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Published:
2025-07-07
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2025-09-16
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Family Pride

Summary:

Kiara and Luke Maybank’s talk in the truck goes a little differently. Small AU of 2.08.

Notes:

A/N: PrincessOfNothingCharming asked for a 2.08 AU where Luke goes for the knife after Kiara elbows Luke in the face. Cue a whole different fallout. This is short, unbeta’ed, and just a little AU – but it fits back into canon, more or less. My handling of medical issues is as unrealistic as the show. Remember, this is the same ep where JB is bit by a gator – without any consequence at all. So humor me in the name of whump.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Kiara doesn't want to hear it.

It's one thing for Luke Maybank to treat his own son like shit. It's not conscionable, but she knows it's complicated for JJ. It's not complicated for her, though.

So when he talks shit about her mother?

When he crosses that line?

Well, she'll do what JJ won't.

She'll punch him in his smug, smart-ass face.

The elbow catches him as hard as she intends, sending him reeling against the seat. She looks back at him, just enough to see that he's still conscious -- checking his nose for blood -- before she stares him down -- hard.

"Don't talk about my family," she says. She lets it be a threat. Because she's not scared of Luke Maybank. He's a low-life scum, a nobody and an addict. All of which could be forgivable if he didn't beat the shit out of his own son. He's the worst of the worst, and she has no time and no patience for any of this.

Her desire to do more -- to say more -- is real. But JJ is coming down the steps, beer and food in hand. She turns back to the front, seething quietly.

A split second before Luke Maybank lunges.

And she realizes why JJ's been scared of his man all his life.

-o-

It comes fast; it comes hard.

It comes without any reason or rationale. Like Luke just broke, self control gone -- as he comes toward the front seat. She yelps -- realizing only belated that he's got a knife.

The blade cuts the leather of the seat as she tries to get away. His other hand fists into her hair, drawing her back as stars explode behind her eyes and panic takes hold. She's so scared that she can't scream, she can't call for help, she can't do anything but thrash as the knife barely misses her again.

He's an angry son of a bitch. But whatever he's tripping on has his aim just dulled enough. It's the only reason she's alive.

But that won't last long. She's a sitting duck, locked in place and stuck in the car. Her breath comes -- short and hot -- as Luke writhes behind her.

"You think you're better than me?" he hisses. "You've treated the Pogues like playthings all your life, in and out when it suits you, you selfish, Kook princess--"

And the knife glints.

The scream she forgets to cry is choking her.

A second before everything shifts.

-o-

"Hey!"

The car door opens and the entire cab shakes.

"Hey!"

It's JJ, leaned over the passenger's seat, grappling with Luke's arms. There's a push and pull as Luke mutters obscenities, and Kiara sees the knife dance precariously close in front of her. She gasps -- eyes burning -- before she's unceremoniously thrown back. Her head hits the window and her consciousness splinters.

There's noise -- JJ's voice. Luke's grunts.

And there's motion -- a blur of blonde hair, a flashing of the blade.

Her eyes focus just enough to see Luke leaned over the seat, pressing JJ back as he struggles against his father's grip. He's pushing back with all he has, flailing his body as he loses ground.

And everything falls into place when she sees the knife connect, catching JJ in the side.

Suddenly, Kiara's breath catches and her head clears.

As the world runs red.

-o-

JJ doesn't cry, and Luke doesn't run.

Instead, Luke pulls the knife back, the blade coated red. JJ gapes for a second, staring down at his side. He lifts his fingers, pulling at his shirt -- where a blood stain grows beneath the heavy layers of his coat. His breathing is short as his body shakes, and he swallows -- licking his lips as he looks at Kiara.

"Are you okay?"

It feels like a blow to the gut. "JJ," she gasps. "You're the one who's hurt."

She reaches for him, her fingers on top of his before he shakes his head. "I'm fine--"

"You've been stabbed," she says, and she looks back to where Luke has gone still. "You stabbed him!"

Luke shakes for a moment, like he might care.

JJ, though, takes a breath. Hard. Forcing it out through his nose. "It's not bad," he says, teeth gritted as he sits up a little more. He lifts up the shirt, looking at the cut -- which has sliced along his side. "Nothing vital. It’s not even deep."

It’s bloody, but it doesn’t look as bad as Kiara feared. There’s no gaping wound; she’s seen worse injuries gutting fish down at Heyward’s.

Of course, this is JJ.

Who’s just been stabbed by his father.

To make matters worse, Luke visibly relaxes.

Kiara wants to scream. "We're calling the cops--"

Luke tenses again, knife shifting again.

JJ is faster, though. "No, Kie," he says, voice halting as he pulls his shirt back down again, pressing on the wound. "The plan's the same. We get him to the marina. We get him off the island."

She hates it. She hates every bit of it. "JJ, he stabbed you--"

JJ's eyes are wide and wet, though. "And then I never have to see him again," he says, and he's almost begging now. "I never have to see him again."

It's not a good choice, but then -- Kiara's not sure JJ's ever had good choice. They all get on him, about doing dumb shit, but what else does he have? What else does he ever have?

The options are turning his father in and going through the court system.

Or sending his old man off to the Yucatan.

This isn't about Luke, she reminds herself. It's about JJ.

She lets her eyes flit down to the wound, and the small patch of growing blood beneath his fingers. JJ.

JJ who hasn't gotten anything his whole life.

JJ who is asking her for this.

Just this.

So she swallows as hard as she can. She pushes it back -- her fear, her doubt, her anger. Her hatred.

For JJ.

Because Luke may not know how remarkable he is, but she does.

God, she really does.

"Fine," she says, reluctantly turning the car back on. She looks at Luke in the mirror as he settles back. And she looks at JJ, mustering up a smile. "But if you pass out--"

"I'm not going to pass out," JJ says, shifting back in his seat with his bloody fingers still pressed against his side. He grimaces, exhaling through his nose. "Probably."

"JJ--" she says, her certainty wavering.

He looks at her, tired and worn. With nothing left to fight with. "Kie."

And he doesn't have to ask again.

-o-

They drop Luke off at the marina. JJ makes to go with him, but she pushes him back to the seat. "He can do it himself," she says, voice short. She looks back at Luke with a hard stare. "Take the stuff and get out of here."

Luke glances between her and JJ.

Kiara doesn't budge. "Or I swear to God I'll call the cops."

He looks ready to call her bluff, but seems to think better of it. He nods once -- and twice. Before opening the door and getting out. He gathers the beer and the bag, hesitating at the window.

"J--" he starts.

"Keep walking," Kiara says, voice heavy with the threat.

Luke glances at her -- then back at JJ. "I know I could have been better--"

JJ's jaw tightens, and Kiara sees the way he can't meet his father's gaze. "I haven't exactly been perfect."

Luke glances at her, like he remembers. Do you know how special your son is?

His eyes go back to JJ. "Well, hey, perfect don't matter."

Kiara has to clench her jaw not to speak. Because she's not sure what's worse -- JJ taking blame for his own abuse or Luke writing it off as not perfect.

"You got a good heart," Luke says, reaching out to touch JJ -- but Kiara's heightened gaze has him settling his hand on the windowsill instead. "You can't let it end like this."

Like it's JJ's choice. Like any of this has been JJ's choice.

JJ's body twitches, jaw trembling as he looks up.

"I'm going to the Yucatan," Luke says, like that fixing something. Anything. "I'm never coming back. It'll work out."

And JJ almost smiles. "No, it's not," he says. "But maybe in the next life."

Kiara's heart breaks, then. Shattered on the seat between them, and she can't do anything as Luke claps JJ's cheek and JJ leans into the touch for the last time.

When he pulls away, JJ looks down again. Luke lets his gaze linger before he walks away.

He doesn't look back.

And it's hard to say what hurts JJ more: the knife wound in his side.

Or the fact that his father has abandoned him once and for all.

-o-

She waits until Luke is gone, and then finally takes a breath. "JJ."

He shakes his head, closing his eyes. "We need to go."

"JJ, your side," she says.

His face contorts, the emotions almost too much. "Just drive."

"JJ--"

His eyes snap open, and when he looks at her, he's crying. "Please, Kie. Just drive."

She looks at him; she looks at his side.

The blood hasn't spread as much as she feared, and he's pale and shaky, but he seems okay. There's no blood pooling on the seat, and they'll need to bind it later, she knows. They'll need to do a lot of things.

But JJ's been beaten. JJ's been stabbed.

He's been used and abused and left behind.

Someone has to put him first.

Even if that someone is her.

It's not so hard, she thinks. He's been putting them all first this whole time, even Luke, even when he doesn't deserve it. Even when none of them deserve it.

It's so easy to take and take – JJ's blood, sweat, and tears.

Without looking back to see the wreckage they leave behind.

But that's how JJ loves -- completely and without reservation.

Maybe Luke's not the only one who needs to realize how special JJ is.

"Fine," she says softly. "We'll go get the Twinkie."

He melts back, clearly relieved.

"But you'll let me bandage this later, okay?"

He hesitates for a second before he finally nods.

She exhales again, trying to steady herself as she puts the car into gear, gripping the wheel tight as she pulls away from the marina back toward the swamp.

"Kie?" he says.

She glances at him. He's wiped his bloody fingers on his shorts, pulling his jacket to cover the worst of the blood stain. She pretends not to notice. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry," he says.

"JJ, you didn't do anything," she says.

"I should never have asked you to help," he says, swallowing guiltily. "My dad--"

"Doesn't matter," she concludes, cutting him off. She looks at him, smiling again. "He's never coming back, remember?"

This makes him smile. "Yeah," he says. "He's never coming back."

She nods, letting that settle between them, filling the gaps and the silences with the promises of something better. "He's lucky," she tells him, lifting her chin now. She gives JJ a playful look. "If he had stayed, I might have killed himself myself."

JJ grunts with a laugh. "I think you could have taken him."

The idea of it pleases her.

His smile pleases her more. "He can't talk shit about my family," she says, inclining her head toward JJ as they pull out of the parking lot to the road.

Not her Pogue father. Not her Kook mother.

And certainly not her best friend.

"Eh," he muses. "He's not worth it."

Kiara concedes that point. " You're probably right."

She looks at JJ, breathing evenly in the seat, his hand still pressed against the wound.

Luke's not worth anything.

But JJ?

He's worth everything.

Chapter 2

Notes:

An addition, for PrincessOfNothingCharming, and everyone else who asked for another bit. This is entirely Jaybe centric with hints of unrealized Jiara. I don't write much fluff, y'all, but this is about as fluffy as I get. It won't happen often, so enjoy it :)

Chapter Text

It's funny, JJ thinks. He has no family ties.

His mom has been out of the picture for years, almost as long as he can remember. His aunts and uncles never did give a shit about him, just another Maybank to show up and steal a beer from family barbeques. Cousins who can't stand him or who already forgot he existed. A few ex-relatives who are far too glad to be rid of the Maybank name.

And a father, who's up and split for the Yucatan. On a half-borrowed boat and JJ's last 20 dollars to get him there.

This is what it feels like, then. Not to be an orphan by chance.

But by choice.

When every last person -- even the worst of the worst -- is done with you.

JJ's not sure what he has left.

"Hey," John B says. "You going to hand me that first aid kit?"

JJ remembers that he's still here. "What?" he says, and blinks down at the kit he's holding. Now that they've salvaged the Twinkie, they're back at the Chateau, recuperating. Trying to catch up, make amends. Breathe for a damn second. Pope's with his family. Kiara's with hers.

And JJ and John B?

Well, they know how this goes.

Sarah's dozing in the next room, and they've been tasked with making sure the other doesn't die. Pope was going to do it himself -- Kiara nearly had an apoplectic fit to check their wounds -- but JJ had been quick to deflect.

John B had been quick to join him.

"Yeah," he remembers finally, handing it over. "You should really take care of that."

John B lifts his shorts, revealing the bite. It looks red and raw, distinctive teeth marks embedded deep in the flesh. It looks painful.

But honestly, not as bad as JJ expects.

John B makes a face, but still manages to scowl at him as he snatches the kit and opens it, propping it up on the counter while he delicately situates himself on the toilet seat. "It's fine."

"It's got gator germs," JJ reminds him, wrinkling his nose. "Your leg will turn green and fall off in two days if you don't clean it right."

John B does not look amused as he reaches for a washcloth and wets it. "Shut up, don't you have a stab wound?"

"Mine's nothing," JJ says.

John B pokes him in his bloody side.

JJ winces so bad he nearly falls over.

"Nothing, huh," John B notes.

It takes a moment for JJ's vision to clear, and he glares at him. "Shut up, asshole," he muttered, reaching for a washcloth of his own and soaking it through with water. When he lifts up his shirt, it's worse than he remembers.

The puncture in the flesh, on the meaty part of his side. The blade hadn't been his father's biggest, and he hadn't gotten a clean hit.

But it did enough damage.

For a second, they're both so focused on not sobbing in pain from their own ministrations that there's no room to needle each other at all. It's not until they're both done washing -- blood all over the stink and dripping on the floor -- and they're both reaching for the antiseptic that they remember they're both there.

Together.

"I need it," John B says, looking at him.

"Well, I need it, too," JJ says, nodding at it. "You let it get too low. It's almost out."

John B glares at him. "Because of you. You always show up here bleeding."

"Because I can count on you for reliable first aid," JJ retorts. "Doesn't a good host let their guest eat first?"

John B doesn't look amused. "This is a first aid kit, not dinner," he says. "And besides, you're not a guest. You practically live here, too."

This is somewhat true.

This is very true.

JJ shakes his head anyway. "I need it more."

John B looks completely unimpressed now. "With your tiny stab wound? My leg is going to fall off, remember?"

JJ just rolls his eyes, gesturing at the wound. "That must have been the smallest gator on the island."

Now, John B is just indignant. "It took me in a death roll."

"And yet you're still alive," JJ points out. He sighs in frustration. "My own father stabbed me."

"He's done worse," John B counters.

It's only because they're best friends that he can get away with that.

It's also because he's right.

"Then, he abandoned me," JJ says. "Forever."

"That's an emotional wound; it doesn't need antiseptic," John B says. He points at his leg. "I could have bacteria festering in my leg right now."

JJ looks at the wound as well before pointing dramatically at his own. "I took a hit defending Kie."

John B straightened a little, undeterred. "I took a hit for the Twinkie. So, you know, the whole family."

And that's it, then.

Not that John B's wound is worse. Not that he deserves it more.

Not that any of that shit, their petty teenage boy nonsense.

It's family.

JJ has no family ties with a single Maybank on this island.

But then, that's been true for a long time, hasn't it?

Because there's John B. There's the Chateau.

There's Pope and Sarah.

There's Kiara.

There are doors he thought were closed.

That might just be open after all.

"Yeah, you can have it," JJ says, letting his arms drop. "I'll just pop some Tylenol."

John B visibly deflates, too. "No, man. It's your dad's knife. Who knows what was on it," he says, pushing the first aid kit to JJ. "You take it."

JJ pushed it back. "You'd be a shitty friend if you had one leg."

"You could die--"

"So could you--"

And they both stop.

Because, yeah. That's not going anywhere.

Finally, John B slumps back a little. He thinks, and then he tips his head. "We could split it."

JJ considers that, too. "And then we'll both only half die."

That answer forces John B to frown with a renewed vigor. "I don't think it works like that."

"We can also call Pope and tell him we're out," JJ suggests.

John B lights up, snapping his fingers. "Good call!" he says, clearly enthused. "We split this for now and call him after."

JJ nods in agreement. "It sounds like a plan."

They get to work then, wetting fresh gauze as they wipe the wounds clean. It stings; it burns. The pain goes deep, but JJ knows. It has to hurt to heal.

He throws the gauze in the trash, finally putting a bandage over the wound -- watching as John B does the same.

"How's that feel?" JJ asks.

John B wrinkles his nose. "Like shit, man. I was bit by a gator."

JJ nods in commiseration. "And I was stabbed by my dad."

John B pushes himself up off the toilet seat, clasping JJ's hand for support before pulling him into a quick hug. "I'm sorry he left you, man."

In response, JJ shrugs, clapping him on the shoulder back. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get the Twinkie out."

John B grins as they part. "I'll call Pope."

JJ winces as he follows John B out of the bathroom. "Maybe we should try Kie instead."

John B glances back at him, head tilted to the side. "Kie?"

"I don't know," JJ says, shrugging. "Seems like a good idea."

That's a point, then. John B seems to consider that, seems to consider JJ, seems to consider everything. "Kie, huh?"

JJ limps forward, rolling his eyes. "Shut up and call," he mutters. "Before your leg really does fall off."

With a snort, John B sounds all too pleased with himself. "Told you mine was worse!"

JJ lifts a finger up as he slumps his way to the couch and collapses. He's tired; he's sore. He's an orphan in all the ways that count.

And somehow -- just somehow -- he's better off than when he started today.

It has nothing to do with gold. It has absolutely nothing to do with a priceless cross.

And everything -- every last thing -- to do with family.