Richard was out of cigarettes.

He had forgotten to grab them after his fight with Don, and the pack he had on him when he had left had only lasted him a week.... He couldn't believe it had been less than a week.

It had been about four days since he had shown up at Dashlie's door, red eyes puffy and gruff voice hoarser than usual. She had obviously bombarded him with questions that he had been too tired to answer, but had let him crash on the couch for the night. And the next. And the next. In fact, he hadn't left her house at all except to smoke. Dashlie hated the habit even more than Don did and refused to let him do it in the house. Richard knew that they were right, that it was a terrible habit, but it cleared his mind and helped numb the almost permanent headache he seemed to have. The one that was currently buzzing against his temples.

He groaned. Said headache was the reason he was struggling to concentrate on his work. At least that was what he was choosing to blame for it. The coffee table in front of him had half-finished blueprints and designs strewn across its surface, some nearly completed, others nothing more than a few rough buildings that had been furiously scribbled out. A few of them had been stained by coffee rings and the remnants of energy drinks and pencil shavings from the days prior. As someone who usually kept a somewhat tidy workspace, the clutter in front of him made his skin crawl. He'd get around to cleaning it... eventually.

He was brought out of his thoughts by something hitting him in the chest. He looked up to see red eyes framed by wild white hair. Picking up the object that had hit him, he realized it was his cellphone.

"Call him."

"I can't." Dick sat up, choosing to avoid meeting the woman's eyes in favor of putting his phone to the side and picking up his pencil, gazing sightlessly at the diagram in front of him, "I'm working." Dick fought to maintain eye contact with his blueprint as Dashlie walked over to stand behind the couch, looking at his work over his shoulder.

"Isn't that the same one you were working on yesterday?"

"... I had to go back to it and redo something."

"Ah yes," Dashlie snarked, leaning down, "I can see that you've added a little turtle in a bow-tie on the corner. I'm sure your project manager will love that for the building."

"Yeah, well, maybe he will." Dick snapped. "Now can you get out so I can focus?"

Instead, Dashlie leaned further over the back of the couch to grab his phone, once again shoving the device in front of him. "Call him."

Dick just looked back at her. Outside the sound of rain served as the perfect background for the gloomy atmosphere of the room. It had started raining last night, finally, a break from the oppressive heat that had marked most of the summer so far, and had quickly become torrential. It didn't look like it would be stopping anytime soon.

Dashlie didn't back down. Hands on her hips, she glared at him, red eyes icy with a fierceness that just barely failed to conceal her concern.

Dick sighed. "Why should I? You know how he is. Once Don decides on something, he doesn't go back. He's so-"

"Stubborn? Pig-headed? Headstrong? Geez, that's soooo frustrating. How could anyone deal with someone like that?" Dashlie quipped with a pointed glare at Richard, one that he completely missed.

"I know! He's impossible!"

Dashlie nodded. "Yes, you both are, yet for some reason I put up with you. So call. Him."

With no actual intention of appeasing his host, Dick picked up his phone and tried to turn it on. "It's dead." That being that, he shuffled the device into his pocket and reached for one of the mugs that he hoped contained coffee sitting in front of him. Dashlie beat him to it, grabbing the mug and slamming it aside as she glared down at the table in disgust.

"Look," Dashlie said, sticking her hip out and blowing a strand of hair out of her face. "I've been super nice and patient with you cause you're my friend or whatever-" Dick raised an eye at this. 'Patient' and 'nice' weren't adjectives he would normally use to describe Dashlie. After receiving a harsh glare from the woman, Dick decided to keep his mouth shut. "But this has got to stop." she continued. "I know you miss him, and he misses you too. I've let you stay here and use up all my hot water while you cry in the shower for the first three days of-"

"I haven't been crying!" Dick was quick to deny, sitting up on the couch and attempting to look more put together than he did.

Dashlie rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah? Then what were you doing for so long? You definitely don't know a good enough hair care routine to warrant the amount of time you spend in there."

"I don't spend that long!" Dick shot back. "And I take great care of my hair."

Dick didn't think it was possible for Dashlie to look any more unimpressed than she currently did, but somehow she managed. "Your beard looks like a wet rat."

It was a harmless quip, something that was a staple of their unique friendship, but Richard found himself scowling, annoyance quickly turning to anger. "Look, if you want me to leave, just say so!

Dashlie sighed. "Dick, you know that's not what this is about. I just-" but Dick didn't let her finish.

"Oh yeah? Do I know?" he shouted, "Cause apparently I don't know anything! I thought I knew I was wanted at my own house! I thought I knew that my boyfriend loves me more than he hates himself, that despite everything we may finally be able to have a normal, happy life together, but nooo, Of course not! I should have known better, I should have known better with all of it, and the fact that I didn't just proves that I'm an oblivious idiot, so maybe I don't know that you don't want me here, Dashlie, maybe you hate me too! And why wouldn't you?" Dick's hands had begun to shake and he subconsciously clenched them into fists. "I'm so pathetic I can't even tell when my best friend is suffering until it's too late, and then I can't focus on anything else cause it's all I can think about!! And you're not helping either, cause you won't stop badgering me about this thing that's already bugging me, or leave me alone long enough to let me do my job! You're not helping! If anything you're making it w-worse!" Dick's voice broke as he said the familiar words that had been twisting around his head, turning his mind into a storm ever since his fight with Don. He cringed as he realized how harsh he had sounded.

Dashlie let him yell and for once did not return fire. She just stood there, staring down at him, that look of concern in her eyes only growing. It was only when his chest heaved that Dick realized his own eyes were damp. He brought a hand up to his mouth, fruitlessly attempting to conceal the growing tremble of his lip. He bit his tongue, but it did little to silence the choked sob that demanded to be released. He tried to turn away. He didn't want to deal with Dashlie right now. He didn't want another person to see him so broken up over something as stupid as a relationship. There was no way Dashlie would understand any of it. She would probably tell him to suck it up or stop acting like Duni and get a grip. He was better than this.

Instead, after a moment of hesitation, she took a few steps to reach the other side of the couch then sat down, pulling Richard into an awkward side-hug. "This really was different from your usual fights, huh?" She murmured, not needing an answer for the pointless question.

"I just miss him." Richard said. And it was true. Richard would never have thought it was possible to miss another person this much. Even though him and Don had only been living together together for a bit over a year, Dick found that he had gotten surprisingly attached to the routine they had developed. For the past few days, waking up and finding no temperamental jester lying next to him or even in the other room during those times when Don just couldn't let down his guard and allow himself the comfort of physical touch that he both avoided yet so desperately craved, had been more damaging to Richard's peace of mind than Dashlie's cheap couch was to his back. It was during those mornings, as well as the late nights when he forced himself to work to avoid sleeping, that he came closest to listening to Dashlie and calling Don, if just to make sure that he was still there, was still ok. So then Richard himself could feel ok.

"I know." Dashlie said, and Dick figured that he had been unfair. Dashlie probably did know at some level, having been there for their entire relationship, arguably being a big part of it, giving it the pushes it needed at times when neither he nor Don were prepared to give them.

Feeling as though the silence prompted him to speak, Dick continued, "we just left things so terribly... I wish I had more of a sense of where we're standing now."

"You could always find that out by calling him, you know." Dashlie pushed gently. Too drained to argue, Richard just sighed.

"I don't want to talk to him over the phone, I'm not-" Dick huffed, trying to explain, "It's hard to tell what Don's feeling over the phone. He's gotten a lot better at expressing his emotions, especially through body language, but neither of us are all that good at vocal inflections."

Dashlie tilted her head in thought. "That's a very mature observation for you."

Dick chuckled dryly. "Don't sound so surprised."

They fell once again into silence, rolling thunder and muffled rain the only signs that time was passing. Richard let his chin rest comfortably on Dashlie's head, which she placed in the crook of his neck. Still holding him in that slightly awkward side-hug, she stroked his hair somewhat roughly in an appreciated attempt to offer comfort.

"I just wish we could forget that this ever happened." Dick said, bringing his hands up to rub his face. "Then everything would be fine."

"Would it?" Dashlie asked, and Richard tilted his head, prompting her to explain. "Even if you guys didn't fight about it, those feelings would still be there. The more you two ignore or refuse to address them, the more it's gonna hurt when they're eventually brought up. Feelings don't just disappear. Forgetting won't help either of you in the long run."

It was Dick's turn to comment on Dashlies's surprisingly mature statement, to which she responded by mumbling about him living up to his name and hitting him lightly in the arm.

"Hey, you will let me know when I overstay my welcome, yeah?" Dick asked a little later. "I don't wanna be one of those people who goes through a break up and then ruins his friend's lives because of it. I could always stay with someone whose life I don't mind ruining. Like a motel. Or Duni."

Dashlie snorted. "Please. And what kind of friend would that make me if I made you stay with Duni?" Dashlie cringed at the idea, causing Dick to chuckle. Then there was silence again.

"Do you really think you're gonna break up?" Dashlie asked, barely willing to give voice to the thought.

"I don't know." Richard's voice was uncharacteristically quiet, fragile, as if it could be broken by a light breeze or ill-intended glare.

Dick hated it, and as the silence stretched on, he found it changing from comfortable to unbearable. He itched for a cigarette. Then at least he'd have a reason not to talk.

"Any chance I can convince you to grab me some more cigarettes while you're feeling so nice?" Dick coaxed with no real hope of success. As he expected, Dashlie snorted and flicked him in the head, pushing off of him and standing up."

"No chance. You may really be selling the pathetic sad-sack thing right now, but you'll have to be on your deathbed before I go out of my way to actually support your disgusting habit. Those things are nasty."

Dick sighed, about ready to accept that he'd just have to go without a smoke today when Dashlie turned, eyes suddenly bright with an idea.

"You know what? Get them yourself."

Dick groaned, leaning back over his blueprints as he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, sorry mom," Dick mocked, "I won't ask ya-"

"No, I'm serious, get them yourself. You haven't left my house in days. Get out and do something with yourself. Some fresh air will help you feel better."

Dick scoffed, "wow, now you really sound like a mother." This apparently drained up the last bit of Dashlie's goodwill as she proceeded to shriek and whack him on the shoulder until she had succeeded in chasing him off the couch. She barely gave him time to get dressed before she was shoving him towards the door.

"And pick up some flowers while you're out, the nice kind, don't just pick some weeds this time."

"Wha- flowers?!" Dick asked, baffled as he stumbled into his shoes which were next to Dashlie's own wet boots. "Where am I supposed to find a place that sells cigarettes and flowers?"

Dashlie rolled her eyes. "The gas station off Adam's street and Riggly's Ridge, the weirdo there sells everything."

"That's halfway across town! I-"

"Not my problem~!" and with a final shove, Dick found himself standing in the doorway outside, hair already becoming damp in the pouring rain.

"Dashlie, wha-?"

"Don't come back till you're done!" Dashlie shoved an umbrella in his hands and slammed the door. Dick heard her cackling as she locked it, leaving him standing there slightly stunned. After a moment of processing, he blinked, opened the umbrella and shot a glare back at the little house. "Crazy witch" he murmured.

Grumbling, he made his way to the ford f 150 he had driven here four days ago. The old truck was beat up, painted bronze to disguise the rust, and missing half of its back license plate. The smell of gasoline that usually clung to the truck seemed somehow more intense as it contrasted the earthy smell of the rain and many plants Dashlie had in her garden, courtesy of Duni. Dick sighed and got in the car. It took a moment to start up, protesting as he turned the key, trying its best to mimic the sound Ddawn made, crashing down a warehouse staircase that one time his scanners had malfunctioned. Dick smirked at the fond memory as the truck finally sputtered to life, and soon he was heading out onto the rundown streets of his little town.

...

The rain beat heavily on the windshield as Richard finally turned the truck in the direction of the gas station, noticing his tank was nearly empty. He had decided to take a roundabout way of getting there, meandering around the desolate streets. It hadn't been long, maybe 15 minutes, but that was more than enough to travel most of the way around his small town. Dick didn't really care much about the place, but driving through it like this was... pleasant.

It wasn't a big town, heck, calling it a town at all was generous. It was a couple dozen spread out houses, a movie theater that only played films from ten years ago, a local produce store, a park, the sheriff's station, Dashlie's bakery, a worn-down collection of books that counted as a library, and a port with a boat that ran to the mainland once a day. Few outsiders visited, and those that did never stayed long. While by no means a bustling place on the clearest of days, with the current weather it was practically abandoned. Even though Richard was usually one who preferred things to be quiet, something about the empty town around him now sent prickles of anxiety down his back as he drove through, putting him on edge. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. A little voice in the back of his mind scolded him, telling him he knew that he'd still feel this way even if the town was packed bumper to bumper. His agitation couldn't be blamed on his surroundings. Still, everything just felt different. Wrong.

Dick sighed. Turning down the road that led out of town towards the gas station, he briefly considered just driving past it. Continuing down the road would take him to the highway, and from there it was a few days' trip to the next populated area. Most people only took the boat, but the road still worked fine and the idea of just driving away from everything was tempting... There was no real point in going back to Dashlie's house. She'd just keep bugging him to call Don, and... Dick rubbed a hand over his face, momentarily displacing his glasses as he pushed into his tired eyes. In all honesty, he didn't even know why he was avoiding Don. Yeah he was pissed, beyond mad, but under the anger he was just... hurt. Richard was used to being angry. He knew how to handle that. Scream, fight, go for a walk, talk with his friends, annoy his counterpart, mess with Ddawn... but whatever feeling he was dealing with now was different. It was a thin layer of anger covering deeper feelings that were harder to identify, due to them all being tangled and twisted up with one another. There was sadness and pain, all the good stuff, but also a gnawing discomfort that screamed that something was off, and that whatever it was, was all Dick's fault. And even as it demanded for things to be made right, it brought with it the harrowing feeling that this was unfixable. That this was how things would be for the rest of his life. It was this and the feelings that it brought on in turn that made Dick flex his fingers against the steering wheel to chase off the numbness that threatened to engulf him. One of the only other times he'd felt anything close to this was when... when he thought Don had died.

The rain almost seemed to come down harder as Richard thought of the long distant memory. It had been during one of Duni's first plans, back when the pug was still straight up obsessed and wildly in need of therapy. Back before Uni had finally gotten through to him that he wasn't interested and Duni stopped being dramatic and borderline insane. Nowadays he was still dramatic and annoying, but had matured enough to get past his stupid crush. He'd taken up gardening as a way to channel his energy and had also gotten into the habit of adopting and taking care of stray dogs. But this was way before that, back before the first reset. Duni had devised a 'trap' of some sort in order to defeat Uni and his gang one by one. He had set everyone up in different rooms to take on the others. Stupid as it was, they went along with it. Don was first, and at that point Richard hadn't really been aware of just how serious Duni was, or how much Ddawn had really been in charge. Had he known that, it wouldn't have been as much of a surprise to learn that they were all just cannon fodder. Either way, that first moment when Uni and his group had walked into his room, all of them there, all of them alive, and that clown holding a bloody sword... that was the first time in Dick's life that he'd felt actual fear snake rapidly down his spine. Concern for someone's safety other than his own. Back then he'd felt this same storm of emotions. Over everything else, that burning anger that demanded he tear everything around him down. Beneath it the fear, the pain, the twist of betrayal, and a sharp, unfamiliar stabbing of loneliness and loss and a longing for time to just rewind.

Back in the present, Richard found his chest was tight with an eerily similar mix and longing, somehow worse now than it was back then. Dick's glasses began to fog up, drops of water dotting the frames. Dick mumbled a curse about the rain as he dashed a hand at his eyes, even though he knew the car windows were closed.

Dick remembered dying. He remembered that odd place before limbo, remembered first waking up and thinking 'huh, so this is it.' He remembered being quite indifferent to death. He was never the type to be afraid of endings, but when he woke up in that place alone, a deep but painless gash across his neck and an equally lethal wound in his chest, he was met again with that familiar feeling of anger. An eternity of solitude would have once sounded like a dream, but now? It just seemed cruel. But then he saw him. Sure he had a hole in his chest, and his intestines were visible in a way that definitely wasn't doctor recommended, as were several busted ribs, but all his anger vanished in a moment, replaced with concern and relief. Then they found Dashlie too, and things were somehow ok for a while. It didn't feel real. Richard supposes that in some ways it wasn't. And then, like usual, Duni ruined it all. Pulling them into that little pocket dimension, forcing them to reopen old wounds (some quite literally) and grudges and sending them back to a somewhat tolerable if annoying coworker status. But even as they resumed their designated relationships, there were changes that Duni couldn't control. Dashlie claims it was around this time that Don started acting differently towards Dick. Richard guessed this could be true, though personally he hadn't noticed anything until a lot later, and when he did notice, he couldn't place what it was. All he remembers is noting that Don's behavior seemed odd somehow. It seemed like just yesterday when he had started to stutter over words, badger Richard over the smallest of things, and seek his company in order to do so instead of avoiding it. When Daslie eventually took pity on him and told Richard that Don was trying to flirt, Richard nearly threw himself into a lake while Dashlie stood by, cackling like a hyena on laughing gas. From there Richard realized he felt the same way about Don, and that began a completely new, yet equally awkward period where they were both in that state, but not quite ready to confess, stuck in a silent duel, each waiting for the other to break first and admit their feelings, you know, like a loser. After that it was a slightly less painful dating stage, before they decided 'screw this' and just went back to how they acted before, only now with a different title and more open shows of affection. Dick was surprised to realize just how much he cared for Don, how ok he was with the hand holding and pet names and the now ever present wish to protect the other, though in a way he supposes that last had always been there. It was a welcome realization. But now, the idea that he might have to live without that? Just the thought made Richard want to die again.

Contrary to this desire, moments later when Dick was blinded by the headlights of a car barreling down the fog covered road, nearly colliding with him, he leaned to self preservation and swerved to the side. The sound of the stranger's horn blared in his ears as he passed and Dick fumbled to lower his window and stick his head out to call back in return.

"HEY, WATCH IT, ASSHOLE!!!" Dick yelled back, pressing on his own horn which bleated pathetically before dying out. Dick took a moment to breathe, shuffling the encounter away with his many other near death experiences as his jolt of alarm quickly turned to annoyance.

"Jeez, how fast was that fucker even going..." he grumbled, glaring at his speedometer. "What the-" his car was slowing down, nearly at a complete stop. Utterly confused, Dick looked at the gas meter. He was out. "Wh- literally, how? I just had some." he murmured, pulling to the side of the road. He shouldn't have been able to use that much gas in the amount of time he was driving, and even if he somehow did, Richard knew that he should still be able to travel 10 miles or so after the gas gauge read empty. Yet, here he was, his car at a full stop and an uncomfortable whining screech that could rival Dashlie emitting from his engine. Grabbing the umbrella from the passenger seat, Dick reluctantly got out of the car, briefly glaring up at the dark clouds as if this were somehow their fault. He stepped through the grass which had taken up a marshy consistency from the rain and grumbled about his poor decision of not choosing to wear some sort of boot as the cuffs of his pants quickly became laden with mud. Propping his umbrella up against the cab of the truck, he climbed into the bed and lifted the panel that covered up some of its inner workings. He squinted at the jumble of parts, wiping his glasses on his poncho as he peered down with the dim light from the gray sky. From what he could tell, nothing looked wrong. He was about to close the panel and try starting the car again when something caught his eye. Frowning, he reached into the truck and felt around a bit. Inhaling sharply, he pulled his hand back, examining a small cut, however that's not what had him confused. His finger was wet, and not from the rain or the bit of blood that was quickly running from the cut. The smell was unmistakable, even in the rain. Gasoline. With a sinking feeling, Dick got to his knees and did his best to peer under the truck without lying in the mud. This confirmed what his brain had started to piece together.

There was a hole, right through the bottom of his truck into what he could only assume was the gas tank by the strong-smelling fuel dripping from the hole. There was a hole in his gas tank. A fucking hole. Richard, priding himself on his intellect and vocabulary was luckily able to come up with the perfect response.

"What the fuck."

Richard was by no means a truck-guy. He knew enough to keep his car running and to be able to supply minor tune ups when the piece of junk inevitably broke down. But a hole straight through his gas tank was not something he was prepared to deal with. He didn't even have any idea how it could have happened. Standing there a few moments longer, Dick finally broke out of his dumbfounded stupor. He rubbed his hands against his face, pressing harshly on his eyes before picking up his umbrella and pulling out his phone. He'd call a tow truck, or Dashlie or something, ask her to pick him up. Flipping open his phone, he got a chill that was only partly caused from the rain now slinking down his back. His phone was dead.

Right.

Fine.

"Fuck."

Richard groaned, smacking his forehead against the rain-slicked side of the truck. His phone was dead. His phone was dead and he had a hole in his gas tank and he was stranded in the middle of the rain, still a half-mile from the gas station that he just wanted some cigarettes from. And flowers, for some fucking reason.

"FUCK!" Richard shouting, slamming the panel closed. He grabbed his umbrella and jumped down from the bed of the truck, boots kicking up mud. Pausing for only a brief moment to grab his keys from the truck, Richard set off, glaring down the road as he began the trek that would take him the rest of the way to the gas station. In front of him the road stretched out, muddy and dark. Above him, the rain poured harder.

...

It didn't take long for Dick to become absolutely miserable. His head was pounding and his already dismal mood had somehow sunk further. He wasn't cold, but frankly he would have preferred it if he was. While a cold rain was relaxing, refreshing, this humid, stifling storm just made the air muggy and caused a line of sweat to form where his hat met his brow. Thankfully the umbrella kept him more or less dry, but days of sleeping on a couch and not moving much had set a stiffness in his limbs that quickly grew to an ache at the unexpected half-mile journey. By the time Dick made out the obnoxious neon lights advertising cheap booze and pricy gas blaring through the dark sky, he was ready to bite the head off whatever minimum wage worker had the misfortune to be manning the counter today. He wasn't ready to be met with a closed door.

Richard managed to catch himself before he walked face first into the locked door of the gas station. He frowned as he tried to push the door open again. The door didn't budge. Looking up, Dick saw the 'open' sign clearly hanging against the inside of the store.

"What the..." stepping closer, Dick peered through the glass, letting his umbrella fall momentarily to the side as he did so. Through the slightly smudged glass, Richard saw the inside of the shop cast in light, a 'Caution, wet floor' sign standing just in front of the check out counter, and behind it, a bored looking cashier, chin propped up on his hand, hunched over his phone. The store was clearly open. Just locked. Dick brought his hand up to the door and knocked on the glass, causing the cashier to look up at him. However, instead of getting up and letting him in, the guy just stared at him. At least Dick assumed he was staring at him. It was kind of hard to tell.

The guy working the counter was one of the odder looking folks in town, but one Dick recognized nonetheless. His black hair was tinged with navy, styled up in a sweeping formation. Most of his face was taken up by a polaroid camera lens that functioned as an eye, complete with a crimson iris set behind the glass. A ring pierced his lip, which was turned down as he turned his gaze back to the phone in his hand. His shutter clicked occasionally as he scrolled. With his bright red hoodie with some sort of horrible looking sea creature on it, under a neon yellow gas station attendee work vest, name tag smudged to the point of unreadability, he looked all the part of a bored as hell teenage intern. Which was odd since he was probably somewhere in his twenties. Dick vaguely remembered that the nametag had read 'Dory' at some point in the past, though he couldn't be sure that this was correct. He hadn't made a point of trying to remember the guy's name.

Dick blinked. Beyond confused, and now slightly wet from the rain, he lifted his umbrella back up and stared at the cashier. "Hello?"

The guy (Dory?) nodded at Dick without moving his lens away from his phone. "Sup?"

"Uh... can you let me in??" Dick asked, raising his voice to be heard over the rain.

This time Dory glanced over. He looked Richard up and down before returning his gaze to his phone. When he spoke there was a hint of lightness to the bored tone of his voice. "Nooope." he said, popping the p.

"What?! Why??" Dick asked

Dory raised one shoulder in a half shrug before speaking matter of factly. "Cause you're all wet, dipshit."

"Wha-?" Dick glanced down. While the umbrella had blocked most of the rain, he hadn't managed to avoid all of the puddles, and his boots and pant legs were damp and muddy from walking along the road and squatting down beside his truck. Still, the majority of him was dry, and by glancing into the store, Dick could easily tell that it was far from some high-end boutique.

"Ok, so??"

Dory sighed, as if he was having to explain something simple to a child, and Dick clenched his fists to keep from cracking his knuckles.

"Dude, I just mopped, you're gonna get water everywhere if you come in, and I don't wanna deal with that right now."

"Isn't that your job?!" Dick scowled.

"Pff, what are you, a cop?" Dory asked. He then took a moment and sat up slightly straighter, looking at Richard more carefully. "You're not a cop, right? Cause if you are you have to tell me, legally and shit. Also I'm just an intern then, so I don't know about anything that happens here on the weekends, or any missing stock, or the red soup dealings that are set up behind the shop, those were here before and-"

"I'm not a cop!" Dick exclaimed, sputtering for a moment before choosing not to comment on any one of the questionable claims the cashier had just made. "I just want to buy some shit and use your phone! So can you stop wasting my time and just let me in so I can get out of here?

"Oh, sure, sure, not a cop, yeah, cool, dude." Dory leaned back, swiveling in his chair to better face Dick as he seemed to consider this. "Mmmmmmmmmm nah."

"WHY? You're clearly open!"

Dory slouched over the desk, puffing out a cheek in annoyance. "Yeah, but even if you're not a cop or whatever, you'll still make a mess if you come in here and-"

"Ok, fine! Whatever!" Richard took deep breaths as his temper and headache roared, trying to keep them both under control. "Whatever, I don't need to come in, just let me use your phone or something.

"Oh, sure, you can use the phone." Dory said, sitting up again. Dick bit his cheek as he waited for Dory to get up and bring him the device. When it didn't look like Dory was going to move, Dick highly considered just throwing something through the glass. At least entertaining the idea brought him some comfort. "So can you bring me the phone?" he growled once it was clear Dory wasn't moving.

Dory glanced from Dick to his phone and back again, as if he had forgotten that Richard was there. "Yeeeaaahhh, about that. See, I'm not really supposed to leave the desk, so I can't bring ya anything. You can always just come in here and get the phone though," he offered before grimacing, "at least you could if you weren't so wet... oh. Here's an idea!" he said, twisting from side to side on his chair, "why don't you just get dry?"

Richard threw his arms out to the side. "With what!?"

The cashier sighed heavily before glancing around the store, briefly scanning the stock. "I don't know, we have some towels you can buy," he shrugged.

"Great!" Dick lowered his arms, speaking through gritted teeth, "Can I come in and buy some?!"

Dick could almost swear he saw the smallest of smirks flash across the camera guy's face before it returned to its impassive state and he replied. "Nah, man, you're gonna make a mess. Dry off or something, first."

And then Dick punched the glass.

It didn't do anything, other than causing Dory to jump slightly and Dick's hand to throb, but it felt satisfying to let his building aggression out in some way, regardless.

"Woah. Dude. You, like, really need to chill. Have you tried smoking? I heard that it can help with anger issues."

"I DON'T HAVE ANGER ISSUES!" Richard shouted, cringing at the irony. "I've just had a rough week, my head is killing me, this weather sucks, my truck is stranded, my boyfriend hates me, and you won't open the damn door so I can come in and throttle you!" Richard's hands were trembling and he hated the fact that he was on the verge of tears. That would be the third time he cried today. Far too often for Dick's liking. He preferred to keep that shit limited to a few times a year, preferably in a private locked room. Definitely not in front of some asshole gas station attendant with film and empty reels for brains.

Said attendant looked at him, camera eye squinting in some attempt at emotion that Dick was too pissed to try and decipher.

"Wow. That sounds rough, buddy," he said, and Dick wanted to snap his neck. Before he could do anything, Dory's eye dilated for a moment before zooming back out and he spun away from facing Dick in his chair. Pointing somewhere behind Dick, he called over his shoulder, "maybe that guy can help you out."

"What?" Richard turned around, fully prepared to find a way into the store and beat this guy to a pulp if this was another way of messing with him.

But, much to Richard's surprise, Dory was telling the truth. Coming in from the main road, fog clinging to his small frame, a figure was barreling towards him, seemingly with no intention of stopping. Richard instinctively took up a fighting stance, wielding his umbrella like an axe. Only, the way the figure moved seemed familiar. And as it came closer Richard was unable to mistake the light-footed swiftness or the movement that suggested muscles were hidden under the short stature and baggy clothing. Even as the figure stumbled in the rain, kicking up a puddle as he regained his footing, Richard felt something stir in his chest.

Not wanting to follow cliches, Dick's heart didn't stop or skip a beat. Instead, it lurched, crashing into his ribcage as it tried to remember what its default speed was. Part of Richard wanted to run. He wanted to turn around and go back to his truck, punctured gas tank be damned. He'd sit in his car in the rain all night if he had to. He was still too hurt, too angry, too bitter. He didn't want to talk to Don. Heck, he'd been trying so hard to avoid thinking about him. Part of him wanted to walk up to the shrimp and sock him in the jaw. He certainly deserved it. But most of him wanted to run up and check on him, see if he was ok, what he was doing here, if he had been taking care of himself. He just wanted to pretend that none of this had ever happened. Maybe they could just go back to how they were before. But Dick knew from the way that his throat clenched that they couldn't. It had happened, and it had hurt. Richard focused on this thought, using it to steel himself against the urge to throw his arms around the other man. What he wanted right now, was answers. He deserved answers. So, taking a breath he lowered his umbrella and let himself stand there as Don came up in front of him.

Don slowed as he came closer, until finally he came to a stop, standing right in front of Dick, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. For a moment neither of them spoke, just looking at the other, taking in everything they could after so long apart.

Despite what Richard had said about trying to steel himself, Don's appearance immediately gave him cause for concern and he had to resist the urge to chew his lip as he examined the shorter man. His dark skin was somehow both flushed and ashen as if he had woken from death at the thought of an embarrassing memory. Darker than usual circles underlined his eyes, accentuating the redness that seemed to overtake their typical amber color. The parts of his hair that stuck out haphazardly from beneath his hat were knotted and had frizzed out in the rain, and the rest of him wasn't faring much better. He was completely drenched, jester hat soggy and water dripping from every article of clothing, causing the dampened cloth to cling to his frame as he hunched over slightly, taking in large gulps of air. Something about how he held himself brought Richard back to Dashlie's earlier comment, her comparison of his facial hair to some drenched and dying animal. It seemed more fitting here. Taking this all in, Richard couldn't bring himself to maintain the detached mask on his face. Just because he was still mad didn't mean he was heartless. Far from it.

Richard reached out, letting his eyes dart over his partner. "Don? What are you-"

"Wait." Don rasped, still trying to catch his breath. "Wait- d-don't say anything."

Dick opened his mouth to protest before simply nodding, brows drawn together as he continued to examine Don's state. He shifted his weight, listening to Don's heavy breathing as the silence drew out between them. Finally, Don straightened up and spoke.

"I'm an idiot."

Unsure if he wanted to protest or balk, Dick sputtered, but stopped when Don held up his hand, eyes pleading to let him continue. Dick settled on crossing his arms and glaring, even as his heart yelled at him to stop being stubborn.

Eventually, Don continued speaking. "I'm an idiot." Don licked his lips. "I'm an idiot, and I-I'm sorry. Everything I said, four days ago, e-everything I said, none of it should have been directed at you. You were right about everything and you have every right to be mad, hell, I would be pissed still- and-and I know that you probably are,- and that you don't want to see me or talk to me or whatever, and I know I should give you some space, but- fuck! I- I just need you to know that I'm sorry!" Don made sure to look anywhere but Richard's eyes as he fumbled through his words, letting every thought spill from his mouth and hoping that they would form some semblance of sense when they landed. When Richard with softening eyes tried to interject, Don just started to speak faster. "When I realized how much I screwed up I tried to talk to you, but- y-you took the car, and I couldn't call you, and god I was just so scared of making it worse, I didn't want to bring it up if you still weren't ready, but I didn't know how to tell- and, I asked Dashlie and she helped as much as she could, but she was also with you and said that we needed to work this out with each other and- jeez, I even asked Duni for advice!" Don let out a breathless chuckle, eyes darting around the parking lot as he ran a shaking hand through his hair. Dick wanted to reach out and take his hands, hold them in an attempt to ground him, but worried that the shorter man might flinch away, scampering back like a wild animal. His breathing was still coming in rapid gasps, and Dick briefly worried he might pass out. Taking another gulp of air, Don continued. "He basically said all the same as Dashlie, but with a lot more metaphors and suggestions of bold, showy acts or 'declarations of true love' or somebullshit, but I realized that the base of what he was saying was right, I needed to get in contact with you and make sure you know, cause you have to know- but I didn't have any way to- and then when I heard you were gonna be here, I just- I thought it could be my only chance, so I ran and- I just didn't want to miss you- gosh, that's ironic, I've been missing you, I've missed you so, so much, but- like I said, I get if you need your time, and after I say this, I'll fuck off and leave you alone, but, I need to tell you, you need to know-" and here Don finally looked up, his eyes carrying a desperate earnestness, a need to be believed that Richrad had never seen before as he cried. "I do love you. I love you so much, I- I know I do, it's one of the few things I've never questioned and just- I know I don't deserve it, but if there's anyway you can forgive me, anything I can do- heck, I'll even do those stupid couples counseling things if it means getting another shot with you, if we can fix this, I just wish we could pretend this never happened and-"

Richard finally ran out of patience and cut Don off by pulling the shorter man into a hug, letting his umbrella fall. Don tensed for only a moment before returning the embrace, shoulders trembling. Richard felt Don clutch onto the back of his poncho, pulling at the fabric. Don's head pressed against his chest, causing his hat to catch on Dick's beard, the soaked cloth carrying the overpowering scent of rain and sweat.

For the first time in days, Dick found himself being thankful for the rain. It gave an excuse for the way Don trembled beneath him, as well as for his own shuddering frame as he did his best to suppress his sobs. And even as they stood there, Dick slowly becoming as drenched as Don, Dick felt a lightness overtake him. Hearing Don's breathing hitch and slowly steady out and feeling his rapid heartbeat against his chest felt right, like the world was finally starting to make sense again.

"I'm sorry too." Dick started, clearing his throat to lessen the rasp. "I said a lot of shit I shouldn't have... a lot of shit I didn't mean. And I'm sorry I've been avoiding you, I just-..." he trailed off, unsure how to explain his motives that he barely understood himself.

"I know," Don said quietly, "you needed space. And if you still do-"

"No! I mean," Richard cleared his throat again, "Dashlie's probably just about ready to kick me out anyway, and I've missed you too... a lot. So whatever more we have to do to get through this, let's do it together." Richard gave Don's hand a little squeeze. "That seems like a pretty good place to start."

"I'm sorry," Don said again, and Dick wanted to remind him that he was just as much to blame. "Maybe we can just forget that this ever happened."

"No." Dick's voice must have been firmer than he intended, because Don looked up at him with wide eyes, almost as if he expected to be pushed away and unforgiven. Richard hurried on to explain. "No, for better or worse, this happened and ignoring it now won't stop it from happening again. We need to acknowledge it and- and talk about it." Dick tried not to stumble over his words as he struggled to replicate what Dashlie had said. "These are obviously things you've been thinking about, feelings that you've been having. So lets... do something to help you realize they're not true." Dick sighed when he saw the look Don was giving him and rolled his eyes defensively. "Look, all I mean is, I know you're not a mistake, I know that you're not alone, that you deserve love and can love- and are loved- but if for some reason you can't get that yet," Dick smiled and finally found words that came easy, ones that he knew by heart, "I'll keep telling you until you can."

Don blinked at him a few times before snorting, and dashing an arm across his eyes. "... that sounds like something from a stupid self-help book." He spoke with a light chuckle, but Dick could tell by the softness in his eyes that he understood.

Dick smirked. "Yeah, well, blame Dashlie for that. She's the one who said it."

"In that case, it's pretty smart," Don remarked, and Dick scoffed.

"Yeah, alright, I see how it is."

"I'm surprised you can see anything with your glasses like that, nerd."

"Ha! I'm not the one that looks like a colorful drowned toadstool!"

"What- That is completely uncalled for! After I came all this way to talk to you-

"Heh, missed me that much, did you?" Smirking as they slipped easily into familiar banter, Richard leaned over Don, cockily tipping water off the brim of his hat onto the jester's head. "What, you loOOoOooOve me or something? Bet you wanna kiss me, huh? That's pretty-"

He was cut off by Don doing just that. Grabbing his face and pulling Dick into a kiss that momentarily erased any remaining tension between the two. It was desperate and deep, lasting longer than it should have, but neither man wanted to pull away, both realizing they had come so close to losing something essential to their lives.

When they did break apart they stayed close, Don's arms wrapped around Richard's neck as he looked up at him through eyelashes dappled with raindrops. "Yeah..." he said, and his response didn't need any elaboration.

Dick pulled him back into another kiss though this one didn't last nearly as long as he soon after pulled away to speak.

"Wait, did you say that you ran here?"

Don shrugged, "yeah."

"This place is like four miles away from our house!"

"Four and a half," Don corrected.

"Don, that's worse!" Dick exclaimed, staring at the shorter man in wonder. "How did you even know I'd still be here, I was in a car?!"

Don crossed his arms, "Four miles isn't that bad."

Richard narrowed his eyes at him, crossing his own arms. "Four and a half."

Don rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I would have gotten here faster if it wasn't for the rain."

The full extent of the circumstances seemed to click for Richard and he grabbed Don by the shoulders. "You ran here through this?! Don, it's POURING! No wonder you look so terrible, what if you had gotten hit by a car? You could have easily slipped and cracked your head on the pavement or gotten stuck in a ditch and buried in mud!"

Don snorted. "Nothing I haven't been through before."

Dick pouted, "Don, I'm serious!"

"Richard." Don grabbed his arms, steadying him, a small smile across his face. "Richard, I'm ok. I'm tired as fuck," he admitted, "but I'm ok. I'm here, and you're here, so I'm ok. Let's just... Can we go home?"

Richard nodded, biting back an exasperated sigh. If Don got sick, he'd have plenty of time to chastise him for his stupid actions while he was taking care of him. Don needed 24/7 surveillance when he was under the weather in order to assure that the man actually rested and didn't try to keep pushing himself. "Yeah... yeah, ok. Come on, I gotta call Dashlie."

The two turned, walking side by side towards the gas station, shoulders brushing as they hovered by each other.

"Why'd it take you so long to get here anyway," Don asked, "was it the rain?"

Richard shook his head as he started glaring through the glass of the store, trying to spot the cashier. "No, the truck broke down, something weird with the gas tank."

"About time. That thing's almost as temperamental as Ddawn."

Dick snorted. "Speaking of temperamental, brace yourself, this gas guy is a real piece of work."

"Who, Dory?" Don asked, now trying to spy him through the windows as well, "Isn't he pretty laid back?"

"He's a total dick." Richard huffed, ignoring Don's affectionate mumble of 'takes one to know one' as he grabbed onto the door handle. To his surprise, he found it opened with ease, a little bell going off overhead.

"Hi, come on in! You must be soaked." a chipper voice called, and Dick turned to see the camera-faced cashier sitting behind the counter, the picture of professionalism with his hands clasped in front of him and a polite smile below his lens. Dick just stood in the half-open doorway, mouth slightly agape as he stared at the attendant who tilted his head innocently in return.

Don looked back at Richard as he pushed past him to enter the store, rolling his eyes with a smirk. "Yeah, wow, what an asshole."

Dick opened his mouth to respond, but found he was too tired and relieved to care.

"Can we use your phone?" he asked cautiously, keeping his glare in place.

"Sure thing!" Dory responded, pushing back on his rolling chair to grab the cellphone behind him. He brought it back over to them, kicking his feet idly. "Anything else I can help you with?"

Dick glanced from Dory to the few bouquets on display in the window, jabbing a thumb at one of them. "I'll take a bouquet, a canister of gas, and a pack of cigarettes." Dick could practically hear Don roll his eyes.

"Those are so bad for you." Don mumbled, an edge of fondness slipping into his voice.

"Yeah? So's walking four miles in a near tornado." Dick shot back, smirking. Don huffed, but didn't reply. As Dory got up to get the bouquet and Richard started putting in Dashlie's number, a thought crossed his mind. He turned to Don, voicing it before he could back out.

"If it really bothers you, I can stop. You're more important than... anything else."

Don raised an eyebrow, cheeks reddening as his expression turned surprised.

"You don't need to stop. Just be careful." A small smile played on his lips, even as water from his clothes began to pool at his feet. "You're more important than anything else too."

Before either could say anything else, a familiar voice clicked on from the other end of the phone.

"Sup, Richard, took you long enough! Did you and Don make up yet?"

"Hey, Dashlie, yeah, we're-" Dick blinked. He blinked again, replaying what Dashlie had just said in his mind. In the silence, he thought he heard a muffled chuckle coming from Dashlie's end. Getting a questioning look from Don, Richard took the phone away from his ear and pressed the speaker button, placing it on the counter in front of them. "You're on speaker," he warned, "How-"
"Hi, Don!" Dashlie called. Don lifted his hand to wave before lowering it and clearing his throat, mumbling a greeting.

"Wait, how did you know he would be here with me?" Dick asked.

"Cause I'm the one who told him you'd be there. Duh." Dashlie replied. "I called him as soon as you left and told him he needed to find a way to get his butt down to the gas station. The two of you needed to talk this out in person, and I was not gonna listen to another one of either of your rants about how much you miss each other and then just sit by and watch you two do NOTHING to make amends, honestly, I was gonna go crazy, it was like waiting for one of you to confess all over again, I-"

"Wait, hold on." Dick cut in, mind spinning. "You sent Don out in this weather?! It's practically FLOODING outside! And how did you even know I'd still be here, I was in a truck, if my gas hadn't run out, I would have been here and gone ages before-"

"Please, you don't think I thought of that?" Dashlie asked, the smug look that could practically be heard through her voice causing Dick to freeze. The silence stretched on as pieces started to click together in Dick's mind. She wouldn't have... right? A chill only partly caused by his soaked state mixing with the store's ac worked its way down Dick's spine as he took a breath and tried to remain calm. His rapidly increasing volume probably didn't help sell the illusion.

"You... Dashlie... did you puncture my fucking GAS TANK?!?"

"Oh, come on," she responded, not sounding the least bit ashamed, "Don's fast and all, but even he couldn't have made it there in time with this weather. Have you looked outside?"

Dick looked at Don, hoping the other would help him point out how insane this was.

"Hey!" Don snapped, and Dick sighed in relief that he wasn't the only one disturbed. "I totally could have beaten a truck here if I was better prepared. I just haven't slept in a while."

Richard stared at him, eyes widening. "That's NOT the point!! Dashlie, you can't fucking SHANK my gas tank!! You could have seriously messed up my truck, or hit the engine, or the gasoline leak could have caused an explosion! Do you KNOW how dangerous that was?!"

"I watched a YouTube video on it." she said in what she probably thought was a reassuring tone. Richard resisted the urge to slam his head against the counter. To make matters worse, Don had the gall to chuckle.

"Dashlie, what-"

"You can't give me any shit for this!" Dashlie said, cutting him off. "You both have been absolutely miserable since your fight and I can't stand seeing my best friends like that. Especially with each other." Her voice softened and Dick felt some of his anger do the same. Beside him, Don took the opportunity to coo teasingly.

"Awww, we're your 'best friends'? Do you have a scrapbook about us? Got pictures of the three of us hanging out all over your house?"

"Don, you know full well that I do and that the first time you saw them you cried because it was 'such a sweet gesture'. That successfully shut Don up while simultaneously causing Richard to start chuckling. Eventually there was a sigh from the other end of the line.

"Look, I'll pay for the repairs to your truck or whatever as long as you two promise never to be this stupid again. At least not when it comes to each other, since I know not being stupid at all would just be unrealistic for y'all"

Dick rolled his eyes but felt himself smiling. "Yeah, ok. As long as you promise you won't stab my car anymore."

"Hmmmm, I don't know about that, I'm already paying for it, so it kind of feels like we're even. Plus I gotta pay Dory too."

"Yep!" A voice chimed in and Richard and Don both jumped, neither having noticed Dory return. He was standing beside them, bouquet in one hand as he leaned against the counter with his other arm, grinning like an idiot.

"Dory!" Dashlie called, "Did everything go ok? Dick didn't hurt you, did he, sweetie?"

"I'm fine, everything was smooth as a shark" the cashier said, hopping over the counter to start ringing up their purchases. Dick once again found himself staring in disbelief as he tried to make sense of the situation. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he groaned.

"Do not tell me... Dory was involved in this too?!"

"Well, I needed a backup plan in case the gas tank didn't work." Dashlie explained.

"So you told him to gaslight me?! You're lucky he isn't hurt, I should break his screen for-"

"You lay a hand on Dory and I'm throwing out all your stuff that's still at my place."

"Dashlie, he's evil!"

"He's a sweetheart! And don't be dramatic, all I told him to do was stall you a bit."

Richard turned to Dory, gesturing wildly as he scowled. "You call that stalling? You nearly gave me an aneurysm!"

Dory shrugged and took on a tone full of what Dick was sure was false remorse. "Sorry," he chuckled, lens bright with amusement. "I guess I may have gone a little overboard, but I was just making sure I did right by my good friend Dashlie! And any friend of a friend is a friend of mine, so I'm happy I was able to help you and Don make up!"

Dick's scowl remained in place.

"Dick, stop scowling and be nice." Dashlie said.

"I'm not scowling! You can't even see me!"

"I know you."

Don's laughter broke the tension. It was a warm, tired laugh, that caused the bell on his hat to jingle and sent more water to the floor around him. Dick felt his heart pick up at the noise and didn't try to hide the smile that it brought to his face. Soon he was chuckling too.

"Just come pick us up, Dashlie. And bring something to fix my truck temporarily too."

"Be there in ten minutes with duct tape! See you at book club, Dory!"

"See you there!" Dory called back and the phone beeped, signaling the call had ended.

Dick handed the phone back to Dory as well as some cash to pay for his items. Dory returned some of it, smiling. "The gas can and flowers are on the house."

"Can you do that?" Don asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dory narrowed his lens. "What are you, a cop?"

"Actually-"

"It's fine. Thanks." Dick said, hurriedly gathering up the items and nudging Don towards the door.

"You guys can wait in here if you want." Dory offered. Don answered, shaking his head as he opened the door.

"No thanks. It's warmer outside and we... kinda need to talk."

Dory shrugged, once again hopping up on his swivel chair and pulling out his phone. "Suit yourselves. And stay dry out there!"

Richard turned back, incredulous, but was kept from responding to Dory's bait by the door shutting behind him.

"Smug little fucking, fucker." Dick grumbled, shuffling the cigarettes into his pocket and rearranging the flowers and gas can in order to open the umbrella. They stepped away from the door, leaning against the wall under one of the neon signs.

The two stood in silence for a few moments as the muggy night air chased away the chill that had settled over their wet frames. Dick considered pulling out a cigarette, but decided against it. He could smoke later. Right now, there were more important things.

"Do you actually wanna talk about all this right now?" Dick asked, watching as the rain hit the asphalt, the condensation causing a thin fog to cling to the ground.

Don shook his head. "Nah I just didn't wanna be around Dory. His energy is exhausting." Don slumped against the wall and Dick chuckled.

"Yeah, I hear that. Did you know Dashlie was in a book club with him?"

Don shook his head. "I guess that's where she goes for brunch every other week."

Dick chuckled, setting the gas can and bouquet down next to him to free up a hand. "Yeah, I guess so."

The neon sign light flickered above them.​​ Somewhere in the distance a bolt of lightning raced to the earth, briefly illuminating the sky. The heavy clouds blocked out any moon or star light, but Dick could tell night had settled by the increased frog calls that challenged the occasional thunder. Don shivered next to him, and Dick took a step closer, angling the umbrella so it better covered them both. Don closed the rest of the distance, leaning some of his weight against Dick. Whatever adrenaline they both had been running on was wearing off, and Dick slouched down as well, resting his head lightly on top of Don's. Dick's pinky brushed the back of Don's hand and he cleared his throat, the motion sending vibrations against Don's skull.

"Hey, I- ... thank you for... coming all the way out here to talk to me. I'm sorry I made it so hard."

Don took his hand and squeezed it. "I'm sorry I chased you off in the first place. It's my fault this happened."

"It's both of our faults. I-"

Another crack of lightning cut them off, silencing them as the storm demanded their attention. They watched, each lost in their own thoughts as nature put on a display just for them. Richard sighed, thinking about how hard it was going to be to get his truck going again in this weather. It was probably stuck in mud by now. The storm was worsening, and pretty soon it would be too dangerous to drive. But as another wave of exhaustion washed over him with the next boom of thunder, he found he didn't care all too much.

"Hey, you know, it'll probably be easier for Dash if we just drive to one place tonight, since the weather's like this. Do you wanna crash together on her couch?"

Don nodded, his lips quirking up into a smile. "Yeah... our place is kinda a mess now, anyway."

Our place. Dick felt relieved at the simple reassurance that he was still wanted. He hadn't quite realized how big of a concern that had been for him.

They continued to wait for Dashlie, thoughts of what would come next on the edges of their minds, but pushed to the side for now as they simply stood next to each other. When Dashlie eventually turned into the gas station, honking twice, the two pushed off the wall, heading to her car. Don started walking, but stopped as Dick grabbed his arm. He looked back at him and saw a face so full of love he knew things would work out.

"Don... thanks for staying," Dick said.

Barely trusting his voice to speak, Don swallowed. "Of course. Thank you too... for staying."

Richard smiled. "I'll always stay with you."

Author Notes:

Hey. So. I'm here.

This is the long awaited followup to Cold Tea. It took way longer than it should have to finish, so sorry about that. If ya' know, ya know. I've always had trouble writing Richard, but I've also always wanted to write this idea. The song that inspired it, Cigarette Daydreams by Cage the Elephants is really excellent and fits so well, so I really suggest listening to it if you don't know it.

I also know nothing about trucks, but quite a bit about poking holes in things, and tried to do some research on mixing the two. Same was done with matching up the distance and time of how long it would take Don to run to the gas station with the weather. It all came down to estimations and approximations, but I hope it's somewhat realistic, and if not, sucks to suck, this was never about realism, it was about *them*. I do hope that it is fairly accurate though. (I did at some point just give up on trying to get the truck stuff super accurate, cause I figured only 1 in 5 people read this shit for the trucks, so to that 1 in 5 person I profusely apologize and say fuck.

Credit to the local Dick expert for answering all my questions about his character, and to the Bugs for encouraging me and taking interest. 

After this, Don, Richard, and Dashlie all move closer together 'cause it makes more sense that they would be within walking distance of each other.

Dashlie girlbossed so Dory could gaslight and gatekeep.