Thanks to everyone who read and to M1ssUnd3rst4nd1ng and Priyanka for reviewing.

Crossover with Meaning Makes It ch. 19, but both stories can be read separately.


The ATM beeped as it accepted the check, and Roddy breathed a sigh of relief when the screen displayed his updated balance. It was from the government so there was no reason that it shouldn't have gone through, but he still couldn't see why they hadn't just made a damn direct deposit in the first place and saved him a couple months of worry so he wasn't taking anything for granted.

The home screen popped up on the ATM again, and he shook his head. The check had finally arrived, the deposit was showing successful, and with the back payments included he now had more than enough to pay the rest of this month's rent and cover next month's easily as well. He could zero out the water and utility balances too, which was all to the good. The electric company wasn't supposed to turn off anyone's power in the winter regardless of payment status since if nothing else it was bad press when people froze to death, but he knew from Dad's arguments with them in the past that they were happy to play fast and loose with when winter officially started, and some of their recent notification emails had taken on a distinctly threatening tone. He'd been ignoring them because there wasn't much else he could do when the money just wasn't available, but now that he had the chance, he'd be glad to make it a nonissue.

He made a second deposit of most of his cash from the rave last night, bumping up the balance a little more, but he kept a couple twenties back because on his way home from Barry's he was going to stop at the grocery store. The one down in this neighborhood, granted, not the fancy one up by their house, but he was very much going to enjoy buying something besides potatoes and off-brand cereal all the same. It wasn't like he'd been in any danger of starvation or anything, he had nothing to complain about on that front, but while he didn't ask for a lot of variety in his meals, he did appreciate having more than two in rotation.

He also appreciated the reprieve in the immediate need to sell Dad's truck because while it was officially in his name now, he still hadn't quite worked out the next steps beyond that. He'd meant to, especially given those warning notices, but when he'd looked Google had turned up more in the way of terrifying ways that things could go wrong than actual practical information. And that was without most of his time being taken up with other things: homework, practice, all of that. In the week after the concert, while school was out for the holiday, he'd sit down and spend some more time on it. Maybe ask Nick at Thanksgiving assuming he was around because Roddy had a vague notion that meeting up for test drives and car sales was the sort of thing that you could do at the police station. He'd feel a lot safer doing that than giving strangers his address even if it did mean that he had to remember enough about driving to get the truck off the property himself.

The ATM beeped one last time before spitting out his receipt and card, and he stuck them in his wallet, dropped his wallet into his backpack, and headed across the street to the bus stop. His knee complained a little when he sank down on the bench, further evidence that he'd landed worse than he'd thought when Mitchell had punched him the other day, but it was nothing worth worrying about, especially since the bus should be arriving in five or ten minutes.

An hour and some later as the bus pulled into the shopping plaza down the road from Barry's place, Roddy suddenly found himself feeling considerably less sanguine. Just like at the bus stop his knee had twinged a little when he'd first taken a seat, and while it had been nothing that he couldn't ignore at the time, it had stiffened up considerably on the ride out here. If it hadn't been for his grip on the rails he'd probably have fallen on his face into the aisle two seconds after he'd stood up.

He gritted his teeth and made his way to the door, stepping down cautiously onto the curb. Theoretically the muscles should loosen back up soon—he'd felt fine at the rave last night, and that had involved hours on his feet—but that wasn't going to make the first part of this hike fun.

His knee still wasn't feeling a whole lot better after a mile, and it was a relief when Barry's truck came into view at the bottom of the Rabes' driveway. Not much was visible through the windshield with the way the sun was glaring off it, but Roddy waved automatically at vague movement from inside the cab and did his best to pick up his pace. Keeping an eye on the uneven gravel along the roadside as he did so because pitching himself head first into the shallow ditch that paralleled the road would be just his luck right about now.

The passenger-side door swung open as soon as he was close, and he grinned and ducked around it, bracing a hand on the seat to boost himself in. "Hey, I—"

Instinct had him shoving himself backwards, teeth and claws slamming to the fore, and the pain in his knee suddenly didn't matter in the least as he searched desperately for an escape route.

"Roddy?"

His brain caught up an instant later, and if that was enough to squash his immediate panic, his heart was still racing as he stared up at Barry. "What the fuck?"

"Huh?"

"What do you mean, 'huh'?" And maybe Barry did look a little confused, but Roddy wouldn't swear to it because he didn't spend a lot of time analyzing the expressions of woged-fucking-Jagerbars. "Retract already!" Seriously, if Barry wanted to give Roddy a heart attack, he was going about it the right way.

Barry blinked. "Oh. Sorry." He closed his eyes and shook his head, and his features abruptly assumed the visage that Roddy was familiar with. Albeit with a distinctly hurt cast. "I wouldn't hurt you."

Roddy forced himself to woge as well before stating the obvious. "If I thought you would I wouldn't be here, but that doesn't mean that my nerves needed the workout."

"Sorry, he repeated. "I just...someone did that to you."

Now Roddy was the one who was confused—his knee was stiff, sure, but he didn't think he'd been limping that badly—but since Barry didn't seem inclined to go off again, he stepped back towards the truck. And his knee let him know that it hadn't appreciated that little outburst, because of course it hadn't. He tossed his backpack in first and then used his arms and his other leg to lever himself up into the seat. "Who did what, now?"

Barry gave a vague wave, which didn't do a lot of good since the gesture pretty much encompassed Roddy as a whole, but the eventual 'Your eye,' was kind of obvious once Roddy gave it half a second's thought.

Despite Mitchell's best efforts the punch hadn't been square enough to make his eye swell to the point of uselessness, so aside from icing it Roddy had mostly stopped caring, but the bruising was unmistakable when you were looking at it head on. When he'd checked it this morning Roddy had mostly been thinking that Mrs. Menchik was going to have a fit come Friday, right before she dragged him off to be slathered with stage makeup, anyway, but he should have expected Barry to say something. Maybe not for him to woge, but it wasn't like Roddy had thought to warn him either. "Told you before, my classmates are assholes," he said with a shrug, pulling the door shut behind him and buckling himself in quickly. "I'm fine."

Barry didn't look convinced. "And you were limping."

Okay, maybe it was more obvious than he'd thought. Whatever. "Assholes, plus my stupid knee went stiff on the ride here. It's not a big deal." And definitely not something that he wanted to talk about.

Barry rumbled something, features rippling again, and Roddy's hand tightened on the armrest as his own claws started to slip. Maybe he should have waited a few more minutes before he got in the car.

"Barry..."

"Sorry," Barry repeated a third time, although his voice was still about an octave lower than where it should have been. "I just—" He cut himself off, shaking his head as he flexed hands that were more than half claws against the wheel. "Never mind. I think we've got some ice packs in the freezer."

Ice wouldn't make anything worse, Roddy figured, so he nodded and kept his mouth shut as Barry made a tight turn and started back up the driveway. And was glad it wasn't a very long trip, because things would have gotten seriously awkward otherwise.

"What've you got your backpack for, anyway?" Barry asked as they pulled into the garage, voice and hands back to normal again. "Working on another paper?"

"Nah, I need to stop by the grocery store on my way home, and that's the easiest way to carry the heavier stuff. But there's some CDs for you in there too since I finally remembered to rip them."

"Oh, cool. Thanks."

Roddy lowered himself cautiously down out of the truck after Barry shut it off and while his knee wasn't happy with him, it didn't feel like it was about to collapse or anything. He was turning back for his backpack when Barry snagged it.

"I've got it. Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Mostly, anyway, and he kept his hand on the truck as he crossed around to where Barry was waiting, testing his knee as he did so. He was pretty sure that he hadn't done himself any more damage jumping away from the truck, at least, but if he was wrong and tried to face-plant now Barry could probably grab him before he whacked his head and got blood on their floors. Small favors.

They made a stop in the kitchen for a couple ice packs and a snack, the addition of the bag of chips being Barry's idea although Roddy certainly wasn't objecting, and they'd just started to head towards the basement when Mr. Rabe came down from the second floor in a full suit and carrying a briefcase.

"Hello, Rod—" his absent smile of greeting disappeared abruptly as he looked up from his phone. "What on Earth happened to you?"

And, shit. In retrospect, Roddy really should have thought this whole visit through a little better. Coming home with bruises used to piss Dad off like nothing else, sure, but Dad had been no stranger to how the world worked. Or how it worked for them, anyway. The people Roddy was hanging out with these days weren't...Monroe and Barry and Mr. Rabe were nice and all, but their lives were different. "Hi, Mr. Rabe. There was sort of a problem with a couple kids from school the other day, but I'm fine. It's not a big deal."

Barry rumbled something from behind him that Roddy chose not to try and interpret given that Barry's voice had dropped again.

"That happened at school?" Mr. Rabe asked, his frown deepening even if his human facade didn't waver. Much to Roddy's relief.

"After school. It's not a big deal, really."

"Mm. Well, I see you've already got ice, but if you need a first aid kit there should be one in the bathroom downstairs. Or if there's not, there's definitely one in the back bathroom."

Roddy had no idea where their back bathroom was since he'd never actually gotten a tour of this place and mostly just followed Barry around when they weren't playing downstairs, but the last thing he wanted to do was draw this conversation out so he only nodded. "Thanks."

"And I'm heading out to meet with one of my clients since we weren't able to find a time during the week, but I'm planning to swing by the grocery store on my way home so if it turns out that you need something that isn't in the kit just send a text."

"Thanks," Roddy repeated. Hell would freeze over before he'd even consider doing anything of the sort, but whatever. And fortunately that response seemed to be acceptable enough as Mr. Rabe nodded again and then looked past him to his son.

"All right, I'm off, then. Barry, if you think of anything else that didn't make the list text that as well, and I'll see you boys in a couple hours."

"Bye, Dad," Barry said with a wave, and then tugged at Roddy's sleeve. "Come on. Will you be okay with the stairs?"

"Yeah, sure." Probably, anyway, since the only stairs he'd had to deal with this weekend were the half dozen or so up to the trailer and his knee hadn't been anywhere near so stiff then, but whatever. At least there was a railing.


Roddy's phone buzzed, and he grimaced as he recognized the sound. "Damn it, that's my alarm. I've got to get going." Not that he wouldn't rather hang out here, but between grocery shopping to do tonight and school tomorrow... He pushed himself up from his position sprawled on his stomach on the floor—easier to keep his leg straight that way even if the ache had mostly faded over the course of the afternoon—starting to roll up the cord on the controller.

"You're just trying to get out of me kicking your butt again," Barry said, although he started to roll up his controller too.

Roddy rolled his eyes. "Once again, beating someone who's first time playing the game was literally an hour ago is not a great accomplishment." If Barry didn't have quite so many games it might not be such an issue, but since he did and they kept rotating through new ones it wasn't like Roddy got a lot of time to learn the tricks. Not that he really cared, or, for that matter, that Barry seemed to; most of the fun was in heckling each other anyway.

"Fine, we'll play again the next time you're over and I'll do it then."

"Oh, yeah, that'll prove something."

Barry shoved him before taking his controller and putting the pair of them on top of the television. "Can't use the 'never played before' excuse forever, just saying. And I don't know if next weekend or next week works better for you, but I'll call you when I've got my volunteer stuff sorted and we can see what lines up."

"Cool. I've got another gig Saturday night, but other than that and Thanksgiving itself anytime should work." Roddy grabbed his now-empty backpack and slung it over his shoulder, and the two of them headed upstairs. Barry bringing their post-dinner snack dish with them; he'd done most of the eating since Roddy was still stuffed from the actual dinner and had no idea how he'd managed more fries anyway.

Mr. Rabe looked up from where he was paging through a stack of papers on the couch in front of the fire when they reached the main room. "Roddy, are you headed home?"

"Yeah."

He set the papers aside and stood. "I'll give you a ride, just let me grab my keys."

"You don't—"

Mr. Rabe looked at him, and Roddy shut his mouth. He wasn't even sure why he bothered protesting at this point. "Thanks."

Barry snickered, and since Mr. Rabe had just turned his back, Roddy flipped him off. Although really, given the darkness outside, he was a little bit glad that Mr. Rabe was willing to take him from here to the bus stop at the shopping plaza. By the usual good-versus-bad measures this neighborhood was leagues above his, but it was also leagues different than his, and thick brush and looming trees made him nervous in ways that graffiti'd alleys and abandoned buildings never had. During the daytime it wasn't so bad, but after dark was a whole different thing.

Mr. Rabe returned a moment later, and Roddy waved goodbye to Barry and followed him out to a car that was far more reasonably-sized than Barry's truck. Roddy didn't even have to climb to get in, and he put his backpack down by his feet and pulled the seat belt across his chest.

"How frequently does that happen?" Mr. Rabe asked after he'd backed the car out of the garage and they'd started down the driveway.

"How frequently does...?"

"Your eye."

"Oh." Duh. Roddy shrugged. "I don't know. Not that often."

Mr. Rabe glanced over at him. "Define 'not that often' a little more precisely, please."

Mr. Rabe wasn't normally very chatty, or at least he hadn't been at any time before this, but there wasn't much that Roddy could do about a direct order. "Three or four times a year, maybe. Definitely not much more than that." In past years it had started way earlier than November, too, but he didn't see any point in bringing that up.

"And after school or not, your teachers have never put a stop to it?"

"It's not...they don't do this stuff at school, they do it when I'm at the bus stop or on the way to the bus stop or whatever. Off campus." Roddy wasn't about to get into the same kind of explanation that he'd given Barry, but hopefully the 'not at school' part would be enough to satisfy a lawyer.

Unfortunately what it got him was a 'Hm' and a sideways look, very much not the same thing, and Roddy was suddenly even more glad that the bus stop wasn't far from the Rabes' place.