Wade and Scotty were walking back into he camp, covered in dirt and mud while debating vigorously under their breath.

  “And what mischief have you two been up to!” a warm voice called from behind them.

  Both whipped around to see Godkiller Thresher striding towards them in all his black-clad glory.

  The Banes didn’t salute—they weren’t the military—but both of them made a good show of straightening their posture and looking a little uncomfortable and over-awed (as any regular person would).

  “Nothing, sir. Just training in the woods,” Wade said.

  The mask tilted up and down, taking in the filthy state of their clothes everywhere but the very visible transition at their wrists where gloves had saved their skin from the mess.

  “Really? Come, tell me more.”

  Without looking to see if he would be obeyed, Godkiller strode to his tent. Neither of them looked too closely at the figure. The obfuscation enchantments made his steps seem uneven, and their heads would hurt if they tried to compare his height too closely to anything he passed.

  Before too long, the three of them were back in the big tent, all three standing as Thresher dug through a chest at the foot of his cot to give them small packets of electrolyte-flavoring for their water bottles.

  “Damn difficult to find the two of you today,” he said, voice cheerful while he played host as well as the environment allowed.

  “I needed to work on my Mark, but today’s work was simple enough that we were able to multitask.”

  “Got in a little training then?”

  “We tried to keep physically active, sir,” Wade said.

  Then Scotty spoke up, having previously been silenced by the water bottle lid held in his mouth. “We dicked around like idiots while Wade did his usual inexplicable, magical bullshit.”

  Wade’s shoulders slumped, but Thresher just barked out a laugh and clapped his hands together once. “Wonderful! It looks like you two made an obstacle course. Or was it mud wrestling? I’d love to join in and not have to be perfectly presentable one hundred percent of the time.”

  “Well…” the Were started to say.

  “It’s hard to dick around when the boss is watching,” Scotty interjected.

  Thresher put a gloved hand to his heart, flinching like he had been hit. “Don’t say that! I may have more experience, but I’m just another one of the guys!”

  Scotty waved his protest away, “You know that, and I know that, but junior over there,” he waved at Wade, “has had a stick rammed up his ass. For some inexplicable, shark-eyed reason, he feels like anyone seeing him have fun will result in the world ending, or his moral character dissolving into lassitude and degeneracy.”

  Rather than start an embarrassing argument in front of Thresher—the man who had given him purpose and done every possible thing to help him— Wade just grit his teeth.

  “Guys,” Thresher said, too distracted by the allegations of him being responsible, “this is me. What is it that I always tell you?”

  “Mental health is core to physical health?” Wade said.

  “No,” said Scotty. “I think he always says something about how capitalism is the real looming threat on the horizon.”

  “No. I mean,” Thresher, tapped at the mask covering his face, ”well, those are both excellent points. BUT what I always tell you is that we only need to kill cryptos, not the party. We’re all adults, right? We can have fun. Sure, we swim in a sea of blood, but that doesn’t mean you can’t bring an inner tube and a drink!”

  Without asking for permission, Wade sat on the cot and shook his head. “Is this a morale thing? Because I’m fine, I don’t need a morale boost.”

  “Oh ho ho,” Thresher chuckled, sliding over to Scotty and elbowing his ribs. “You hear that? I think our friend here may have done something last night to lift his spirits.”

  “What?” blinked Scotty.

  “He and our newest co-worker left my tent together.”

  “I know. They woke me up, and we all hung out until Shilloh headed in.”

  “Yes, but they— Wait, Wade? Was I reading things wrong the whole time? I could have sworn…”

  He trailed off, and Wade would have been happy to leave it at that, but when Scotty burst out laughing, he couldn’t help but smile himself.

  “We’re together now,” he said, smiling loudly even if his voice was somewhat subdued, like he couldn’t believe it himself. “We’re not together forever, or soul-bonded. But we’re exclusive and going to keep seeing each other to see how things turn out.”

  “And you didn’t tell me!”

  Scotty slapped Thresher on the back, “Don’t worry. He’s not sharing any scandalous details. He said they kissed, that she was a good kisser, and then he just kept talking about how awesome she is.”

  “First, that's great! Second, I respect your decision to maintain your partner's privacy. Still, without going into details, I have to ask, did you use what I gave you?”

  Scotty raised an eyebrow and glanced at Wade. “Did he try to sneak you a sex toy, or something weird again?”

  “No,” Wade laughed, “not this time. He just pretended to shake my hand and slid me a nice square of dark chocolate.”

  “After care is vital!” Thresher boomed. “But what about the rest?”

  Wade came to his feet, brushed off his hands, and started moving towards the door. “I am ignoring every thought related to you having condoms and travel packets of vaseline. I refuse to consider it.”

  “Don’t be a child. It’s like I always tell—”

  “Refuse!” Wade said, pushing Scotty out the tent flap.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Come on.”

  They went two steps outside before stopping.

  When Scotty turned around, Wade held a finger to his lips and raised his other hand, its fingers counting down from five.

  At three, he poked his head back into the tent and said, “Shilloh loved the chocolate, by the way.”

  Then he ran away from the tent at a dead sprint, laughing at the muffled cry coming from behind them.

  ~~~

  After another hour of hanging out, Scotty left him at a little picnic bench they had carried off to a private spot close to the mess.

  His best friend had been kind. He hadn’t pushed for any details after Wade told him that everything was happening so quickly that he had an irrational fear of jinxing things. Instead, the man had helped Wade wash his clothes in a basin to get rid of the stains from their morning and endured an endless monologue about Shilloh’s virtues. He had even contributed several ideas for small romantic dates on-site.

  It was so nice. Scotty approved, Frost approved, and he bet his family would love her. It made him actually want to take a Christmas off for the first time in years. As his friend left, he sat on the bench, elbows on his knees, eyes unfocused, and a smile on his face.

  Until Jasque stormed over from the treeline. He was so furious that he didn’t even activate the disguised wards he wore on his equipment belt before he started snarling in Wade’s face.

  “Why the fuck didn’t you come to me before you decided to start thinking with your dick! Do you have any idea how much harder you’ve made everything!”

  Wade jumped up, hands lifted. Jasque didn’t shout; he hadn’t since the early days when Wade had almost gotten people killed. The shock of it made him take a step backwards.

  “Jasque? What are—”

  “No,” the other man growled, matching Wade’s backwards progress step for step so he could stay in his face. “I don’t need your lies of omission and ‘creative’ truths. Do you think I don’t keep an eye on you? Do you think I’m some incompetent who would forget the stakes and let you out of my sight? No, Wade, I still remember what’s on the line. So I keep my mind on the goddamned mission and watch while you stuff your face with Scotty, and fuck around in the mud instead of training.”

  He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His hands were still raised, but his lungs wouldn’t move. In fact, the only movement he was capable of was backpedaling while his hands shook.

  “I let it pass because my job was to make you into something, and I know you’re not there yet. I can’t hold you to those standards yet, even if you should have been there two years ago.

  But the dryad? I know you think you try hard, and that we’ve talked about how insignificant giving up dating is compared to the apocalypse. So what the fuck were you thinking! How can you look yourself in the face? Can’t you hear the prayers you’ll make the next time you’re standing at another avoidable funeral that you weren’t good enough, weren’t prepared enough, to prevent? Don’t you remember those, Wade? You’ve caused plenty.”

  Wade’s heel got caught, and he stumbled back, falling on his ass and instantly going into a back roll. But when he tried to stand, Jasque shoved him so he fell on his back.

  “Yeah, exactly. You fell on the ground just like this when you left Anderson’s side open for that claw. And you promised me, night after night, each time you threw up and didn’t think you could do another rep, that you wouldn’t ever let it happen again. So just tell me, Wade, what were you thinking? Were you even thinking about Anderson and his fucking kid?”

  “Frost approved, I thought—”

  “YOU DON’T THINK!” The Slayer screamed, moving into Wade’s space. But, with a visible effort, he ripped himself away, forced himself to look up at the canopy of trees above them, and ground his teeth before finally glaring down at Wade.

  “You don’t think, Wade. That's your whole fucking deal. Your power is so much bigger than your goddamn brain. And, to make things even worse, this moment here may actually be your peak of mental functioning,” Jasque sneered in disgust at where he was sprawled on the ground. “What little common sense you have is going to snap one day. We all know that. Jesus, we mention it every week. That's why I’m here, putting in the work behind every good deed you do, and stopping all the chaos that will come when your claymore of brain explodes. Your inability to think, for us to even know if you’ll be able to think in the next few months, is why I was put here. So tell me, what comes first, Wade?”

  “Mask and mission,” he whispered, numb with shock.

  “Exactly. And what does mask and mission require of you?”

  “Competence and sanity.”

  Jasque crouched and spoke with all of his formerly booming rage compressed into simmering resentment. “That's what we say; what I had you practice. But we both know it’s bullshit. So many people are hurt because of your inaction every day. We all risk our lives, so we can catch bullets you should have been smart enough to never cross paths with. Still, competence and sanity; that's the only thing I’ve asked of you, the pittance I’ve begged and scraped for. It shouldn’t be hard. I have filled in for each of your flaws and bullshit excuses, babying your unstable brain because you were given the greatest opportunity in the world and not even the reliability of an average middle schooler. Do you know how many other people with your job have to have minders?”

  None, the answer was none. But he couldn’t make himself speak. The thought of saying something wrong, even if he knew it was true, paralyzed his lungs.

  He really was pathetic. Jasque was right

  “Exactly,” the minder said. “Thresher has to be kind to you. He has to egg you on. For the people who can’t keep their own shit on track, that’s his role. He is the morale booster and the good cop. But let's be honest, as much as he says he trusts you, there’s a reason he put me in your life; why he gave me the order to spray your brains over the wall if a hint of doubt ever hits me.”

  The dark-haired man jabbed a finger at him, his usually calm and discerning eyes glimmering with black fury. “On your feet.”

  Instinctively, Wade scrambled up, but he swayed while he did. His body felt so far away, like he was watching all of this from down a tunnel. Someone was yelling at a pair of ears a lot like his, and blood was beading on a pair of scraped palms that looked like his. They just couldn’t be his. All he felt was a thick haunted-house fog pressing in on him from all directions while he watched this scene from far away.

  That and a deep, thrumming sense of horrific vindication; he had been right all along. Some part of him knew the assurances were fake, that the promises to help him, to stop these awful things from happening again, had been false.

  It was masochistically satisfying to be proven right. Probably what someone felt like when they watched their spouse die of the lung cancer they had warned about since the first cigarette. Or to see a nuclear reactor hit the red after years of supervisors ignoring their concerns.

  “Why did you sacrifice?” Jasque asked.

  Wade blinked.

  “Why did you sacrifice!”

  “So other don’t have to!” he bellowed back.

  Jasque visibly fought down his anger. “How many days did you skip food, and sleep, and family? Years Wade. The answer is years. You saved so many people from having to start their own militias or flee through the woods as their city burned. All because you knew to say ‘no’ to your bed and trek through the woods for them. But a half-human, wet-hole, was all it took for all those people to stop mattering?”

  Something shone through the fog. It was an orange glow. The spark of flame. Wade oriented on it and leaned forward, “What did you just call Shi—”

  All of the sudden, Jasque was roaring in his face, “I said that a piece of ass was all it took for you to just walk away!”

  Wade reeled. Literally, Wade stumbled back, and Jasque followed, finger jabbing into his chest. “I should have known! You can’t even control your fat fucking mouth around a Twinkie! So why should I be surprised? Something that looked like a woman? Something that would say you were a special princess who would have everything work out even if you stopped caring? Of course, someone like you would take that with both hands. Isn’t that right, Wade! Was that all it took for you to walk away!”

  Before he could answer, Jasque was hauling him by the shirt away from the mess and towards a different camp, “We’re getting the healer, and we’re going to remind you of what your choices will make other people feel—”

  In a sudden blur of motion, Jasque released him, stepped away, and completely changed his body language.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Back in the direction of the mess, Scotty was letting two trays of food drop on the ground.

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