Serendipity Hills Log: Murderbot and Morgan WHO: Morgan Yu and Murderbot WHAT: A dramatic reunion WHEN: The night of the Yu Christmas Party WHERE: Yu Manor WARNINGS: Casual consideration of murder
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Murderbot liked to consider himself a patient ex-killer-for-hire, but he was motherfuckin’ done.
So his boyfriend Morgan had run off to go “find himself” or whatever. So Morgan had run back into the arms of the awful Yu family, a moral judgment Murderbot was willing to make because he himself had worked for some awful people, and the Yus were top of the puppy-kicking list. So Morgan had left their cozy little apartment that he had only! Begun! To! Decorate! With a half-ass apology about how this was the time of year for forgiveness, and embracing family, and how blood was thicker than the water of the covenant or whatever which Murderbot did not even begin to care about, because he knew all about blood and its relative thickness given his old line of work - the line of work he had, in fact, given up in order to win Morgan over way back in their meet cute dating years. He was no John Cusack and Morgan was no Minnie Driver, but they’d made things work, dammit, and he was furious that the Yu family’s bullshit had managed to wedge his boyfriend from his arms and back to Serendipity Hills.
Serendipity Hills. That place didn’t even have a decent sushi restaurant; it was too itsy.
Murderbot had waited. Had pined quietly, respectfully. Had read one article about the Yu family destroying a local coffee shop and putting in a Starbucks. Was sure that Morgan would show up with an apology at any point.
But no Morgan.
So Christmas Eve, Murderbot grabbed his favorite alias (Richard Valenti, professional dog-walker) and the tattered shreds of his pride, and flew into Serendipity Hills to find his boyfriend and make some sort of romantic gesture to get him away from his awful family for the holidays.
The aforementioned idiot boyfriend was presently standing in a corner at the aforementioned evil parents’ Christmas party, wondering why in the hell he’d thought anything would be any different this time than it had been before.
Come home, they’d said. Just for Christmas. We miss you. Morgan’s mother admitting to having an emotion, his father actually letting go of his pride enough to actually ask him to visit…it had seemed like maybe they had changed. Maybe they’d gone to therapy or taken an ethics class or been visited by ghosts or something and got a tiny bit better. Maybe they could actually try caring about their children as something more than a pair of dolls to be dressed up and their accomplishments trotted out for society.
But here he was at the “family” Christmas party, and absolutely nothing was a bit different. They were up to all their old tricks, in business and in their personal lives. Please come home had meant we think we’ve got a better shot at controlling you this way. In short, it was exactly the mess Murderbot had warned him was going to happen, and exactly why he’d stayed out of contact with these assholes for years.
Morgan sighed and leaned against a column in the ballroom. Fuck, would Murderbot even let him back in the apartment after he’d been this fucking stupid? Morgan wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.
So it turned out that getting inside the Yu mansion was a lot harder when Murderbot wasn’t allowed to kill people. Who knew. Murderbot was decent at stealth, sure, but he’d been had by some butler who was… who knew, maybe buttling, and then there was a scream, and before long three hulking dudes just materialized out of nowhere to escort him out of the house. Security. Must have been hired for the Christmas party, and it turns out that Kicking Ass wasn’t on the guest list.
But Murderbot hadn’t been a reformed assassin for nothing; he was able to escape with a well-placed karate chop, another karate chop, and a bullrush before running up the stairs to what looked like… motherfucker, was this an entire wing that wasn’t being used?? The rich were absolute bullshit.
Anyway, he was able to hear Christmas carols and the sound of soft laughter coming from another area of the house, and skulking about carefully, he located the party. Grabbing a champagne flute off of a tray that was wandering by, he combed his hair back and attempted to look like he fit in here.
It wasn't too difficult, given the sheer volume of people that attended the Yu family's annual Christmas party. They had an honest-to-god ballroom full of people gathered under chandeliers, dancing to the sounds of a chamber orchestra in festive formalwear. Once you were in, anybody in a suit or a formal gown could sweep through the room unnoticed and unrecognized.
Unless, of course, the person who laid eyes on you was your runaway boyfriend. He would definitely notice.
Upon first spotting Murderbot, Morgan gasped. The surprise faded quickly, replaced by absolute joy at actually seeing someone he wanted to see at this soulless husk of a celebration. A touch of relief was added at the realization that despite what an absolute moron he'd been, apparently Murderbot was not giving up on him.
Morgan dodged and elbowed his way through dozens of people to reach Murderbot, and for once he didn't care if anybody saw or want they thought about it. If he never spoke to anyone at this damn party again, it would only be a change for the better.
"How--why did--are you--" Stop, Morgan. Pick one question to ask at a time. "Are you actually here, or am I dreaming?"
“I get why you think this isn’t real,” Murderbot answered, “on account of how many parties I attend when there isn’t a pay-out involved. But yeah, I’m here. To free you from your gilded cage, or whatever.”
He downed the champagne in one gulp, winced, and set it on a passing tray. “Have you come to your senses yet about this crappy place or do I need to like… do a grand romantic gesture?” He’d do one. He didn’t drive a rental car out to the middle of bumfuck only to turn back sadly at the first sign of hesitation, after all. Murderbot missed Morgan. He wasn’t giving up that easily.
A glance at the security milling about the side of the room confirmed that yup, he’d been made. Murderbot probably only had a few moments before there was going to be a scene of a different kind.
“...would you actually do a grand romantic gesture?”
Morgan didn’t actually need one; he’d definitely come to his senses. He’d sort of thought he’d be the one who needed to pull off a grand gesture, actually. It had never occurred to him that Murderbot would, though, and the fact that it was on offer was a little startling. Morgan loved Murderbot and loved their relationship, but he’d never felt especially secure in it. He didn’t feel especially secure in any relationships, and the “why” for that wasn’t difficult to figure out once one knew about the family he grew up in.
“You don’t have to,” Morgan quickly clarified, because he didn’t want his boyfriend launching off into one when there was no need. Murderbot deserved better than that. “Just…if I needed you to, you would?”
“Yes,” Murderbot answered immediately. “I would pull out one of my knives-” because of course he had many - “and I would throw it at the chandelier’s weak point, which I identified as soon as I walked inside this room. Then, after the chandelier falls and all attention is on me, I would make a verbal metaphor, comparing how I treated the priceless chandelier to how the Yu family has treated their priceless son. Then I would kiss you in front of your shitty parents, and then we would fight our way out of the room, because by then I imagine security would be poppin’. We’d then escape, because we’re the good guys.” He paused. “Did any of that work for you?”
Morgan blinked, momentarily stunned speechless. To make up for his brain's inability to produce a sentence, he stepped forward and threw his arms around Murderbot's neck. The comforting warmth and familiar smell helped worked to sort his brain out enough to finish speaking.
"That's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard," he said at last. He didn't let go; Morgan didn't think he ever wanted to let go again. "And I'm never coming back to this house again, especially not for Christmas."
Murderbot immediately hugged him back, wrapping his arms around the other man in a crushing, relieved hug. He hadn’t entertained notions of his arrival failing - he was a big believer in defying the odds - but still. He wasn’t happy that Morgan was fucking miserable here but it felt nice to know he hadn’t been incorrect in considering the Yu family less pleasant than vacationing in Satan’s asshole.
“Let’s blow this popsicle stand,” he said, pulling back only slightly to grip Morgan’s hand, giving him a tug by the door. “Do you need to get your stuff?”
“Fuck my stuff.” Morgan was sure he had absolutely nothing in his old bedroom that he needed enough to spend another second in this house now that Murderbot was here. Clothes and razors and shampoo could all be replaced. The laptop, though…
Morgan sighed. “Okay, no, I need to get the laptop. Come upstairs with me? We can sneak up the servants’ stairs, we won’t have to talk to anybody.”
Because of course the Yu mansion had servants’ stairs.
“Servants’ stairs,” Murderbot repeated, because such a phrase needed to be repeated to be fully appreciated. “Motherfuckin’ servants’ stairs.”
Nonetheless, he sneaked out of the ballroom behind Morgan, letting the other man lead. Not that he didn’t know how to get to Morgan’s bedroom - he’d spent the last few days doing research and reconnaissance of the Yu family mansion and local real estate holdings just in case. Honestly, it was kind of fun, the sort of nostalgic rush that he missed from his old job. And no one had had to die yet, which was a festive plus.
“I know, I know…” Morgan was well aware that his upbringing was ridiculous. He was the only person he knew who watched Crazy Rich Asians and identified with the son rather than the potential daughter-in-law. Nonetheless, the back stairs did exist, and they would be the quickest way out of here without having to actually bother with goodbyes. If there was one thing he’d learned in the last few days, it was that he did not owe his parents a goodbye, or even a hello in the first place, but he still hated making a scene.
Morgan whisked them out of the ballroom into a hallway that connected to the kitchen. “So yeah, this is where I grew up,” he said as they breezed past the caterers. “Steal some hors d'oeuvres if you want, the little stuffed mushrooms are really good.”
“Sweet,” Murderbot answered, and grabbed a handful of mushrooms as they walked by. He was idly glad that he hadn’t pretended to be a caterer to infiltrate the house - no way would he have been able to stay away from all the food otherwise. “There’s an exit out the balcony in your bedroom, right? I.. uh, cased the house before I broke in.”
“How is that so creepy and so hot at the same time?” Morgan asked. It was a rhetorical question; he mostly thought it was hot, but he felt it needed to be pointed out that everything about this was nuts. “But yeah, we can rappel out a window if that’ll somewhat make up for you having to come down here and hit me over the head with what an idiot I was being. And bonus, then we definitely don’t have to talk to anyone on the way out.”
Murderbot was already chewing on a mushroom and looking at old kid photos of Morgan and his brother as they crept through the hallways. They weren’t the cute kind of kid photos, either, but the heavily posed kind in which everyone looked highly #done with everyone else’s shit.
“I mean, I’d happily give your parents a piece of my mind, but I’d worry it’d just delay our awesome ride into the sunset,” he observed. “Bad guys have a way of monologuing that I’d honestly just rather avoid.”
Morgan shuddered at the mere thought of his parents and their talent for evil monologues. "I can't decide which would be worse, a Mom monologue or a Dad monologue. Mom's are more business-oriented, Dad's lean a little more heavily on The Family Name."
Up a set of narrow stairs, through one more hallway, and then they were in front of Morgan's old room. Upon opening the door, it was clear that nothing in the room had changed since the last time Morgan was home from college. A whiteboard on one wall was still covered with sketches and specs for a years-old project, old notebooks were stacked on the desk, and there was a poster on the wall for the 2010 Rave in a Cave. It was pin-neat and dusted, but all the evidence was there of a young man who'd walked out the door one day and just never came back.
A man who was about to do the same thing all over again - this time with the knowledge that no matter what he had hoped, his parents were always going to be prestige-driven narcissists. This time there was no looking back.
Murderbot mosied over to the project notes, glancing over them. He had some science smarts, of course, but he’d never really applied them to anything but killing people. Morgan’s capacity for design never failed to intrigue him.
A glance to Morgan, and Murderbot could tell that the other man was having an Emotion. Murderbot, who hated emotions, let him have it with privacy, but stayed near so he could be a steadying presence. When an appropriate amount of time passed, Murderbot exhaled, glancing back behind him.
“Got the laptop?” he asked. On a whim that he couldn’t quite explain, he grabbed a picture of baby Morgan standing next to some science trophy taller than he was. Morgan may think he wanted to abandon everything now, but doing so was easier said than done.
“Got it.” Morgan turned around, having experienced as much of his Emotion as he felt like managing right here and now. He saw the photo in Murderbot’s hand and smiled faintly. He might be feeling like setting his whole past on fire, but it was nice to know someone besides the Yu family’s housekeeper thought that the little him was worth paying attention to.
He gestured to the French doors leading onto the balcony. “Shall we?”
Murderbot pulled some rappelling equipment out of a jacket pocket, because of course he did. “Fuck yes. My favorite part. The heroes escape unharmed and victorious.” It wasn’t until recently that either of them could really be considered the hero, after all. Popping one last delicious mushroom into his mouth, he secured the carabiner and gestured to Morgan.
“Merry Christmas, Morgan,” he said, and tossed the rope off the balcony.
With one last squeeze of Murderbot's hand and a grin, Morgan grabbed hold of the rope. The worst week had somehow turned into the best holiday ever. To hell with this quaint town and his family - if they headed straight for the airport, they could probably find a flight back to the city in time to spend Christmas Eve eating takeout.