away, I'd have to walk it. I'm not much for pickin' up after an animal," Finch said, squeezing his hand.

"But they make them service dogs. Train 'em to catch people afore they have seizures and such," Vance countered. "And I'm not going anywhere. Your mum's givin' me gopher people, and your dad and Jack're teaching me who to trust. Put in my own people, so I can stay in London. It was about getting my face known to the biggest players. They bloody well know now. So maybe we could could get them to train up a service dog to help with your things."

"Oh fuck no!" Finch pushed away from him, shaking her head. "I'm not blind or, or disabled. Mum never had a damn dog!"

"But puppies..." Vance said. "Alright, fine. It's just.. if you'd been alone last nigh'..." He frowned. "Your Mum had people."

"Vance, we've been over this." Her lower lip jutted out, and she laid her head back down. "This doesn't change anything. It's going to be fine. Mum was always fine."

Vance stroked down her side.

"Your Mum had a stroke. Not much older than you are now," he whispered. "It's what put her in a wheelchair, ruint her legs. She had everyone around her when it happened too."

"She probably only had a stroke to spite Sherlock. Vance, I'm not in danger. Things aren't what they were twenty years ago," Finch told him. She brushed his jaw with her fingers. "You worry. You and everyone else, you all worry so much, and I'm never allowed to handle anything on my own. I don't know what to do with you."

"Kiss me," Vance said, wicked grin on his face. She grinned back and did just that.

"There. Now what?" Finch asked.

"Don't have a stroke to spite me," Vance huffed, nuzzling her cheek. "Any lingering feelings. Chest hurt?" he asked, running a hand between her breasts.

"Not really." She kissed his forehead, and then his cheek. "I'm really going to be fine."

Vance caught her lips with his own, covering her body protectively. He licked along her jaw, suckling at her neck, giving it little nips of his teeth. He growled in his chest. Finch giggled.

"Try not to remind me of my father while we're making out."

"Hmm?" Vance wondered. "He is a bit rumbly." He laughed, sucking a place on the other side of her neck. "Who should I remind you of? Hm? Thinking of me? You still owe me a tattoo, bird."

Finch gasped, his mouth causing her to buck forward a little, pressing their bodies close. "Did you, erm, ah- um, decide what you want? I mean, I mean, as a tattoo!"

Vance chuckled, slipping his hand down the front of her pants. "I was hoping you'd come up with something for me, lovely girl. Something to go right over my heart," he murmured in her ear, nibbling at her lobe.

She snorted, leaning her head on his shoulder to hide the giggles. "You'd better choose something before I plaster a large picture of a finch on your chest. Just because."

"Yes, the fierce finch," he chuckled. "I'll be the nightmare of every madman."

"Then pick something," she countered, biting his shoulder for laughing at her. "Or don't. I don't have to tattoo you. I like your body like it is."

Vance hissed. "You do?" he asked, stroking over her folds, kissing along her collar bone. Her cunt was quickly becoming wet for him, her mouth gasping out little breaths. It was like every time for her was the first time, new and exciting.

"Yes, I love you," she breathed, torn between touching him back and just enjoying being spoiled. Wanting more. She settled on drawing lazy circles over his back. "I love how you look."

Vance gave a muffled moan against her neck. "I love you, too," he panted. "You're wet-" he gasped.

"You're gorgeous," Finch replied, mouthing at his throat. "More?"

"Time before your appointment?" Vance asked, breathless as he gave her a wolfish grin. She nodded furiously.

"I'm already late. Might as well be later than late." She kissed him, hard, pulling him in against her.

Vance's tongue delved deep inside her as he coaxed more of her wetness out along her body. He pushed down the pyjamas he'd gotten her into, and pulled down his own sweatpants. His cock curved upwards, nothing to sneeze at. He laid back out on her, pulling her in for a kiss as he arched, pressing inside her with a hum.

Their bodies together were warm and sweet. Vance stroked Finch's hair, jaw, keeping their lips locked as he rocked into her. She was always so sweetly responsive to him, legs wrapped around his slight body, hips eagerly meeting his thrust for thrust. Her arms hugged him close.

"You can't believe how many nights I missed this," Vance murmured rapidly in her ear. "Feeling you, smelling you, tasting you. Beautiful memori- ah!" He bit his lip, pressing his lips back against Finch's to nip at her's. "Fuck."

"Missed you. Needed you- so, so much," Finch replied in breathy whispers. "Ah, umm, only you. Waited just for you."

"I know," Vance said. "I-ah, trusted you." He bit down on her neck, arching as he grasped her legs, setting up a faster pace. He played her body like a well tuned fiddle, bringing them both over, until they were a sweaty mess of love and twisted limbs. He panted heavily into Finch's ear, body draped over hers as his cock softened inside her. "I trust ya, y'know that, right?"

Finch nodded, playing with Vance's sweat-damp hair. "Mmhmm. I know you do. I trust you, too."

"Mmm, that makes me want to go back to sleep," he teased. "No rest for the wicked, bird. I'll bring you coffee to the shop."

"Pity you're going to sleep," Finch giggled, inching out of the loft. "I'm going to take a shower. It gets so lonely in there, all alone..."

Vance was crawling after her with a cackle. He was insatiable since he'd returned home. Once the interloper was gone, they could walk about naked, shag anywhere in the flat. It was- remarkable. He was madly, madly in love with her. She made the dark world he cared for worth it.

Dripping and tucked in towels, Vance ruffled a third towel through Finch's curls.

"Your mum's set me up for a specialist," he said.

"A specialist? For what?" Finch asked, her voice muffled by the towel.

Vance cupped it on either side of her face. "My eyes, er well," he tilted his head away from the bad side. The scarring never did turn entirely silvery. It was still pinkish in places, especially after a hot shower. His scarred cornea made his eye cloudy and silvery. "See if any vision can't be fix't. Or make the scarring less inside. Sure it makes me look like a Bond villain, but it ain't real good when things are tense."

"Oh," Finch said, her mouth forming a puckery little 'o' shape, looking just a little disappointed. She tried to brighten her expression. "That's good. I know it bothers you."

"An' I know you're fond of it," Vance said, tugging her closer. "They aren't touching the rugged scar, just the internal bits. It ain't promising, but they may shoot a laser at my good eye, make it perfect sight least. I cannae see as well as I like, bird, and I wanna keep seeing you."

"I want to keep seeing you, too," Finch whispered, holding him tight. "No matter what your face looks like, I shall love you either way. I don't want you to get hurt because of your eye."

"An' I don't want you hurt cos of your heart," Vance said, kissing the top of her wet curls. "Least that idiot took care of ya, Wanker."

"Yeah, he usually does," Finch said, not even realizing how it sounded. "Makes me eat all sorts of things that look like twigs and bits, and always harps on about exercise. Meanwhile, never read any of the Narnia books or the Lord of the Rings, at all. Apparently, he can't sit still long enough."

"Not even the Lion, Witch, and the Wardrobe?!" Vance said, looking startled. "The Hobbit?"

"I know, he's an uncultured swine," Finch replied solemnly.

"Heathen," Vance sneered. "Bet he hadn't even touched a Rowling book. The woman made British fictional lit a milestone. I fear for your intelligence, my love. Don't let him brainleech you." He kissed her forehead.

"Never," Finch agreed happily, entirely too pleased that Vance had turned out to be a reader. She didn't think she'd ever like a man who didn't like books. "I'm late. Will you be here when I come home?"

"Hmm, I have a meeting at nine, and a thing a bit after," Vance said. "What time are you home?"

"One, maybe two. Depends on how the night goes," Finch stood to pull on her jeans and tee shirt. She kissed him again. "Be safe."

"Always, bird," Vance promised. "I'll be home. Swear it."