Obligatory Disclaimer: Dark Horse and Mr. Mignola own all, save for my own original characters. A special thank you to Guillermo del Toro for bringing this wonderful character to my attention.

And so the friendship between Hellboy and Torie began to take on a pattern.

About once a week or so, both of their schedules permitting, Hellboy would swing by Torie's apartment and forget about his job – and what he looked like – for awhile. After his first visit, where he showed up empty-handed, Hellboy always came bearing gifts, despite Torie's protests to the contrary. Never anything substantial, the presents were generally something small and usually kitschy, but occasionally there were the few items that took Torie's breath away.

There were nesting dolls from Russia that were blond-faced greyhounds that looked like Lance. There were the opal earrings that were modeled after a piece from some European royalty's collection. There was the water globe of the Paris Opera house with a figure of the Phantom tucked down in the base, which represented the sub-cellars of the theater, while Christine and Raoul danced in the snow. And while sometimes it might be nothing more than a postcard bought at an airport or hotel gift shop, Hellboy never failed to remember Torie.

As it was, Torie felt guilty for the showering of gifts and occasionally had twinges of doubt that they given only in the name of friendship. Especially on the days when she came home from work to find a present waiting on her doorstep – the twinges of shame made Torie feel that she was somehow disappointing Hellboy on the days she had a life outside of her apartment, even if that life was actually only her working late.

However, Torie also tried to be pragmatic and figured the offerings were payment for all the beers and meals she provided. Regardless, there was guilt with every kind gesture bestowed upon her. She felt that she didn't really deserve any of what he brought, but Torie graciously accepted the gifts each time they were presented and tried to counter with better and better foodstuffs in return. Even if the large quantities of food and beer was causing her to put more mileage on her running shoes to counter the increased consumption of calories and her salary from the non-profit agency was being worn thin.

Torie had an inkling, but had no idea of the magnitude of gratitude Hellboy felt towards her. He was beyond thrilled at having a friend outside of work. To say that his world was small could be construed as inaccurate as he saw places and beings that most couldn't even imagine, but Hellboy's world as a member of 'normal' society was indeed expanded by leaps and bounds each time they hung out because instead of just dreaming of a normal life, he was actually getting to live it. And as his confidence in their friendship grew, Hellboy began to reveal more about his life outside of Torie's apartment, thus trying to merge the two halves of his life into one.

But with everything he shared, Hellboy knew there was the possibility that the information might scare Torie away. So he came bearing gifts; a not-so-subtle way of bribing Torie to remain his friend.

But all his stress was for naught because Torie didn't even bat an eyelash when Hellboy started talking the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense. She would never admit it to him, but the idea of having someone who looked like Hellboy in her life had sent Torie to church more times in the short tenure of their friendship than all the times she had gone in the past handful of years. And each time she prayed for advice or guidance, Torie felt the same – safe. Since the results were always identical, she began embrace the idea of not judging a book by its cover.

Hellboy was super hesitant to talk about what he did for a living and only was forthright about it when Torie asked what it was exactly that caused all the cuts and bruises she would tend to over and over again when he visited. After taking in a deep breath, he told the Reader's Digest version of his life with the Bureau his 'father' founded and the many misadventures Hellboy and his co-workers had along the way.

Abe Sapien, Hellboy's best friend, was a merman and an invaluable member of the team. He had certain abilities that Hellboy admitted to sometimes being envious of that helped crack many a case. Having been curious about the world Hellboy lived in, Torie felt that she was being granted an all-access backstage pass and decided not to waste the opportunity, so she had asked several insightful questions about his friend that caused Hellboy to take several long moments to consider. When Hellboy began painting a picture of Abe being a nerdy know-it-all, while Hellboy portrayed himself in the role of brute strength, Torie made him tell her tales of their adventures together. His heart warmed at the smile that came across her face as a response to his impassioned stories of his aquatic friend.

But Hellboy was more hesitant to talk about Liz Sherman, trying to keep any real dialog about her to a minimum. However one night, after a few beers, he tried to outline their friendship. It came out in fits and bursts, but Torie eventually learned of a woman who had pyrotechnic abilities and who was learning to better control them, but occasionally had those powers get the best of her. And because of her inability to feel normal – despite looking mainstream – she left the Bureau more times than Hellboy could recall… but always came back. Torie also learned that Hellboy was immune to the power of fire, as he had rescued others, as well as Liz, from her raging infernos more than once.

Maybe it was the beer talking, maybe he just wanted to put it out there, but Hellboy confessed that he sometimes crushed on Liz. He spoke of her in quiet, hushed tones, almost reverently. Torie felt a twinge of jealousy and a knot in her stomach twist as Hellboy regaled her with tales of their cases, but she mentally chastised herself for hours after he left that night for feeling the way she did. But she did feel much better when Hellboy continued on and said that Abe and Liz seemed to be having growing feelings for each other.

But after Hellboy talked about hanging out with his two friends who were busy exploring the dynamics of their evolving relationship, the conversation then turned into a drunken discussion of being third wheels and the inability to find someone worthwhile. Both bemoaned their lines of work being a reason, but Torie knew that she had it way easier than a man who was of a whole other species.

Who knew that thought would ever pop into my head?

That discussion lead to why holidays, and birthdays, suck when you're alone.

"So, Sam, how old are you?"

Hellboy, who was stretched out on the couch, smiled as he looked down at his friend. Ever since his nickname was made spur of the moment, Torie continued calling him Sam, to which he was ever appreciative. Even when the questions she asked were of a vein he didn't wish to answer.

Torie was sitting on the floor, her left leg stretched out before her as she painted her toenails a bright shade of blue. Her tongue stuck out she a little bit in concentration, a gesture Hellboy was sure Torie was unaware of, as she tried to apply the polish without smears. She was failing miserably. Hellboy figured that the four beers she drank had something to do with it.

Dragging a hand across his face, Hellboy sighed. "Aw Torie. I don't want to play this game. Let's just say I'm an old man and leave it at that."

Torie paused mid-stroke and smiled impishly up at her friend. "Then a new game. How old were you when you when you had your first—?"

"I'm sixty-three years old," Hellboy blurted out. He didn't even want to contemplate how her question was going to end.

Torie eyes widened in surprise because there was no way he was telling the truth. But why would he lie about something like that? Her shell-shocked expression quickly disappeared and was replaced with a long appraisal. Over the course of their visits, Torie had to admit – if only to herself – that she had noticed, and even appreciated, the physique of her friend. Broad shoulders and chest tapering down to a trim waist, held up by muscular legs; there was no way not to notice when he wore skintight t-shirts and leather pants.

But sixty-three years old? Torie had figured him to be ten years older than her – at most. And in actuality, he really did look quite a bit younger than she was – a fact that now sat upon Torie quite uncomfortably. But instead of brooding or contemplating his answer, she decided to pounce upon what Hellboy wouldn't let her ask. "Ha! You are scared of something! That's funny. But damn, Sam, you sure have aged well. I can only imagine what you looked like when you were half your age."

Hellboy could feel his cheeks warm and only hoped that there wasn't obvious color on his face. He looked around for something to throw, but since Torie had moved the coffee table out of way to paint her nails, he saw that he was unarmed. Seeing the look of triumph on her face made Hellboy laugh, deep and low. The rumbling from his chest cased goosebumps to pepper her arms and Torie wanted to wrap herself up in his laugh like a blanket.

It was his turn to ask. "And how old are you, little missy?"

Torie rolled her eyes as she felt a blush creep across her cheeks. With a sigh, she laid back on the floor, oblivious to her t-shirt riding up. Hellboy was surprised to see a piece of jewelry sparkling at her bellybutton. He was also surprised at how erotic he thought it was.

Her words broke him from his thoughts. "Just turned thirty about a month back."

"I missed your birthday?" The guilt tinged his words so heavily that Torie turned her head and stuck out her tongue as she rolled onto her side.

"Weren't we just discussing how birthdays suck and how we don't like to acknowledge them?" she asked, exasperation coloring her words.

Hellboy scoffed in reply, "Yes, but you're much to young to be so jaded about birthdays yet. I was figuring it was just sympathy bitterness for my plight."

Torie snorted and waved her hand in dismissal. "Whatever."

A brow arched in mock annoyance, but the smile curving his lips nullified the message. "Did you just 'whatever' me?"

Torie didn't answer, but the reciprocal smile on her face could have split her head in two. Hellboy chuckled and shook his head, his gaze arcing up to the ceiling. The time he spent with Torie countered all the long hours, the severe beatings, the crappy food in crappy motels that he had endured in his life. He wasn't known as the most mature member of his group, but Hellboy felt like he could shed his role as world-saver and actually become an average guy when they hung out. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he could feel so free as he did when ensconced in Torie's apartment.

Needing to move around lest he get more philosophical, Hellboy stood and asked, "Hey, want another beer?"

Torie knew that she should cut herself off, that her recent attempts to keep up with Hellboy were foolish and would come back to bite her in the butt. And the tummy. And the thighs. But, as she looked up at him and saw the question in his eyes, Torie debated if trying to keep up with him might not be so bad. Barriers came down with alcohol consumption. And while Hellboy didn't look… conventional, there was something… appealing about him.

But then there came the realization that one more beer might have her acting like a bigger ass than she already felt she was. And that enough barriers may have been dislodged for one evening. "Uhm, nah. By the looks of how bad my toes just came out, I think I hit my quota a beer or two ago. But please, have at 'em."

Hellboy reached down and grabbed her ankle, making a production out of inspecting her polish job. The touch of his hand, warm and rough, caused Torie to suck in her breath, as did his gentle guiding of her foot towards his knee. All Torie was conscious of was the fact that her legs were becoming an ever-wider V. And she was also conscious of the fact that the leg of hr shorts was gaping open; Torie briefly closed her eyes in embarrassment and hoped that she was wearing pretty undies instead of her usual granny panties.

Don't make a big deal out of it, but make a point.

"You know, I'm fully aware that my toenails look terrible, thank you very much, but now I feel like a freakin' wishbone. Now go get your beer and leave me to wallow in my disgrace of a paintjob."

Hellboy realized that he had put Torie in a compromising situation and with an embarrassed duck of his head, deposited her foot back on the ground. Dumb ass! Dumb ass! Dumb ass! With a sheepish grin, his picked up the empty beer bottle he had set on the floor and got up to retreat to the kitchen in search of another libation. Damn, if I don't need another drink now.

But Torie grabbed his tail, stilling Hellboy in his steps, and said softly, "Hey… Don't look like you're about to jump off a roof or anything. It's all good. And don't even begin to sigh like that! But do me this one huge favor and you'll have my everlasting gratitude."

Hellboy eyed his friend with the tiniest bit of apprehension. He knew that Torie could see his embarrassment at his faux pas, but the playful tone in her voice made it seem like it was yesterday's news. She squeezed his tail, as if honking a bicycle horn, wanting an answer.

"And what is it that I can do for you?" It bothered him that his voice came out so low.

Torie's lips curved into a smile, her eyes lighting with amusement. He was still so unsure of her. "Grab me a bottled water from the fridge and the box of Vanilla Wafers on top the fridge. I think there's a few Baby Ruths still up there too, if you're interested." Torie wanted to smooth out some of the tension she could see in the muscles of Hellboy's face. His brow was furrowed and his jaw clenched, both common reactions for him when in a situation that made him slightly uncomfortable but wanted to pretend that everything was all right. Torie winked at Hellboy and bit her bottom lip to squelch a laugh, letting him know that she wanted the munchies more for him than herself, but was presenting them as a peace offering.

With an almost audible snap, Hellboy pulled his tail out of Torie's grasp indignantly, but then winked back, softening his actions. He could hear her laugh as he made his way into the kitchen, but knew it was out of amusement, not mocking. Paranoia was one of his huge weaknesses and he lived in constant fear that Torie would some day come to her senses, realizing that she let a monster come into her home on a regular basis.

And as he opened the refrigerator door to grab the bottles, Hellboy was mentally chastising himself over the position he had put Torie into. Not that he wouldn't like seeing her… Stop it! She's your friend! Hellboy grabbed the beverages and snacks, and then headed back to the sofa.

Torie had plopped herself onto the couch by the time Hellboy came back with the beer and water, her body laid down on the length of the furniture. He lifted her ankles and slid his bulk under them, then deposited her feet onto his lap.

"Thank you, kind sir," Torie said upon being presented her bottled water, the seal already broken with a twist of Hellboy's wrist.

Hellboy nodded in acknowledgement and took a long pull on his beer. Casting a gaze her way, he watched as Torie struggled to sit up so that she could drink her water, her legs swinging off his lap and onto the floor. Sighing, he let his gaze drift to the city lights beyond her balcony doors. The weight of melancholia settled onto his wide shoulders despite knowing that he and Torie were cool. But there was still doubt that she would banish him from her life… and the irony would be the banishment would not be because of how he looked.

Beyond the sliding doors of the balcony, so many people were out there, chilling out like the two of them… and yet he felt like an imposter. That he would be found out for the fraud he was and be persecuted like the monsters that were not so different than himself, that he fought in the name of justice. After a long swallow of his beer, he held the bottle to his chest and tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling before closing his eyes in defeat. "How often do you think about the separation between yourself and the people in the shelter?"

Torie sobered slightly and wrinkled her brow in concern. What on earth was he talking about? It was obvious that the light banter from earlier had dissipated and a darker pallor would be taking over the rest of the evening. Never having done it before, but knowing he sorely needed it, Torie weighed the ramifications of giving him a hug. Folding her legs up under her, she tried scooting closer, but her drunken momentum carrying her farther forward than she anticipated and nearly causing her to knock heads with her friend. As it was, Torie had to brace herself against his shoulder lest she land in Hellboy's lap.

She swallowed hard when she noticed how close her lips were to Hellboy's, of which Torie suddenly found fascinating. Forgetting about his question, Torie found herself staring at his mouth. Until he quietly coughed. Pink staining her cheeks, she flashed a brilliant, if nervous, smile and remembered his question.

Leaning against her friend, Torie pressed her cheek against the warmth of his bicep. She already missed the quips from earlier, but knew that this had weighed heavily on him for a long time, if not for almost forever. Torie was not about to laugh off his concerns. "Uhm, all the time. I feel so blessed that I can help who I can, but I know it's all just a matter of luck that the tables aren't turned. That it's not me escaping from an abusive situation. That it's not me with my finances completely in the toilet because someone ruined my credit. That… Yeah, I think about it all the time. But you know, I also think about the fact that there's a reason why I'm at where I am. If the tables were turned, would the person I'm helping be able to help me? Most times, I can't come up with a yes to the question, but generally I'm able to think of her in a position of equal importance, just not doing what I do."

Hellboy set the beer between his legs and wrapped his arm around Torie's shoulders, pulling her head to his chest. Whispering into her hair, he said, "Some days, I get scared that the tables are going to turn."

Torie's response was to wrap her arms around his chest. "Then that fear is going to make sure it never happens."