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“Why do you know The Lone Ranger , but not Leave it to Beaver ?” She asked rhetorically in confused amazement, always trying to figure out the man’s twisty and weird mind. “The hell?”

For some reason, the whole exchange made Mull kind of sad.

On one hand, she liked that Oz was the type of man who could always be counted on to defend her, but on the other hand, it really indicated that Oz had no idea how to deal with family.

Which wasn’t surprising. His family had apparently treated him like shit.

They were monsters. So of course Oz would automatically assume her family were as well.

She watched him for a beat, suddenly feeling like crying over the fact that no one had ever made Oz feel safe.

Roach’s wheelchair was being operated by May, his daughter. The girl’s short dark hair was partially hidden by a turkey themed hat, which didn’t match her usual “Mayfly” costume, but she didn’t appear to care. Truth told, May never really seemed to care about much.

“Now PaPa, there’s no reason to tease Mull like that. You know it will just upset her.” The girl in question gently chided. Her eyes cut to Oz and she looked rather amused by his fox hunting outfit. “Well… that’s certainly a bold fashion choice, Mister Dimico.”

“I think Oz looks cute as pie in everything.” Mull snapped, inadvertently using Mrs. Cleaver’s phraseology for some reason. Which… was weird. “If you don’t like it, you can head right on back out the door, May.”

May made a pouty sniffing sound. “Well, someone is sure snippy today.”

“ I didn’t want to fucking come here in the first place.

” Hector reminded her flatly. “ I wanted to have a nice Thanksgiving with my family somewhere normal, not in this fucking freakshow!” He made a face.

“What the fuck kind of name is ‘Oz’ anyway?” He mused, obviously returning to an issue he’d undoubtedly been grumping about with May all day.

“I was named after the Kennedy assassin.” Oz informed them, sounding almost embarrassed about that fact for some reason.

“No shit?” Natalie was genuinely impressed by that, instantly brightening. “That’s fucking awesome .”

Hector looked more confused than anything. “Your name is ‘Hector’ too?” He guessed.

May wheeled her father further away. “Papa, please don’t cryptically confess to presidential assassinations while at Thanksgiving dinner with Multifarious and her boyfriend.”

Roach gestured to the largely empty apartment. “Was the rest of the furniture repossessed?”

“Thanksgiving isn’t until tomorrow.” Oz reminded them simply, ignoring the insult to his home, because he seemed to always assume that people would automatically hate everything he was and everything he did and everything he enjoyed.

“Yeah, I can read a fucking calendar.” Roach rolled his eyes.

“I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving. I don’t believe in it.

Got my own holiday, the night before. Call it: ‘RageGiving Day.’ It’s a time when you get together with family and bitch about all the bullshit you’re not thankful for and all the shit they do that pisses you off.

All the middling, petty shit that ruins everything and makes you want to shoot some annoying motherfuckers in the face.

” He pointed around the room. “ And I got a long fucking list this year! ” He explained. “You got a problem with that, New Guy?”

“ You might have a problem.” Oz shook his head calmly. “Because I don’t have an oven.”

Mull winced, suddenly hating herself. If it wasn’t for her, she could use that as an excuse to kick her uncle and cousin out and get back to having eye sex with Oz. Which sounded like a lovely way to spend an evening.

She wasn’t entirely sure where his boundaries were, but she was genuinely excited to test them.

“Yes… about that…” she began, “I kinda bought you one of those on Black Friday sale too.”

Oz watched in amazed stupefaction as a delivery man wheeled the appliance through the door. “You bought me an oven?”

She held up her fingers in a pinching gesture. “Little bit, yeah.”

Roach made an annoyed sound. “Oh, stop acting like it’s a big deal. She owns the fucking store, she could have bought you a warehouse filled with the fucking things, and it still wouldn’t mean shit.”

Oz’s eyebrows soared and he turned to look at her. “You own the store?” He pressed, looking for clarification. “You own Drews department store?”

“No!” She shook her head. “My asshole foster parents did.”

“Well, where are they?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Somewhere.” She made a disinterested face. “Who cares?”

“She’s got control of it.” Roach casually peered behind the frame of the coffee advertisement on the wall, probably looking for listening devices or hidden safes. “I made sure of it. It’s all hers.”

Great.

She’d deliberately been keeping that little fact from Oz.

Because if he knew that she owned the store, then he wouldn’t have to stop by it as much.

She’d always used management as a way to keep him dropping by.

Telling him that she was trying to get her manager to switch out the floor tile or find stockboys who could organize the sock department, etc.

It took her hours to mess up her store each morning, just so Oz could come by to straighten it and then she could talk to him about how her incompetent bosses needed to be convinced to listen to his suggestions!

But now he’d know what was going on and he wouldn’t have to spend nearly the same amount of time in the store anymore.

He could just tell her what needed to be changed and he’d know she’d do it, because he had to know that she was wrapped around his little finger.

She’d burn the fucking store down if he asked her to!

The man was gorgeous and sweet and went through life like a little puppy that had been kicked too many times! He was adorable! And sexy as all fuck !

She spun around to glare at her uncle. “I’m so glad you’re here, Uncle Hector.” She spat out through gritted teeth, even Mrs. Cleaver’s eternal dinner party-goddess calm wearing thin. “And for sharing so many things about me.”

“Oh, was that a secret?” Roach asked in feigned embarrassment. “Gee whiz, cue the laugh track, I guess.”

“Papa, you can see that Multifarious is feeling sensitive about her outfit today, there’s no reason to tease her.” She paused for a beat. “And you need to take your pill before you eat.”

“I don’t have to do shit .” The man insisted.

The workman finished installing the appliance and started back through the room.

Oz, Mull, and Roach stopped their conversation to all watch him suspiciously.

The guy looked vaguely unnerved by that, hurrying from the room and slamming the door behind him.

Oz quickly set six out of the seven locks, then turned to face them. “Did you investigate that man’s identity before you invited him into my home?” He looked down at the floor. “Do you have any idea the kinds of places his work boots could have been before they walked on my floor?”

Roach looked at Oz thoughtfully. “You’re a paranoid little fucker, aren’t you?” He inquired appraisingly. “Huh.” He nodded, looking pleased. “That’s good. Too many blind assholes in this world, refusing to recognize that everyone else is a piece of shit.”

“Leave. Oz. Alone .” Mull warned, exasperated with her uncle’s characteristic behavior. “We are going to have a nice meal together and then you two are leaving. I have to get up early to work on the parade.”

Roach snorted. “The ‘parade,’” he made sarcastic little air quotes with his fingers, “is nothing but terribly lip-synched songs and marching bands from piss-ant towns no one has ever heard of or cares to visit. The parade isn’t really a parade anymore. It’s just corporate shilling.”

“It’s a free parade sponsored by a department store.” Oz deadpanned, making Roach’s entire criticism sound ridiculous.

“The parade is going to be the best ever.” She pointed a finger at her uncle again. “Take my word for it. In the meantime, you’re not going to be disgusting tonight, you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Roach rolled his eyes, “I’m on my best behavior.” He shooed her away. “You go deal with dinner, Oz and I will do some male bonding out here. ”

Great.

Hector was going to kill him.

****

Oz was pretty sure Hector was going to kill him.

Of course, he went through most conversations with the man thinking that, so he was used to it.

He sat in his living room, watching the elderly man and waiting for him to strike.

Hector sat in his wheelchair silently glowering at him, obviously unhappy about the fact that Oz was spending so much time with his adopted niece.

Roach was one of the last of the old-time villains. “Tie your girlfriend to the railroad tracks, steal Christmas, blot out the sun” style villainy.

Oz respected that. There was order to it. A predictability which could be categorized and anticipated.

But that didn’t mean he was really looking forward to spending an evening with the man.

Oz wasn’t a people person on the best of days, and today was certainly no exception.

He still had to stop the Agletarians, track down Mercygiver, rescue Poacher, and most importantly, finish his conversation with Natalie.

And, obviously, find something else to wear.

He started to get to his feet, wanting to escape this room. “I’d better go see if Natalie needs help in the kitchen.”

“ Sit .” Roach commanded, pointing back to the couch Oz had just vacated. “The women will handle the food. It’s fine.”

Oz found himself immediately sitting back down. “That’s rather sexist, sir. Don’t you think?”

“Yes.” Roach deadpanned. “You know anything about cooking, boy?”

“Well… no.”