Money Changes

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/52994767.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category: F/M
Fandom: Outer Banks (TV)
Relationships: John "Big John" Routledge & John B. Routledge, Sarah Cameron/John
B. Routledge, JJ Maybank & John B. Routledge, John B & the Pogues
Characters: John B. Routledge, John "Big John" Routledge, JJ Maybank, Sarah
Cameron, Pope Heyward, Kiara "Kie" Carrera, Cleo (Outer Banks),
Heyward | Pope Heyward's Father, Carlos Singh, Barracuda Mike (Outer
Banks)
Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abuse, John B abused, Hurt John B.
Routledge, John B centric, Good Friend John B. Routledge, Protective
John B. Routledge, Good Friend JJ Maybank, Protective JJ Maybank,
Good Friend Sarah Cameron, Bad Parent John "Big John" Routledge,
Hurt/Comfort, Big John lives, Cannon-Typical Drug and Alcohol Use,
John B. Routledge whump, John B. Routledge Needs a Hug
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2024-01-12 Updated: 2024-01-18 Words: 12,918 Chapters:
4/?
 Money Changes
by JoMaEdStBuJJ

Summary

“Big John put out the stick of dynamite, and Sarah closed her eyes.

Of course.

She is now witness to Big John choosing the gold over his son for the second time that
night.”

What if Big John kept his attitude after being shot? This explores that, the relationship
between both Routledges and what has changed.

Notes

I understand that looking death in the face can change a man and humble him, but for me,
Big John’s actions did a sharp 180 and it seemed completely inconsistent to his character they
had portrayed in the hour before.

What if Big John just couldn’t give up the gold?

 Chapter 1
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Big John put out the stick of dynamite, and Sarah closed her eyes.

Of course.

She is now witness to Big John choosing the gold over his son for the second time that night.
She could only imagine how this was breaking John B’s heart. How many times had Big John
done this in his life? Now she worried for him more, as the gun became that much more real.
She squeezed John B’s hand, not daring to look at the expression on his face.

“I knew you weren’t that stupid, Mr. Routledge,” Singh let out a hearty laugh, nudging the
gun in his dad’s direction, signaling John B and Sarah to get out of the water and stand by
Big John.

“One of you two will take me to the treasure, where you found it,” Singh seemed to go back
and forth on his decision to take John B or Sarah. “I’m thinking… you,” he landed his gun on
Sarah and her heart dropped. She let out a terrified breath and right as she was about to move,
John B stepped forward.

“I’ll take you,” John B said.

“John B—“ she whispered to him but he stopped her, waving his hand in a gesture that told
her that he got it.

“Sarah got hurt down there, it’ll be better if I do it.” He lied, and Sarah tried to keep a straight
face. He was trying to protect her.
The other man seemed to contemplate this, nodding to himself. “Alright, you take me,” he
said, while slinging his pack over his shoulder. “Go.”

Sarah watched them leave, not moving until they had been fully submerged under the water
for a minute. She walked then, stepping over the bag of gold and plopped down, hugging her
knees. She was pissed at Big John. Pissed.

“What are you doing?” Big John wheezed. “Grab the gold, get out of here.”

She scoffed, not believing what she was hearing. Now he trusted her to get the gold?

“I’m waiting for John B,” she said stubbornly.

“He’ll be fine, Singh will kill us all if—“ Big John sucked in a sharp breath as he stumbled
forward, slowly bringing himself to the ground as he grabbed at his stomach. Sarah snapped
to attention, coming to him, and watching his wound.

“You were shot,” she said quietly, it all making sense now. His suddenly sober attitude, not
being able to keep pace, not going with them to El Dorado. She came over to him, squatting,
hovering her hands to his wound. As much as she hated Big John right now, she couldn’t let
him die, John B loved him too much, deserving or not, he was still John B’s dad. She had to
get him out of there.

“Come on, we have to get you out of here,” Sarah said, moving one of his arms around her as
they both hoisted up, with much struggle.

“The gold—“ Big John said in pain but Sarah cut him off.

“John B will get it, if we wait any longer here you’ll die.”
Big John considered this for a moment, then growled in frustration but hobbled along with
Sarah.

———

Singh’s light went out.

Weird, John B thought to himself. What were the odds that all three of their flashlights went
out at this exact spot?

He heard Singh curse and smack at his light, and John B knew this was his chance.

Screw the gold.

He pushed Singh, smacking the gun out of his hand and into the water, diving deeper and
heading for the tunnel. He heard Singh splash around in the dark, screaming his last name.
Hopefully it took him awhile to figure out how to get back.

John B felt around until he found the hole, he was just about to kick himself through when he
felt a hand on his shoe, yanking him back. John B kicked at it, resurfacing and pushing at
Singh who was now grappling with him. It was hard with water in his face and not being able
to see a thing, but John B managed to land a good one on Singh and he kicked away.

He swam as fast as he could, putting as much distance between him and Singh as possible.
The trip through the underwater tunnel was long and always left his lungs screaming, but he
managed, breaking through the surface and gasping for air as he ran out. He scrambled to the
surface, head whipping around to find his dad and Sarah.

They were gone.

Good, he was hoping they would get a head start. He saw something sparkle to his left,
catching his eye. It was the gold Singh had taken out of the bag. He picked it up, placing it
into his smaller bag, as he slung it around his shoulders. It wasn’t much compared to their
first haul but it was something.

He looked for the bag full of gold but was startled out of his search when he heard something
behind him.

Bubbles began forming in the water behind him, indicating someone was about to break the
surface, so he ditched, sprinting out of the cave and not waiting for Singh to catch up. He ran
through the forest, whipping past trees and brush, trying to catch up with his dad and Sarah
while also trying to put as much distance as he could between him and Singh. He could
faintly hear the man call his name but it got farther and farther.

John B finally reached a point where he had to slow down, placing his hands on his knees as
he gasped in breaths.

Three loud bangs reverberated against the trees, echoing in the forest around him. Those
sounded really close, which concerned John B. Those had to be gunshots and he really hoped
it had nothing to do with Sarah or his dad. John B picked up his pace, barreling through a
clearing as he came to a skidding halt.

It was the Pogues. John B almost couldn’t believe his eyes as a huge smile broke out on his
face but then immediately dropped it when he saw their faces. They all were looking down at
a cliff, faces stricken with shock and grief, mostly in Sarah’s case. His dad was off to the side,
leaning heavily against a rock. John B slid down the side of the hill, catching Pope’s attention
as he turned in his direction.

“John B!” He said softly, his voice grim but relieved to see him. The others turned and slowly
migrated towards him but Sarah remained at the edge.

“What happened?” John B asked, hugging his friends, sending a concerned look to Sarah.
“Ward… he, he’s dead dude, like, for real this time…” JJ said quietly, and John B’s eyes
widened, slipping out of their embrace to check on Sarah. She was quietly sobbing, choking
back tears and John B looked down, cringing at the sight.

Ward was truly dead, there was no surviving that.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead as she brought
shaking hands to his arms. They stayed like that for a moment, John B allowing Sarah to
grieve, trying to be the presence she needed, trying to do what he should have done so long
ago.

“John B,” Pope called. “Your dad’s not looking too good.” John B turned, looking at his dad
who waved them off hastily.

“Just a scratch,” Big John said breathily, and that made John B worried, as he hesitantly left
Sarah and went to his dad.

“Come on,” John B said to his dad, not meeting his eyes. It would be different now. His dad
had almost let him die for the gold, twice.

All for the gold.

He shook his head, throwing one of his dad’s arms over his shoulder, Pope doing the same on
the other side. “Let’s get you safe before you bleed out,” John B said.

They made it back to the boat after a slow and agonizingly long journey. Leaving El Dorado,
the gold, and Singh with it all, behind. His first priority would be making sure everyone was
safe, that included his dad. He had to get someone who could work on him ASAP and luckily
José seemed to know a girl.

Sarah, somber and quiet but still trying to help, used the rest of her dad’s money to pay for
the surgery. His dad had passed out right before they got there, Sarah had squeezed his hand
as the lady began the operation. He felt bad that she was comforting him while her dad had
just died, but she told him she didn’t care. That she understood his worry.

He admitted to her that this was bringing back some very unpleasant vibes as he motioned to
her torso, recalling the time he had thought Sarah’s heart had stopped for good. She hugged
him, and he just stared at the operating table.

His friends were waiting outside, all their hands covered in blood as they had taken turns
holding his dad’s wound, or lugging him around. They were doing so much to help him
despite his dad’s stubbornness in his distrust of even them. Despite being lied to, which John
B regretted every time he thought about it. Despite being in the middle of nowhere in South
Africa, they continued to help him, and he loved them so much for it.

His dad was unconscious for awhile, the lady had said he should make a full recovery only if
he relaxed and didn’t move around too much. John B nodded, thanking the her. He told Sarah
to tell the others the news, giving him some privacy with his dad.

He walked over to the table, sitting on a chair next to it as he sighed, placing his hands to his
head. The blood was dried now, but he still looked at it on his hands, attempting to wipe it
off.

How many times had he had someone else’s blood on his hands?

His dad stirred, groaning as he awoke. He immediately attempted to sit up and John B stood,
pushing him down.

“Whoa there old man, take it easy. You’re still recovering,” he said. His dad looked around.

“Where… where are we?”

“Sarah got us someone to help you,” John B said, trying to give his dad more reasons to trust
Sarah. “She probably just saved your life.”
“Course she did,” His dad grunted, smacking John B’s hand away as he still tried to get up,
swinging his legs over the side of the bed, throwing on his shirt.

“Dad! What are you doing?”

“We gotta go get that gold back, boy,” his dad said, and John B’s arms dropped to the side.
You’ve got to be kidding me.

“No dad, you can’t, the doctor said you—“

“I’ve worked to damn hard to quit now kid,” his dad cut him off, standing with much effort.

“No! Look—“ John B walked around to stand in front of his dad, grabbing his shoulders.
“We know where the gold is, we can come back. Let’s just… go back home, do a tactical
retreat, then come back.”

“Oh ya,” his dad snorted, pushing John B to the side weakly. “And leave it all to Singh? I
don’t think so.”

“Singh is…” John B swallowed, he was going to have to lie to his dad. He was such a
stubborn ass sometimes, he was going to get himself killed if they went back. “Singh is dead,
dad.” His dad turned to look at him, quirking an eyebrow.

“In the cave… he uh, the light went out and I pushed him. We got in a fight. He lost,” John B
said, which wasn’t technically false. His dad paused, considering this, John B used this to
jump in. “See? No one else knows about it, just me and you.”

“And Sarah,” his dad said. And John B bristled.

 “Yes. And Sarah. Who just watched her dad die, and is the reason you’re still alive! You have
no reason to not trust her anymore dad.”

“Sure, like she isn’t the whole reason I got shot in the first place,” his dad muttered under his
breath, and John B bit his tongue from snapping back. His dad walked out, throwing over his
shoulder, “fine, we go back, regroup, then figure out what to do next.”

John B sighed as he watched his dad use his hand against the wall to hobble down the stairs
and out the door, his friends voices echoing up to him. He placed a hand around his bag,
patting the gold just underneath. He was conflicted on how to use it. He wanted to tell his
dad, but apart of him knew his dad wouldn’t let him share it with the Pogues, and they
deserved it just as much as John B and his dad did, especially after everything they had gone
through.

He sighed, following after his dad. For now, the gold would remain a secret. He hated to
break everyone’s trust with it but he knew it would only cause problems, conflicting opinions
on how it should be used. He just needed time to think, and to process. He’d probably end up
showing it to them all anyway, he just needed to think.

He knew what he wanted to do with it.

He wanted to help his friends first, then use the rest for him and his dad, hopefully having
enough to rebuild the château. Each of the Pogues problems were… difficult, and money
couldn’t solve all of them, but it could help.

John B paused just outside the door, the reminder of his home being gone sending a stab to
his heart.

How was he going to tell his dad about the Château?

Chapter End Notes

As promised, the jb abuse fic yall were waiting for…

Expanding the jb fandom one fic at a time
 Chapter 2

To say his dad was pissed, was an understatement.

They stood in front of the bones of their lifetime home, his dad in front of the group.

“Tell me what happened again, boy,” his dad demanded and John B stepped forward next to
him, cringing.

“We don’t really… know, but…” he glanced at Sarah hesitantly. She bit her lip. “We think it
may have been Topper.”

“Thornton?” His dad growled. “Why?”

“He’s uh, really jealous of me and Sarah’s relationship…” John B said sheepishly, wincing as
he rubbed the back of his neck.

“You mean to tell me… our home, ALL of my work… everything we own… gone.
Because… of your dumbass teenage drama?” His dad turned a withering look to John B.

John B froze, expecting the anger, just not at him.

“Dad, I…”

“It’s not drama, Big John, Topper is just literally insane,” Kie spoke up for him.

“Where’re we supposed to go?” His dad completely ignored Kie, spitting the words at John
B. “We have nothing now, boy. Nothing! Do you understand that? We lost the gold, now
we’ve lost the château!”

“We still have a chance for the gold, dad! And we can… I dunno… rebuild the château?” He
tried to calm his dad but his dad shook his head, kicking at a particularly burnt piece of the
château on the ground, growling when it apparently pulled at his stitches, as he placed a hand
on his abdomen. “Dad can you please calm down? We’re gonna figure it out, ok? We always
—“

“How? How, huh? You got a load of extra cash stashed away somewhere you ain’t telling me
about, boy? Cuz right now it looks like we’re homeless because of you, we ain’t got any
money… shit, we barely have transportation with that piece of shit van you got!” John B
bristled. If his dad hadn’t left in the first place, maybe they wouldn’t be in this situation at all.
He took a deep breath, knowing that mentioning that, wouldn’t help anything at all, knowing
his dad just needed to cool off. Honestly John B just wanted this conversation to end already,
embarrassed his friends had to witness it.

“You can stay at the place my dad gave me,” Sarah spoke up softly. John B turned to her,
heart swelling with adoration for her and her helpful and kind soul, despite his dad’s poor
treatment of her. She always had a solution. “It’ll be… temporary, but it’ll last you ‘til you
get back on your feet.”

“And have to owe another Cameron a favor? No thanks,” his dad said bitterly, and John B
almost blew up at him. Sarah was the whole freakin’ reason he was alive! Thankfully he got
cut off by Sarah before he said anything he would regret.

“It’s a gift, not a favor, but that’s your choice. The offer will always stand,” she squinted at
him, crossing her arms.

“Thank you Sarah,” John B finally cut in. “We’ll think about it, right dad?”

His dad snorted, saying, “sure,” causing John B to roll his eyes, his new favorite word.

“Is that invitation open for any other guests?” Kie cringed, nodding to JJ then gesturing to
herself. “Hate to ask, but we kinda don’t have a home right now either.”
John B had almost forgotten about the whole Kitty Hawk and eviction notice thing. He felt
terribly guilty, both for forgetting and also possibly being the reason almost all of them were
homeless now.

“Plus we both have people we gotta hide from,” JJ cringed, rubbing his neck.

“You guys go, we’ll figure this ,” John B gestured to the château, “out. Thank you though,
Sarah.” He smiled at her.

“Of course John B,” she smiled, then glanced worriedly at his dad. He tried to give his best
reassuring smile, sending her a thumbs up. “Good luck,” she whispered, grabbing his hand
and squeezing it before she left with the others, leaving just John B and his dad in front of
what was left of their home.

His dad sauntered off and John B sighed, slinging his bag, still heavy with a single nugget of
gold, and stashed it somewhere he knew his dad wouldn’t bother to look. He told his dad he
was off to find whatever supplies and food he could find. His dad didn’t even bother to reply
and John B tried not to let it grate on his nerves so harshly.

He’d leave to find help, and give his dad time to cool off.

———

Stealing wasn’t something John B enjoyed to do, but it was just a couple of tools and nails
from a kook who left it sitting out for anyone to take, he doubted it would financially break
them. He meant it when he said he was going to try and rebuild the château, though he didn’t
have much knowledge of building, he could learn. When his dad got better, maybe he could
help. It could be the first thing that kind of brings them together since they had been apart for
so long, and John B was looking to find the old relationship he had with his dad, before the
gold. Well… before he got close to the gold anyway.
He already found a place to melt the gold into smaller pieces, and he’d try to pawn it off to a
couple people he knew, knowing getting it to smaller pieces was the best option, learning
from the last time they tried to sell gold. He had stopped at the library, smooth talking his
way in, telling the librarian he wanted to look around to see if he was interested in getting a
card. He had ended up in the aisles for hours reading up on it.

He had to cover it, that was where they went wrong last time, and he needed a proper mold.
He knew he could get building supplies from Heyward once Pope patched up his departure
with his dad, maybe he could get some molds too?

They had been sleeping outside, he and his dad. In the hammocks. They’d done it before and
they had been blessed with no rain, though, that was supposed to change that night. He had
hoped his dad would have at least calmed down a bit, but he was snappier than he’d ever seen
him, and John B would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt sometimes. John B would just leave
when things got too heated, picking up odd jobs and earning some cash for stuff they needed.

Despite his dad’s attitude problem, he would do this, on his own if he had to. For his dad.
Because, as much of a loud mouth his dad could be sometimes, he was right. The château
was gone and it probably was John B’s fault. And he still loved him.

John B had stolen a book on building “for dummies,” and a book on melting gold. He’d
thanked the librarian and headed back to his stash, where he hid the bag with the gold and his
supplies. He also had a surprise for his dad that hopefully put him in a better mood. Dropping
off his stuff and picking up the lunch bag. He headed to the dock, where his dad was basking
in the sun with an arm laid over his stomach, looking peaceful for once. He’d found a new
shirt that looked pretty clean, much to John B’s surprise, but it was a welcome one.

“Brought lunch,” John B said quietly, trying not to disturb his dad too much, knowing his dad
was in some pain from the surgery. “Got you some medicine too, from Mr. McLean,” he dug
out the bottle, examining it. “Supposed to prevent infection and numb the pain,” he tossed it
to his dad who finally looked at him, giving him a highly skeptical look.

“How’d you get this?” His dad asked popping one in his mouth. John B handed him a water
bottle and sat next to him, handing over a sub. He took a bite of his own sub, shrugging as he
looked out to the water.
“Did Mr. McLean a favor, got enough money to buy food for a couple days, and he agreed to
chop some of my pay for the medicine.”

“Shoulda just kept the money,” his dad grumbled, taking a bite of his own food. John B gave
him a deadpan look.

“You need the medicine, dad.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because his dad immediately snapped, looking
pissed already.

“I don’t need shit, you better stop telling me what I need, boy. I think you forget who’s the
parent here,” his dad tossed his sub in John B’s lap. Seriously? It was rare occasions big John
pulled the parent card, and John B never liked it when it happened. “Besides, if we listened to
you all the time,” his dad continued mercilessly, “we might have burned all of South America
down by now, maybe OBX too. Hell, I’m surprised we still have a boat, and the piece of shit
thing you call a vehicle over there.” His dad got up with great difficulty, going to leave John
B and storm off but having trouble getting to the standing part. John B sighed as he placed
both subs beside him to help his dad up.

“Come on, dad,” John B tried to ignore what his dad said. He didn’t mean it, he was just mad
about their situation, which John B found understandable. His dad pushed him away once he
was successfully not falling over and on two feet. “Please eat,” John B sighed picking up the
food and waving it to his dad. His dad shook his head, taking in a sharp breath and glaring at
John B.

“I said ,” his dad growled. “Stop telling me what I need,” walking away. John B followed,
annoyed at how childish his dad was acting.

“I’m not trying to tell you what you need, I’m just asking you to eat. I mean, you were shot
da-“ John B was cut off when his dad turned and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt with
both hands, the move startling John B enough to cause him to drop their food, some of it
rolling into the water.
Damn. He spent hard earned money on those. He didn’t think his dad understood how hard it
was to get a job with a reputation like he and his friends had, and people took advantage of
that. They underpaid him or did some general shady shit. It didn’t seem like his dad even
cared how hard John B was working to keep them alive, not when he was shaking John B
like he was over a sandwich.

“ Oh don’t you love to pull that card,” his dad growled. John B didn’t think responding was a
good idea right now, his dad looked livid, and he knew this was much more than John B
overstepping his role as a son. He just looked at his dad’s eyes, a tired look spreading across
his face as his dad pushed him into the railing. “How did I get shot again?” His dad hissed,
and John B frowned. This was a new argument. “Well? You forget already?” His dad gave
him a good shake and John B raised his hands.

“Uhh…” John B didn’t know what his dad wanted to hear. It sounded like he was mad at
him, but he didn’t know how he could have possibly caused his dad to get shot. He tried to
come up with something quick, but his dad was already continuing.

“Your girlfriend and her father turned us in. I got shot protecting the two of you! If I had
done it on my own—“

“Ok dad! Ok,” he said, wriggling out of his grasp. “Sorry,” he huffed angrily, picking up their
spoiled lunch and snatching the bag.

“Sorry ain’t good enough!” his dad called after him when he walked away. John B shook his
head, ignoring him.

Didn’t he get that John B was trying to make it better? Getting them food and trying to
rebuild the château, on his own , wasn’t enough for his dad?

John B kicked at the dirt, taking a walk. He tried to breathe in slowly, shaking off his dad’s
words. He tried to forget it, not wanting to think about how lowly his dad thought of him,
how he didn’t seem to want John B around, how he blamed him for most of the bad stuff that
had happened to them, how he didn’t even know about the stuff John B went through while
he was gone.
About how his dad would have let him die for the gold.

John B didn’t want to think about any of it. He just needed to focus on what needed to get
done, and right now, that looked like getting supplies for rebuilding the château, and melting
the gold.

——

Mr. Heyward was a legend.

Not only was he willing to give away some of his stuff to help John B mold the gold into
smaller pieces, he also gave tips on melting, not even knowing what John B was planning on
doing, or what exactly he was melting, just recognized what he was asking for and offered
advice and tools.

John B eventually told him it was a surprise for Pope and asked him not to mention it to him.
Mr. Heyward had chuckled and told John B it wouldn’t be hard with Pope running off with
Cleo all the time. That news at least cheered John B up a little bit.

He sat with Mr. Heyward for a couple hours, admitting he wanted to rebuild the Château and
told him how he really had no clue what he was doing. Mr. Heyward gave him advice, and
even showed him some videos on how to do framework, giving him some power tools and
nails, and telling John B where he could find cheap wood. When John B went to leave,
Heyward held him up by telling him abt the rain and John B tried to reassure him, but
Heyward was determined. He gave John B one of Pope’s sweatshirts and told him not to get
sick, John B did his best to smile without getting misty eyed by the gesture. John B thanked
him immensely when he left, super grateful for the man and leaving in a much better mood
than when he arrived.

John B’s walk back to the Château was quick, as he was trying to beat the rain. He tossed his
bag full of tools and nails under what was left of the porch, doing his best to keep them dry as
the rain began to pour. He searched for his dad and saw him laying in a hammock under the
tree and ran over to him, climbing into the one beside his dad.
They both said nothing as they watched the rain fall, still getting wet through the tree
coverage, but it was the best they had. John B watched his dad hesitantly, wiping at his bangs
and waiting for his dad to say something along the lines of this was somehow his fault and
they wouldn’t be soaking wet if they had the château but his dad was quiet. He wasn’t
looking at John B, but rather staring off. John B was worried but didn’t want to risk asking if
he was alright and getting in a fight so he settled down into his hammock, crossing his arms
and letting the rain lull him to sleep.

He was cold, and his dad was shot, and they weren’t getting along. It sucked. It all sucked.
But… John B could deal with it.

It was better than not having his dad at all.

 Chapter 3
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

“John B!” His dad yelled angrily, startling John B out of his sleep (had he really slept at all?
He was freezing). John B sat up off the hammock barely having any time to get properly to
his feet before his dad pushed him into the tree behind him.

No. He was pushing the bag of gold into his chest.

His dad was furious, he could see it all over his face, and all John B could do was stupidly
hang his mouth open, closing it every once in awhile at an attempt for words but no sound
came. His dad tossed the bag.

“You kept this from me?” His dad shouted, jabbing a finger into his chest painfully. “After all
my work! You’ve taken everything from me, boy! What kind of son are you?” His dad was
screaming, John B was so thrown for a loop, not prepared for this conversation.

His dad didn’t give him a choice, as he angrily grabbed John B’s shirt and slammed him into
the tree again, grabbing his throat with his hands.

John B immediately grasped at his arms trying to push him away and gasped. “Dad!” He
croaked, but his dad shook his head.

“Don’t call me that, you’re not my son, you’re—“

“John B!” JJ shouted, and John B jerked away violently, flipping out of the hammock with a
gasp and landing straight on his face.

“Geez-!” JJ ducked under the hammock and put a hand on John B’s shoulder, turning him
over as John B moaned into the ground.
“JJ? What… ugh,” John B mumbled eloquently.

“Bad dream?” JJ asked, concern on his face as he crouched in front of John B. JJ knew, as
now did the rest of the Pogues, thanks to Poguelandia, that John B often suffered nightmares
when stressed.

“Yeah…” he mumbled, and accepted JJ’s hand, using each other to hoist themselves up.
“What’re you doing here?” John B yawned, stretching himself and glancing at the other
empty hammock next to him. His dad was gone, which wasn’t exactly surprising but his heart
skipped a beat when he thought of his hiding place for the gold under what was left of their
porch. John B rubbed his back, stiff from being cold and wet all night.

JJ cracked his knuckles then stretched his arms, smiling. “Ah you know,” JJ said. “The girls
were talking at Sarah’s and it was girly shit so I left. Pope and Cleo are off who knows where,
and Mr. Heyward said you were trying to rebuild the Château today so…” JJ extended his
arms, “I’m here to help!”

“I’m glad I was your first choice,” John B snarked, chuckling as he pushed JJ’s arm out of the
way as he walked to the piles of dust and ashes of his childhood home.

“Also,” JJ dug in his shorts and tossed toothpaste and a toothbrush to John B. John B caught
it gracefully, as in, both items fell right through his arms. He quirked an eyebrow at JJ,
picking them up, and JJ shrugged. “Thank Sarah,” he said.

John B smiled and pocketed the two items. Leave it to Sarah to still take care of him despite
mourning her dad and helping Kiara with her parental situation.

“‘Kay, what we thinkin’? I say sliding glass doors here—“ JJ brought his hands up in a
spread motion over where his old door used to be. “Wrap around porch, lights of course—“

“JJ,” John B cut him off, smirking at JJ’s plans for the Château 2.0. “I want to make it just
like how it was,” he said sheepishly, JJ nodded, snapping his fingers and doing finger guns at
the scene.

“I like it, going for the nostalgic vibe, that’s my guy,” he clapped John B’s shoulder. “I got
just the guy with cheap ass wood and a table saw he’d totally let us use, hook that baby up to
the generator? Chateau’ll be up in no time baby.”

“And how will we transport all this, wise guy?” John B asked. “Twinkie is dead. Soaked.” It
also smelled badly of mold and he and his dad both agreed to not sleep in it, purely for the
fact that they’d probably get sick.

“Gas first and I’ll take a look at it, I’m sure we’ll get her up and running like new.”

John B laughed, heading for JJ’s bike, he hopped on the back two wheels and put his hands
on JJ’s shoulder. Secretly, he was glad JJ was here. He couldn’t do all of this on his own, and
JJ knew a hell of a lot more than John B when it came to fixing things. One of the few good
qualities Luke had to pass down to his son. Having JJ here was a huge relief.

Leave it to JJ to make him laugh while on the back of his bike, heading to a gas station, to fill
up his broken car, so they could use it to go get supplies, supplies they needed to rebuild his
burnt-to-the-ground home.

JJ was good at making the best out of a shitty situation.

——

“What do you mean?” John B groaned as he placed a hand on his forehead to wipe off the
sweat.

“Dude it’s gonna cost you like a thousand bucks to get this fixed, it’s completely flooded, I
just need the replacement and I can put it in but…” JJ sighed and threw his flathead down.
“The engine is just over a thousand bucks easy, so unless you got extra cash lyin’ around…”
JJ gave John B a worried look, knowing how much the car meant to John B, but John B only
shook his head.

“Your dad has a bunch of parts laying around all the time and he doesn’t have an extra
engine?” John B shook his head, spinning around and digging his fingers in his hair. He knew
it was a dumb question.

“Bro, you know the Twinkie’s got special parts and shit that ain’t common around here…
look,” JJ sighed as he tried to get back in John B’s field of vision. “What if I asked Mr.
Heyward on the weekend to borrow his truck? I’m sure he’d let us when he found out it was
for a good cause!” John B was already shaking his head.

They were both silent for a second when John B finally turned to JJ, a determined look on his
face as he grabbed JJ by the shoulders.

“If I could… get the money… would you be able to find me the engine?” John B said almost
breathlessly, and JJ gave him the most doubtful look.

“You kill a kook and not tell me about it?”

“JJ, would you?” John B was no nonsense here. JJ gave him a raised eyebrow but when John
B didn’t waver he quickly became even more skeptical.

“I… yes, I mean, I know exactly who would have it but John B how-?”

“Don’t worry JJ I got it, just… let me know ok? Thank you for your help.” A clear dismissal
if JJ’s ever seen one but he’s not letting it go that easily. If John B had some type of plan to
get the money, he’d definitely need help, and he didn’t like the idea of John B in any sort of
position where that kind of money was involved. Kooks or not, they had hella security and
John B was no James Bond, he certainly wasn’t going to have his friend work himself to the
bone over this, he looked exhausted as is.
“John B if it’s really… I mean, I’ll help man, I got a few bucks, picked up the odd jobs I’m
sure I could get more. Just tell me what your plan is and I’ll help,” JJ tries but John B is
brushing him off, closing up, and JJ can read him perfectly.

“JJ just go home, I’ll see you in a couple days, I’ll have the money just get the part, please?”

JJ sighed and saluted, walking to his bike. “Sir yes sir,” he said, and worriedly glanced at
John B heading back to the car to look at it again before he left. Where was Big John? Maybe
he could talk some sense into his son and keep him from doing anything too stupid. JJ
snorted at the thought, he was one to talk.

——

John B laid his head into his arm against the car, closing his eyes. He did not want to use the
gold for personal reasons quite yet, and he had yet to fully figure out how to melt it down. He
couldn’t waste any time though, so he pulled his backpack out and looked for the book he’d
slipped from the library, on melting gold and putting it in casts, he had a fair idea how to
build a stove-like structure hot enough to melt it down (thanks to the island), the problem was
his dad’s unknown schedule. He couldn’t start without the risk of his dad finding out and it
was a long process, he’d have to wake early and wait for his dad to inevitably leave before
setting up further away from the Chateau.

And he was starving.

On the island, hunger was no stranger, but being back home made it almost worse. Like his
body expected to be fed more regularly now that he felt safer, or at least, in the Outer Banks.
It was stupid, and it didn’t help that his dad seemed intent on wasting the small bits of food
he had left, as if John B insulted his very existence just by offering up a sandwich. That had
been the trend lately, his dad walking around with his man period and bitching at him for the
stupidest things.

Well his dad could piss off and leave rebuilding the Château to John B for all he cared. He
was still upset about the gold stuff and how his dad literally almost let him die—
He had his friends, and despite all odds, he had his dad back. His dad would get better with
his wound he was sure of it, all he had to do was his part and John B was fine and dandy. He
was tired of not having a roof over his head anyway, and his dad would probably be too weak
to even help so he was just doing his part. Just focus on doing your part, John B.

He could do this, he thought to himself, as he headed back into town. He couldn’t melt the
gold today, but he didn’t want to waste half the day, so it was off trying to find something to
do to earn him some money. There was one job he had been avoiding for a while, he knew it
was easy money, it just wasn’t something he felt like putting himself through.

He was running out of options quickly though, and he needed something to distract him from
his shitty situation, even if it was another shitty situation, it was the better of the two.

Off to Miss Rodney’s house.

———

When John B arrived, it took him a second to compose himself. The woman was… to put it
lightly, literally insane, but she was just a lonely old lady, and all one had to do was a few
jobs around the house and yard and she was slipping you a few twenties.

Her tasks changed often, and you were usually left doing more than one job as she’d forget
what she’d asked you to do beforehand. She also got snippy, she’d be sweet as sugar one
second, then throwing things at you and claiming you stole from her the next. That part
wasn’t even that bad to John B, it was her son that was the problem.

Her son was useless, didn’t help her ever, but felt some weird kind of jealousy if a Pogue ever
decided to help out his mom for him. He had graduated from their school two years ago, and
John B has no fond memories of him. The dude was more bipolar than his mother, and it
wasn’t unusual for him to pick on people like John B when he was, say, mowing their lawn or
whatnot.

John B steeled his nerves. Gordy or not, he had to do this, not many people were willing to
give a job to a Pogue like John B, not with his reputation, and not many were willing to pay
this much either. So John B marched up to the door, and knocked, peering through the glass
of the heavy wooden door, waiting for the woman to appear, and praying her son wasn’t
anywhere around.

He saw her emerge, gripping her cane in a vice-like grip as she narrowed her eyes at John B
through the door. He tried his best at a reassuring smile, and she unlocked the door, pushing it
open with great effort.

“Yes?” the older woman croaked, her voice scratchy either from yelling at her son or people
passing by, John B didn’t know, nor care.

“Hi Miss Rodney, it’s John B, I was wondering if you had some work around here that I
could do for a little bit of money?” John B spoke as politely as he could.

“I know who you are,” the woman grumbled, rolling her eyes as she gestured with her cane
to come in. “Yeah I got some work, how long you got?” She asked, closing the door behind
them once he stepped in.

“Pretty much the rest of the day,” John B replied honestly, the smell of cigarette smoke
hitting his nostrils strongly. So she was smoking again, that or Gordy was.

“Gordy around?” John B decided to ask carefully, not wanting to irk the woman but also not
wanting to be surprised.

“Yeah he’s around,” the woman narrowed her eyes at him, and John B did his best to hide the
disappointment and contempt on his face. Miss Rodney studied him anyway, walking
towards the kitchen, throwing over her shoulder, “you best not provoke him, like you Pogues
always do, he’s a good boy and you Pogues keep getting him into trouble.”

John B’s eye was twitching, probably some muscle spasm from getting barely any sleep the
night before but he couldn’t help but think how comical that was. Gordy brought nothing but
trouble to the Pogues if anything, but he wasn’t about to run his mouth. He just nodded in
silent agreement.
Miss Rodney brought him to the dining room and pointed at the mess in front of her. “You
see them boxes? I want them all out on the porch, they’re going to the church garage sale
Saturday, but they’re too heavy for me to pick up,” she said, her voice softening a little. “You
tell me when you’re done and I’ll bring you outside, got a lot of yard work to do around
here.”

“Alright,” John B nodded, shedding Pope’s sweatshirt and lifting his first box. Holy- what the
hell were in these things? John B made his way to the front porch, maneuvering through the
kitchen and past all the delicate decorations in the hallway of the front door. He repeated this
until he was down to three boxes left, and was going a good steady pace until the handle on
the box tore from the weight and crashed down.

John B winced, cursing as he heard glass clink together in the box, he peered through the
hole of the handle to try and catch a glimpse of what he probably broke when he heard
footsteps behind him.

“Throwing my mom’s stuff around, Routledge?” He heard Gordy behind him, and John B
scowled, giving him an unamused look as he attempted to pick up the box again, this time
from the bottom.

“Not in the mood, Gordy buddy, but thanks for checking on me,” John B replied with false
sweetness, heading for the porch. Gordy scoffed and got in John B’s way, yanking the box
from his hands.

“I got it, since you’re too scrawny to hold it yourself anyway,” Gordy sneered and John B
rolled his eyes, heading back for the second to last box. He was just passing through the
kitchen when Gordy was there again, watching him this time as he passed instead of getting
in the way.

“What are you doing here Routledge?” Gordy huffed as John B passed him again for the last
box. “Thought you’d be hanging out with daddy?” John B paused at that, taking a deep
breath through his nose, before letting it out.
“So you’ve seen him back,” John B decided to say the neutral thing, picking up the last box
and heading back through the kitchen. Gordy leaned against the counter watching him go.

“Yeah the whole island’s been talking about your dad, back from the dead, acting shady
around town as usual, sneaking into the library and visiting old friends, asking for food, you
know, typical shady Pogue shit,” Gordy added. John B didn’t take the bait as he walked past
him, heading outside to meet Miss Rodney. He was stopped by a hand on his arm, and John B
finally snapped and wrenched his arm away.

“What do you want, bro?” John B hissed and Gordy narrowed his eyes.

“Why don’t you go help your dad instead of my mom? He seems to need it with the way he’s
looking nowadays,” Gordy told him, a warning to stay away.

“You’re one to talk,” John B snarked, walking away and swinging the back door open, he
was done with Gordy’s crap and was in no mood to play his games, he just needed the money
and to get out of there.

It was about an hour later, when John B was wrapping up the chores outside that Miss
Rodney offered him the money, he accepted it with much thanks, promising to finish up the
yard before going as he smiled to himself. She was feeling generous today, he got a couple
hundred from this. Gordy had left him alone for the time being, disappearing to who knows
where, but John B wasn’t complaining.

He wrapped up everything, packing away the tools and putting them back in the shed,
brushed off the dirt on his knees and hands, collected Pope’s sweatshirt he’d swung over the
porch railing, and walked around the side of the house instead of tracking dirt through the
house with his shoes. He could never have been prepared for the tackle that was coming his
way, a loud “oof” slipping out as he was attacked from the side, tumbling into the bushes
lining the house with a person on top.

He started fighting back, cursing under his breath and kicking and scratching— he was not in
a good position right now and all he could think was Singh had found him and he was going
to get killed and this was it he didn’t even get to say goodbye to his dad or friends—
“Where’s my mom’s money, Routledge?” He heard a growl from Gordy, and John B’s mind
cleared, drawing his eyebrows together in bewilderment.

“What? What are you talking about? Get off me asshole!” John B shouted, gripping Gordy’s
arms and doing his best to get them to stop pinning him to the ground.

“My mom’s money! You stole it! Where is it?” Gordy said, jamming a hand in one of John
B’s pockets and fishing out the twenties he had just earned.

“Hey! Those are mine, I didn’t steal those!” John B hissed, swinging a hand to try and snatch
it but Gordy held it out of reach. “Your mom gave me those! I earned them,” John B said
firmly, but his voice died when he heard Miss Rodney come up behind them.

“Did you get him Gordy?”

John B’s mouth dropped in complete disbelief, no way was he getting scammed right now.

“You just gave me those,” John B croaked, the exhaustion creeping to burn the back of his
throat.

“Nice, playing the senile card on my mom who was trying to help you out,” Gordy sneered,
standing up off of him and pocketing his twenties. “I’ll hold on to these,” Gordy grinned at
him, brushing his hands off and going to turn.

“Give it back! I earned those!” John B shouted, pushing him from behind.

THWACK

Pain lit up his right arm and he covered it, jumping away, hissing and head swiveling to the
old lady and her weapon: her cane.
 “Leave you filthy Pogue, we don’t want you here!” She shouted and John B was so angry he
couldn’t think of what to say, just stood there holding his arm and glaring at the two. He
closed his eyes and counted to five, letting out a deep breath, before opening his eyes to turn
to Gordy, giving him the most pathetic look of his life.

“Please— I don’t even have a house right now, not even food, can I at least have half that?
I’ll go and not come back,” pleading with Gordy was not something past John B would have
ever envisioned himself doing, but crazy stuff happened all the time and he was ever
changing. This wasn’t even half as bad as the other shit he had to deal with on the daily, he
just couldn’t get a break.

Gordy must have seen it in his face because he actually rolled his eyes and reached into his
pocket. He felt half to John B’s outstretched hand, grumbling under his breath.

“You better keep your word, stay away from here John B,” Gordy hissed, and John B took
every ounce of willpower left to not absolutely wilt and die there at his stank breath, but only
nodded, pocketing his “half” and exited the premises as fast as possible.

Walking back down the street, he rubbed at his arm.

That was actually going to bruise a little. What a bitch.

Chapter End Notes

You know what’s actually so freaking funny? (It’s not funny at all) I always love the
characters with horrible parents and get so attached to them and write stories and stuff
expanding or worsening their problems (even on my old account) and then all the
comments are like omg this is horrible, or the abuse in this is crazy and what not and

feelings/scenes off my own experiences 💀

I’m reading them all like right?! As if I’m not using real life scenarios or basing
then I really be gaslighting my characters
into believing it’s their fault and all the comments are like nooo they can’t believe it’s
their fault and honestly it’s healing and helps me understand my own thoughts
Anyway Ted talk of the day, thanks for being my free therapy (without knowing it
😈)
 Chapter 4

The closer he got to the ruins of his house, the more it smelled like weed. His first thought
was JJ, but no way would he waste the little money they had on that in this situation. JJ was
full of horrible ideas, but he wasn’t absolutely stupid. So what a surprise was it to find his
father was the one lighting it up, swinging in the hammock like it was just a regular ol’ day.

“Dad?” John B asked slowly, almost not believing what he was seeing.

“Oh, hey bird,” his dad said calmly, and John B’s chest squeezed at the familiar endearment
he hadn’t heard for so long. “Wanna hit?” His dad slurred, high off his ass.

“Where did you get that?” John B decided, staying rooted in his spot a few feet from his dad.

“Bought it.”

“You… bought it…”

“That’s right,” Big John took one long drag and held it in, before letting it out in a slow and
steady breath. John B felt anger bubbling to the surface but he was battling every demon
there was to not snap at his dad for wasting the money.

“With what… money?” John B chose to ask instead, tightening his fist around the money in
his pocket.

“Don’t you worry about it,” his dad replied, taking a quick glance at John B’s expression,
causing his own to quickly sour. “What do you expect boy? I got a bullet wound and those
pills don’t do shit.”
“You don’t even take the pills,” John B muttered, his dad only glowered at him before
glancing at his son’s hands in his pockets.

“Whatchya got?” His dad tried for nonchalance, but John B stiffened immediately. It was
clear he couldn’t trust his dad with any sort of money, not that he had before but he was only
more certain now.

“Nothing,” John B sassed, walking away. He heard the groan of the ropes on the hammock
and knew his dad was getting up to follow him so he sighed and turned around, his dad
stopping right before him.

“Why’re you lyin’ to me boy?” His dad asked, honestly sounding hurt. John B felt a stab of
guilt but pushed it away. He had his reasons and they were good.

“Why don’t you go back and finish your joint?” John B said, completely ignoring his dad’s
rhetorical question.

“Whadya got, little bird?” Big John, tried a sing-song voice and swiped at John B’s pocket,
not even close. John B barely stepped out of the way and his dad was stumbling.

“Geez dad, how are you this wasted?” John B frowned, now worried the weed could have
been laced with something, or that he may have pulled his stitches or something and didn’t
tell John B.

“John B,” his dad’s tone turned more serious, “you’re avoiding the question.”

“Sit down dad.”

“Just tell me son, don’t make me do this the hard way.”

“The hard way?” John B raised an eyebrow, because his dad was so threatening right now.
Could barely stand straight.

“Oh now you hear me,” his dad’s voice grew more sober. “Beginning to think that’s the only
way you wise up, always taking the most difficult way.”

“You don’t even know what you’re saying,” John B squinted, but he was tensing for a
barrage of insults or something of the sort. The good mood his dad had from the weed
completely wiped from existence.

“I’m not gonna ask again, son,” his dad peered at him from over his glasses.

“Or what?” John B challenged.

Fuck around and find out, he guessed, because his dad actually pushed him. Hard. Hard
enough that John B almost fell. Almost.

“The fuck? Are you going to fight me?” John B sputtered, squaring up and standing his
ground.

“Well if you’re so selfish to not share that damn money you got in your pocket, then ya, I
ought to teach you a lesson,” his dad was saying, and it was the most out of character thing
John B had ever heard. Then, he had also never seen his dad so high. And pissed.

“I’d whoop your ass, old man,” John B sneered, patting his pocket. “I earned this, and it’s
going towards the Twinkie.” And no way in hell was he getting it stolen from him again.

“That damn car, always the damn car!” His dad yelled, pushing him in the chest hard again.
“You know, I’d have never been in that boat with Ward if you’d let me sell that hunk of junk,
would have never needed to ask him for a loan and gotten him involved, everything went
south for that piece of shit. If you weren’t so stubborn—“ John B couldn’t take it anymore, he
pushed him back. That was the last straw.
His dad grabbed at his shirt and they went down together, John B on top but he quickly
recovered, hopping up and backing up, huffing loudly.

“You don’t get to be an asshole!” He shouted, his feelings bubbling to his chest, the
exhaustion from restless nights and hard work causing the tiny prick behind his eyes.

“You don’t get to blame me for all of this! You know it was you, you know! I’m trying to fix
things and you’re just— just— fucking around and getting high!” John B threw his arms
back at the hammocks, fuming.

His dad was still on the ground and he adjusted his glasses on his face. He sent an unreadable
expression John B’s way but did not comment on his words, just extending a hand to ask for
help up.

John B hesitated, but his dad guilted him into helping him up, saying, “you really gonna push
your old man down and not help him up?” John B sighed and walked over to his dad,
grabbing his hand and went to pull him up, but his dad locked his legs around his and pulled
him down. John B went face first into the dirt and smashed his nose, tears springing to his
eyes immediately as he went to grab it, to in shock to even comprehend what had just
happened when his dad was on his back, hands reaching around his hips to dig in his pocket
and pull out the small wad of twenties, the twenties he worked hard for and then had to work
hard to get back. It was getting stolen. Again. By his own dad.

His dad got off of him and counted them pocketing them in his own pants and bending over
to grab his fallen join, holding his wound as he tapped the joint and took a drag. John B was
slowly getting up too, pinching his now bloody nose and getting onto his knees, sending his
dad a withering glare.

“You keep forgetting who the parent is here boy,” his dad said simply, as if he hadn’t just sent
his son into a face-plant on to the ground.

“Since when has that ever been a thing?” John B growled, still down but too tired to even try
and get up, mentally and physically.
“I’m your father, and you can call me a shit father all you want but it ain’t changing the fact
that you’re my son. You got money, you show it to me boy, got it?” His dad didn’t even wait
for him to respond but John B scoffed anyway, watching his dad walk away.

He still had the gold. His dad could not get his hands on that.

———

Well he’d finally figured out how to melt the gold, and into smaller chunks, making it way
easier to sell. He had to turn on his John B charm, which was a little difficult with a swollen
nose, but he ended up selling enough to at least cover the engine.

He couldn’t make it look suspicious though, and pretended to be around twenty short,
knowing JJ would offer to cover the rest when he got there and found out.

Which is exactly what he did, as well as absolutely blow his shit that John B was able to get
that much in only three days.

“Seriously dude, how? I barely got a hundred,” JJ flapped his money in front of John B’s
face, a goofy grin a testament to his total excitement of having this much cash in one place.

John B shrugged, handing it over to JJ.

“I told you,” John B tried to say with as much chill as possible, not wanting to seem too
suspicious. “I knew a couple places for the jobs.”

“Like?” JJ pressed, counting the money idly, raising an eyebrow but not looking at him fully.
“Like the Rodney’s,” John B said. It was a half truth. It was originally going to be partly from
that, but he wasn’t going to tell JJ his dad fucking ripped it from his hands.

“Bullshit, she gave you nine big ones,” JJ said like it wasn’t even a question, or a possibility.

“I said like the Rodney’s, it wasn’t the only place I went to,” John B was wracking his brain
for another place but was surprised that he didn’t have to when JJ took the conversation a
whole new direction.

“That how you got the black eye?” JJ asked, knowing first hand how Gordy could be
sometimes.

The question caught John B off guard for a second, because a) how was he going to tell JJ
about this without him freaking out? And b) black eye?

“Black eye?” John B voiced his question outloud. “I thought it was just a bloody nose.”

“Have you looked in a mirror? Your eye is bruised and your nose is swollen,” JJ said,
pocketing the money and taking a closer look at John B’s face. John B’s expression soured at
this and he turned away from the scrutiny.

“No, I don’t exactly have an abundance of mirrors around JJ, thanks for the reminder.”

“So I’ll take that as a yes, I totally need to go screw up Gordy now.”

“No, actually,” John B supplied truthfully. “I fell.”

JJ gave him the most blank stare he’d ever seen.

“Bro.”

“It’s true!” John B threw his hands up in the air.

“You sound like an abused housewife,” JJ joked, but John B could see JJ’s mind working. He
had to stamp out that idea quickly.

“You can see the dirt marks from where I fell, asshole,” John B jerked a thumb in the
direction where his knees and his dad’s feet tore up the ground.

JJ actually did go and look, laughing softly when he saw the marks.

“Were you high ?” JJ chuckled, kicking the loose dirt where there was absolutely nothing to
trip over.

“No,” John B grumbled, as he walked beside him. “Can you get the part?”

JJ didn’t seem to mind the subject change, and nodded. “I got you. Papa J, to the rescue as
usual.” He saluted, shouting as he turned to run back to his bike, “BRB!”

“Did you just say brb?” John B chuckled as he watched his friend go, tearing out. He turned
to look at the spot JJ was just laughing at and frowned. Should he tell JJ about this?

He didn’t want to poison their image of his dad more than it already was. John B could
handle it. They fought all the time, it just happened to be slightly worse recently. His dad had
taken money before, it was just more discreetly or he would just flat out ask John B for
money.

The difference was John B had always given it. Until now, until two days ago.
A part of him wondered if he’d always known his dad would act like that if he had said no.
Another part excused his actions with the wound his dad was always dealing with. Either
way, it still bothered John B to no end. That his dad could act that way and be triggered so
easily.

It reminded him of—

No. Don’t go there John B.

JJ was going to get the part, they were going to fix the Twinkie, then the Chateau, and
everything was going to be ok.

———

“We got lucky with most of the floors intact,” JJ mused, wiping his forehead and going for
his water bottle. “Electrical and plumbing stuff will be easy with a floor plan like this, I don’t
have to start from scratch,” JJ said, gulping his bottle down.

What would John B do without him? JJ knew how to fix anything, and was willing to learn
with John B this past week how to frame a house. How could he think he could ever do this
on his own?

“Thanks again JJ,” John B mumbled, still looking down it his own lunch as he munched,
affectionate words not really their thing unless it was overly exaggerated. “I don’t know what
I’d do here without you, I don’t know the first thing about any of that stuff.”

“Aw shucks, you’re trying to get some tonight aren’t you?” JJ said in a high pitched voice,
sending a fake kiss his way, John B threw his empty water bottle at him, laughing.

“You boys look hard at work,” both of them turned to see the girls walking up, Kie holding a
cooler, Sarah holding a blanket, and Cleo flipping her usual knife.
“Guys! What are you doing here?” John B broke out in a huge grin, hopping down the newly
refurbished stairs. He wrapped Sarah in a hug first, giving her a kiss and gave a side hug to
Kie in greeting.

“Haven’t seen ya since we got here, figured we had to feed the rat,” Cleo smirked, elbowing
him.

“Ooo what ya have in there?” JJ’s face lit up at the mention of food, both having only just
split a pb and j. He wiggled his fingers and Kie handed over the cooler and let out a very
convincing moan at the sight of real food, water, and beer.

“We figured you guys could use a little break,” Sarah said, rolling out the blanket for them to
eat on and John B immediately plopped down, thrilled to see them all again.

“Where’s Pope-y bear?” JJ asked, taking his seat next to John B and Kie, Sarah sitting across
and Cleo next to her.

“He’s lookin’ into summa’ classes, trying to get on his fatha’s good side,” Cleo shrugged,
rolling her eyes. “Been pretty busy with it actually,” she said, with genuine disappointment.

“What happened to your face?” Kie moved on, nodding to John B as she took a handful of
carrots and dipped it in ranch. John B had to slow down his chewing to answer her.

“I fell, over there,” he nodded to the spot knowing it was out of their sight.

“I thought JJ was the clumsy one?” Sarah said, smirking at JJ’s indignant scoff.

“Been pretty tired lately,” John B shrugged, “I get light headed easily.” He was being honest
to avoid suspicion, but wasn’t going to lie when he was hoping Sarah would fuss over him
like she did when he wasn’t feeling a hundred percent. He glanced at her and she stopped
chewing her sandwich, frowning.

“Have you been eating and drinking enough?” She asked, giving him a look like he better not
say he wasn’t.

“Yes, and thanks to you on top of that by the way,” John B said, and she did seem to beam at
that.

“Oh good, my biggest worry was that it wouldn’t make it the full way with JJ as the
mailman,” Sarah snorted and the girls laughed and JJ spread his hands out.

“Why am I being picked on? I’m a good boy!” JJ falsely whined.

“Did you just say good boy?” Kie crinkled her nose and JJ laughed. He had probably said it
just to see her reaction.

This friendly banter and happy meal was just what John B had needed. He soaked it in,
smiling so much his face was hurting. At some point he and Sarah’s shared a beer when she
scorched over to sit by him and lay her head on his shoulder, drawing lines onto his legs. He
had never felt so relaxed. It was like all the pressures of life had been whisked away and
every time Sarah touched him it made it seem like his troubles were that much farther away.

This is why he pushed the chateau to be back in business. This is why he worked so hard on
it and melted the gold and sold as much as possible of it as he could. He wanted to help them,
free them of all their troubles and bring it back to the days where it was just the Pogues and
the Chateau. The Pogues hanging out. He wanted that again.

“Oh, hey Big John!” Kie greeted, sending a wave from their picnic spot, Sarah, JJ, and John
B swiveled around to look at their newest visitor, stumbling in from the driveway side of the
layout.
“Ohhh uhh, hey Kiara, guysss, wasn’t expecting—“ his dad paused to burp and place his
hand on the tree holding the hammocks, “—wasn’t expecting any visitors… ss’rry.”

They all exchanged glances with each other and John B sighed, mumbling a quick apology to
Sarah as he slipped out of her hold to go catch his dad and steady him, probably lay him in
the grass or hammock.

They hadn’t talked much since the incident, if they had it had all been one sided. His dad
coming home drunk or high, trying to “bond” with John B and John B not having any of it,
then his dad getting pissed and spewing insults.

He just hoped the presence of his friends would help avoid that.

“Alright, big guy, up you go,” John B said, slinging his dad’s arm around his shoulder and
leaning him into the hammock. Definitely drunk if the smell had any say about it. His dad
didn’t even fight him, sleeping almost as soon as he hit the hammock. John B slipped away
and slowly sat down next to them, noticing a considerable mood change, which caused him
to frown a bit.

“Sorry guys,” John B spoke in a low tone.

“Dude that’s like the third time your dad has either been drunk or high this week,” JJ spoke
up, seeming worried for Big John. “Is everything good?”

John B shrugged, sighing and not wanting to explain it all now but he owed them somewhat
of an explanation.

“He says it’s for the pain but… I dunno,” John B mumbled, fidgeting with his beer and
getting sad at the loss of its appeal. “Could be losing the gold again.”

“Well the offer still stands for the both of you at my place John B,” Sarah said softly, putting
a hand on his knee.
“Ya thanks I, we’re good he’s just stupid sometimes,” John B made the mistake of looking at
JJ who was frowning at his own beer. John B felt the loss of the good mood hard and felt an
anger towards his dad for causing it. He stood up suddenly, stretching as he sighed and
looked to his house.

“I should probably get back to work,” John B said, and he knew it was weird for them to
hear, but John B didn’t know what else to say to get them to leave. His dad could wake up
any minute and become a different person, he didn’t want them to be around for it.

“The frame is looking good,” Cleo supplied as she stood up and brushed the crumbs off her.
“Can really see where the windows are gonna be and stuff… pretty cool,” she grinned, giving
a thumbs up. John B smiled and offered a thanks, helping them pack up.

“You want help for the rest of the day?” JJ asked, like he knew John B was going to say no
but wanted him to say yes.

“Nah I’m ok bro, I’ll see you tomorrow though?” John B did the Pogue handshake with him
quickly and JJ nodded.

“Bright and early!” JJ grinned.

“Which means like 2 o’clock,” Sarah leveled John B with a fake annoyed stare, and JJ
pretended to be hurt.

“Hey I’ve been here every day at like ten,” JJ said, to which John B did confirm.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Sarah said then walked to John B to give him a hug and kiss.
“I’ll see you soon, ok?” She promised and John B smiled.

“Ok.”
He watched them leave and waved goodbye fondly, waiting until they were out of sight to
turn around and check on his dad. He was completely passed out with no sign of waking soon
so that was good.

John B didn’t want to risk waking him like this anyway so he just sat on the stairs and took
swigs from his beer, staring at the spot where his friends had just sat moments before. He was
lucky to have them, would be dead without them.

Why did it feel harder now that everyone was back? Wasn’t it supposed to be a good thing?
Everyone had made it back, plus one. The one that caused this whole thing in the first place.
The one John B had been so determined to get back.

John B glanced at his dad and felt tremendous guilt. Why was he wishing it would go back to
the days just before the whole gold adventure, or right when it started? When his dad was
gone, the Chateau was creaky but standing, Sarah and him gallivanting around, finding out
more about Tannyhill, his friends doing stupid shit he’d have to come back to and laugh at.

No Singh. No Ward. No deaths.

No dad.

John B shook his head. No. He was grateful his dad was here. Happy even… sometimes. No
one having almost been murdered twice and then losing his life’s work… twice, would come
back the same person. He still had his old asshole tendencies it just was made a little worse.

Funny when a person is gone you only remember the good parts. John B hated to be
reminded of the bad ones.

He had hope though, you know? His dad would get better along with the wound, and maybe
he’d see that it wasn’t all just John B’s fault. Maybe he’d start blaming the actual bad guys.
The ones that were dead, in his dad’s eyes anyway.
The unfortunate thing was: Singh wasn’t dead. And John B would have to find out a way to
deal with that too.

First things first? The gold, the Chateau, and his dad healing. That’s what was important. He
wasn’t going to lie to his friends anymore about the gold. He was going to start using it to
help them, he wasn’t going to tell his dad, and what his dad didn’t know anyway, wouldn’t
hurt him. Besides, his dad was benefiting by getting the Chateau back. All this shit wasn’t
free, and John B had to work his ass off to sell the gold in the first place.

Not to mention how often he had to lie to JJ where he’d gotten the supplies, and that was a
hell of a lot harder than he’d thought it would be. JJ could read him impossibly well, but John
B had the advantage because JJ couldn’t find a reason why John B would lie about any of
that. JJ probably thought it was embarrassing to admit he’d stollen half the shit, because he
never asked, and John B let him believe it. It was half true, he did steal a couple of the tools,
just not most of them.

He’d let JJ believe what he wanted.

The last thing he needed was JJ asking any questions.

———

“ Ten times ?” John B blanched.

“That’s right,” Barracuda Mike sneered, washing his hands on his towel before moving over
to rinse off his knife.

“JJ would never agree to that,” John B growled, stepping out of the way of the working man.

“Ask him yourself,” Mike shrugged. “He seemed desperate enough, him and his girlfriend.”
John B placed a hand to the bridge of his nose, squeezing away the pain forming between his
eyes. The debts of his friend much higher than he calculated.

“Ok… let me… talk with JJ and I’ll see what I can do,” John B sighed, fishing out his wad of
cash that he thought would be enough, but was apparently ten times the amount short. “To
prove I’m good for it,” John B tossed him the wad, and he swore Barracuda Mike’s eyebrows
got lost in his hat as he counted. The man whistled.

“Shoot boy— you guys really find that gold?” The man asked, pocketing the cash before
pointing the knife in his direction, playfully.

“I’ll get you what you’re owed, then we never talk again. Got it?” John B was trying to sound
braver than he felt. This definitely put a damper on his plans, and had JJ really told this man
about the gold? Had he really told him he was going to pay him ten times the amount?

Of course he did, he’s JJ.

John B shouldn’t be surprised. He was about to meet him at the Chateau in an hour so he
better start heading back. Mike gave him a curt nod and smirk as John B left, hand in his
pocket as if the man just couldn’t believe it was real.

John B hopped on the back of Mateo’s truck, patting the side.

He had to have a real serious talk with JJ.

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