Big Fucking Bat-ties #2
That all-familiar female collar brought a round of laughs. Because they all had one. “We’ll meet in the chat in two hours,” Bishop told his men then eyed Handy. “I need you to have a look at my wife.”
“Anything for my Pah-Pah,” he said, his affection curiously genuine. “I will look at your highly gifted son, also.” Handy’s wink implied he knew what Bishop desperately needed to know.
Fuck, he prayed.
“We’ll take my ride,” Bishop said as he headed out with Handy after he got off the phone with his Pretty Poppy.
Bishop chuckled the entire time he talked to her.
His bat/raven ears allowed him to overhear every obsessed word he spoke to her.
How much of his personal DNA made its way into his design, he wondered.
Because damn, he sounded like his twin with his woman, minus the filthy words.
At the swamp dragon, Handy asked, “We’re riding this?”
Bishop looked at him after hopping on. “Yeah, it’s my Swamp Dragon.”
“I know what the hell it is,” he laughed, excited as he hopped on.
“You never rode one yet?”
“Not in this body, I haven’t. Hell yeah!”
The twenty-minute ride there, Handy went from terrifying terminator to an overgrown boy having his first taste of being real.
The wind and the speed and the power under their ass plugged right into him and lit him up.
His howling yells and laughs the entire way were fucking hilarious and the exact kind of distraction Bishop needed.
They made their way to the big house with Handy going on about modifications that made him wish they weren’t dealing with a fucking apocalypse. “Keep those plans in your head,” Bishop said as they climbed the steps. “After all this bullshit blows over, we’ll build it and race it.”
“Race it?” he nearly squealed with excitement, making Bishop chuckle. Handy suddenly stopped. “Who is that?”
Bishop listened. “That’s my Mah-Mah and Pah-Pah.”
“Are they angry?”
He had to laugh. “We call it passionate. They’re fussing over food, probably. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Handy stopped him with his mechanical hand on his arm, dark eyes flashing with those red embers. “Now? Are you sure?”
“Oui,” Bishop said, sensing a negative something in him. “What’s wrong?”
He gave a light grimace. “Not that good with socializing,” he regretfully whispered.
“Then you won’t socialize,” he said. “We’ll sneak around and head up to my room. My wife is waiting for us.”
He relaxed and gave a small grin. “Right behind you, Pops.”
****
Handy slowed as he climbed the stairs leading to Bishop’s room, sliding his hands along the worn wood rail. He paused at every step as past memories leapt into his data sensors and raced through his body before turning into a living memory.
That was new.
His new body was full of surprises. All of them requiring acclimation. But he’d never gotten this kind of data when touching things. The smell and taste of apple pie… boiled crawfish. Cedar and lavender… pipe tobacco that smelled like vanilla. And pine. Lots of pine.
“Something wrong, mon frere?”
Handy stopped completely.
Mon frere.
The term connected to every cell in him as if he’d always known it and had forgotten.
Handy’s eyes slowly opened while remnants of Bishop’s childhood echoed inside him.
But what rooted him in place was the power.
“This place,” he marveled as Bishop’s younger voice and laughter flowed through him in melodic waves.
“And all that have lived in it.” He turned and found Bishop’s dark gaze. “It owns us,” he realized in awe.
They stared at one another for many seconds as Handy saw it. “You embedded your generations into my architect.” He slowly walked up the steps, stopping next to him on the landing. “Why?” he asked, feeling like the answer was important.
Bishop stared at him, then his gaze settled on the air between them. He finally looked at him again. “It designs what needs to be designed.”
Handy held his gaze. “Why would it think I needed this design?”
The question hung for many seconds as Bishop thought about it. His brows rose a little. “I think the design wasn’t just for you.”
It was an angle Handy hadn’t considered. “Why would you need me to have your genetics?”
His eyes lowered this time with drawn brows. “Something inside me…” his gaze rose to his, “…says we needed each other.”
Surprise lit Handy up as smiling became the matched reaction to his answer. Not just his answer, but that he meant it. And that it was true. Something inside him… said they needed each other. “Kind of like… real brothers,” Handy said, his grin getting bigger.
Bishop’s smile crept up too as they eyed each other. Then a curious look came over him as he opened his arms. “I think we’re supposed to hug at this junction.”
The odd suggestion made Handy chuckle. He’d been hugged by Kult and his other brothers while in Kaphas’ body. What would a hug be like from him? The Quantum Architect of his official vessel?
“Come on,” Bishop urged with a chuckle. “Bring it in. This is like a partnership, you gotta meet me in the middle, oui?”
Fuck, was that fear in his system?
Handy regarded his open embrace, his entire being begging to jump into whatever this was.
Hug him.
Bishop leaned in, turning up the magnet in his pores. Handy collided into him, their chests meshing tight.
The connection happened in phenomenal layers. First the surface. Life greeting life. Then the feeling, smelling, hearing, tasting. Then finally, the meshing. Two pieces breaking open and recognizing the other.
A tight pressure inside Handy slowly released and let go. Replaced with a knowing. Anchored in belonging.
“Welcome to the family, brother,” Bishop murmured at his ear.
The quiet words burned themselves across his mind and synthetic heart. They lit up his cells with ownership and endowed his blood and bones with legacy.
When Bishop released him, he took half the breath in Handy’s lungs.
“You good?” Bishop asked, covering his shoulder with a hand and squeezing.
“I’m good,” Handy breathed, nodding. “I’m very good,” he said, laughter coming as he looked at Bishop. “Felt like the universe just gave my DNA an autograph.”
Bishop’s big laugh hit him with a joy that brought his own.
The door behind them jerked open. “What on earth is going on?” his wife whispered loudly. “I’ve been waiting for you to knock!” She looked around him at Handy, smiling with a little wave. “Hi Handy. How’s Poppy?”
He waved and grinned back. “She’s a perfect, beautiful angel. And she’s my wife,” he said, feeling like he didn’t always lack socializing skills.
“I need to call her and get her over here for the soap making classes.” She looked at Bishop.
“I hope that’s okay that we set that up?
We just figured it’s a good idea to focus on something useful, and I had Bart and Zep rearrange the furniture,” she said, looking behind her, then opening the door to show him.
“I put our bedroom at the back and had living room furniture brought in. Since you said you wanted us staying here.”
Handy watched Bishop step right into her and silence her with a kiss. Perfect move. “Anything you want to do here is yours to do. Soap making classes is genius and angelic.”
“Okay but…Handy’s here,” she barely whispered, making Handy lower his head and grin. “Are you going to tell me why now?” she said even quieter.
Bishop turned. “Well, as you know Handy requested I design his body. And I wanted to show you how fucking amazing he came out.”
Handy realized he was hiding his intentions from her. And yet what he said rang true in his blood. He opened his arms and turned slowly, letting her see the magnificent craftsmanship that he was, grinning with pride.
“Ohhhh, wow,” Beth exclaimed. “That is amazing!”
He faced her again and eyed Bishop for some sign of his plan. He hadn’t mentioned she didn’t know why he was coming.