After Hunter gets off the phone with Molly, he takes his suitcase and rolls it over to a row of seats before sitting down to wait. Even though she’s on her way, it’s as if he’s going through withdrawal when it comes to seeing Molly face to face and that feeling is more potent than it’s ever been before. Before it had been a yearning, a jumbled and tangled feeling in his chest that stayed day to day and only grew after she had visited him back in February. It had been a feeling that could only be soothed by the sound of her voice or her appearance through a screen, but only in some ways. In other ways, hearing her or seeing her through Skype made how he felt even worse.

Now though? After he had fucking panicked at the thought of her in distress? It went from a yearning to see her to a requirement. Even if she would have called him before he bought last minute tickets and assured him she was alright, he still would have bought them. It’s never fun for him to hear people cry, whatever the reason may be. But when she had, almost hysterical nonetheless? It felt like he was being repeatedly punched in the gut and the blows just got worse after she had hung up. He couldn’t get the sounds of her stress, despair, and something Hunter is sure had been fear out of his head, even now that he’s just talked to her and knows she is doing better than she was last night. The only thing that had kept him from ripping his hair out had been buying a one-way plane ticket for a flight that left at 7 am and packing his bags (which took longer than necessary since he had to dig out winter clothes that he mainly only uses during his visits to Toronto), only to remember Katniss and knock on Quinn’s door. Hunter immediately went into begging mode. He’s not sure why. Quinn usually watches Katniss without one complaint because Hunter pays him to do it and Quinn enjoys impressing his hook-ups with Hunter’s larger condo. So Quinn mainly had just looked at him, baffled, before taking pity on him and saying, “Honey, you have it bad, don’t you?”

Hunter hadn’t known how to answer Quinn’s question at the time, not really able to focus on it, but yeah. Hunter knows that his heart is completely fucked when it comes to Molly. It scares him, but not enough to keep him from being here right this second.

He had told his dads where he was going, gave them a heads up that he would be in Pittsburgh and not in LA for a while. That had led to a major case of word vomit as he essentially told them fucking everything. He told them that he didn't know how a hook up could lead to him feeling so completely gone for a girl. He told them that Molly is the best part of his day. He talked about how much he's hurting over the fact that she's hurting and that if he wasn't with her within a day, he'd fucking die and that he's never felt this way about anyone and possibly never wanted to again because it was the best and the worst thing that he's ever felt in his life.

He knows now that he might have been a bit dramatic. Okay, he had definitely been dramatic. Luckily, Ben is patient so he let him get it out before trying to calm him down and Michael is dramatic himself, so he understood on a spiritual level. Ultimately, they both supported the trip and told him to text them when he got in. He got fucking lucky with them.

Sometimes he thinks about where his life would be if he had never met his dads. He definitely wouldn't have made over 100k last year. He wouldn't be set to make even more this year. He still doesn't know how he's fucking swinging that when he's only officially been in the business for 6 years and people older than him were lucky to make half that amount. He supposes it's because he works practically non-stop and got lucky with projects that caught enough attention from relative people in the business. That he has some sort of talent. But if Michael and Ben hadn't adopted him, he wouldn't know anything about that talent. He wouldn't have been able to go to school at Carnegie-Mellon or USC because he probably wouldn't have gone back to high school to begin with, let alone college. He wouldn't have had Brian giving him a boost through big budget commercial work or Ted giving him guidance in regards to investing his excess money to make the most of it. He wouldn’t have a younger sister to spoil. He wouldn’t have Debbie and Carl - the closest thing to grandparents he’s ever had. He wouldn’t have Lindsey or Mel, who were like his domestic lesbian aunts or something. He wouldn’t have Emmett calling him every couple of weeks to check in and go on and on about Duncan. He wouldn't have met any of the family he has today. He probably wouldn't have found out about his "ideal" case of HIV. It would have turned into full-blown AIDS and he would have been dead by the time he was 25, probably in some back alley in the very city he is in right now.

He also wouldn't have met Molly. Out of every thought he's just had, that one should be the most trivial. It isn’t for him.

He tries to keep himself from getting too antsy by actively forcing himself not to think about the last 20 hours or so. After he had texted Molly the terminal information, she texted him and said that her ETA is about 25 minutes. He hadn’t meant for her to feel obligated to pick him up. He doesn’t know exactly what’s going on with Craig, but knows that something must have happened for Molly to be staying there. He hadn’t wanted to pull her away from that. But Hunter also has the feeling that she might have needed a breather and that’s why she is being so insistent about coming to get him. If it gives her some sort of peace of mind to come and get him herself, then fine.

Besides, it’s worth it for the cliche airport reunion.

He spots her first when she’s a few yards away. She’s dressed down for once in her goddamn life in just a pair of jeans, white t-shirt, and utility jacket. No jewelry, not a trace of makeup, the only thing that looks even slightly put together are her crimped waves. She looks fucking beautiful.

He gets up to start walking over to her but before he can take more than a few steps, she sees him. He can’t explain the emotions he’s feeling, because he’s way too focused on what she might be feeling. The expression in her eyes is powerful, some strange mixture of overwhelmed and relieved, ecstatic but terrified. He might be projecting onto her though, because now that he’s thinking about it, that’s exactly how he feels.

And it’s probably love he’s feeling when she rushes over to him and throws herself into his arms.

“Hey,” he manages to get out, gripping her tight around her middle as he briefly lifts her off her feet to spin her around in order to distract himself from getting emotional, “Fuck, I missed you.”

Molly doesn’t respond, her face buried in the crook of his neck. Hunter rests his chin on her shoulder and breathes in her scent. She smells different than her normal body wash. He has to wonder if she had to use her dad’s this morning. It’s a weird question to ask, so he doesn’t. There are more important things to ask and talk about.

Everything can wait though. All of it can. He’s not going to make Molly inch back to look at him for any type of conversation. Not when he hasn’t held her in six weeks and especially not when he feels tears against his neck. Hunter knows if he makes her look now, she’s going to try to pull it together, put up her walls, and try to pretend that she’s fine. She bottles too much shit up. That’s one of Molly’s flaws that he caught onto early. Whether it be due to being stressed about her father’s mental health or Justin or her job or fucking Seth, she might talk about the situation but rarely goes into details or talk about how it makes her feel.

Especially when it comes to fucking Seth. There isn’t a derogatory name bad enough to describe the guy. There isn’t a word in the dictionary to describe how much Hunter loathes him. He has to wonder if Seth is part of the reason Molly puts her guards up so quickly in the first place. Fuck Seth. Hunter would cheer if he found out the guy died, just because he hit Molly at least once. After witnessing his ongoing harassment, Hunter might feel disappointment over the thought of not getting to kill Seth himself.

And THOSE are the thoughts and feelings that should scare the shit out of him - how angry he feels over the possibility of Molly getting hurt, that she had been in the past, how worried he gets. The way he gets so fucking protective over her that he’s probably at risk of becoming rabid should really freak him out. He has to keep this unexpected white knight complex that he didn’t even know he had in check or she is going to end up getting pissed at him.

But right now, he lets himself be the one to make her feel protected and safe. He keeps holding her as she continues to cry against his neck.

“Sorry,” she chokes out, the tears still coming all while she hasn’t moved a muscle, “I’m sorry.”

“Quit it with that shit,” Hunter murmurs, rubbing her back before holding her even tighter, “I have nothing else better to do today than this.”

Molly lets out an emotional laugh, her cheek still pressed against Hunter’s shoulder, “Not to be a bitch, but that’s both sappy and sad as fuck.”

Hunter just shrugs and presses a kiss against her cheek, before Molly eventually lifts her head. He takes her face into his hands and finally kisses her fully. She returns it with just as much tenderness and they stay like that until they both need air. As they part, Hunter swipes away her tear tracks with his thumbs before she takes a step back.

“Fuck, I’m a mess. Sor-” Molly stops herself and holds up a hand as Hunter opens his mouth, “I’m just embarrassed that I am dressed like this and got my bodily fluids all over you. I could have at least looked cute while I did it. I probably look like shit now.”

“You look beautiful,” Hunter tells her honestly, “It’s the first thing I thought when you walked in.”

Molly snorts, “I’m a hot mess and you know it.”

“Lies. Your hair looks amazing.”

“I french braided it yesterday,” Molly tells him, rolling her eyes, “I was deep cleaning my dad’s house so I wanted it out of my face. I took the braids out in the car. I smell like men’s body wash and bleach because I have nothing with me. I’m wearing the same clothes from yesterday-”

“Be still, my beating heart!” Hunter says dramatically.

“And while I do have some makeup, I just jumped in the car and came here,” Molly finishes with a sigh.

“Good,” Hunter tells her, “Because you can take forever to get ready. I would have been waiting here for hours.”

Molly glares playfully as they begin to walk, one arm still around the other, “I’m not THAT bad-”

“And besides, I’ve seen your face naked,” Hunter points out, before smirking, “I’ve seen you naked period. As I said the other night: I like all of the versions of Molly. Every single one. I might even like demonically possessed Molly if I got to know her. Projectile pea soup vomiting never was a turn on for me, but if anyone can make it look hot, you can.”

“I haven’t found any Ouija Boards or cursed ancient artifacts while cleaning my dad’s house,” Molly informs him, “But if I do come across either, I will keep that in mind.”

They make their way out to the car and Hunter forces himself to keep his hands out of his pockets as Molly glares at him with a warning right before she pays the ridiculous parking fee. After they make their way out of one of the most confusing airport parking lots ever to be built, they are on I-376 East and are finally comfortable enough to talk without having to look at Google Maps.

“So how long do I have you for?” Molly asks, both hands on the wheel as she glances over at him.

Hunter shrugs, “I don’t know. I bought a one-way ticket. You can have all the way up until April 17th, if you want.”

Molly looks hopeful, pleased even, which makes Hunter’s chest feel like it’s swelling. He may be able to see what Molly is feeling to some extent, but she can’t see what she’s doing to him since her eyes are on the road. He doesn’t know if he wants her to or not, if he wants to guard that part of himself for a little longer or just bare every fucking feeling he has for her and pray for the best.

“So I have you for close to three weeks. Not bad.”

“You could...” Hunter starts, feeling nervous, “You could have me until the 19th, if you are down for a weekend trip to New York for Brian’s and Eric’s wedding. You could be my date.”

Molly looks both conflicted and amused, “Go to my brother’s ex-fiance’s wedding with you while my brother is in attendance, who has no idea that we’re seeing each other. Sounds like a great time.”

Hunter tries to think of another tactic, “My dads know, so it isn't like it will weird out every person there. I’m honestly shocked Michael hasn’t said anything to him yet.”

Molly laughs, “Yeah, me too.”

“I was expecting a call from a bitchy, overprotective Justin by now,” Hunter sighs, “Or at least a text grilling me about my intentions. I’m almost disappointed.”

Molly shakes her head, “You don’t want to see Justin in big brother mode. He’s a late bloomer when it comes to that, so he occasionally feels like he has a shit ton to make up for and overcompensates.”

“Sounds hilarious.”

“But for real,” Molly continues, “I really don’t know how your dads haven’t uttered a word to anyone about it. At least from what I’ve heard.”

“I don’t know,” Hunter tells her, “I don’t really care who knows. I’m not ashamed of you.”

Molly steals another glance at him, “Obviously, I’m not ashamed of you either. Hazel, Samira, Jerome, and Rubina know. A couple of my coworkers know. Just not my immediate family. Other than my dad, I haven’t seen any of them since New Year’s so it’s weird to just announce it over the phone and not being able to gauge their reactions.”

“I get it,” Hunter tells her, “This thing between us isn’t exactly cookie cutter traditional.”

"Yeah," Molly sighs, then gets a strange look in her eyes, "I told my dad my boyfriend was coming into town though. So I guess you have a pretty traditional title right now. He said it's fine if you stay over. So I guess he knows? I told his psychiatrist I would stay with him until next weekend. He had...I don't know. An episode or a setback or something. I had to get her to make an emergency house call."

"Shit," Hunter says quietly, "I'm sorry you had to deal with that. No wonder you were so upset last night."

"It was a few different things," Molly dismisses, clearing her throat, "I'm fine. Anyway, things are weird right now. He's not well. It's going to take time for his med adjustments to kick in and he has several appointments this week. You probably don't want to be there for that. There are hotels in Ross Township and Ross Township isn't far-"

"You're not doing this alone," Hunter interrupts harshly, feeling incredibly stubborn, "I came in to fucking be with you, not for a damn continental breakfast. If your dad said yes to me staying until you go back to Morgantown, then that's what we are doing."

"Hunter, I don't want you to feel-"

"Besides, you have work this week, right?" Hunter presses, "Someone should keep him company and make sure he's getting to his appointments while you're gone. I'm staying."

Molly bites her lip, then finally nods, taking her right hand off the wheel to grab for his, "Okay...Okay."

Their hands stay intertwined until she gets off the exit. Pittsburgh roads are a fucking bitch. Hunter forgot how horrible the turns are. If they were in LA, they would have probably been able to hold hands until they got to their destination.

------------------------

They take a detour before arriving at Craig's. When Molly tells him she'd have to leave by 4:30 am tomorrow, drive an hour and a half, and get ready at her apartment, Hunter manages to convince her to stop at Target to avoid having that long of a day. They go in so that she can pick out an outfit along with soap, shampoo, and conditioner as well as sleepwear, which had been the most conflicting thing to pick for Molly.

"I want this one," she decides, holding up a nightgown that should probably be at Victoria's Secret, "I would look hot."

"Hell yeah, you would," Hunter agrees but then brings himself back down to reality, "But do you really want to run into your dad on the way to the bathroom dressed in that?"

Molly lets out a groan and chooses a more appropriate pajama set. Hunter throws the nightgown in the cart anyway. Even if it is for Molly, she's right. She would look fucking hot. It will be a gift for the both of them. It's the only thing she lets him pay for.

When they arrive at Craig's house, an upper-middle class family home that is too big for one guy, Molly leads the way. He can see that she’s nervous as she gets out the keys and enters the house. For some reason, he doesn’t think it’s only because he’s here either. It might not even be due to Craig’s state of mind either. This seems like it might be her default when it comes to entering her dad’s home - like she’s out of place and an intruder.

But Craig doesn’t seem unwelcoming, per say, although he’s withdrawn and very obviously not well at all. He’s pale, a bit too thin, looks worn down, self-conscious, and what might be paranoid. Molly pauses in front of him, as if she’s trying to figure out a way to approach him before Hunter can only assume she just bites the bullet and goes for it.

“Dad, this is Hunter. Hunter, this is my dad,” Molly says after a breath, glancing at her dad sitting in the armchair.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Taylor,” Hunter says after a beat. He thinks Craig may say, “You too” but it is so quiet and choked that he can’t be sure.

“I’m going to go make dinner,” Molly says, excusing herself so quickly that Hunter doesn’t know if she even wants him to follow her or not. He can stay for a few minutes. Probably.

He tries to make small talk with Craig, but Molly had been right when she said the man isn’t well. He is obviously going through something major and Hunter doesn’t know what to make of it. He’s used to dads subtly threatening him or being so buddy-buddy that it makes Hunter uncomfortable. He’s not really sure what to make of all of this, except that he hates that Molly had to deal with this yesterday alone.

He gives him fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes to decide whether or not he wants to talk about anything at all, before getting up and telling him that he’s going to go see if Molly needs help and asks if he needs anything. Craig just shakes his head no.

He finds the kitchen by following the sounds of Molly’s banging, then stands in the archway to watch her dig around the pantry.

“Do you need help?” Hunter asks, making her jump.

Molly purses her lips and shakes her head, “Unless you can make food appear out of nowhere or can make canned vegetables sound like a great main dish, probably not.”

Hunter walks over to her, gently pulls on her waist until she’s out of the pantry, and makes her sit at the kitchen table.

“He has nothing,” Molly complains resting her head on her palm, “Nothing but canned food and spices. I threw out most of what was in the fridge because it was going bad. I used the last of everything decent to make him breakfast.

“I’ll order pizza,” Hunter tells her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, “Make a list of stuff you want from the grocery store. After his appointment in the morning, I’ll drop him off here and run to the store so that he’s set for a while.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Molly sighs, “You’ve done a lot already. More than I deserve.”

Hunter scoffs, lifts his head over hers, and tilts her head so that she’s looking up at him, “Never say that again. I mean it, Molly.”

Molly leans her head back against Hunter ribs briefly before getting out her phone to look at different pizza places that deliver to them before calling in an order for two pizzas to Pomodoro. Which she pays for. Again. He doesn’t know why she has such a problem with him paying for dinner. He can appreciate her independence, even her stubbornness to some degree. He’d like to think he’s not old-fashioned or anything. If the girl and guy switch on who pays, then that’s great. Maybe it’s the fact that she makes around one-fourth of what he’s making. He’d have no issue if she took Craig’s card to do it, but the fact that she is in some kind of mindset to take care of everything - and not just financially - is probably going to make her crash and burn.

But he forces himself not to say a word about it. They can hash it out some other day. And he knows that's the right call when she barely eats one slice of pizza once they are sitting in the dining room, yet scrutinizes her father for his lack of appetite before subtly leaving his meds on the table. Hunter is suddenly glad he takes his meds in the morning before breakfast. He’s gotten to the point where he’s okay with friends knowing about his status, but his girlfriends’ family members? After what happened with Callie’s parents, it kind of traumatized him. The last thing he needed to do was stress out Craig Taylor by having to tell him that his daughter is sleeping with someone who is HIV+. So Hunter just gets to eat two slices of pizza and leaves it at that.

There are no big breakthroughs or turnarounds in Craig’s mood after he takes the meds. He’s still quiet and distant and Molly is busying herself with cleaning up a mess from dinner that barely exists. Hunter glances at Craig and suddenly wishes it was warmer. If they were in LA, Hunter could ask Craig if he wanted to go for a walk. If Craig’s drinking wasn’t becoming a problem and if Hunter drank on a regular basis to begin with, he might ask him if he wanted to get a drink at a bar. He doesn’t know if there is anything else to do except watch TV and that seems so mindless. Hunter’s allowed to say that because he works in film and TV so-

Hunter spots a game cabinet in the corner. As nice of a cabinet as it is, Hunter would put money on it not being opened for probably years. If his dad weren't such a geek and his sister weren't 11, Hunter probably would be rusty on board games. But that’s his family so board games do hold some sentimental place in Hunter’s heart. After Ben and Michael officially adopted him, the evening after had been surprisingly quiet. It had just been an evening filled with playing Trivial Pursuit, Life, Battleship, and Arkham Horror. They hadn’t had a big celebration until the following weekend. But for some reason, when he looks back on that time, the quiet board game night always sticks out in his memories more.

“Let’s play a game,” Hunter suddenly says, standing up to walk over towards the cabinet. When he glances over his shoulder, Molly looks frozen, as if she’s glitching, and Craig looks like he’s confused, but pulled out of his trance so Hunter is going to count that as a win.

“Hunter-” Molly starts but Hunter waves her off and glances through the boxes.

“There are like four Harry Potter games in here,” Hunter says, glancing back at Molly, “Is that because of you or your step-brother?”

Molly opens her mouth but Craig is the one who surprisingly answers.

“Molly loved Harry Potter as a kid,” Craig says, wringing his fingers, “That’s all she wanted for Christmas and her birthday for a couple of years. She was obsessed and read the books over and over.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Molly says, glaring at Craig like she’s not very thankful at all.

“I bet you’ve assigned yourself a house and everything,” Hunter says teasingly, “What is it?”

Molly shakes her head, seeming to be a strange combination of amused, mortified, and pissy, “Ravenclaw. If you absolutely have to know. Which you don’t.”

“I could never decide when I read them as a kid,” Hunter says, deciding on some Harry Potter version of Clue, “I’m probably a Muggle or a Squid or whatever they were called.”

“Squib,” Molly corrects, sitting down across from him, “They’re Squibs. And no, you’re a Gryffindor. I could have told you that months ago.”

Hunter clutches at his chest, “You sorted me into a house? Me? Molly, that might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever done.”

And obviously he’s joking. Mostly. But the fact that Molly had already given some thought makes him feel a lot better than it has any right to.

The game might take top spot on his non-existent list of favorite board games of all time. It gets Craig talking, which is fucking something. It gets Craig and Molly talking like a father and daughter would, rather than acquaintances. It gets Molly smiling and he finally gets to see the super competitive side he’s only heard about. It gives Molly a win, fair and square.

“It was Dolores Umbridge with a sleeping potion in the Room of Requirement,” she says proudly before annihilating both of them in Harry Potter Trivial Pursuit because she’s apparently a fucking nerd, which is completely okay with Hunter because in his experience, nerds are the best in bed. And that’s proven after they go to her room - after Craig is asleep and they aren’t at risk of being easily heard. She gives the best fucking blowjob and rides him until she has to block out his moans with a kiss until they both come.

She’s tired, he can tell, even as she stays awake and laughs at Hunter’s attempts to sort his extended family into Hogwarts houses.

“Ben is definitely a Ravenclaw,” Hunter tells her, “There’s no question about it. Same goes for JR. Michael is a Hufflepuff, loyal to a fault and emotional. Lindsey might be a Slytherin, while Mel is probably a Gryffindor-”

“Why is Lindsey a Slytherin?” Molly interrupts.

Hunter shrugs, “I don’t know. I just get that vibe from her. She’s sweet but definitely has ulterior motives sometimes.”

“Fair enough,” Molly says, “Go on.”

“Emmett could be mistaken as a Hufflepuff but I think he might be a Gryffindor,” Hunter continues, “Duncan is probably a Hufflepuff, just from what I’ve heard. Drew might be a Hufflepuff too, but an undercover one."

“An undercover Hufflepuff, got it,” Molly snorts, amused.

“Blake is also a Hufflepuff and Ted comes off as a Hufflepuff but is actually a Slytherin. Brian is 100% a Slytherin and Eric is a Gryffindor. Gus is too,” Hunter rambles on, yawning, “Lily might look like Eric, but she takes after Brian. Total Slytherin. Can talk you into doing anything. Has to be the best at everything she does.”

“Yeah, she seemed intense,” Molly answers, smiling.

“You can sort Justin and Nathan, I won’t mind,” Hunter tells her graciously.

“This is the weirdest post-coital conversation ever.”

“Nah,” Hunter says, smirking, “Remember the night before we went skydiving? I went down on you for like half an hour and you started talking about Punnett Squares after you were able to think straight.”

“Punnett Squares get me going, what can I say?” Molly says, “I was ready for round 2 in no time, wasn’t I?”

“You were fucking hot,” Hunter confirms, rolling on top of her to kiss her neck and make his way down her chest.

Then Molly decides to almost ruin it, “Justin is a Slytherin. Or a Gryffindor. He’s basically Harry Potter and could go either way.”

“Mmhmm, the boy who lived, got it,” Hunter murmurs, nipping at her hip bone.

“Nathan is a Gryffindor,” Molly says, letting out a gasp when Hunter’s head is finally in between her legs, “I don’t know a lot but he went through some horrific shit. His mother...fuck, Hunter! His mom killed herself on Christmas. I know that much. His dad was apparently an abusive asshole who is dead now too. He’s fucking strong and pulled through.”

Nathan’s upsetting life story isn’t exactly a turn on so Hunter lifts his head up and waits for her to finish.

“Why’d you stop?” Molly pouts.

“It seems insensitive to Nathan to make you come while you’re talking about his childhood,” Hunter shrugs, “I figured I would wait.”

Molly glares playfully and gently pulls at his hair, “You’re the one who wanted to go on and on about Hogwarts Houses and passed on sorting the rest of them to me.”

“Fine. Finish.”

“You finish,” Molly retorts, before quickly getting the rest of the people out, “Mom and Tucker are both Hufflepuffs. My dad at least was a Slytherin. Madison too. Last I checked, Mason was a Gryffindor but I haven’t seen the fucker in like six months. Okay, done.”

“Now, I’ll finish,” Hunter confirms. Soon, he has her at the point where she has to muffle herself with a pillow. He’s proud of that.

She does need to get to bed though. Even though she doesn’t have to leave as early as she would have before their trip to Target, she still has an hour and a half commute and is set on being out the door by 5:45 am. So Hunter shows her mercy after she finishes and holds her while she lies there, exhausted. It’s a little harder for him to get to sleep. It may be 11pm here, but it’s only 8pm in LA. He’s probably more tired than he’d usually be since he barely fucking slept last night, but his internal clock is still not adjusted to Eastern Time. So he finds himself holding her and watching her sleep for hours. He can see that she fucking needs the rest. It makes him wonder if she slept well after the day she had yesterday and what else had happened to get her so worked up. He knows her dad had some sort of episode. That would be upsetting in and of itself. But she said it had been a few different things, yet never clarified what those different things had been. Maybe they had been a bunch of little things that just added up. But somehow Hunter doubts it. She’s not the type to get worked up over trivial stuff.

Around 1 am - although he can’t be 100% sure until she confirms it - his question on what might have happened is answered when her phone begins to ring. Molly must be fucking out because she doesn’t even stir at the noise. Hunter reaches over her to check and it’s some random Pittsburgh number. It rings again and is followed by a random New York Number, followed by a West Virginia number, and so on.

Hunter might have bought her this phone but he really wants to break it just as much as he did the last one.

More so, he wants to answer it. Threaten Seth until he fucking pisses himself. Instead, he just takes Molly’s thumb to unlock the phone, swipes away Seth’s call, and puts it on Do Not Disturb. Because yeah, Hunter’s fucking disturbed. Almost disturbed enough to wake Molly up and demand that she tell him everything Seth has done up until this point. He forces himself not to. He lets her sleep until her alarm rings at 5 am. He lies there as she goes to take a shower and thinks about pretending to be asleep when she comes back in and quietly gets her things together but sits up instead.

“Sorry,” Molly says apologetically as she looks through her purse, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t wake me,” Hunter tells her as he stares at her, “I’ve been awake.”

Molly glances at him, “Jet lag? That sucks.”

“It’s not just jet lag.”

Molly takes the time to meet his eyes, “What, was I snoring or something?”

“No,” Hunter says, “You didn't snore. You were getting calls in the middle of the night.”

Molly’s hands freeze and Hunter knows he’s hit a nerve, “You didn’t answer them, did you?”

“I didn’t,” Hunter says stiffly, “I fucking wanted to, but I didn’t. I took your thumb so I could open your phone and set it to Do Not Disturb. Has he been calling again recently?”

Molly stands up and puts her bag over her shoulder, “Yes.”

“Is that what got you so upset the other night?”

“That and Dad, yeah,” Molly admits reluctantly, not meeting his eyes, “Listen, I have to go. Can we talk about this later?”

“What did he say to you?” Hunter says, standing up to gently take Molly’s arm, “You wouldn’t get worked up like that if it was his typical bullshit or he was just calling. What the fuck did he say?”

Molly pulls her arm out of Hunter’s grasp, “I said later, Hunter.”

“Why can’t you just tell me now when you know I’m going to be fucking thinking about it all day?” he grits out.

Molly lets out a sigh and finally meets his eyes again, “Because I want you to get some sleep and not think about what he said. Knowing is probably going to be worse in this case. Go to bed. Please. Make sure you take my dad to his appointment at 1. He should be okay with you driving the SUV in the garage. I have to stop at my apartment to pack my bag for the week so I’ll be back around 5:30.”

“We’re talking about it later,” Hunter mutters as he turns back towards the bed.

“...After my dad goes to bed,” Molly finally agrees before walking back over to him turning him around briefly, and giving him a quick kiss, “I’ll see you later.”

---------------------------------------------

Hunter does end up sleeping a few hours, waking up when his alarm demands that he does at 10 am. He takes his meds before he even leaves the bedroom, then meets Craig downstairs for breakfast. He seems okay this morning and Hunter can tell from one glance at his pill organizer that Craig has taken his morning meds already. It’s still kind of weird to be here without Molly but he pulls through and gets the man to Dr. Tessler’s office. Craig is called back after an awkward bout of silence between the two of them, which gives Hunter a chance to go through his emails from Darren and turn on his iPad to work on detailing a few of the shots on the shot list. By the time he finishes emailing the location scout to inquire about the permit statuses, Craig comes back into the waiting room.

“Ready?” Hunter asks, folding the cover back over the iPad as he stands up and pulls the keys out of his pocket. Craig just gives him a nod and heads to the car. Despite having a pleasant enough conversation during their game night, Craig is still kind of weird around him. Hunter doesn’t know if it is because he’s embarrassed or what. He doesn’t want to try too hard and put the guy off or make him uncomfortable, but he doesn’t want to avoid him all day or sit in silence with him either. Molly may feel like he’d be doing too much if he goes grocery shopping, but Hunter welcomes the task since it gives him something to do outside of the house.

And it’s a huge fucking coincidence that he runs into Ted Schmidt.

“Hunter?” he hears Ted call out before he even sees him, “Is that you?”

Hunter turns around and sees Ted standing there, looking slightly pleased but very surprised.

“Oh,” Hunter says, awkwardly holding a bundle of asparagus in his hand before tossing it in the cart, “Hey, Ted.”

“What are you doing here?” Ted asks, wheeling his cart over to him.

“I’m grocery shopping,” Hunter says slowly, “As most do while they’re in Giant Eagle.”

Ted gives him a look, “I meant in Pittsburgh. Are you shooting something on location?”

Hunter shakes his head, “Nope.”

“Jesus, it’s like pulling teeth,” Ted mutters, “So what are you doing in Pittsburgh? Unless you missed Giant Eagle that much, I doubt it was just to shop here.”

“Nah,” Hunter says, looking through the mushrooms, “If I was desperate to shop at a Pittsburgh based grocery store, I’d go to the Macaroni Company in the Strip District. Giant Eagle is overpriced and overrated.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ted says, “The Market District over in Robinson is awfully nice. They renovated it pretty recently. There’s a bar, a sushi corner, a Starbucks, a pizza place, all in the same building-”

“They’re trying too hard.”

“And you’re trying too hard to change the subject,” Ted snorts, but then looks at him expectantly.

Hunter lets out a sigh and stares at him, “Whatever, fine. My girlfriend lives in Morgantown. Her dad lives here. I’m in town for a few weeks and we’re staying at his place until we head to West Virginia this weekend.”

“Oh!” Ted exclaims, surprised, “I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone at the moment. Have Michael and Ben met her? They’ve never mentioned her.”

“Yes,” Hunter says cryptically, “They’ve met her a few times.”

“Well, you should come by for dinner!” Ted exclaims, “Blake is a great cook and we’d love to have you and...what’s your girlfriend’s name?”

Hunter purses his lips and tries to think of a way to get out of telling him.

He can’t.

“Molly,” Hunter says grudgingly.

“Right, you and…”

The moment of recognition in Ted’s eyes is visible as the older man begins to connect the dots.

“That uh…” Ted starts, clearing his throat, “You wouldn’t be happening to be dating-”

“Justin’s sister, yeah,” Hunter confirms, waiting for more of a reaction.

“...You wouldn’t be doing it to piss Justin off, would you?” Ted asks slowly, “You did always mention that was one of your favorite pastimes.”

Hunter can’t help it as he narrows his eyes, “No. I wouldn’t fucking do that. Justin doesn’t even know.”

“Yeah, you’re not the type to do that. Forget I said it,” Ted says, “But Justin doesn’t know?”

“Not yet.”

“That you’re dating his sister?”

“How many times do I have to say it?” Hunter says, his eyebrow raised, “While I look forward to the day that Justin blows a gasket over the info, whether he knows or not changes nothing between me and Molly, nor does it change my feelings for her.”

“Right, of course,” Ted says quietly, before sputtering, “You’re staying with Craig Taylor???”

Hunter doesn’t give Ted any information on why they’re staying with Craig this week, although it is ridiculously hard to explain. He just makes up some bullshit that Molly is trying to reconnect with her dad and include him more in her life since he is making up with Justin (which Ted also seems to not know). Finally, the relationship reveal seems to settle in Ted’s brain as he shakes his head.

“I’m just surprised Michael hasn’t said anything,” Ted admits, “He talks about you and JR non-stop. He never hid any of your relationships before. Usually, we know about any girlfriends you might have almost as soon as he does.”

“Yeah, well,” Hunter says, gesturing, “Long distance and all. It’s complicated. We asked them to keep it quiet for a while. They like her a lot. We all went skydiving together.”

Ted’s eyes widen, “Michael went skydiving? Michael Novotny went skydiving?”

“It was even harder to get him to do it than Molly,” Hunter smirks, “I’m surprised he hasn’t bragged about that accomplishment though.”

“Probably because no one would believe him,” Ted laughs, “Well, I’ll try not to open my mouth to anyone who doesn’t know about it. If Michael can keep quiet, so can I. And Blake is the best keeper of secrets I know. It’s the counselor in him. We’d love to have you both for dinner this week if you’re up for it.”

Hunter thinks of Craig’s situation and Molly’s currently fucked up commute. He thinks of the fact that their relationship is still kind of new and not quite defined - but so fucking intense and loving and Hunter’s never fucking felt like this before so what do you even call that? To enter her into the fold - more than she already is as Justin’s younger sister - is going to have to be her call.

“I’ll have to talk to her about it,” Hunter says, “Her commute this week is pretty shitty and she leads the after school program on Tuesdays and Thursdays so she won’t even be back until after 6 on those days. If she says yes, maybe Friday evening?”

Ted nods, smiling, “I’ll let Blake know we might have company. Uh...Craig. He’s invited too, I guess.”

“Dude, this is already awkward enough,” Hunter complains, “I doubt her dad coming will make it any better.”

“Well...if they’re working on their relationship, it might help him feel more involved-”

“Whatever,” Hunter dismisses, knowing that, despite Craig needing socialization, having dinner with a bunch of strangers isn’t the way to start, “Like I said, I’ll talk to her about it.”

Ted gives him an awkward hug before they part ways and once he’s alone, he racks up about eighty-five dollars worth of groceries. It’s a combination of higher end and healthy frozen meals, fruits and vegetables, juice and bottled water, chicken and fish, and some ingredients Molly put on the list to make god knows what. He pays for all of it, ignoring Molly’s credit card that she put in his wallet. He’d deal with her trying to give him money later.

Craig seems to be in better spirits by the time Hunter gets back. Hunter doesn’t know if it’s the meds or the therapy or maybe he just needed an hour on his own too, but they do put away the groceries together and actually have a conversation without a problem. Maybe Molly does get some traits from Craig since Craig asks for the receipt and demands to reimburse him.

“This had to cost you,” Craig says, coming back into the kitchen, “You’re young and need the money more than I do. I’ll write you a check-”

“I make six figures,” Hunter interrupts, meeting Craig’s eyes, “Barely, but I do. I think I’ll be okay.”

He doesn’t know why he says it. He rarely ever talks about what he’s been making the last couple of years out loud. He’ll think about it, usually with a ‘what the fuck’ attached to each and every thought. That’s to be expected. He grew up in apartment buildings that should have been condemned with a neglectful, abusive, drug addicted mother as his main caretaker until he ran away at 14 and became homeless. After moving in with Ben and Michael, he might have been considered middle class. He doesn’t know if he’s wanting to prove something to Craig, the successful businessman. Maybe a little. But it probably comes more down to wanting to prove something to Craig, Molly’s father. Some weird, fucking primal part of him is probably wanting the father of his girlfriend to know that she’s never going to have to struggle, although he’s pretty sure Molly would live on the streets before accepting help from Hunter or anyone else.

“And?” Craig asks, eyebrow raised.

“What, do you make six figures too?"

“Barely, but I do,” Craig answers, throwing his words back at him before writing a check for three hundred dollars, “I think I’ll be okay.”

Hunter squints at the check, “I can’t tell if this is a pissing contest or if this is your way of trying to be nice.”

“Eh,” Craig shrugs, pocketing his checkbook looking tired but better than Hunter’s ever seen, “Maybe both. Give the check to Molly if you’re not going to cash it for yourself. Or better yet, cash it in and hide the money in her apartment. She won’t take a damn cent from anyone.”

And somehow, although Hunter doesn’t quite know how, that leads them to cooking dinner together. Nothing too complicated. Just coated baked chicken with baked potatoes and steamed broccoli, but it gets Craig busy and talking and that’s what Molly comes home to at 5:30 pm, suitcase in hand and all.

“Hi, honey!” Hunter calls out with an exaggerated cheerfulness, “How was work?”

Molly scrutinizes the scene as Craig cuts up the broccoli, “...Fine.”

“My day was fine too,” Hunter answers, because she obviously forgot to ask, “Dinner will be ready in about twenty. You should relax. Put your feet up.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Molly snorts, snapping out of her confusion before walking across the kitchen to reach over Hunter’s shoulder and grab a grape from the fruit bowl.

“Language,” Hunter scoffs, “Your dad is right there.”

"You have a fouler mouth than I do," Molly points out.

“I stopped trying getting Molly to stop cursing a long time ago anyway,” Craig says, glancing over his shoulder, “She started up when Justin did and never stopped. I thought Jennifer was going to have a stroke. She tried swear jars and grounding her. She tried positive reinforcement by making sticker charts in an attempt to get Molly to go a month without swearing.”

“Never did get to go to the Carnegie Science Center that year,” Molly reminisces, hopping up to sit on the counter, “Longest I lasted was four days. Justin felt both pride and guilt over his influence.”

“Well-,” Craig sighs, turning off the burner and turning off fully before his expression changes, “Molly, there are seats right over there. Get off the counter.”

“But I want to sit next to Hunter,” Molly tells her dad, slightly swinging her legs.

“Off. And go put your suitcase in your room.”

Dinner comes and goes without a hitch and Craig is the one to take the initiative to load the dishwasher. Hunter thinks it’s a good sign, but every so often he catches Molly glancing at her dad with concern and trepidation, as if she thinks what would otherwise be a somewhat normal evening is too good to be true. Craig excuses himself after that and goes to catch up on contracts and documents for the store over in Green Tree and Hunter wants to try to bring up Seth as soon as that happens. He might not have perseverated on it as much as he might have if he just sat here doing nothing all day, but he still fucking thought about what the asshole might have said. However, Molly seems to sense that Hunter’s going to bring up Seth soon because she suddenly insists on making Jambalaya.

“We literally just ate dinner,” Hunter points out as Molly gets out a large pot, “Even I’m not hungry.”

“It’s better on the second day,” Molly insists, lining the ingredients up on the counter, “This way, you and Dad don’t have to worry about cooking tomorrow. It will be easy for me to heat up too. I’m going to be fucking beat by the time I get back.”

So he gives her that time to cook. He’s able to tell that she needs to do something to keep busy for a little bit and to burn off some energy. So he lets her do her thing until the Jambalaya cools enough to be put in the fridge and gives her space while she showers, gets dressed in pajamas, and combs her hair. He doesn’t say a word until after they’ve watched a movie before going back up to the bedroom for the night.

“So,” Hunter starts, glancing at Molly as she fluffs up her pillow, hoping she’ll get the point.

“So?” Molly asks, although one look at her face and Hunter can tell she knows exactly what he’s inquiring about.

“What did Seth say to you?” Hunter asks quietly, “That made you so upset.”

Molly lets out a breath, before beginning to pace away from the bed, “I honestly don’t know if I want to tell you. You probably won’t take it well.”

“Can you blame me?” Hunter asks incredulously, “He’s insane, Molly. The fact that he’s done this for years and has barely faced any consequences scares the shit out of me. It makes me want to go out and find him myself.”

Molly stays silent, looking anywhere but at Hunter, so Hunter gets up to gently cup her face and have her meet his eyes.

“I care about you,” Hunter says, then swallows a nervous lump in his throat, “I don’t want to freak you out, but I’ve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone. It terrifies me but you should probably know.”

“I care about you too,” Molly rasps out, reaching up to cover his hands, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone either.”

Hunter nods, his heart hammering in his chest as he closes his eyes and presses his forehead against Molly’s.

“I need to know,” Hunter says, before his voice gets a little stronger, “Fuck, I should know. Everything. It isn’t like this is all in the past, Molly. He’s trying to insert himself in your life still. He’s trying to ruin it. Don’t...Don’t worry about upsetting me, okay? Whatever you have to tell me, I can sit down, listen, and not get too worked up. Well...try not to get too worked up.”

Molly bites her lip, nods, then gently takes his hands off her face to lead him over to the bed. He wants to hold her as close as possible as she pours her heart out to him, but he can already tell Molly isn’t in the mood for close physical contact. Going by her expression, it’s like she’s trying to drain herself of any emotions she might have over the situation and is going to go about this as clinically as possible. It’s kind of weird, but whatever. She’s more left-brained so she’s going to be the more analytical and objective one while Hunter is always going to be a right-brained mess. If it works for her to be this way while she tells him, then that’s all that matters.

“He...called,” Molly starts, staring ahead at the wall, “Sometime in the afternoon on Saturday after Dr. Tessler left. I had just finished cleaning the downstairs and started on my dad’s laundry. My phone rang. Usually I check who’s calling but I don’t know. I just answered it. I think I needed to talk to someone and I didn’t care who. It was Seth. He started with this bullshit, about how much he misses me and that he wants us to give it another try, insane psycho babble. I prefer it when he calls me a fucking whore.”

Hunter’s already feeling rage bubbling beneath the surface and it takes everything within him to reign it in and listen.

“Anyway, I told him he called on the wrong day,” Molly humorlessly scoffs, “That I hated him and never wanted to see or hear from him again. And then he started laughing and wouldn’t stop so I just hung up and turned off my phone for a while.”

“He’s such a fucking-”

“I’m not done,” Molly interrupts.

“What else happened?” Hunter asks, both needing and not wanting to know.

Molly lets out a breath as she pauses, “...I turned my phone back on around 6 or so. I wanted to call Justin. I don't know if I was going to tell him about Dad or not, but I just wanted to hear my brother’s voice, I guess. No calls came through for like a minute and then it rings and Bedford Gallery comes up on my Caller ID. I should have known better. Justin rarely calls from the gallery phone and Seth has disguised his number as it before. But since I was so desperate to talk to Justin, I didn’t even fucking think. I answered it, relieved that my brother was calling. I said, ‘Hey, Jester’ and got nothing at first. Said hello and asked if he was there. Then Seth starts talking and...fuck, I don’t even want to repeat what he said-”

“Molly, please,” Hunter pleads quietly, “I need to know.”

Molly blinks and for the first time since she started her story, slowly meets Hunter’s eyes.

“He said, ‘If you ever hang up on me again, I will slit your throat and fuck you as you bleed out.’”

Hunter’s suddenly extremely glad that he only promised Molly that he’d try not to get too worked up.

-----------------------------------

“It’s not going to work. And you are going way too fast.”

Hunter growls as he speeds through a stop sign. It doesn’t matter. There’s no one at the intersection anyway.

“Hunter, this is why I didn’t want to tell you-”

“That he fucking threatened to rape and murder you?!” Hunter finishes too loudly before charging down the ramp, “That’s more than just a fucking call! He threatened your damn life! The police have to do something about that!”

“They didn’t do anything when he tried to hurt me in person!” Molly explodes.

“When he backhanded you?”

“I didn’t report that!” Molly says, frustrated, “I didn’t report him backhanding and choking me-”

“He CHOKED you?!”

“He backhanded me when I confronted him right before I broke up with him, so I punched him in the face and he threw me into a wall and choked me” Molly says, dismissing the fact that what she’s saying is totally FUCKED, “But I reported the phone calls and I reported him following me around,” Molly continues, “I reported the hidden camera in my room and the slashed tires and the spray painted car and the nudes he posted online of Hazel when she told him off and the masked man who fucking beat me up and ripped my dress off outside of my apartment-”

“What the fuck, Molly?!” Hunter yells, feeling like he’s seconds away from throwing up, “I asked you, I fucking ASKED you if he ever hurt you like that and you told me that he hadn’t. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?!”

“He didn’t get that far!” Molly yells back at him, then takes a deep breath and forces herself to calm, “Jerry - he’s this guy in Morgantown who’s an alcoholic and homeless - chased him away with a bottle of whiskey. He can’t hold onto a job or an apartment. Justin paid the deposit and the first few months of rent for an apartment in Westover after he saved me, but he couldn’t keep up with the bills and got kicked out. I still feel the need to thank him though. Since that happened, I let him shower at my place a few times a week and sometimes he sleeps on my couch in the winter when the beds are filled at the shelter.”

Hunter sputters before shaking his head, they could revisit the Jerry situation later, “How the fuck could the police not do anything when he attacked you?”

“There was no DNA evidence,” Molly sighs, leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes, “He had on a ski mask and gloves. It was dark. The guy was the same size as Seth and there were no reports of some masked serial rapist going around so it isn’t like it was a random attempt. But apparently the evidence I had was circumstantial and not enough to actually bring him in for questioning.”

“That’s bullshit,” Hunter seethes, “He had a fucking history of stalking you. That’s enough to make him a top suspect.”

“Yeah, if his parents weren’t the top defense lawyers in the tri-state area, you’d probably be right,” Molly sighs, “Seth is impossible to find, but they’re easy enough to. I called them a couple of years ago and begged them to get Seth psychiatric help if they wanted to help their son so badly. Their way of helping is to make sure their son’s record is spotless despite what he’s done. I told them that if they admitted him somewhere and he was able to become stable and change, I wouldn’t mind if he never faced legal repercussions. A couple of days after that call, they sent me a cease and desist letter, saying that I was harassing them. Fucking assholes.”

Hunter pulls off the exit and heads down the street before entering the Pittsburgh Police Department’s parking lot. He takes a few breaths in an attempt to calm himself down before glancing at Molly and feeling awful. She looks drained, physically and emotionally, and he knows freaking out about what she told him hadn’t helped. But it’s like she doesn’t get how fucking dangerous Seth is, the way she minimizes it and tries to keep it to herself. It’s either that or she does fucking get it, all too well, but she’s just accepted it as part of her life due to being let down by anyone who can actually help and has given up on trying to find peace or justice.

Molly’s a literal genius. Hunter knows she gets it and that it’s the latter. It breaks his fucking heart.

“This isn’t going to work,” she says again tiredly, “I’ve tried this several times. Any charges I press get swept under the rug. It doesn’t matter if it is minutes after or days after. They just take the report and ask me to call if he tries to contact me again. And when I call, they say they’ve made a note of it and tell me to change my number. I was lucky to have an active restraining order for two years.”

Hunter doesn’t respond as he gets out of Molly’s car and goes around to open the door for her. She glares up at him before tossing her bag to the side, unbuckling her belt, and getting out of the car. She walks ahead and doesn't bother to hold the police department’s doors open for him. Fair enough.

“I’m here to report a criminal threat made against me the other night by my stalker, Seth Warner,” Molly says to the officer working the front desk, as if the line is rehearsed, “He has stalked me in West Virginia and Pennsylvania in person but now mainly makes harassment calls or attempts to stalk me online. If you need files on previous reports, they may be with the Morgantown Police Department if they haven't been disposed of. I think I also have some copies saved."

“Have you tried changing your number and email add-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Hunter explodes, coming over to stand next to Molly, “You don’t think she’s fucking tried that? And even if she hasn’t, it doesn’t make what he’s doing okay!”

“Sir, don’t raise your voice at me,” the officer warns.

“Hunter, calm down,” Molly hisses, then clears her throat, “I’m sorry about that. My boyfriend is just really upset by what Seth said.”

“What did he say?”

“Word for word, it was ‘If you hang up on me again, I’ll slit your throat and fuck you as you bleed out’.”

The officer blinks before letting out a cough, “I’ll uh, I’ll request an APB with my higher ups. Bring him in for questioning when we find him.”

“I’m sure you will,” Molly says, her voice sounding dead, “What papers do I need to fill out and sign?”

When they get back to the car, Molly sits there as Hunter calls Carl. It’s not until Carl picks up the phone in sleepy confusion does he remember that he’s going to have to explain why he’s in Pittsburgh and that he’s been seeing Molly. Carl takes all that well enough, even though Hunter knows he’s going to blab his mouth to Debbie as soon as he gets off the phone. But Carl’s a good man and Hunter knows he might have some sound advice. As much as Hunter would like to believe that police have changed since Stockwell, he knows they haven’t. Carl had been the only one to listen about Jason Kemp and if he was still on the force, he would probably listen to Molly about Seth too. But Carl retired and moved to Toronto six years ago.

“I don’t have many connections down there anymore, kid,” Carl admits, “She filled out the report and all of the paperwork? She said she would like to press charges when he’s brought in?”

“Yes,” Hunter says, pinching the bridge of his nose, “She’s done all of that several times, both before and after the restraining order.”

“Then why aren’t they charging him if he’s a repeat offender?” Carl asks angrily.

“Apparently he has some powerful, enabling lawyer parents,” Hunter mutters.

Carl grumbles something or other, then speaks up, “Who are his parents?”

Hunter looks over at Molly, who looks like she’s about to fall asleep, “What are his parents’ names?”

“Alfred and Lisa Warner,” she mumbles, leaning her head against the car window.

“Alfred and Lisa Warner,” Hunter repeats, before getting nothing, “Hello? Carl, are you there?”

“...Yeah,” Carl sighs, “I’m here. That...You’re right. They’re powerful. From what I remember, they never lose a case and seem like they can bend and mold the law to their will as if it’s fuckin’ clay. That explains a lot.”

Hunter doesn’t feel any better once he gets off the phone with Carl, although he begrudgingly gets Carl to promise to keep things quiet for now at Molly’s insistence.

“FUCK!” Hunter yells out, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel before sitting up and starting the car. Molly just pats his shoulder and continues to rest.

By the time they get back to Craig’s, Hunter makes sure he is good enough to go into the house without flipping his shit before getting out of the car to follow Molly. When he gets up to the bedroom, he dresses down to his boxer briefs while Molly already has the light off, her back facing him. It’s only then that he feels real guilt over the last hour. He should have been calmer, more mature, and told her why it is important that she report everything while he comforted her or something. But he had lost it. The only thing that had kept him from screaming had been the fact that Craig had been and still is in bed. Hunter had just demanded she get her coat on and stormed out of the house, not one hug or kiss - nothing.

Hunter bites back a groan, then goes over to the other side and gets under the covers. He doesn’t know if she’ll want it, but he feels the need to offer, even if it’s for selfish reasons.

“Can I hold you?” he whispers, preparing himself to get a ‘no’ or no answer at all. At first, he thinks that it might be the second one - whether it’s because she’s asleep or pretending to be - but slowly, Molly turns around and faces him.

“Are you done freaking out and being overly dramatic?” she asks quietly.

Hunter can’t help but glare, “I wasn’t being overly dramatic. I know when I’m being overly dramatic. Like the other night when I told my dads I would literally die if I didn’t see you within a day-”

“That is dramatic,” Molly confirms, “Damn, queen.”

“Yeah, well,” Hunter says, trying to not let his slip up get to him, “You’re right about that. You’re wrong about me being dramatic tonight. I didn’t handle it well. I should have handled it better. But my anger and debilitating fear were and still are both warranted.”

Molly lets out a sigh and pats Hunter’s cheek, “I’m fine. I won’t deny that I keep thinking about what he said, but I’m here in one piece.”

“If he even gives you a bruise, I’ll probably end up in jail,” Hunter says, before a lump forms in his throat, “If he tries to do what he said he was going to do? Either or both? Fuck, Molly. I would want to kill him and anyone else who never tried to stop him. That scares me almost as much as the thought of him hurting you.”

“Hunter,” Molly says more compassionately, finally scooting in closer to drape herself over him, “I’m okay. He’s made threats before. Not like that, but he doesn’t even follow through on most of them. He’s not going to risk a threat coming from him being documented, only for it to come true. Unfortunately, he’s smarter than that. If he did come through on some of the more minor threats, maybe his parents wouldn’t be able to keep him out of prison.”

“He’s insane,” Hunter says, shaking his head, “You can’t underestimate him and assume he’s never going to fully snap and come after you.”

Molly stares at him, as if she’s realized she’s not going to get much further with him tonight. She’s probably right. Hunter’s thought process is stuck at a standstill.

“What were you going to talk to me about the other night?”

It takes a moment for Hunter to even process her question, “Huh?”

“Before I got off the phone with you on Friday night, you said you wanted to run something by me but wanted to wait until I was sober before discussing it. What was it?”

Oh. That. It feels trivial now. So fucking trivial with Craig’s mental health, despite having an almost abnormally good day, along with what Hunter found out tonight. He knows what the answer is going to be. Part of him wishes he would have asked her on Friday night. She would have had less going on, less reason to say no. And as soon as Molly would find out about Craig, Hunter could have demanded that Justin come down or something. If Hunter could go back in time a few days, he would call Justin himself and tell him that he wants to give Molly the time of her life, even if it’s only for a week. Hunter would tell Justin that Molly needs a fucking break and that as her older brother, he owes it to Molly to give her one. He’d tell him the reason why he wants to take her, that he’s fucking in love with her.

Shit. Fuck.

He’s felt it, but he’s never thought it. Not concretely. Actually thinking it shakes him to his core. He needs to move past it or she’s going to think he’s having a stroke.

“I was going to ask and see if you wanted to go to Europe next week,” Hunter eventually says, recovering, “I was thinking Spain or France, but was down for anything really. Maybe Ireland or the UK. Italy. Somewhere in western or central Europe so that we wouldn’t get stuck on the plane for half the trip. I was going to let you choose where we went. I was planning on flying here a few days before so that we could leave together.”

Molly is quiet for a few moments and Hunter feels tension in the silence before she nestles her head under his chin.

“That sounds amazing. And expensive.”

“I would pay for all of it,” Hunter tells her as she looks up at him in warning, “Look, I know you hate it when anyone spends money on you. You are literally independent to a fault. But I didn’t have shit growing up. You...You know what I did to make ends meet. Obviously, compared to that teenage boy, you’re fucking wealthy. I would have been happy making 35,000 dollars a year. I never dreamed I would do this well for myself though. Ever. I’m not saying that to brag, I’m honestly fucking baffled. When I look at my life, I don’t understand how I got here. I thought I was going to be dead by the time I was 16, and that was before I learned about the whole HIV thing.”

“Hunter,” Molly chokes out, but Hunter just rubs her back and continues.

“After I figured out how to invest and manage it and make sure I never find myself struggling or even wanting again, I just want to spend my money on the people who matter to me the most. You’re...You’re on that list. Pretty much at the top, along with my parents and my sister.”

Molly sniffles and lets out a laugh, “Well, after that speech, I wish I could say yes. Enthusiastically. If things were calm, I would. My dad might have had a good day today but-”

“I know. And it’s okay, Molly. Really. I understand.”

There is a beat of silence before Molly speaks again, “You should take your dads. I bet they would love it.”

Hunter scoffs, “They’re almost as bad as you are. They won’t even take money for shit that matters. They want a baby. Adopting a baby has never gone through. I don’t know if it’s because they’re gay or because Ben’s HIV+ and that’s public knowledge but they rarely get a call, let alone make it past round 1. I offered them money for a surrogate, but they refused to take it, even as a loan. Said they were saving up for it themselves and that if it works out, it works out.”

“I hope it works out,” Molly tells him, “They’re good dads.”

“Yeah. They are.”

“What about your sister? I didn’t really talk to her much at Christmas, but I could see that she’s crazy about you and misses you. You should take her on a trip.”

“I’d like to. JR’s a good kid. I fucking adore her,” Hunter admits, “She actually stayed with me in LA last summer for a couple of weeks while I was off. We had a good time. She’s not any trouble at all. It’s Lindsey and Melanie who end up being a pain in the ass. They called non-stop and never remembered the time difference. I can’t imagine what they’d do if I took her out of the country. Besides, despite how much I love my sister, I want to spend these few weeks with you.”

Molly scoffs, “In West Vir-fucking-ginia?”

“The wild and wonderful,” Hunter confirms before getting excited, “It has its faults, but the scenery there is like nothing else and you know it. Forget the Eiffel Tower. Forget Big Ben. Forget the Venice Canal. Let’s camp under the New River Gorge.”

That gets a loud laugh out of Molly before she pats his chest, “Yes, Hunter. Let’s camp under a busy ass bridge in a huge river. I hope our tent floats.”

“Okay, fine,” Hunter sighs, “Near the New River Gorge. At a campsite. Or at Cooper’s Rock. It’s a lot closer.”

“If we’re going to Cooper’s Rock, then we might as well just go sleep at my apartment where it’s warm,” Molly yawns.

“But I want to sleep in a tent with you in the cold,” Hunter says.

Molly shakes her head before gently taking Hunter’s hand and intertwining his fingers with hers, “We can maybe go on a trip for a couple of days next week, if my dad continues to get better and we go somewhere that has cell service so that I can get a hold of him. Not far, but somewhere. And not in a fucking tent. I’m making you spring for a hotel.”

“A resort?”

“Don’t push it,” Molly tells him as she lifts her head up to meet his eyes.

Hunter shrugs but looks down at her tenderly, brushing her hair back from her face, “Fine. I’ll save the grand gestures for Europe. Because you already said yes. Maybe not for next week, but maybe in late July or early August if filming doesn’t get delayed or maybe for your Winter break or even next Spring if that ends up not working out. But it’s happening. The country we go to is up to you.”

“Albania.”

Hunter wrinkles his nose in confusion and tilts his head down to stare at Molly, “Out of all the fucking European countries you could have chosen, you choose Albania? Why?”

Molly smiles, “When I was in the 5th grade, they did everything in alphabetical order. You had to stand in line in alphabetical order for lunch, you got dismissed by the letter of your last name, etcetera. For some reason, there were no Vs or Ws or anything past Taylor. I was always dead last, which sucked because our class was bigger than our cafeteria table. One seat short. So unless someone was sick, I always had to sit at the detention table even when I didn’t do anything to get there. The teachers would try to be sweet and say that I was allowed to talk, but no one else at the table was. So if I tried to talk to a kid in detention and a teacher caught them talking to me, they’d get a day added to their sentence.”

“That is completely fucked,” Hunter says, “It sounds like some kind of regime and absolutely unjust.”

“Right? Anyway, I started a riot and got lunch detention for the rest of the school year,” Molly shrugs, “I stood up on the table and gave an impassioned speech condemning the policy. I spoke of my innocence before standing up for the detention kids, claiming that the teachers were depriving them of a much needed social outlet before starting a food fight. I figured that if I was going to sit there, I might as well go all out and do something to deserve it.”

“That’s my girl,” Hunter says proudly, not remembering exactly how they got on this topic but extremely glad that they did because 5th grade Molly sounds like a badass.

“But before that,” Molly continues, getting back on topic, “We had to do an individual Social Studies project on a European Country. In alphabetical order, each kid was asked which country they were going to do and no kid could do the same country. So the As, Bs, and Cs chose the popular, well-known countries like Italy, England, Ireland, France. As the teacher went down the list, Germany, Norway, Sweden, Greece, Ukraine, Hungary, Poland, European Russia - all taken. We had 31 kids in our class total - which wouldn't fly in a lot of school districts today. I remember the number because the lunch tables only sat 30. Anyway, I’m getting to the point where I can’t even think of a country because the ones that are memorable to a 5th grader have all been snatched up. So the teacher gets to my name and asks me which country I’d like to do as if I’ve been given as fair of a shot as everyone else. I’m desperately looking at the list, which is covered in crossed off countries and the first one on there that was available was Albania.”

“So you researched it and found out it had a rich and beautiful culture?”

“No,” Molly admits, “It was super hard to research at the time, especially when we had to use a bunch of book sources. My mom was mad that I chose it because she couldn’t find much on it either and asked why I couldn’t choose England or Italy. At the time, I thought she was being super fucking insensitive-”

Molly breaks off in laughter, the kind of laughter that only hits you when you’re exhausted. When Hunter glances at the clock, he sees that it’s after midnight and realizes Molly only has about five hours until she has to get up. He feels a stab of guilt again, guilt over blowing up, making her go to the police station (even though it was fucking warranted), and keeping her awake now when she won’t even be back until at least 6:30 tomorrow. He should probably get her to chill out and pass out.

“Albania it is,” Hunter tells her as she begins to settle, and he surprises himself when he realizes he’s telling the absolute truth, “You better call your mom and have her dig up all of the research you acquired back then because we’re going to need it.”

“I remember that there’s fishing,” Molly mumbles, “And beaches. It’s really pretty. A lot of places to hike. And up until the early 90s, its chief export was chromite.”

“Thank god we know that,” Hunter sighs, finally letting himself feel tired as Molly’s soft breaths to even out against his collarbone, “We would have been so screwed if we traveled there and never found out what chromite used to mean to them.”

“Yeah, it’s why it’s at the top o’ my list,” Molly slurs out, “That and Eureka Springs, Arkansas.”

Hunter forces himself not to laugh and just kisses the top of her head instead. Within minutes, Molly is asleep. Soon enough, despite bouncing back and forth on some sort of screwed up emotional spectrum, Hunter falls asleep too.