A/N: Hi, friends! I'm so sorry this is out so late. It's been a long ass couple days and I didn't mean for this to be out this late. I'm going to shut up and quit making excuses and give strong consideration to a hot bath and a glass of wine…I shouldn't be drinking wine…Tea? Tea sounds like a good idea, too. I don't know. I'll find some hot water somewhere. K? Love you x

My poor, traumatized angel. Seven and I sat on the curb, his head in my shoulder. We may need to get you home. You've had plenty of excitement for one day. Fortunately for us, Saeran came around the corner with another car that didn't have sin all over the back seat. And probably the front seat. And in the cupholders somehow. We don't ask how it got caught in the cupholders. We don't talk about this night ever again. At least not the last twenty minutes of it. Like I said, my poor, traumatized angel. You've seen enough.

"Hey, Seven," I gave him a little nudge, knocking him out of his weird trance he was in, "Look. Saeran's here."

"Saeran's here?" Seven looked up at me, his eyes having lost all their sparkle. Oh, Seven. We need to get you out of your head. Because the image of Bridget and Vanderwood in the throes of passion is living in there rent free.

"That's right," I left him on the curb and caught Saeran before he could get out of the car, "Not one word, Saeran."

"Hi, MC," Saeran couldn't wipe the huge grin off his face, "Not a word about what?"

"You know damn well what," I snapped, "Not. One. Word."

"So," Saeran figured, "I'm not allowed to talk now?"

"Saeran!"

"Alright, alright," Saeran let it go, "Not a peep."

"Thank you." it's bad enough I have to deal with the aftermath. I don't need to add Saeran's sass into the mix. He's lucky I love him some days, "Seven? Care to join us?"

"Yes, please," Seven got up from the curb and got into the back seat. Kind of surprised he didn't go for the front, but I wasn't going to stop him. Whatever Seven needed to do right now, he could do it.

Although, someone's going back on his promise of shutting up. Any other time, Saeran's little giggles would be music to my ears. In this context, it's pissing me off to no end, "Saeran…We talked about this."

"I didn't say a word."

"You didn't have to." I love him, but damn, I want to throttle him.

"So…" Saeran chimed, "How'd it go tonight? Did you meet Vanderwood's new girlfriend?"

"Oh, we met," Seven shuddered.

"How much did you see?"

"DAMMIT, SAERAN!" If I don't choke him, it'll be a miracle, "WHAT DID I JUST TELL YOU?"

"Sue me!" Saeran got defensive, "I'm curious!"

"So much…" Seven stared off into the nothingness, "So…Much…You can't even begin to imagine what it was like, Saeran. It's like all the worst parts of a porno mixed with the feeling of walking in on Mom and Dad having sex. Only a million times weirder."

"We barely had a mom and dad, Saeyoung," Saeran pointed out, "Not sure if that's the right analogy for us."

"You still get what I mean," Seven groaned, "Hot, sticky, sweaty, how in the hell does a body bend that way. That sort of thing. Something that no matter how hard I try, I can't unsee it. That's what it was like."

"Ok…" That was enough to keep Saeran's mouth shut.

"Hey, MC…" Seven's voice was so soft and sweet…And so strained.

"Yeah, baby?" I reached into the back seat and took his hand, "What is it?"

"When we get home," his grip tightened, "Can we watch cartoons? Like…A lot of cartoons?"

"You know what, Seven?" I decided, "How about we do one better? When we get home, we'll go into the basement. We'll go into the theater room. We'll turn on some garbage sci-fi movies and heckle. How does that sound?"

"You get me, 606," Seven awed, "You get me so well."

"Nerd," Saeran teased.

"And you're on some thin ass ice right now!" I growled, "I don't want to hear it from you."

"I'll take it," Seven nodded.

"Can I ask you a question?" I treaded lightly, having my own flashbacks.

"Go for it."

"Is this worse than the downtown theater incident?" I wondered, still not able to hear the name Anthony quite the same.

"I would take the downtown theater incident over and over and over again as my eternal punishment before I'd want to see that unholiness unfold again."

Damn. Seven really was shaken up about this more than I thought. We really should be heading home, but like I said. Seven needed to get out of his head. And I knew just the thing to do that with, "Hey, Seven…You want to go get a milkshake?"

"I don't know…" Seven sighed out, looking up at me with that familiar glint in his eye. Alright…He'll be fine, "Maybe."

"Saeran," I told him, "Go to the diner."

"I'm not your driver," Saeran groaned, "I'm not going to the diner."

"You. Owe me," I glared a hole through him.

"For what?"

"I told you," I growled, "I told you to shut your hole from here to home. I asked you one little thing. And what did you do? You decided to poke at the bear that didn't need to be poked at."

"If I didn't know any better," Saeran took the left turn instead of the right. Good boy, "I'd think I poked at the cub and pissed off the mama bear more than anything else."

"And the mama bear might still be inclined to beat the shit out of you for it." It wouldn't be the first time someone has told me I exude maternal instinct. Hell, Vanderwood told me that the last time we went for drinks. That doesn't make it any less true. I get protective of Seven. Is that such a crime? He does the same for me. Maybe not nearly as much as I do for him, but that's alright.

"No," Seven stopped me, "No one's beating the shit out of anyone tonight."

"Alright," I kept my hold on Seven's hand, "Are you going to be ok?"

"Eventually," he figured, "I'm not totally sure, but I'll get there. One of these days. Maybe a milkshake will help."

"Just don't get vanilla…" Saeran mumbled to himself.

"I'm not even the one driving," I threw myself back into my chair, "And you have no idea how badly I want to turn this damn car around, Saeran."

"I kind of figured," Saeran winced, "Alright. I promise that's my last one."

"You swear?"

"On my life."

"Alright," I let out a little sigh of relief. Good. Because Saeran was starting to get under my skin and his room is just down the hall from ours. I'm not going to kill him.

Saeran parked the car against the curb and the three of us went into the diner in search of solace. It was getting kind of late, but thankfully, the best waitress they had was there. And if anyone could turn Seven's mood around when I couldn't, it'd be Florence. Something about her radiated that special kind of love that one only gets from their grandma. Like…Florence had a lot of grandkids, but she never reproduced kind of thing.

"Hi, Florence," I smiled, nudging Seven into the window side of our booth.

"Hi, MC!" Florence chimed in the way that only Florence could. But then…Then, she got a good look at Seven. If Saeran saw me as such a mama bear toward Seven, I had nothing on Florence. And she knew to tread lightly with that one, "Seven…? You ok, sweetie?"

"He's been through the wringer tonight," I answered for him, well aware that Seven wasn't nearly in the place to relive that, "And he's a little traumatized."

"Oh, God," she gasped, "I'm so sorry. What happened?"

Saeran snickered in the corner. It's not like I could tell her Seven walked in on Vanderwood getting laid in the back seat of his car. That's not something anyone should tell their grandma. And Florence was no different. But I did have a story I could tell her. And I'm sure Seven would be ok with it, too. I managed to muster up a little bit of a smile and showed Florence my left hand, "This is what kind of had him freaked out."

"MC!" Florence immediately took my hand, sizing up the ring on my finger, "Congratulations! So, who's the lucky gentleman that put that on your finger?"

"I wouldn't say he's the lucky one…"

"I'd beg to differ," Seven spoke softly, his hand on my thigh.

"We're both kind of lucky in that," I put my hand on top of his, "He's kind of spastic and can't live without me. I'm lost and miserable without him. What can I say? We click."

"I knew it was going to happen," Florence teased us, "I knew it. I knew it. I knew it. Tell you what, sweetheart. You're both on me tonight. You, too, Saeran. I'm feeling generous."

"Thank you, Florence," Saeran's cheeks turned pink. And here's to karma pimp slapping you hard.

"What can I get you?" she asked, "Usual?"

"Chocolate milkshake for me," I ordered, "Strawberry for Saeran. Seven? Cookie dough?"

"Cookie dough…" he repeated.

"And a basket of fries, too," I assumed, "Weirdo can appreciate French fries and a milkshake."

"Yes, please…"

I love him. Florence wrote our order down and gave us a nod, "I'll have that as soon as I can, ok? You want pancakes, too, hon?"

"No pancakes," Seven shot her down, "Just the milkshake. And the fries."

"Didn't you two just go to dinner?" Saeran wondered as Florence left us alone.

"Chances are," I assumed, "Seven's stomach is up in knots. French fries are a go-to comfort food. French fries, when made right, can fix all of life's little problems."

"And I am a slut for French fries and a milkshake," Seven agreed.

"Two milkshakes in one day?" I poked at him a bit, "I feel naughty."

"Shut up, MC," Seven laid his head on my shoulder. By the sounds of it, he's starting to come back around. Good. You had me worried for a minute, Seven. You really need to quit doing that. But I understand. You've been through some shit tonight that you didn't ask for, nor did you deserve, "You could be downing ten a day and still look cuter than hell."

"Thank you," I kissed his cheek, "Is this when you tell me you have a feederism thing, Seven?"

"Feederism?" Seven looked at me strange, "What's that?"

"He's so innocent," Saeran awed, "I see you've taken an adventure on the darker side of the internet, haven't you, MC?"

"Don't look at me like that," I nudged him under the table, "I've had friends send me some weird shit for the sake of sending me weird shit. Feederism just happened to be one of those things."

"So, what's feederism?" Seven asked.

"It's a fetish thing," I told him, "Do you really want to go down that rabbit hole?"

"Give me the basics of it." Isn't someone feeling brave? I'm proud of him, "It's not, like…Overly kinky, is it?"

"It's just someone getting off to feeding someone over and over and over again until they gain a lot of weight," I explained, "The more they can stuff into someone's mouth, the better. Personally, I don't get it, but I'm thinking it's just not my thing."

"Ok…" Seven relaxed a bit, "So, it's not going to be like covering someone's feet in maple syrup and licking it out from between their toes?"

"Not quite," I wasn't sure if that fell under the feederism blanket or not, but I'm thinking no.

"I still can't believe Vanderwood was getting it in your car," Saeran chuckled to himself, "That's still blowing my mind."

"SAERAN!" I went full bore and rammed my foot into his shin.

"OW!" he screeched, "SON OF A BITCH, MC!"

"You had that coming and you know it!"

"Yeah," Saeran came down, "Yeah, I had that coming. I still think it's funny…"

"That's because you're a sadist," I snapped.

"And a nihilist," Seven added, quietly spacing back out.

"I'm not a nihilist," Saeran tried to defend himself, but even he knew that was bullshit, "I mean…I'm not that bad. I'll admit to being a sadist, though. I'm working on it with my therapist. Leave me alone."

"And I'm proud of you for that, Saeran," I applauded, "But maybe you two need to talk through the sadist part a little more."

"I'll bring it up the next time I'm there," he rubbed his shin, "Goddamn, MC. Are you wearing steel toes?"

"Nope," I shook my head, "Heels. Why?"

"It shows," Saeran cringed, "If I have a bruise in the morning, I'm blaming you."

"And I'll gladly take the blame."

"You know," Seven admitted, "Maybe I do need something to take my mind off tonight."

"I think you do," I snaked an arm around him.

"Let's start here," Florence came back with three milkshakes and a basket of fries. Bless her, "Are you sure you're going to be ok, Seven?"

"I'll be alright," Seven assured her, even managing a little smile, "Thank you, Florence."

"Anytime, sweetie," she let it go, "If I don't see you before you leave, congratulations on the engagement. Really and truly. If I don't get an invitation to the wedding, though…"

"You're already on the top of the invitation list," Seven promised.

"That's what I like to hear."

"Here, baby," I popped a fry in his milkshake and put it up to his mouth, "Let this take your mind off the world."

"No…" Seven looked up at me, "Make the airplane noises, MC."

"I'm not making the airplane noises…" I love him so much.

"Please…?" he batted his eyelashes, "I've been through hell tonight and I just want my fiancée to make the airplane noises while she feeds me fries."

He's so lucky I love him. It's truly the little things for us, "Attention, passengers. We're cruising at an altitude of thirty thousand feet from France…"

"French fries are from Belgium," Seven corrected me, "Hate to break it to you, but…"

"Fine," I rolled my eyes, "We're cruising at an altitude of thirty thousand feet from Belgium. The weather is fair. We'll be experiencing a major cold front as we begin our descent onto the runway."

Seven took a bite of our airplane. There were no survivors, "I love you, MC."

"I love you, too," I snuck in a quick kiss, "If I didn't, do you really think I'd be able to do what I just did and still sleep with you?"

"I like to think so."

"You're a handful, Seven," I cuddled into him, "And I wouldn't have you any other way."

"I hope you two know how nauseous you make me on a day to day basis," Saeran chimed in, already scraping the bottom of his glass.

"That's the point," I stole one of Seven's fries, "You know, Seven, if you really wanted something to take your mind off things, I wouldn't mind going back to the roller rink tonight."

"I'm not in the mood," Seven slurped on his milkshake, "I appreciate the sentiment, 606, but my heart's not in it."

But then…It hit me. I got it. I knew exactly what I could do, "Saeran, could I have a word with you alone for a second?"

"And leave him alone?" Saeran looked to his brother, who was quiet and content and licking the whipped cream off his cherry, "Are you sure about that?"

"Trust me," I took Saeran by the hand and brought him outside.

"What the hell, MC?" Saeran wondered, "What's this all about?"

"Take the car home," I told him, "You don't have to deal with us being cute and I can get Seven out of his head for a while. Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"What about when you two want to come home? I am not coming to pick your asses up at 3AM. I'll be asleep."

"I know," I let him have that, "Don't worry about it. We'll crash at my place. It's just around the corner. I got my keys. We'll be fine."

"Alright," Saeran gave me a nod, "Be careful. He might seem ok now, but we don't know if he's going to time bomb out on us."

"I got him handled," I kissed his cheek, "Go on. Go home. And if Vanderwood comes back, tell him I'd like to have words with him."

"Before or after the high five?"

"Saeran…"

"Alright," he backed off, "I'll see you tomorrow."

I went back inside to contend with the aftermath. I knew exactly what could get Seven out of his head. Because it's worked before. Although, when I came back in, I had him confused, "What did you just tell him?"

"Do you trust me, Seven?" I took his now frozen hands.

"Of course, I do," Seven stole a quick kiss, catching the taillights out of the corner of his eye, "Um…MC? Saeran just drove off."

"I told him to," I pulled him out of the booth, "Let's go."

"Where are we going?" he looked at me strange, "MC, should I be worried?"

"We're going to my apartment," I filled him in, "And it's a beautiful night for a walk, wouldn't you say?"

"And a horrible night to have a curse."

"Come on, you nerd," I giggled, "Let's go."

"Wait a second," Seven asked, "Why are we going to your apartment?"

"You'll see…" Because my dear, sweet Seven. I have a plan. And a damn good one at that, if I do say so myself. You have nothing to worry about. It's not like we're having sex to get the images out of your head. No, no. That wound's too fresh. But I have an idea. And like I said, it worked the first time.