Bed of Roses

Everyone Struggles

Tw: mentions of alchol and alcholism, good parent schlatt
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    "We're at the scene of the crime, any info on what we're dealing with," Phil says out loud while Wilbur takes in the sight before them. Headquarters gives him a firm negative in response. "Great," he bitterly hisses under his breath. His wings rustle a time or two, betraying his attempt to hide his anxiety. Just fucking fantastic. He hopes Wilbur has found at least something useful for him to go off of.
     He steps into the foyer of the bank to survey the damage. Wilbur is already taking witness reports, twisting his words so they're not as harsh as they could be. A soft smile, full of fondness and love, graces his lips. Maybe his boys were right about him being a 'sap' as they put it.

    After what felt like an eternity of waiting, the third and final thief shows his face. Tommy, who was still miracously hidden by shadows, tackles him. A loud crash can be heard throughout the corridor, with a nice, shrill scream chasing after it. Tommy doesn't try to silence him. He continues to pin him down, wrestling the stolen goods from the thief's hands.
   Once he's secured the money, he lets the   man stand up. The man takes off, presumably to join his buddies and escape.       Tommy watches as he does so. He's sure the heroes have made it to the bank by now, he'll just let them handle the poor fool. Tommy makes his way to the back exit, pressing a button on his comm to pull up the map that'll lead him home. Which is exactly when he bumps into a wall.

     "Ah shit," I mumble under my breath. I really should watch where I'm going. The wall then moves, almost like it's twisting to face me, specifically. Once I look up, I am met with the reality that I did not, in fact, run into a wall. No, instead I have managed to run into Scarlet Lily. At least this time I'm sure I'm in my vigilante outfit.
     At first, the idea didn't register in my head. I mean, the last time I seen the fucker as Blackthorn I was barely lucid enough to take in the fact he was five feet away from me. Now, however, I am very much 'there,' so to speak. That being said, the minute I process who he is, the first thing I say is, "Oh fuck."
   I have half a mind to call Tubbo when the prick starts giggling. When he stops laughing, it's only to say, "Nice to see you again, Raindrop." What the fuck? A nickname? That's... fair, actually. I never did give him my official vigilante name. "That's Blackthorn to you," I inform him, with the solemnity of a professional hero. Again, he laughs at me.
    Narrowing my eyes, I take in his outfit. Trench coat, an almost exact copy of the sleeveless tank I'm wearing, a pair of ugly ass trousers, black Doc Martens, and a pair of fingerless gloves. Now I could bully him for being rich. Which is what I meant to do when I opened my mouth. Instead, what comes out is, "Manwhore," which isn't wrong, but wasn't what I was aiming for.
   His jaw drops, much to my amusement. I turn to leave while he's still in shock, when he calls me a child. Without hesitation, I charge towards him and ram my head into his stomach, rewarding me with the sound of victory. Now that I have him slightly injured, I can make a break for it. He gets up the minute he hears me take off, which is less than ideal for me.
    I take the route out that I used to get in. I run as fast as I can and leap for the bars on the ceiling when the opportunity presents itself. I don't dare stop for more than a minute. I press the call button on my earpiece and Tubbo answers right away. "What's up bossman," I hear him say in that tone of voice that tells me I'm getting my ass beat later. "Hero after me. Any info I can use against him," after a slight pause, I add a, "quick."
    This became a high-speed chase the minute I ran off, but Tubbo didn't need to know that. "Give me a name, Blackthorn," he firmly instructs. I call out Scarlet Lily's name and am given every conceivable record on him that the Agency has on him. "Little known fact, his Technique is not manipulation or mind-control! It's actually the ability to control and manipulate air molecules," Tubbo reads off for me.
    I take that as my cue to drop from my perch. I can hear Scarlet Lily's worried gasp from below me. I spin around the bar a few times to build momentum and then leap off. By the time I've neared the ground, he's already in the air and too far away to 'save me,' or whatever the fuck he's trying to do. I do another backflip, stick the landing, and then flip him off. I hear Tubbo snicker on the other end of the line.
     I start to run again, and I make it to the foyer with the idea of a clean escape in my mind. I'm so close to the door when a blur of green blocks my path. "Protea," I nervously mutter. He answers with an "On it." Thank Prime for tech-savvy people. "Mate, calm down. You're not in trouble, I promise," the door-guard spouts bullshit. Two pro heroes against one vigilante. They know I'm outnumbered.
    "Let's start simple, my na-" Tubbo's voice cuts in, providing information that'll either guarantee an escape or a good way to stall time long enough for Ranboo to show up. "Amaranth, yes, I know," I can just picture Tubbo rolling his eyes already. Amaranth's eyes widen in surprise, and he clears his throat. "Great! I'm assuming you already know my assistant-" again, I interrupt. "Scarlet Lily, yes, we've met before."
    Tubbo asks me when in my ear, while in the other I hear Scarlet Lily mutter something about rain. "Right. So it's safe to assume you did this," Amaranth gestures towards the two slumped bodies. Turns out I knocked them unconscious. "Yeah, it was an easy feat. Honestly, you'd think they'd be better at this," what, did they think I had an accomplice? Well, I do, they just don't do fieldwork with me very often.
   Scarlet Lily whistles a tune of impression, and Amaranth's eyes go large. That's not the reaction I had expected to come from me literally confessing to my crime. "Hoe'd you like to be a hero, kid," Amaranth blurts out of nowhere. I can hear Tubbo choke on his drink, and Ranboo's distant call of "I'm sorry- what?" There's no way my work was that impressive.
    I'm inclined to say no when I hear a vwoop in the distance. I slowly step back until I'm far enough to run toward Ranboo. Once I'm by his side, I look at both heroes and make a peace sign. Ranboo gives a sheepish wave and snaps his fingers. If there's one thing I aim to do as a vigilante, it's to cause problems for the heroes, on purpose.

   Phil is stuck in place, with his mouth agape. Wilbur is just as shocked, yet manages to give a small deranged chuckle. Of course the kid would've just fucked off into god knows where. What else had he expected? He wouldn't have left if the 'big question' hadn't been asked. He should've known that Phil would've fucked something up. How the hell did he think letting Phil come on a mission involving a (probably) young vigilante was a good idea?
    Then a small voice from the back of his mind reminds him he didn't let Phil do anything. The Agency had assigned the mission to both of them, together. Maybe it was for the best the kid didn't become a hero. At least by staying a vigilante, he has a choice in who his mission partners are. Wilbur envies him for that sense of freedom, something he had lost quite some time ago.
    With only himself, Phil, and the thieves in the room, he calls the police to come pick the criminals up. He can't bring himself to talk to anyone else for the rest of the night. He can hear Phil calling his name, asking if he's alright. He chooses to ignore him. Deciding that the night has been tough, he walks off to find the nearest bar. Or a liquor store. Hell, anywhere that will legally serve him alcohol, really.
    Speaking of alcohol, he calls the one man he knows has every bar and liquor store on speed dial. He listens to his phone ring, growing impatient with every minute until he finally hears a gruff "Hello," from the other side. He smiles at the sound. "Hey, I need to get drunk and fast," he made sure to convey the importance of how fast with his voice. The voice on the opposite line lets out a sigh.
    He frowns at the noise. "What's the matter? Whatever it is can be drank away, I'm sure," he suggests. "Wilbur, no. I quit years ago," the other man explains. Wilbur doesn't seem to mind one bit. "So? Schlatt, you've been sober for ages now, one drink won't hurt," Wilbur tries to coerce him into going out with him.
    He thinks he has Schlatt convinced until he hears someone distantly call him dad. "Schlatt, what the fuck," he knows his anger is misdirected, he'll apologize tomorrow. Schlatt says something in a way too gentle voice, then goes back to his conversation with Wilbur. "I have kids Wilbur. I quit drinking when I adopted the Street Rat," and Wilbur's mood goes from anger to confusion real quick.
     "The... what," he repeats. Schlatt tells him again, " I stooped when I took in the Street Rat." He hears another person, someone whose voice is more familiar, yells curses (and maybe a threat) at Schlatt. He yells back at them, not bothering to confirm whether he meant it lovingly or not. That's when it clicks. Schlatt doesn't need to tell him the exact way he meant it, because his kid (s?) knew. Unlike when Phil called him those easy-to-misinterpret nicknames as a kid.
      Schlatt is being a father to these kids, the kind of dad he wanted when he was at that age. Schlatt isn't overly loving or too harsh. He jokes with them, and they're able to make jokes with or about him. He won't drop everything for them, but he'll still find time to listen to their problems. Schlatt is everything that he and Phil never were.
       What a funny thought, the former alcoholic being a better dad than the two sober men ever could be. What an ironically sad thought, the small voice inside him corrects. He's had enough of this whole 'thinking' business for tonight. He has nothing left to say, so he lets a disappointed sigh escape his lips. So much for having fun and getting drunk with a friend.