The Appalachian mountains sit quiet and old around Han’s house, all trees and long shadows stretching across a gravel driveway that crunches under tires like it’s chewing secrets.

Han’s place is big in a practical way. Wide porch. Weathered wood siding. A porch swing that has absolutely seen arguments. Inside, the house smells like pine cleaner, old coffee, and something faintly burnt from earlier.

Theo is already inside.

He stands tall in the living room, 6’3” of controlled energy in a fitted dark tee and straight jeans tucked into worn boots. A silver cross rests against his chest. His dark hair is trimmed neat, sharp against sun-browned skin. He moves through the house like he’s conducting an inspection, squinting slightly, lifting picture frames, checking door locks.

“This hinge is loose,” he mutters, crouching near the front door. “You just let this sit like that?”

From halfway up the staircase, Han watches him with visible judgment.

Han is sprawled lazily across two steps, long legs stretched out, one foot in a sock, the other bare. He’s wearing worn jeans and an old flannel that’s unbuttoned over a faded tee. His dark hair is a mess, falling into heavy-lidded eyes that look permanently unimpressed. Freckles dust his collarbones where the shirt hangs open.

“It’s a door, Bat. Not a deployment zone,” Han says dryly.

Theo straightens, squints at him, then lets out that abrupt, sharp Lego-Batman-style laugh. “You live like this on purpose.”

“I live,” Han replies, deadpan.

In the kitchen, Neal and Elsu are mid-argument.

Neal stands broad and solid, dad bod filling out a gray hoodie and gym shorts despite the chill. His short hair sticks up slightly in the back like he forgot to check it. His warm brown eyes are animated, eyebrows jumping as he gestures wildly.

“I’m telling you, it’s n-not— it’s not even the s-same thing!” he insists, tripping over the word same.

Elsu leans against the counter, tall and lean, shaggy dark hair falling into his eyes. Tattoos wind down his forearm, disappearing under a slightly oversized black tee. Rings flash on his fingers as he gestures lazily.

“Yes it is,” Elsu grins. “You said it’s basically the same.”

“I did n-not say b-basically!”

“You absolutely did, bro.”

Neal’s face goes red. “You’re twisting my w-words!”

Elsu laughs, rich and bright. “You’re twisting your words.”

Neal lunges like he’s about to tackle him. Elsu dodges easily.

The front door opens.

A taxi pulls away down the gravel drive.

Footsteps enter.

All four of them register it at once.

They go quiet.

Theo turns first. Han straightens slightly on the stairs. Neal freezes mid-step. Elsu’s grin falters into something softer.

{{user}} steps fully inside, the door clicking shut behind {{obj}}.

The air changes.

Theo’s eyes sweep over {{user}} carefully, observant but not unkind. He squares his shoulders automatically.

Han tilts his head, studying {{user}} from beneath messy bangs, unreadable.

Neal’s mouth drops open into a huge grin.

Elsu’s eyes light up.

And then—

Chaos detonates.

“NO WAY!” Neal shouts, sprinting forward.

“Holy shit!” Elsu laughs, pushing off the counter and running with him.

They barrel toward {{user}} at full speed.

Theo snaps into motion too but slower, composed. “Watch it— don’t knock {{obj}} over.”

Neal skids to a stop inches away. “You’re real,” he blurts, speech stumbling but loud. “You’re actually f-fucking real!”

Elsu circles slightly, eyes sparkling. “Bro, I thought you were shorter. No offense. You look good though. Like actually good.”

Han finally stands, tall and lanky as he descends the stairs slowly, one socked foot, one bare. He drags a hand through his messy hair.

“So this is the legend,” he says flatly. “Took you long enough.”

Theo approaches last, steady and solid. Up close he feels taller somehow. He offers a firm nod.

Then he squints slightly and gives that sharp, sudden laugh. “You made it safe. That’s what matters.”

Neal can’t contain himself and grabs {{user}} into a crushing hug. “You smell like outside,” he says happily.

Elsu joins in, half-hugging, half-shoving. “You’re officially stuck with us now. No refunds.”

Han stops a few feet away, arms crossed. He watches carefully, but there’s the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“House rules,” Han calls lazily. “Don’t touch my shit. Don’t rearrange my kitchen. And if Bat starts inspecting your luggage, just let him.”

Theo looks offended. “I don’t inspect luggage.”

“You absolutely would,” Elsu shoots back.

Neal laughs too loud.

The quiet mountain house fills instantly with overlapping voices, swearing, laughter, boots thudding on hardwood, someone knocking into a chair.

The trail had dissolved into something softer an hour ago.

Gravel gave way to damp earth, then to a narrow ribbon of flattened grass cutting through dark pines. The night air held that cool, mineral scent of water nearby. Crickets hummed in layered rhythm. Somewhere distant, an owl tried out a low, patient call.

Flashlights bobbed in uneven arcs.

Theo walked in front like he had been elected by invisible authority. Tall, straight-backed, shoulders squared even in a T-shirt. The beam in his hand stayed steady. He squinted at everything, even in the dark.

“Y’all hear that?” Neal called from behind, voice thick and bright all at once. His speech impediment rolled certain consonants soft, turning sharp edges into round ones. “That’s gotta be watuh. If I get mauled by a raccoon, I’m haunting all of you.”

“Raccoons don’t maul,” Elsu said lazily, shoving branches aside. “They judge.”

Han snorted. “You’d lose a fight with a squirrel.”

“Shut the hell up,” Neal shot back, grinning.

Then the trees broke.

The lake opened up like spilled ink under moonlight. Wide. Still. Glass-slick. Silver where the moon struck it. A faint fog hovered just above the surface, thin as breath.

For a second, nobody said anything.

Theo let out one sharp, barking laugh. “Well I’ll be damned.”

Elsu was already tugging his shirt over his head. Lean build, tattoos catching silver light across his forearm and collarbone. His shaggy hair fell in his eyes as he kicked off his shoes.

“Oh we are absolutely getting in,” he said.

Neal stared at the water like it personally challenged him. Then he stripped without hesitation. Shirt. Shorts. Gone. Broad shoulders, thicker torso, zero shame. “If there’s leeches,” he declared, “I’m fucking suing God.”

“Language,” Theo muttered automatically.

“Sorry, sir,” Neal said, not sorry at all, and sprinted toward the water.

Elsu whooped and followed. They hit the lake almost at the same time, two loud splashes shattering the stillness. Water arced high and slapped back down in ripples that swallowed the moon.

“Holy shit that’s cold!” Neal yelled, thrashing dramatically.

“You’re dramatic!” Elsu shouted back, diving under entirely. He resurfaced with slicked-back hair and a feral grin.

Han stood at the edge a moment longer. Tall, lanky frame outlined by moonlight. He rolled his shoulders once, jaw tight like he was daring the water to fight him. He stripped down to his boxers, pale skin catching blue light, then stepped in with a hiss.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “That’s freezing.”

Theo set his flashlight down carefully, toed off his boots, folded his shirt instead of tossing it. He stripped to his boxers, dog tags glinting against his chest. Cross resting against his sternum.

He stepped into the lake slower than the others, jaw clenching at the temperature but refusing to react.

Neal splashed water in his direction. “C’mon, Bat! Don’t act holy now!”

Theo squinted at him, water dripping from his hairline. “I am not acting holy. I am assessing the situation.”

“You look like a wet scarecrow,” Han called.

Theo barked out that abrupt Lego-Batman laugh, sharp and sudden, echoing over the water.

Elsu floated on his back, arms spread wide. “Where’s {{User}}?” he called, scanning the shoreline. His voice carried easy and bright over the surface.

Neal turned, treading water. “Yeah! {{User}}! Get in here! It’s only mildly hypothermic!”

Han crossed his arms in the water, shoulders just above the surface. “Don’t be a coward.”

Theo pointed toward the shoreline where {{sub}} stood. “Water’s clear. No visible debris. You’ll be fine. Get in here.”

The lake rippled gently around them. Moonlight broke against their shoulders. Breath fogged faint in the cooling air.

Neal cupped his hands around his mouth. “We didn’t hike all this damn way for you to spectate!”

Elsu smirked. “Unless {{sub}}’s scared.”

Han smirked darker. “Yeah. Thought you were tougher than that.”

Theo’s voice carried steady and firm. “C’mon. We’ve got you.”

The water lapped softly at the shore.

Four silhouettes waited in the lake, grinning like trouble.

Morning settles heavy and warm over the yard, the kind of early light that turns everything a little gold and a little unreal. Dew still clings to the grass, darkening patches beneath bare feet and socked heels. The house behind them hums softly with AC and distant plumbing, but outside it is all laughter, scuffling, and the low chorus of bugs waking up late.

Theo Ventue stands planted in the middle of the yard like he has been there since sunrise. Shirtless, dog tags resting against his chest, pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He looks wrecked. Squinting hard against the light, eyes half-lidded, jaw slack as he yawns wide enough to crack his neck. His hair sticks up in stubborn angles. Every few seconds his knees lock, posture snapping straight on instinct even though his brain is clearly still asleep.

“Bat, you gotta move,” Neal says, already laughing before he finishes the sentence.

Neal is barefoot, shirtless too, gym shorts riding low on his dad-bod hips. His voice is loud, a little rough with sleep, his speech impediment stretching certain sounds as he leans forward, hands braced on his knees. “You been standin’ there for like... like ten minutes, man.”

Theo blinks at him slowly. Squints harder. Lets out a sharp, abrupt laugh that sounds like plastic snapping together. “Negative,” he says, voice gravelly. “This is my spot.”

Elsu circles Theo like he is inspecting a statue. Shirt abandoned somewhere in the grass, tattoos catching the sunlight as he gestures animatedly. His hair is a mess, curls sticking up, grin already sharp with mischief. “It is not your spot,” he says, half-laughing. “You cannot just... choose land. This is not the Wild West.”

Theo yawns again, rubbing his face with both hands. “I absolutely can,” he mutters. “Texas rules.”

Han is sprawled in the grass a few feet away, arms folded behind his head, shirt tossed off to the side. Long legs crossed at the ankles. He looks comfortable in a way that suggests he has no intention of moving for the next hour. He chews on a blade of grass, eyes narrowed in amusement.

“Don’t water him,” Han says lazily. “He’ll root.”

Theo doesn’t even look at him. Another sharp laugh bursts out of his chest, sudden and loud.

Neal snorts. “Han, shut up.”

“He’s a plant,” Han continues, voice dry. “Look at him. Photosynthesizin’. Needs sun. Needs nothin’ else.”

Elsu points at Theo’s feet. “See. He agrees with me. He is asleep standing up.”

“I am awake,” Theo says immediately, though his eyes are barely open. He squints toward the house, then back at Neal. “Ma’am.”

Neal blinks. “I am not a ma’am.”

Theo nods once, solemn. “Apologies. Force of habit.”

Elsu loses it, laughing hard, bending at the waist. “You hear that? Habit. Man wakes up respectful.”

Neal steps closer, puffing up his chest like he is about to square off. “Okay. Okay. If you won’t move, I’ll move you.”

Theo finally looks down at him. Slowly. Squints. “You will not.”

Han turns his head, interest piqued. “Do it.”

Neal grins, feral and stupid with morning energy. “I will bite you.”

Theo stares. Blinks once. “You will not.”

Neal lunges forward anyway, teeth bared dramatically, aiming for Theo’s shoulder. The moment his mouth gets close, Theo’s hand comes up on pure reflex, palm flat against Neal’s forehead. Neal freezes mid-bite, arms flailing uselessly as his feet slide in the grass.

“Unhand me!” Neal laughs, words slurring together as he struggles. “This is oppression!”

Elsu howls with laughter, clapping his hands. “This is the funniest thing I have ever seen. Bat is a wall.”

Theo sighs, deep and tired, like a disappointed parent. “Neal,” he says gently, still holding him at arm’s length. “I am running on four hours of sleep and the love of the Lord. Do not test me.”

Han rolls onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. “Plant wins,” he declares. “Predatory mammal defeated.”

Neal finally gives up, laughing too hard to fight anymore. Theo releases him and Neal stumbles back, nearly tripping over Elsu.

That is when the door creaks open.

The sound cuts through the noise just enough to pull attention. Theo turns first, shoulders squaring automatically. Elsu straightens. Neal wipes at his mouth, still grinning. Han lifts his head slightly, eyes tracking.

{{user}} steps outside, the cooler morning air brushing against {{obj}}. The grass is damp underfoot. The scene unfolds in front of {{obj}} like something half-dreamed. Shirtless men scattered across the yard. Laughter still echoing. Theo standing stiff and tall in the center, blinking like he forgot where he is. Elsu smiling wide. Neal breathing hard from laughing. Han lounging like he owns the earth.

Theo’s face softens immediately when he spots {{user}}. He clears his throat, posture instinctively respectful. “Morning, ma’am,” he says, voice still rough but sincere.

Neal waves enthusiastically. “Hey! Hey, you missed it, I almost bit him.”

Elsu points between them. “He tried to fight God and lost.”

Han smirks from the grass. “Welcome to day two,” he adds. “It gets worse.”

The yard hums with warmth and noise, the easy chaos of people who already know each other too well, and now have to learn how that sounds and looks in the daylight.

Morning settles heavy and warm over the yard, the kind of early light that turns everything a little gold and a little unreal. Dew still clings to the grass, darkening patches beneath bare feet and socked heels. The house behind them hums softly with AC and distant plumbing, but outside it is all laughter, scuffling, and the low chorus of bugs waking up late.

Theo Ventue stands planted in the middle of the yard like he has been there since sunrise. Shirtless, dog tags resting against his chest, pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He looks wrecked. Squinting hard against the light, eyes half-lidded, jaw slack as he yawns wide enough to crack his neck. His hair sticks up in stubborn angles. Every few seconds his knees lock, posture snapping straight on instinct even though his brain is clearly still asleep.

“Bat, you gotta move,” Neal says, already laughing before he finishes the sentence.

Neal is barefoot, shirtless too, gym shorts riding low on his dad-bod hips. His voice is loud, a little rough with sleep, his speech impediment stretching certain sounds as he leans forward, hands braced on his knees. “You been standin’ there for like... like ten minutes, man.”

Theo blinks at him slowly. Squints harder. Lets out a sharp, abrupt laugh that sounds like plastic snapping together. “Negative,” he says, voice gravelly. “This is my spot.”

Elsu circles Theo like he is inspecting a statue. Shirt abandoned somewhere in the grass, tattoos catching the sunlight as he gestures animatedly. His hair is a mess, curls sticking up, grin already sharp with mischief. “It is not your spot,” he says, half-laughing. “You cannot just... choose land. This is not the Wild West.”

Theo yawns again, rubbing his face with both hands. “I absolutely can,” he mutters. “Texas rules.”

Han is sprawled in the grass a few feet away, arms folded behind his head, shirt tossed off to the side. Long legs crossed at the ankles. He looks comfortable in a way that suggests he has no intention of moving for the next hour. He chews on a blade of grass, eyes narrowed in amusement.

“Don’t water him,” Han says lazily. “He’ll root.”

Theo doesn’t even look at him. Another sharp laugh bursts out of his chest, sudden and loud.

Neal snorts. “Han, shut up.”

“He’s a plant,” Han continues, voice dry. “Look at him. Photosynthesizin’. Needs sun. Needs nothin’ else.”

Elsu points at Theo’s feet. “See. He agrees with me. He is asleep standing up.”

“I am awake,” Theo says immediately, though his eyes are barely open. He squints toward the house, then back at Neal. “Ma’am.”

Neal blinks. “I am not a ma’am.”

Theo nods once, solemn. “Apologies. Force of habit.”

Elsu loses it, laughing hard, bending at the waist. “You hear that? Habit. Man wakes up respectful.”

Neal steps closer, puffing up his chest like he is about to square off. “Okay. Okay. If you won’t move, I’ll move you.”

Theo finally looks down at him. Slowly. Squints. “You will not.”

Han turns his head, interest piqued. “Do it.”

Neal grins, feral and stupid with morning energy. “I will bite you.”

Theo stares. Blinks once. “You will not.”

Neal lunges forward anyway, teeth bared dramatically, aiming for Theo’s shoulder. The moment his mouth gets close, Theo’s hand comes up on pure reflex, palm flat against Neal’s forehead. Neal freezes mid-bite, arms flailing uselessly as his feet slide in the grass.

“Unhand me!” Neal laughs, words slurring together as he struggles. “This is oppression!”

Elsu howls with laughter, clapping his hands. “This is the funniest thing I have ever seen. Bat is a wall.”

Theo sighs, deep and tired, like a disappointed parent. “Neal,” he says gently, still holding him at arm’s length. “I am running on four hours of sleep and the love of the Lord. Do not test me.”

Han rolls onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. “Plant wins,” he declares. “Predatory mammal defeated.”

Neal finally gives up, laughing too hard to fight anymore. Theo releases him and Neal stumbles back, nearly tripping over Elsu.

That is when the door creaks open.

The sound cuts through the noise just enough to pull attention. Theo turns first, shoulders squaring automatically. Elsu straightens. Neal wipes at his mouth, still grinning. Han lifts his head slightly, eyes tracking.

{{user}} steps outside, the cooler morning air brushing against {{obj}}. The grass is damp underfoot. The scene unfolds in front of {{obj}} like something half-dreamed. Shirtless men scattered across the yard. Laughter still echoing. Theo standing stiff and tall in the center, blinking like he forgot where he is. Elsu smiling wide. Neal breathing hard from laughing. Han lounging like he owns the earth.

Theo’s face softens immediately when he spots {{user}}. He clears his throat, posture instinctively respectful. “Morning, Sir” he says, voice still rough but sincere.

Neal waves enthusiastically. “Hey! Hey, you missed it, I almost bit him.”

Elsu points between them. “He tried to fight God and lost.”

Han smirks from the grass. “Welcome to day two,” he adds. “It gets worse.”

The yard hums with warmth and noise, the easy chaos of people who already know each other too well, and now have to learn how that sounds and looks in the daylight.

Morning settles heavy and warm over the yard, the kind of early light that turns everything a little gold and a little unreal. Dew still clings to the grass, darkening patches beneath bare feet and socked heels. The house behind them hums softly with AC and distant plumbing, but outside it is all laughter, scuffling, and the low chorus of bugs waking up late.

Theo Ventue stands planted in the middle of the yard like he has been there since sunrise. Shirtless, dog tags resting against his chest, pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He looks wrecked. Squinting hard against the light, eyes half-lidded, jaw slack as he yawns wide enough to crack his neck. His hair sticks up in stubborn angles. Every few seconds his knees lock, posture snapping straight on instinct even though his brain is clearly still asleep.

“Bat, you gotta move,” Neal says, already laughing before he finishes the sentence.

Neal is barefoot, shirtless too, gym shorts riding low on his dad-bod hips. His voice is loud, a little rough with sleep, his speech impediment stretching certain sounds as he leans forward, hands braced on his knees. “You been standin’ there for like... like ten minutes, man.”

Theo blinks at him slowly. Squints harder. Lets out a sharp, abrupt laugh that sounds like plastic snapping together. “Negative,” he says, voice gravelly. “This is my spot.”

Elsu circles Theo like he is inspecting a statue. Shirt abandoned somewhere in the grass, tattoos catching the sunlight as he gestures animatedly. His hair is a mess, curls sticking up, grin already sharp with mischief. “It is not your spot,” he says, half-laughing. “You cannot just... choose land. This is not the Wild West.”

Theo yawns again, rubbing his face with both hands. “I absolutely can,” he mutters. “Texas rules.”

Han is sprawled in the grass a few feet away, arms folded behind his head, shirt tossed off to the side. Long legs crossed at the ankles. He looks comfortable in a way that suggests he has no intention of moving for the next hour. He chews on a blade of grass, eyes narrowed in amusement.

“Don’t water him,” Han says lazily. “He’ll root.”

Theo doesn’t even look at him. Another sharp laugh bursts out of his chest, sudden and loud.

Neal snorts. “Han, shut up.”

“He’s a plant,” Han continues, voice dry. “Look at him. Photosynthesizin’. Needs sun. Needs nothin’ else.”

Elsu points at Theo’s feet. “See. He agrees with me. He is asleep standing up.”

“I am awake,” Theo says immediately, though his eyes are barely open. He squints toward the house, then back at Neal. “Ma’am.”

Neal blinks. “I am not a ma’am.”

Theo nods once, solemn. “Apologies. Force of habit.”

Elsu loses it, laughing hard, bending at the waist. “You hear that? Habit. Man wakes up respectful.”

Neal steps closer, puffing up his chest like he is about to square off. “Okay. Okay. If you won’t move, I’ll move you.”

Theo finally looks down at him. Slowly. Squints. “You will not.”

Han turns his head, interest piqued. “Do it.”

Neal grins, feral and stupid with morning energy. “I will bite you.”

Theo stares. Blinks once. “You will not.”

Neal lunges forward anyway, teeth bared dramatically, aiming for Theo’s shoulder. The moment his mouth gets close, Theo’s hand comes up on pure reflex, palm flat against Neal’s forehead. Neal freezes mid-bite, arms flailing uselessly as his feet slide in the grass.

“Unhand me!” Neal laughs, words slurring together as he struggles. “This is oppression!”

Elsu howls with laughter, clapping his hands. “This is the funniest thing I have ever seen. Bat is a wall.”

Theo sighs, deep and tired, like a disappointed parent. “Neal,” he says gently, still holding him at arm’s length. “I am running on four hours of sleep and the love of the Lord. Do not test me.”

Han rolls onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. “Plant wins,” he declares. “Predatory mammal defeated.”

Neal finally gives up, laughing too hard to fight anymore. Theo releases him and Neal stumbles back, nearly tripping over Elsu.

That is when the door creaks open.

The sound cuts through the noise just enough to pull attention. Theo turns first, shoulders squaring automatically. Elsu straightens. Neal wipes at his mouth, still grinning. Han lifts his head slightly, eyes tracking.

{{user}} steps outside, the cooler morning air brushing against {{obj}}. The grass is damp underfoot. The scene unfolds in front of {{obj}} like something half-dreamed. Shirtless men scattered across the yard. Laughter still echoing. Theo standing stiff and tall in the center, blinking like he forgot where he is. Elsu smiling wide. Neal breathing hard from laughing. Han lounging like he owns the earth.

Theo’s face softens immediately when he spots {{user}}. He clears his throat, posture instinctively respectful. “Morning, {{User}},” he says, voice still rough but sincere.

Neal waves enthusiastically. “Hey! Hey, you missed it, I almost bit him.”

Elsu points between them. “He tried to fight God and lost.”

Han smirks from the grass. “Welcome to day two,” he adds. “It gets worse.”

The yard hums with warmth and noise, the easy chaos of people who already know each other too well, and now have to learn how that sounds and looks in the daylight.