AN: Jesus Christ, I've been so fucking busy, I'm so sorry, you guys! Also I apologize in advance if my suddenly potty-mouthishness offends you. It's because I got into a new fandom. Again. Also my mind keeps wanting me to type like one of the trolls from Homestuck. No, I have no clue why. Also! Also also also! I've gotten so many random ideas for fanfics. Like L4D ones that would run AU to this one, because I'm gonna milk this slash cow 'til she runs dry. XD Um, anyway, I should get back to the story before I yammer on about hot doctors and why certain Englishmen are sexier than others (Ples Tibenoch, I'm looking at you.)

Disclaimer: I do not, nor have I ever worked for VALVe. I own a copy of several of their games, (thank you, orange Box~) but nothing else. Nothing herein belongs to me except for the plot idea, but even then I have mio fratello and the road she lives on for help with that. XD

Francis wiped at his lip; it had started bleeding a little worse as he sped down the dusty old road, and god knows what got into it. He should have cleaned it or something, instead of just running his tongue over it as if that would help. It didn't, it just got the taste of dirt and pollen and blood into his mouth, and that wasn't pleasant. He hated pollen, it made him allergic as all Hell. Thank God the pollen count wasn't as high as it could have been, or he'd be one sorry son of a bitch, wrecked on the side of the road from sneezing at the wrong fucking time, eyes all puffy and face red. And not to mention Rochelle. Fuck. She was on the back of his bike, right behind him. Didn't matter though, since he was close enough to her house that wrecking was definitely not an option.

Thinking about the girl right against his back, he smirked, causing a little stinging to shoot from his lip to the rest of his face, turning that smile into a sneer against the wind and the fucking pollen. Which he hated. More than anything else. But he set his mind back on Ro. How the girl didn't hear the little skirmish that broke out, erupting between that Yankee Nick and himself, he didn't know. He was surprised she didn't yell at him when she saw the resulting injuries, like she didn't know, or she didn't want to know. He wasn't sure. But it was alright because her head was leaning right against the center of his back, between his shoulder blades, cheek against the soft as all hell leather vest he had basically slept in.

"How'd you get all banged up, anyway?" She managed to ask over the roar of the breeze as they flew down the road. He could feel her high voice vibrating against his back as he tried to decide if he should tell her or not. He ruled against it.

"Sleepwalkin'." he replied, gruffly, leaning in toward the handlebars, as if to see past the dust that wasn't exactly obscuring his vision. She made a soft noise of surprise and gripped him tighter.

"I didn't know you sleepwalk." She murmured, motherly instinct kicking in, and it kind of weirded him out. "I woulda heard you get up."

"I guess I'm a fuckin' ninja then." He laughed, revving the bike, as they went around a corner. "So damn quiet, I'll sneak up on ya like a ghost." Rochelle laughed too, but he could tell she still sounded worried. So maybe the chick did care that he had sudden unexplainable injuries. Seriously though, he wondered how in the Hell did she not hear a thing that went down that morning.

After what felt like a fifteen minute ride through winding back roads and past four fucking cornfields, trying to breathe through that god forsaken pollen, which picked up, by the way, to the point where Francis didn't even know if he looked normal anymore. He sniffed and wiped at his nose with his hand, until Rochelle glanced at him and, get this, she produced a tissue out of fucking nowhere. Where the hell was she keeping it? In her books?

"Thanks." He mumbled, still sniffling up a storm and sounding like he had two fucking huge rocks or something up each nostril. It didn't help that there was a little bit of blood still on his lip and in his nose. No, actually, it made it worse. The stuffiness and congestion of his whole face plus the sort of satisfying ache from his "battle wounds" just added together to create a thoroughly miserable biker.

"Don't mention it." She replied with a smile, holding her books and probably a million other things within that little stack of textbooks across her chest tightly. "Y'got allergies?"

The biker grunted out a monosyllabic answer; talking took up too much energy that he needed to keep his puffy eyes open and keep up the big old tough guy act. "Yeah."

Rochelle nodded. "My mom had allergies too, and I'm lucky I didn't get any." Her voice took on a more morose tone. Shit, her mother died, didn't she? How the Hell was he supposed to know that?

Just when he knew he should have just shut his mouth, he couldn't resist asking: "Had?" he mentally face palmed, because doing it in reality would have caused his allergies to get even more fucked up.

"Yeah." Ro swallowed, looking up at him as they were walking down the way too long to be comfortable front driveway that led to her house. (Why couldn't they just ride the bike up? He didn't even know. But at least walking made it so less pollen hit his face at such high speeds that caused unbearable symptoms.) "I was like fourteen, and I was the only kid still home." She let a weak sort of grim and mirthless smile cross her lips. "It hit my dad harder than it hit me, I guess. The women of my family seem to die young, he always said."

Fuck. Open mouth, insert foot.

Francis hesitantly put the arm he did not use to wipe his nose with around her waist. She gratefully allowed him to. "Sorry?" He offered, unsure of what to say. He never knew his old man and he didn't care enough to find out where the hell his mother, the hag, went. He never was close enough to them to care. They didn't care enough to find him, at least, that he knew. She nodded but didn't reply, wiping at her eyes with the heel of her hand. Fuck, she'd been crying. And he didn't do anything to help. He was just fucking up all over today, wasn't he? If he believed in Karma, he'd call it a bitch with a personal vendetta against him.

Finally, fuckin' finally, they got up to the house. It was an old house, probably built years ago, and just barely fixed up. It was painted a cheery yellow, more so buttercup than goldenrod. But what the fuck did Francis know about the colors of flowers, he could have been bullshitting the whole time?

Before they could even get up to the front door, it swung open and there stood a huge black man, and he had at least a good two inches on him. And Francis was wearing boots.

"Hi, Daddy." Rochelle grinned up at him, like she wasn't scared out of her fucking mind at the massive and intimidating man that stood in the doorway.

"Baby girl, where've you been? I've been worried sick. I- Who is this?" The tall and brawny black man stared down at Francis. Fucking Hell, that man was like a judge or something. No one should have the power to make a grown man back down like that. Fuck no, Francis was not some cowed little pussy. He was a man, goddamnit. Wait, did she just call him Daddy? Oh shit, that was her father. Damn, what the hell kind of mess did the biker get himself into this time?

"Daddy, this is Francis." She showed the biker off like he was some kind of boat that was a prize in a game show, not that he watched that trashy shit. No fucking way.

"Uh, hi." He deadpanned, raising a hand, and probably looking like shit, or something a cat ate, then threw up, and ate again.

When the man, Rochelle's father, he reminded himself, did nothing in response, Rochelle took the biker's arm. "This is the guy I told you about."

Rochelle's father frowned. "Ya'll better come inside. Ro, baby girl, we need'ta talk."

Oh, fuck me, Francis thought, miserably. He was in some deep shit now. Up Shit Creek, one could say, without a paddle, or even fucking hands to paddle with.

AN: I hope to god I didn't butcher Coach. XD I really sincerely do. XDDD Because I suck at writing Coach. Actually, just old men in particular. XD Unless they fall under creepy rapists, then it's like "oh, well, this is easy." XD I dunno, what do you guys think? Also bonus points for those who go through the chapters and count how many times I say fuck. XD

REVIEWERS GET A CAN OF VANILLA COKE! :D

PLEASE FEEL FREE TO REVIEW, AND TELL YOUR FRIENDS! :D

R&R

tfflm