The next time you woke, you knew it was already late into the day. Just as you had suspected, a quick glance at the clock told you it was almost 1 pm. You let out a small groan, not wanting to leave the comfort of your bed, and you almost convinced yourself it was a possibility to stay in bed forever until the shattering of something glass downstairs made you leap from your bed, and you were on your feet in seconds.

"D? Michael? Jason?" you call out, hurrying to change from your bathrobe into something warmer, simple pyjamas with thick slippers. You throw yourself down the stairs, not literally of course, and land at the bottom with a thud. "Everything okay?" you received no response as you rushed to the living room; it was empty. The kitchen was the obvious next place to look, but the scene presented to you pulled a sigh from your chest.

Michael and Jason were standing nose to nose, D frantically cleaning up bits of broken glass from a fancy china bowl you never ate out of, one that was simply for show. One that your mother had gotten from her grandmother then ditched on you. It made a bit of your heart die, but you shoved it away.

"What happened here?" your sudden appearance made D jump, and he bolted to stand upright, pulling earbuds from his ears at the sight of you. He held a dustpan in one hand, the shattered pieces of your valuable china sitting destroyed inside, a broom in his other hand.

"Oh, (Y/N)! Good morning, Sweetheart!" his voice was shaky, as if he was nervous, and you didn't respond. You simply flicked your gaze to the broken china, and then to Michael and Jason, staring each other down like wolves from rival packs.

"What happened, D," you repeated, knowing he was the only one who'd give you a verbal answer. Jason and Michael seemed completely absorbed in intimidating one another. D set the dustpan on the counter and dropped the broom, wincing as it clattered against the hardwood floors.

"It's all Mikey's fault-" at those words Michael turned to D, lunging in a threatening manner towards him and successfully scaring the shit out of the smaller killer, for he winced and shrunk away. "Ok, ok! I was just trying to eat some goddamn breakfast when Michael comes running around trying to take my bowl away!" D pointed at the broken china. Michael had obviously known it was cosmetic, but hadn't wanted to verbalize his 'concern'. "He wouldn't stop grabbing it away and he made me drop it!"

"And where does Jason come into all of this?" you crossed your arms, tapping your foot. You didn't want to be annoyed by them, really, but you were finding it difficult to control your temper.

"Myers here tried to throttle me like a chicken! Jason tried to play hero, and apparently some staring contest is the way to do that!" D straightened up and lunged towards Michael in a similar way the Shape had previously, but this time there was no scared reaction.

"That was fine china you were trying to eat out of, D. Decorational china." you breathe out, pinching the bridge of your nose. It wasn't his fault, you tell yourself, he didn't know. "Michael was just trying to spare you a lecture." you bite the inside of your cheek as you speak, letting out yet another sigh.

"I'm sorry, Honey, I really am!" D huffed, grabbing the shattered china and moving to throw it away, but Michael moved quickly to block him, ripping the dustpan from his leather-gloved hands and spinning on his heel, storming away towards the stairs. With a curious glance, D dismisses Michael and turns back to face you. "Sweetheart?" he tilts his head and leans a little closer, timid in his movements, "Are you mad?" you sigh, and after a moment of thought you shake your head.

"No, I'm not. You didn't know." you reach out to pat D's head in a forgiving manner, him warming up to your touch like a kitten. "Just... don't go eating out of china again, and listen to Michael when he gets all nosy like that. He's not too fond of you, so he won't bother you unless he needs to bother you."

"Ok, Hon. Thank you." he nods in understanding and moves straight back to the cupboards to get a bowl he can actually eat out of. You turn to Jason with a smile, the masked man standing completely still the entire lecture, and still even now.

"Thank you for trying to break them up. They fight like sparrows." you smile, and Jason tilts his head at you, then nods. "Try to get something to eat as well, by the way," you raise your voice after addressing Jason, "You too, Michael! Food is important!"

The rest of the morning was generally slow moving, at some point Michael came down and grabbed cereal before disappearing upstairs once more without a word. You and D were joined at the hip for the majority of the morning, him watching intensely as you finally got around to finishing up your article and sending a quick apology email to your boss, promising to have another article done by tomorrow to make up for it. Jason sat silently on the recliner to the left of the TV, watching you and D as you plan out your new article depicting your 'lucky find of Ghostface's hideout'.

"The spine chilling, ramshackle house of the handsome, unstoppable, brutal killer-"

"No way am I writing that, D!" you laugh, rolling your eyes as you clacked away at your keyboard. You heavily modified most of his words but he was surprisingly good at writing news reports.

"Fine, fine, you can lie then! What about you cross out the handsome and add infamous! The infamous, unstoppable, brutal killer was plagued with photos of his victims both alive and dead, along with news reports and paper clippings from corner to corner."

As D paced back and forth, making exaggerated, animated movements as he spoke, your fingers flew from key to key in an attempt to keep up. Your killer friend was smart, only telling you to write information that would keep the location hidden, and he even, surprisingly, kept out the gruesome details like the one or two pictures on his wall of a human heart, or the decapitated head of one of his victims.

"We continue to look into the Ghostface Murders, hoping this secret hideout can give us some lead as to who this killer really is and where he is as of now, plotting from the shadows." D moved his hands on the shape of an arc, as if presenting something perfect of which he'd created. He almost had created something perfect. The article before you needed almost no tweaking whatsoever.

"This is... really well done. Thanks for your help, D." you flash him a smile and he brings his hands to his chest, waving them a little bit and letting out a contented squeal.

"Of course, Sweetheart, it's my pleasure!" he threw himself onto the couch beside you, pulling your laptop from your lap to his and re-reading his work. "Maybe I should ditch this serial killer crap and become a reporter!" he waited a moment before breaking out into solo laughter, "Oh, who am I kidding, that'd be no good!" he handed you your laptop back and leaped to his feet. A hand rose to his chin, tapping it methodically, "Where'd ol' Mikey run off to?"

As if on queue, the man lumbered into the room with no previous sound; not even his descent on the stairs was heard. In his hands, held gingerly was a bowl, the broken china from before. It was glued neatly back together with obvious cracking, but what mattered was that it was... back together again. You smile, setting your laptop aside and climbing to your feet.

"Oh, Michael...!" you gasp, a laugh following your words. He held the bowl to you, shifting his gaze to stare at anything but your face, landing on the bowl itself. "This is..." you shake your head in utter disbelief. Michael being crafty enough and caring enough to put your bowl back together after your obvious distress of seeing it broken was the last thing you'd expected. His hands were huge and you hadn't guessed they were steady enough to assemble something so delicate. Once the bowl was in your hands, Michael shifted his gaze to stare at you, watching intently as you examined the thing.

"Wow, Myers, didn't think you had it in you to care!" D chuckled, learning a sharp elbow in the side and a scowl, both from you.

"Shut it, D, he did something nice for me and cleaned up your mistake!" you defend, throwing another heartfelt smile at the Shape afterwards. You slipped past him and into the kitchen, setting the cracked but intact bowl back in its place in your china shelf.

You hurried back to the room, not wanting another stare-down between Michael and Jason, and were happy to see the two generally co-existing without a knife at each other's throats. Michael had seated himself on the couch and was very clearly glaring at Jason, the latter returning the threatening look but they weren't making any moves to attack one another, at least. D had seemed to slip away while you were gone.

"Where'd the problem child run off to?" you smile, the question directed mainly towards Michael who had been here longer, but both him and Jason broke each other's gazes and stared towards the window to Jason's left, which you now noticed was opened, the drapes blowing gently in the wind. Off to kill, you decide, moving to shut the window. It was 4 o'clock and you had yet to eat today, so you went to the kitchen, assuming Michael and Jason would continue their staredown. You were surprised when you heard the shifting of fabric, the couch and chair cushions moving as their heavy hosts stood and followed you. Jason would reach the door first, but one withering glare from Michael made him stop and let the Shape pass through first; Jason was intimidated by Michael the tiniest bit, which made sense. Michael had killed more people in total, at least people that the police knew of.

The two serial killers stood on separate corners of the room like two children fighting for attention from a parent, that parent being you. They both seemed to want to anger the other, getting a simple glance or even a few words in their direction.

"Chill out, both of you. I could cut the tension in this room with a knife." you huff, smiling to show that you weren't really mad. Once you had some cereal in a bowl, you sat at the island and pulled out your phone; there was a return email from your boss, most likely yelling at you for being late again. You hesitate before tapping the email and scanning it quickly.

(Y/N), you can't keep being late, our publishers aren't happy and you know that. This next article better be good or you're going to be fired. That was the sentence that stuck out the most to you, the threat to be fired. You couldn't be fired, you had no savings. Shit. You shifted your half-full bowl aside and placed your forehead on the counter with a sigh. You almost jump out of your skin when a hand is on your shoulder, though it pulls away at lightspeed as your body jolts upright from shock. It had been Jason, but now he had stumbled a few steps backwards and Michael had taken a few forward to ward him off.

"Guys, it's okay." you hop from your seat and stand between the two just as Michael sets into motion again to approach Jason further, though he instead collided with your outstretched hand and stopped in his tracks. "Don't fight." you couldn't deal with another fight right now, not after the news from your boss. You were putting a lot of faith into D's work, but you thought you at least had a decent chance. You realize that Jason's hand on your shoulder was probably a silent question, an 'are you okay' of sorts. You turn to face him and smile, nodding your head. "Thanks for your concern, Jason. I'll be alright." the hockey-masked killer nodded his head, and you could tell the moment your back was turned to him and you hopped back into his chair he shot a triumphant glance at Michael. Your point was further confirmed by the growl the Shape let out seconds after. You sigh, shaking your head with a smile. "You guys..." you breathe out, and those simple words manage to silence the both of them as they retreat back into their corners. If you could explain them in any way, you'd say they were like two very territorial poodles fighting over their favourite toy. The day dragged on and after finishing your cereal you quickly scanned your newest article, sending it into your boss once you were absolutely satisfied. Afterwards, you got straight back to work in creating another article. No time to waste.

You missed D's animated movements and storytelling voice, along with the flawless writing he produced, and you wondered who he was currently butchering and when an article about them would be done and published. A solid hour passed and you'd finished your first draft and started your second; this particular article was directed at Michael and his latest set of kills. Speaking of Michael, he was nowhere to be seen. You hadn't even noticed him slip away. Jason was still sitting in his recliner, obviously dealing with the loss of his home since he'd hardly moved or made a sound. He only ever followed you and stared down Michael. You shut the lid of your laptop and decide to look for him.

"Jayson, stay here for a minute, I'll be back." you don't want to lead Jason directly to Michael in case the big guy was looking for peace and quiet, away from Jason. You made your way upstairs and towards the room Michael had claimed as his own. The door was shut tight, locked as well, so you raised a fist and tapped it lightly. "Michael?" you called through, hearing shuffling on the other end. "Just wanted to check up on you. Are you hungry or..." you stopped speaking when the door was opened and you saw the inside of Michael's room. The desk at the foot of the bed was a mess, with two mixing bowls and stacks and stacks of shredded newspaper. It looked like he was doing some sort of paper-mache craft.

You shifted to peer around Michael but as a result he shifted as well to block your view as best as possible. You flash a smile, and crane your neck to look up at him. "Glad to see you have something to do. Are you hungry?" Michael shakes his head no, and you nod. "Good, I'll let you get back to work." The door is shut almost immediately after you finish speaking. You don't let it get to you, spinning on your heel and heading towards your room to try finding something to do. You pass through the hallway, past the phone. Just as you do, it erupts into its shrill ringing that forces your soul from your body, retrieving a yelp. You shake your head, scowling at yourself for letting it scare you and reaching for the phone. You pluck it from your spot and hold it to your ear.

"What's your favourite scary movie?" you knew immediately that it was D, you weren't stupid. You smile and roll you eyes, spinning to put your back to the wall and scan for D. You knew he could see you by the tone of his voice, the way he desperately tried to hold back a chuckle.

"Where are you, D? Coming back from a kill?" you completely blow past his question, seeing as he already knows the answer.

"You're no fun. As a matter of fact, no, I'm not coming back from a kill, just scoping some victims. I also wanted to get you a little something as a sorry." D huffed, his tone lightening as he continued on with his news. As if on cue, the doorbell rings, and your smile grows.

"It's not some human heart or something is it?" you twirl the phone-cord around your finger as you speak, and are reminded of an old 80s TV show or movie, of a girl talking to her crush or her best friend.

"Come on, Sweetheart, have a little faith in me! It's good, I promise." D cooed back to you, his voice smooth and silky as it always was when he was on a phone call.

"Fine, fine. I'm coming." you hung up the phone and scurried downstairs, the smile on your face not wavering. The doorbell rang again and as you turned to face the door you saw Jason standing up in the living room with a tilt to his head, curious and nervous. You reach for the door handle and twist open the door, spotting the little brown box on the front porch. You reach down and carefully pick it up, giving it a gentle shake. You shut the door and gently opened the top of the box; inside was a collection of pretty rocks, crystals and pebbles along with the picture of you from the day before when you'd met Jason, the day with the bear trap incident. You hurried towards your sofa, gently moving the rocks from the box to the coffee table. Some were as small as your pinky fingernail, others the size of your palm. You picked the picture out as well, careful not to place your fingers directly on the shiny surface. You almost missed the last thing in the box, and if Jason hadn't leaned forwards and peered curiously into the box it would have gotten thrown away.

A gentle hand shaking your arm brought your attention back to the gift, and the lone slip of paper at the bottom. You reached in and pulled it out, flipping it over and examining the fairly neat lettering. It read 'back of picture', so you followed the simple instructions and flipped the picture over. Written on the back of the photograph, in bold letters, much neater than the writing on the previous slip, '(Y/N) (L/N) and Danny's home'. You felt a smile plague your face, widening your lips until your face hurt. His real name, debatably the biggest show of trust he could provide. You arrange the rocks in the center of the coffee table, then grab a picture frame that fits your photo. It previously had a picture of you and your parents, but the picture was quickly ripped from the frame and discarded onto the floor, replaced by the one of you and Danny. The name felt weird in your head, and you had to try it out for real.

"Thank you, Danny!" The name felt natural as you called it out, widening your smile still.

"Of course, Honey." Danny appeared at your side almost instantaneously and you jumped, as always, playfully slapping his shoulder. Jason wandered off with a nod to Danny, seemingly satisfied he was here to protect you now.

Jason wandered towards the front door and stepped outside. Where to? You weren't sure, but Jason could obviously handle himself. Danny seemed pleased with the rocks arranged on the table, kneeling in front of them and tilting his head this way and that. At last, with a satisfied sigh he stood and flopped onto the couch beside you.

"Wanna watch a movie?" you offer, and Danny nods.

"Always and forever!" he's on his feet again in an instant, rushing over to your movie collection and slipping Stab 2 from the shelf. "This one's my favourite. I have it memorized!" he sounded like he was bragging about that fact as he slipped the disc into the dvd player. He didn't sit down with you as the movie commenced, instead mimicking the movements and lines with almost perfect accuracy. Whenever he got something wrong you felt the urge to call him out just to tease him, but you didn't. Let him have his fun, right? It seemed Jason, Michael and Danny were enjoying themselves, so you were too.