#and barely recognizes the girl waiting for her outside her shitty halfway house | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flowerflamestars · 3 years

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i remember that you once said something about privateer nesta could you elaborate? please? *shrek cat eyes*

WHO TOLD YOU I AM COMPLETELY VULNERABLE TO THE CAT EYES??

okay, so admittedly I don't remember the context in which I said this?? But I still SUPER super love the idea

and it matches with what we'll call the Dream ACOTAR Extended Universe Plot, almost canon.

We begin with the final battle against Hybern. Tamlin dies, closing the loop of his tragic, misspent life. Amren stays dead, a magical being on to the next adventure.

Rhysand stays dead.

He functionally (magically) threw himself on a bomb, and took the whole blast. He's not the Cauldron- and no one man could repair what it once was, but he could contain the fatal, drastic implosion of an object that was meant to endure forever, fractured into more and more peices.

Why is this important?

Because it leaves a world where Feyre Archeron- twenty-ish, romantic hero, prop, prisoner- becomes High Lady in her own, true right.

(I don't think she's necessarily good at this job, because why would she be? It's not even her fault- Feyre has no idea about how faery politics work, no real tangible knowledge of her own inherited kingdom.)

But both the men who stole her and defined her and loved her and hurt her are dead.

And it not only sets her on a journey to become, on her own, an actual character in her own life, but it galvanizes the Archeron sisters.

Feyre's basically fucking comatose after the battle. Elain has been a mess this entire time, but after that last fight with Grayson, walking into the war and stabbing a king in the throat- she is as vital and herself as Nesta has seen her in years.

Nesta just watched her father die and felt nothing- and she hates herself for it. She and Elain had taken the head of the man who stole everything from them- and she doesn't have a single regret.

Feyre screamed until she could no longer- there's so much magic seething out her it hurts to look at-

There's a dark well inside herself that could rise. But why should Nesta let it? So what, if she doesn't mourn her father? He'd never cared about her and Elain- not when they were young, too busy and important to even speak to his own children. Not when they lost everything, and he'd tried one last time to sell them both into marriages to recoup the family loss. Not after, in the starving cold, no matter what she'd tried to force him into action.

Nesta had been mourning all along a human girls human life- what is an absent, neglectful, shitty in the most ordinary of ways human parent if not a part of that lost future?

Their sister owns a fucking country- their sister is, at this minute so hemmed in by her followers no one can see her, much less comfort her- there's a war camp falling apart around them- there's Nesta, Elain, and Azriel, unhurt, upright, alive.

(she does not let herself think that an hour before she'd been ready to die and thought it right, the ending the meant to be conclusion of her story. she does not think about how she'd wished Cassian healed beneath her hands and that he had healed, that she'd wept to learn she could do more than destroy.

that she'd still been weeping, her mouth bright with his blood, when he'd pulled away, dragged himself to Morrigan's waiting arms)

Nesta Archeron is alive. Her sisters are alive. They're free, and she'll be fucking damned if this all falls apart before Feyre can heal.

Nesta turns to Azriel and asks if he can take control of the legions.

She has no time for his blank, angry eyes- she knows he's hurt, he's mourning, he's lost- but she needs him. Cassian's...down. Rhys is dead. Feyre and Morrigan are not coming out of that tent.

And he just listens. Thoughtfully. Asks what Nesta intends to do.

And Nesta looks at Elain- soft, kind, gentle Elain who'd never once wavered now when life was on the line. Who hadn't cried a tear for their father, or for the man who'd kidnapped and then married their baby sister.

The danger wasn't over- and neither had the steel faded from Elain's spine.

Nesta tells Azriel she's going to find Keir.

Nesta isn't blind- she's walked the Hewn City, spoken to the eldest darkness. She was also at the joke of a Summit- Autumn wants new territory, Keir wants to rule Night. And here Night is, weakened, a lamb to slaughter.

Nesta's not going to lose again- she's not going to give these ancient, cruel lords another chance.

Elain grabbed her hand and squeezed- the one person, always, who Nesta never need explain herself to.

Aren't the High Fae technically Morrigan's Elain asked, a bare whisper as they walked through the camp.

It went without saying yes, but Nesta had never seen any indication they respected her enough to listen to her. She made a face, and Elain made one right back, rueful. She had eyes too, after all.

They're not going to listen to us in these clothes, Elain also told her.

She was right, of course. They were High Fae, and that mattered to those vile pricks, but they'd been outfitted for flight. She would do almost anything, actually, to be free of leather pants.

Which Elain, a gleam in her eye that Nesta was learning meant magic, dreamy and happy- led her precisely to a gold topped tent, stepped inside, bowed, and asked without a trace of hesitation if Helion Spellcleaver, Lord of Day, would perhaps do them the favor of loaning them some garments.

Solid gold eyes gleaming against blood and smoke tinged dark skin, beautiful, glorious Helion, smiled.

Day-white against Night- but also, Nesta knew, taking care with her crown of a braid, the splatter of blood left on her throat, her mouth, her cheeks like fine paint- white was the color of death.

Elain covered herself completely- shawl wrapped over her hair, tucked around her neck, breathing easier now, in human modesty- but hung from a golden belt that Helion, with the clear air of someone who knew something about seers, had found, metal hammered with stars and flames, was Truthteller, the long blade without a sheathe, black metal swallowing up light.

Keir was easy to find, and in fine form, surrounded by Darkbringers, who looped back behind the sisters the second they were close.

Nesta was not afraid- she'd thrown power into the sky and it had hurt. Not in depth, but because she was still holding on- it wanted out-it wanted to devour-

Elain dipped a flagrantly rude, swallow bob of a curtsey. Nesta didn't even bother- just let Keir hail them, royal family that they were. He liked the sound of his own voice, but he was also clever- they'd come here of their own volition and now they were trapped.

She could smell the reinforcements, the utter Autumn reek.

Nesta interrupted, and asked Keir to come and swear fealty to her sister.

It was never going to get the right answer, but it had to be said. It had to be heard.

She'd been right- they'd been right- Keir enjoyed the cruelty of getting close to Nesta, denying straight to her Archeron face that no, Rhysand's bloodline was ended. It was time, it was right, for the House of Truth to once more hold their throne.

He spoke his treason aloud, looming over Nesta- close enough to touch.

So Nesta did.

She'd willed Cassian alive and whole. It was so, so much easier to remember fire, death, drowning, to push and want the revolting man's destruction.

And when he fell, silvered fire that had filled his lungs spilling from his throat, Nesta did not flinch. She looked to the next lieutenant, a frankly indistinguishable golden haired pale-eyed blandly handsome man in black armor, and asked, if he, as the new commander of the Darkbringers, would like to give a different answer.

He did.

Azriel met them halfway back to Feyre, grim mouth flickering for a second at the sight of Elain, before looking, stone-faced, at Nesta beside her, leading a crowd of the highest ranked Night Court faeries she could find.

Keir? He asked.

Dead, Elain answered, and that was that.

The Shadowsinger fell in step with the Seer, a threatening shadow to two pale beacons.

It was Azriel who actually went inside the tent. Who said what needed to said, what made Morrigan splutter loudly enough to be heard outside, before she burst out the tent in a whorl of hair, before blanching.

Nesta had just enough control not to roll her eyes. They come to swear fealty.

And Morrigan, chewing her lip with all the dignity of a child- Elain and Nesta had been trained out of such gestures at eight, what did she think was happening here? - shook her head. She's not well, it can wait.

No, Azriel said, from behind her, it can't.

He was supporting what looked like the entirety of Feyre's weight. Dead-white, blue eyes a blaze, Feyre looked blearily out at all of them like she recognized no one.

Elain, treasure that she was, came forward to take her sister's other hand, whispering both condolence and explanation.

And so the High Houses of Night knelt in battlefield mud, and swore eternal loyalty to the youngest Archeron.

It was only after they were gone that Nesta hugged her sister- hard enough Feyre protested, a fresh batch of tears soaking Nesta's shoulder even before Elain joined them.

It's Azriel, voice a little less like a phantom, who tells Feyre they're handling things. That if she wants to rest more, that's fine.

She was so clearly shattered- Nesta half wondered how much of that Azriel can literally feel/hear with his shadow...things.

Feyre protests that there's things to do- Feyre makes it halfway through a sentence about plans before she says Rhysand's name like he's still alive and collapses in on herself like a wave crashing.

Nesta and Elain tuck Feyre back into the blanket pile. Nesta manages to kiss her forehead before Morrigan is there, hugging Feyre putting herself bodily between the sisters.

They leave, and outside, Azriel is waiting.

To hand Nesta a gaudy, enormous platinum ring. The seal of the Night Court- Nesta recognizes it from shipping manifests, but she'd never actually seen it as an adult. Here, as a faery.

Her thoughts on Azriel's powers hold true, as he answers the dismay: Rhys only used it when he had to. It had passed between the whole Court of Dreams hands, there had not been a vizier, a lord of stars, since the time of Rhysand's father.

Nesta puts on the hideous ring, barely flinching at the brush of magic, it resizing to her hand.

Elain grasps her other, squeezing, and asks Azriel who is next.

They work ceaselessly, pausing only to sleep. Azriel, Nesta is quite sure, isn't sleeping at all- until she goes looking for him with a question and finds him finally, finally out cold, face tucked in Lucien Vanserra's neck.

In silence and gestures, they come to something of an agreement- and when the Night Court comes to the table to talk peace, it's with Lucien. Jurian, who Nesta immediately liked.

By the time they return to the North, there is not a Lord one who does not know the names and nightmarish qualities of all three Archeron sisters.

Feyre mourns, and learns to govern slow. Cassian goes back to Illyria and does not return for a long, long time. Morrigan becomes Feyre's second- Nesta laughs, not altogether kind, when Lucien tells her this. No one has been able to answer her as to why, if Morrigan is so powerful, why did she not fight? what does she actually do?

What answers to her questions she does find are appalling. Why does Winter block our every turn? oh, Rhysand killed more than a dozen children. Why is Summer refusing our trade? Well, Rhysand stole their ancestral pride. Why is the Hewn City so wrathful at even the slightest form of intervention? Because Rhysand had left Keir to rule alone.

Nesta doesn't want to rule the fucking court. She thinks she could leave all of these politicians to rot- but she won't let Feyre misstep her way to death, shouldering a burden of her dead mate.

There's nothing they can give Winter but apology and so that's what Nesta does. On her knees, in a gilded palace of ice, stars caught in her hair and the seal on her. Kallias, bright and young, seems to know something about inherited problems- he does not ever forget, but he forgives, at least, the Archerons.

Summer is more complicated- but Nesta does what she can. Gives them every melted, ruined piece of the Book. Offers reparations for the next millennia. Ends up paying for what she is appalled and embarrassed to learn is a two hundred year old debt for a building the head of the Night Court's armed forces- Cassian, fucking Cassian the ghost haunting Nesta- had destroyed. During a brawl. At a solstice party.

She deals only with Cressieda, and they come to understand each other very well.

Nesta was not raised for politics and bullshit- her mother wanted her to marry a crown, but Nesta wanted the family empire. Trade. The Archeron legacy, denied to a girl. She likes Summer more than any place in Prythian, and she doesn't hide that. She relearns old lessons of tide and routes in secret, before Cressieda reveals that of course, she knows who the Archerons were.

It goes well, until Morrigan finds out what she's been doing, and tells Feyre.

The youngest Archeron had been doing better. Morrigan has been right by her side, through everything. Cassian is in Illyria, and Feyre understands why, writing him letters. She writes letters to Rhys too, if only to have a way to direct the words.

Azriel, spectral and busy she sees the least of, but Feyre never doubts his presence, keeping her safe. Elain comes, drags her out into sunlight, brings Lucien and it makes Feyre happy to see them together. Nesta comes too, with them both and alone, with papers from Feyre to sign, with affection sharp-edged but true.

Feyre knows she owes them all more than can be said- she's not stupid, she knows they're keeping Night together. That slowly those responsibilities will fall to her, when she's ready.

She does not think about how much of those responsibilities is cleaning up the tangled mess of betrayal Rhysand left behind. In her head, there is only Rhys- beloved and shadowed, kind and tortured.

Until Morrigan tells her that it's been acknowledged, in public, by Night, that Rhysand was a thief, and a murder of children.

Feyre loses her shit.

Rhysand had done what he had to. Who was Nesta, to say such things? She'd always hated Rhys. Rhys had always hated her, maybe he was right- the children. Rhys had mourned them in screaming nightmares, but he hadn't hurt them-

(Feyre does not stop to think it strange, that Rhys could have nightmares of memories not his own. That he might have fractured just a bit, under Amarantha. That the Red Lady had no daemati- that was why she'd kept Rhys all along.)

The fight is as ugly as can be imagined. And what proceeds is of course, worse. Feyre says terrible things she will ultimately regret and apologize for, but what becomes clear is that Morrigan thinks that Nesta means to hold power forever.

That she's taken advantage.

And Cassian, called home by rage, believes her.

That is, more than her ungrateful sister, more than the ongoing weight of cleaning up after a man she despised for good reason, the end of Nesta Archeron's Night Court career.

She'd thought she loved him- she'd been willing to die with him- but they'd lived. This was the life, the next life, and what did he think of her? That Nesta was a power hungry snob. That she was paying too much heed to politics.

That Nesta belonged quietly at home. That she should have learned to fight somewhere along that way- a point so convoluted it made Lucien laugh- that she hadn't learned anything that mattered.

That she had no right to kill Keir, because it had hurt Morrigan.

Had he ever, Nesta would wonder later, even liked her? Enjoyed anything about her but for that magical tether, telling him he was blessed with something special?

Nesta was something special, and she knew it.

And so she returned the ring to Azriel, packed up her possessions, and left.

First to Day, where Elain had bought a house. Fury and tears both met the explanation of what happened- fury and tears that turned to getting inadvisably drunk in sunlight, when Lucien and Azriel snuck away to join them.

For the first time in Nesta's adult life, she had no obligations. Magic, money, freedom- the whole world was out there.

She stopped wearing black. Learned pants where actually lovely, when they fit correctly and weren't made of leather. Learned Azriel could laugh, and Lucien was as clever as she'd always thought.

She read books, she ate fruit, she took Helion up on several of his more lascivious offers.

She thought of Cassian, and it ached, but not enough to go backward.

Elain's house was by the sea, right on the water. The scent of salt reminded Nesta of Summer- but also of her oldest, most secret dreams. The warehouses of goods, like mysteries to solve. The account books she stole, learning by candlelight the trade in her blood.

Ten years after the war, Nesta bought a ship.

She set out to be a merchant, use what she knew, but what happened was this: Nesta Archeron did not care anymore for rules. And so when she came upon Hybernian remnants-for they were an island kingdom, even more one with the water than Prythian- pillaging a Summer town, she destroyed them.

She stole their treasure, gave much of it back to the people.

Found, unexpected, that she had much more of a taste for marauding than she would have expected. There was still trade of course- proft made and shared- but Summer needed someone willing to do some destroying out on the sea.

Twelve years after the war, Nesta Archeron became a privateer under the Summer flag, pearls in her hair and a true smile on her lips.

Things grew, as all things do. Feyre wrestled herself the reins of government, stymied by the councils Nesta and Azriel set up as much as she often was by Azriel himself out of truly petulant action. Morrigan remained second, golden blades bright as her gowns within reach. Cassian became a sort of seneschal, reigning over Illyria in Feyre's name cold and alone as the wind through the mountains.

(Feyre thought he might never get over the war, but Azriel knew the truth.)

Elain took herself wherever the future led, a sort of mediator and councilor, walking in all Courts- but always back to home, that isolated green, green cove, where Nesta would land.

When war came again, there was no great Lordly alliance, no cut-throat summit. There was a fleet of ships whose sails where edged in purple, whose announcement across the water was silver fire, whose accompaniment were monsters of old.

Violence did not touch Prythians human shore, because Nesta Archeron did not let it.

She was death on the tide, and she remembered what shores had borne her.

She had a home in Summer, a place in Day, her family across the continent- she had her ships, full of faeries from every walk of life, who wanted as she did the freedom as much as the profit, the endless, endless blue, where sea meets sky.

It was eternity, and the Archeron sisters, free, had made it their own.

#i'm sorry this is literally a novel #but!!!#this is my dream plot actually #all about legacy and complicated feelings #the total failure of cassian as a partner #of rhys as a ruler #of feyre as a sister!!#there's so much love in the end but its not easy love #and they do have to fight for it #Nesta Archeron has always been exactly who she is and that shouldn't have to change #Elain has never GOTTEN to be who she is and that should change #Feyre standing alone is all i want yall #a true overturning of the patriarchy actually #yes this a luzreil universe #Elain...mhmm.... definitely just has a string a very romantic love affairs #marriage as a prospect caused her so much pain #she's done #I feel like Mor comes off almost too badly in this #but like #she would??#she's SO possessive of her people #and totally weird about Feyre's sister's from the start #Nesta having power?#Nesta having Azriel's backing?#NESTA BEING CASSIAN'S MATE?#its never going to go well

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all-things-skam · 4 years

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Jens’ season | Chapter ten (finale)

Saturday, March 7th

They arrived late in Utrecht. Or, early.

Lucas’ father had refused to make the drive but allowed him to go and take the train if he wanted to. Jens get that they were divorced, but still. She was his ex-wife, the mother of his child. She must still have a place in his heart.

Apparently not.

Lucas had been fidgety and tense during the whole train ride, biting his lip and checking his phone every ten seconds in case there were any updates from his dad - who was in contact with the clinic -, but there weren’t.

Jens felt helpless. He didn’t know what to do or even say, having never been in this situation before. A part of him wanted to comfort Lucas, tell him everything’s going to be okay, but he wasn’t a psychiatrist nor a doctor. He didn’t know shit.

So, he stayed quiet, his head pressed against the cold window of the train, his right hand holding onto Lucas’ tightly.

When they got to the train station, someone was there to pick them up. He had blond hair and a darker beard, and seemed older than them. An old friend, Lucas said. He dropped the two teenagers at the clinic and told Lucas to call him if he needed a ride before driving off.

The door of the clinic was unlocked despite being the middle of the night. They walked in and the lady at the front desk frowned, seeing Jens and Lucas walking into the building. ‘’Hello. How may I help you?’’

‘’My...my mom’s been admitted here a few hours ago,’’ Lucas replied, his voice strained. ‘’I’m here to see her.’’

‘’I’m sorry, visits have ended hours ago. You should come back in the morning-’’

Alas, Lucas wasn’t taking no for answer tonight. He was scared and worried for his mother and wouldn’t calm down until he sees her.

‘’No! I took a train all the way here. I have to see her,’’ he insisted, hoping the woman will make an exception for him. ‘’She needs me, I- Please.’’

Still hesitating, the desk lady glanced at them, noticing the tired look on their faces and the backpack on Lucas’ shoulder and sighed, giving in. ‘’Patient name?’’

‘’Lieke Van Der Heijden.’’

She typed in the name in her computer, giving Lucas an apologetic look when reading his mother’s file. ‘’I can’t let you go in the room past visiting hours. But, I’ll call up the psychiatrist on shift and he’ll be able to give you details about your mother.’’

You could see on Lucas’ face that he wasn’t completely satisfied with the bargain, but it was better than nothing.

Jens smiled at the woman. ‘’Thank you.’’

Jens didn’t go in.

He waited on a couch in the waiting area of the clinic while Lucas went to talk with the doctor, not wanting to intrude Mrs. Van Der Heijden’s privacy. While Lucas wanted him by his side at the clinic, it didn’t mean Jens had to be all up in their businesses. And, if Lucas needed him, he’ll come to him.

Having nothing else to do, Jens checked his phone, seeing the group chat blowing up with unread messages and a few personal ones from Robbe, asking what was going on and where the hell he and Lucas went.

Did you guy ditch us to fuck? Moyo had bluntly asked.

In another situation, Jens would’ve rolled his eyes and laughed - maybe he would’ve told him to fuck off -, but not tonight. Instead, he he simply told them that Lucas had a family emergency and had to go home - sparing them the whole details for privacy purpose.

Half an hour later, Lucas returned and filled the empty seat beside Jens. His hair was a mess from touching them so much - a habit he picked up when he was stressed or anxious. Jens slipped his phone back in his pocket, giving his attention to his boyfriend.

''How is she?''

''Sedated,'' Lucas responded, forgetting to laugh at his own bad joke. ''Sorry.''

Jens shook his head. ''It's okay.''

‘’A neighbor called the cops. They said she was acting like a lunatic, throwing out my father's last belongings on her porch since 6am and was planning to redecorate the whole house to 'clean it from his bad energy'. The doctor said it was a psychotic episode. She hasn't been taking her meds for a few weeks.’’

Lucas's parents' divorce was messy and heartbreaking. She truly loved Lucas' father - he was her high school lover -, but the man didn't want anything to do with her after being diagnosed although he had vowed to love her in sickness and health.

‘’I don't understand. She sounded very lucid last week on the phone. I should’ve gone home-’’

Shaking his head, Jens didn’t let him finish. ‘’Don’t do that. Don’t guilt yourself for something you can’t change. You’re here, now. It’s all that matters.’’

‘’If I had been here, I could’ve made sure she was taking her medication. I always do. Sometimes, she forget...and other times, she doesn’t want to take them. When she’s off her medication for too long, things gets bad and she has psychotic episodes. Dad and I tried to have someone from the clinic to come and check up on her, but it’s really expensive and we can’t afford that. That’s what he said. Maybe he doesn't want to pay for her, I don’t know.’’

It was simply an assumption, but Jens hoped it wasn't true. If so, Mr. Van der Heijden was a very shitty person.

Feeling a wave of tiredness hit him, Jens glanced at the clock in the waiting room and then to Lucas who's head was resting on his shoulder, trying to control his anxious riddled brain.

‘’It’s late. Should we head...home? You need sleep.’’

Lucas shook his head stubbornly. ‘’No. I need to stay here. I need to be there when my mom will wake up.’’

''The clinic had made an exception for a short visit and a conversation with the doctor. You'll have to wait till visiting hours to see her. We can't wait seven hours here.''

The night had been long and stressful and Jens couldn't wait to head to bed. He understood Lucas' want to stay at the clinic, but sleeping in those uncomfortable waiting chair would only make him feel sore and shitty in the morning. Lucas needed rest. Good rest.

‘’They gave her medication. She’ll be out for a couple more hours. We’ll come back in the morning.’’

‘’But-’’

‘’We can ask the office lady to call you when your mom is awake. How about that?’’

To Jens' relief, Lucas agreed.

It was almost 10am when the doorbell rang, stirring Jens from his deep, dreamless sleep. He groaned, the noise keeping going again and again - unable to ignore it. Who the hell could be at the door so early? He almost yelled at Lotte to go open, but remembered he was in Utrecht, at Lucas' house.

Fighting sleep, Jens opened his eyes - keeping them open was the real challenge here - and saw Lucas still fast asleep beside him. He smiled, soft snores coming from Lucas' slightly parted lips. It took Lucas over an hour to fall asleep this morning, constantly checking his phone every five minutes to see if he had any missed calls from the clinic. Jens had pulled him into his arms and played with his hair, knowing it worked as a kid when his mom would do it.

Now, the doorbell was getting on Jens' nerves and he wanted it to stop.

Carefully removing himself from Lucas' grasp, Jens got up and searched for his pants from yesterday, not about to answer the door in his boxers. He was barely awake enough to function as he walked down the hallway to get to the door, not caring that he was looking like a mess right now. That’s what a middle of the night bus ride and falling asleep at 4am does to you.

Before opening the door, Jens checked through the peephole and saw a short girl with curly hair and a boy with darker skin and messy hair whom he recognized as Isa and Kes.

A frown formed on Isa’s forehead when the door opened, confused why someone else was answering and not her friend. ‘’Who are you? Where’s Luc?’’

‘’Erm, I’m Jens. You’re Isa, right?’’

She nodded slowly, still a bit confused until she realized who Jens was. ‘’Oh my god! You’re Luc’ boyfriend aren't you?’’

Jens nodded, eyes squinting at the brightness outside. ‘’Does Luc knows you were coming? Did he tell you about-’’ He interrupted himself, uncertain if Isa and Kes knew about Mrs. Van der Heijden’s mental illness.

Isa hummed. '‘Yeah. I figured he’d be here in the morning.’’

Jens didn’t have to invite them in, the two walking right in and making themself home in the living room.

‘’Where’s Luc?’’ Kes asked, looking around for his best friend.

‘’He’s sleeping. The night has been long.’’

Kes hummed. ‘’How is he?’’

‘’Not good,’’ Jens honestly responded as he sat down in the armchair.

The trio didn't have time to engage in much of a conversation, footsteps coming from the hallway a few minutes after sitting down. They tried to be quiet to let Lucas sleep some more, but failed. Or, maybe it was the emptiness in the bad that woke him?

‘’What are you guys doing here?’’ Lucas asked, seeing his friends and boyfriend in the living room. He was wearing Jens' hoodie, finding the comfort he lacked of when he woke up to an empty bed.

Isa stood, meeting Lucas halfway and pulled him into a hug. He hugged her back before going to sit with Jens in the armchair, unbothered by his friends' presence.

Kes, on the other hand, wasn't as nice as Isa and looked at Lucas with hard eyes laced with deception. ‘’Why didn’t you tell me about your mom? I had to learn from Isa who heard it from Liv who was talking with Ralf. We’re best friends, Luc.’’

‘’Sorry you weren’t the first thing on my mind when my dad called me to say my mom was in a clinic.''

Kes sighed, changing his tone. ‘’You know I didn’t mean it like that...’’

‘’How is she?’’ Isa asked, switching the conversation.

‘’She’s in a clinic, Isa. How well can she be?’’ Lucas responded, his tone a little too harsh.

Unhappy with the way he spoke to his friend, Jens put han hand on Lucas’ thigh, a silent way to tell him to not get worked up. Even if Isa’s question was stupid to him, it wasn't a reason to talk to his friends like that. They came here because they cared about Lucas and his mom, not to get yelled at.

''Have you seen her?'' Kes asked, blaming Lucas' attitude on stress and morning grumpiness.

''No. Visiting hours were over long ago. I'll be going today.''

''Do you need us to come with?''

Although Kes' offer was nice, Lucas already had an emotional support. ''No. Jens is here.'' He leaned into Jens' chest and Jens kissed Lucas' shoulder over the hoodie, confirming his words.

‘’Tell your mom we say hi, okay?’’ Kes said.

‘’Will do.’’

Sunday, March 8th

The past two days had been difficult and emotional for Lucas - and Jens, by bias.

Lucas had spent hours at the clinic at his mom's bedside, just sitting there and watching her sleep most of the time, too high on meds to stay awake. Sometimes, she'd talk to him, but never for long. She was happy that her son was here, but also felt guilty that he had to come home just because she went off her meds again. Lucas denied her wrong assumptions and promised her that he had come here on his free will, that he wanted to be with her, but she still insisted that she was disrupting her son's life and being a burden to him like she was to his father. Lucas knew it was the depression and meds talking, but it still hurt.

When Lucas left his mother's room with tears in his eyes, Jens decided it was enough for the day. Taking care of someone didn't mean allowing them to disturb your own mental health. You need to know when to take some space from them, even if it's just for a few hours.

Back at Lucas', Jens made them dinner while Lucas took a shower. He was a terrible cook so pastas will have to do - not that there was a lot of options to cook with in the pantries and fridge. Ten minutes later, Lucas came out of his shower and Jens brought the bowls of pastas to the living room.

''Talk to me. I need a distraction.''

''Okay...'' Jens racked his brain, trying to think of something to talk about when he remembered that he hadn't told Lucas about the move yet. ''My parents are separating. My mom, sister and I will be moving.''

By the look on his boyfriend's face, Jens realized he should have added more details in the first place. Now, Lucas must be thinking he's moving from Antwerp. He was supposed to distract him, not make him sadder. Well done, Jens...

He shook his head, swallowing his bite of pasta. ''I'm not changing school, don't worry. We are just moving to a new neighborhood where the apartments are cheaper.''

Relief washed over Lucas' face. ''Hopefully closer to mine.'' He smirked and Jens hummed.

They lived relatively close to each other, but they could be closer. Living closer would mean easily meeting up in the middle of the night when one of them couldn't fall asleep instead of texting or take the bus together to school.

''That would be nice, wouldn't it?''

Lucas nodded before snickering. ''As if we don't see each other almost every day already.''

Jens laughed. ''Wanna watch a movie?''

The brunet shrugged. ''If you want.''

''Any preferences?''

''No, you can choose.''

''You trust my movie taste? Be careful what you wish for. We might end up watching the Notebook or some other chick flick shit.''

A small smile curved on Lucas' lips for the first time since Friday and Jens took it as a win.

''I know I must not be fun to be around right now and this probably isn't the weekend you had planned, but I...I’m just not in the mood to do anything. All I can think about it my mom and-’’

Jens shook his head, understanding. ‘’It’s okay. I don’t mind. I like chill nights too. As long as I’m with you.’’

Lucas wrinkled his face in disgust. ‘’Ew. Don’t say that. I’m gonna vomit.’’

‘’You don’t like cheesy?’’

‘’No. Jens?’’ He hummed in response, but didn’t budge. ’’You might think that you aren’t helping, but you are. By making sure I get enough sleep, eat and don’t get stuck in my head too much. You distract me with movies and cuddles - lots of cuddles. All of this helps me a lot, I couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend.’’

''Look who's the cheesy one, now!''

''Shut up. This was supposed to be cute, but you ruined it...''

Monday, March 9th

Goodbyes, even temporary ones, always hurt.

Jens’ arms were around Lucas, holding him tight, dreading the moment they’ll have to part. If it hadn't been for his mother’s request, Jens would’ve stayed longer, but Fenna wasn’t too happy to learn that her son had left the country without any warnings and skipped school. She understood the situation, sending well wishes to Lucas and his mom, but still wanted him to come home.

Lucas sighed, sad blue eyes looking at Jens. ‘’I don’t want you to go.’’

Give it to Jens and Lucas to make their departures dramatic and seem like they were parting for war when it was only a couple days. They had been standing at the train station for half an hour, clinging to each other and being one of those couples.

‘’I don’t want to either, but I can’t disobey my mom. She’s already mad that I left without warning. Lucky for me, she loves you or else I’d be grounded for weeks.’’

Lucas smiled before pushing his face in Jens’ shirt, not caring that he was behaving like a baby at the train station. ‘’I’ll miss you,’’ he said quietly.

‘’That’s why I gave you my hoodie. It’ll feel like I’m with you when you close your eyes,’’ Jens explained. He kissed Lucas’ temple, his face hidden from view.

‘’I still prefer the real thing...’’

‘’Me too,’’ Jens agreed. ‘’But, it’ll have to do for now.’’

A voice echoed through the station, warning travelers of the trains that will be leaving soon and, sadly for them, Jens’ train was in the list. Lucas recognized the number and clutched the back of his boyfriend’s shirt, refusing to let go.

''My train is here,'' Jens announced, trying remove Lucas's grip from him but also not wanting to part either.

Tuesday, March 10th

After dinner, Jens sat on the floor, surrounded by the mess of his bedroom. He was folding and packing clothes, getting ready for the move when a text from Lucas came in and distracted him, abandoning the pile of clothes.

Lucas: I don’t know when I’ll come back

Jens: That’s okay. Take your time. Your mom needs you. I’ll be here waiting ❤

Lucky for him, his mom was there to keep her children on track with the packing. They were moving the following Friday and the whole house had to be packed up. It was a small delay, but doable if everyone helped.

''Have you started packing yet?''

''Yes.''

Fenna looked around the room and raised an eyebrow, not seeing much progress since she last came here to check - which was two hours ago. ''Quit talking to Lucas and pack your bedroom, it won't pack itself. Even Lotte has started putting her toys in boxes.''

Jens frowned, raising his eyes from his phone. ''How do you know it's Lucas I'm talking to? Why not Robbe or Moyo?''

''Because you have that smile on your face when you talk to him. Others might not notice it, but I'm your mom. I see these things.''

A light blush coated his cheeks.

Jens: Gotta get back to packing...😞

Lucas: 🥺

Jens: We'll facetime tonight, okay?

Lucas: I'll wait for your call. Love you ❤

Friday, March 13th

A mix of laughters and shoutings filled Jens' bedroom as the four boys battled at video games. They were in the middle of a heated competition between Jens and Moyo when the doorbell went off, forcing them to pause the game.

Jens handed the controller to Robbe, being the only trustable person out of them, and went downstairs to answer the door. A confused frown and a wide grin shared space on Jens’ face, surprised to see his boyfriend on the other side.

''What the-''

''Missed me?'' Lucas asked, a small grin on his lips, interrupting Jens.

Jens' grin broadened and he pulled Lucas into a hug after getting him inside, shutting the door behind. Lucas returned the embrace, snaking his arms behind Jens' neck, missing the closeness of his boyfriend.

''What are you doing here? You couldn’t get away from me for long, uh?’’ Jens teased instead of pointing out Lucas’ tired look, the bags under his eyes looking darker than at the train station on Monday.

Lucas rolled his eyes. ‘’Yeah, I missed your pretty face too much.’’ He squished Jens’s cheeks with his hand, making him pull a fishy face, and laughing at how ridiculous he looked.

‘’I knew it, you can’t get enough of me.’’ Smug look on his face, Jens leaned in to kiss Lucas.

Sooner than usual, Jens’ tongue pushed past Lucas’ lips and Lucas slipped his hands under Jens’ shirt, feeling the warm skin under the grey cotton, catching a soft sigh of content from the taller boy.

They hadn’t had a lot of occasions to kiss more than a quick peck since last Friday and it felt good to share a longer kiss. The weekend had been emotionally difficult for Lucas and his head wasn’t in a mood to make out despite having the house to themselves all weekend.

For a moment, the two boys almost forgot that they were standing in Jens’ entry.

Lucas pulled away, but kept his hands on Jens. ‘’I’m only here for the night, I’m going back tomorrow morning. I came to pick up a few things from my dad’s...and see you.’’

Jens hummed and leaned to kiss Lucas again when loud arguing was heard from upstairs, catching Lucas' attention and making him frown.

''You're having people over?’’ he questioned, feeling bad for taking Jens away from his guests. ‘’I can come back later if-''

Jens shrugged. ''It’s just the boys. We were playing video games. Come.’’

Lucas toed off his shoes and let Jens pull him upstairs.

As they got closer to Jens’ bedroom Lucas’ stomach knotted, worried Jens’ friend will ask questions after the way he left last week at the party. He never gave them an explanation and he was hoping Jens hadn’t told them what happened to his mom. He might be okay to share this personal information with Jens and his own close friends like Kes, Isa and Ralph, but he didn’t want everyone to know.

‘’Now we know why he was taking so long to come back,’’ Aaron pointed out when he saw Lucas behind Jens.

Jens flipped him off and went to the empty spot on his bed, pulling Lucas onto his lap, taking advantage of having limited seating space in his cardboard boxes filled bedroom.

Robbe handed Jens back the controller, ready to get back to the game.

''How are you gonna play with Lucas sitting on you like that? You can hardly see,'' Aaron pointed out.

Jens smirked, feeling confident. ''Don't worry, I can still beat your ass.''

#jens's season #van der stoffels #vds #lucas van der heijden #jens stoffels #wtfock #skam nl #vds fic #last chapter #i'm not entirely happy with the chapter but it's the best I could do right now #sorry for the LONG wait

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punmasterkentparson · 6 years

Text

Was Your Date Successfully Crashed?

inspiration from this shitty idea post.

It’s on ao3.

Kent is incapable of going on a good date.

He tries. For the last year, he has tried. Tinder and OK Cupid and even eHarmony for a bit, although the subscription rate was ridiculous. It doesn’t matter; his dates always go wrong.

There was the guy who showed up to dinner and said, “Sorry, I already ate, but it’s cool if you want to order something.”

There was the woman who ran into her ex and spent twenty minutes chatting with him while Kent just stood there.

There was the guy who took Kent to a carnival and had a meltdown over a ring toss game.

There was the woman who got up during a movie and whispered, “I’m going to the bathroom, be right back!” and never came back.

There was the guy who was late and kept texting excuses for over an hour before ultimately sending, “can’t make it, sorry, something came up.”

There was the woman who invited Kent to a house party and then spent the whole time ignoring him in favor of talking to other people, and then had the audacity to call the next day asking for a second date.

And now there’s this guy, Henry, the son of a friend of Kent’s great-aunt, which means Kent is honor-bound to give him a shot. But Kent already knows there won’t be a second date. Conversation is excruciating; Henry gives single-word answers to everything and barely elaborates. When their food arrives, Henry sends his plate back twice with cosmetic complaints. Kent talks about his job as a personal trainer and the night classes he’s taking to be a physical therapist, and halfway through, Henry takes out his phone and starts scrolling.

Kent endures another five minutes and three bites of his steak before he can’t take it. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he says abruptly, and flees for the men’s room.

Hidden in a stall, he grinds his teeth and wishes he was the sort of asshole who would ditch in the middle of a date and leave his companion to foot the bill. He also wishes he wasn’t afraid of what Great Aunt Ruth would say if he did that.

He just really wishes he had an excuse to cut the date short. He shoots off a text.

jeff, help.

bad date? dude i told u to get off tinder

not tinder. blind date. son of a friend of aunt ruth or something.

oh shit. yeah ur stuck.

fuck u i’m in hell. can you call me in five minutes with some work emergency?

uh, no, ‘cause i’m at my niece’s bat mitzvah and my sister would kill me? she’s already glaring ‘cause i’m talking to you!

then what tf do i do???

suck it up.

no wait!!! carl told me about this app last week. i ignored him cause, u know, carl, but maybe u can try it? it’s called hinder. it’s like tinder but instead of finding ppl to date, u find ppl to CRASH ur date.

... that cant be a real thing.

nah i just checked the app store, it’s real. lmfao these reviews are hilarious.

Kent opens the app store on his phone and searches “Hinder.” There’s only one matching result. Hinder: We’ll ruin your date so you don’t have to.

Oh, what the hell, he’s desperate. He downloads it. The main menu is similar to all other dating apps he’s used, although he finds that he doesn’t get to choose a particular person to bust in on his date, he can only make a request. Apparently, it depends on availability. Whatever. Kent ticks as many preference boxes as he can. He hesitates when he gets to scenarios: Ex-partner, Ex-spouse, Spouse, Mistress, Friend, Other.

He checks everything. Again: he’s desperate. He’ll take someone pretending to be a jealous spouse if it gets him out this.

The last step is adding a photo of himself, so his date-crasher can recognize him. Kent takes an awkward selfie and posts it. He realizes too late that it’s obvious he’s sitting on a toilet in a bathroom stall.

Fuck it.

He spends a total of ten minutes in the bathroom. When he gets back to the table, he’s pretty sure that Henry thinks he was taking the world’s biggest shit.

“Sorry,” he says. “What were we talking about again?” He honestly doesn’t remember.

Henry taps a few things on his phone and puts it aside, then reclaims his fork from his plate. “I don’t know.”

“Okay. Um.” Kent wracks his brain for something, anything. “Seen any good movies lately?”

Henry shrugs. “I don’t really go to the movies.”

“What about on Netflix?”

“I have Hulu.”

What Kent wouldn’t give for a bolt of lightning to strike him dead. “Well, I don’t have Hulu. I’ve thought about getting it, though. Can you recommend anything?”

Henry thinks about it. “Everything on there’s pretty good.” He takes a bite of broccoli.

Kent picks up his own fork and digs into his steak. The sooner he finishes, the sooner he can go.

He almost chokes when a loud voice suddenly shouts his name across the restaurant.

“Kent! Kent, you here?”

Kent chugs water to clear his throat, then turns around in his seat. There’s a tall man with broad shoulders and a long face trying to get past the hostess.

“No, no, I’m not want table,” the man says, “just need find—Kent!” He spots Kent and hurries over. “Kent, have to go now!”

Kent stares at him, mouth agape. Everyone in the restaurant is staring.

“Kent, come on, have to go! She’s have babies!”

Kent manages, “I... I don’t know—”

“Your dog! Remember? You ask me watch because she pregnant! She’s have babies right now! I try text and call but maybe you don’t get, so I come! Oh, sorry,” the guy adds, finally acknowledging Henry, who looks as befuddled as Kent feels. “Sorry, I know it’s date, but is important, you know?”

“Um,” Henry says.

“We go, right, Kent?” And then the guy turns fully towards Kent, his back to Henry, and gives Kent a big, meaningful wink. “Yes? We go now, for dog?”

Everything abruptly clicks. Kent shoots to his feet. “Yes. Yes, we should absolutely go. Henry, I’m sorry, but it’s um—it’s an emergency.” He digs through his wallet, thankful that he has cash with him, and puts a few twenties on the table. “I think that’ll cover it.”

Henry frowns. “I thought you had a cat?”

Kent is frankly shocked that Henry was listening to him. “Yeah, uh, I have a cat and a dog. And I guess I’m gonna have more dogs.”

“Oh. Congratulations?”

“Thanks! Dinner was great, thanks for everything, see you!”

Kent grabs his jacket and pulls it on as he leaves the restaurant, with a total stranger hot on his heels. He doesn’t stop until they’re outside and halfway across the parking lot.

Only then does Kent turn to his rescuer. “I, uh, take it you answered my Hinder post?” he asks.

The guy grins. “Yes! I’m Alexei, nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand. “Sorry is confusing for you, I send message but you don’t respond, so I’m wing it.”

Kent laughs and shakes Alexei’s hand. “I’m Kent Parson. And don’t worry about it, you’re my hero. Thanks for saving me.”

“Is no problem!” Alexei keeps smiling, big and friendly. “I’m enjoy. Two months ago I’m start taking improv class for fun, you know? Join Hinder for practice, can be new character every time.”

Kent is impressed. “The practice is paying off. You were really convincing.”

Alexei beams. “Is because story not so much lie. Pregnant dog is my dog, Darya. But she’s not have babies until maybe next month. Improv class say it’s good use little bit your life, easier for make up story on the spot.”

“Oh, good trick. And congrats, I guess, for your dog.”

“Thank you! She’s very good girl, think she be great mama.” Alexei’s voice is full of pride. “You need me see you home?”

Surprise at the unexpected consideration makes Kent fumble. “No, I’m—I’m good. I drove. My car’s over there.” He points. “Do you need a ride?”

“No, I’m come with friends. We having dinner over there.” He points to a bar up the road, his expression turning bashful. “Actually I’m little bit rude, leave them suddenly. But I get notification and see you’re close by, and think you look like nice guy who don’t deserve bad date. You know?” His smile is embarrassed but earnest.

Kent’s face feels warm. This guy ditched his friends just to help him? “Well. Thanks.”

Alexei nods, still smiling. “Hope your next date go better. Go home safe, yeah?”

“Sure.” Kent waves after Alexei as he leaves, and then goes to his car. He opens the Hinder app and sees a message notification of Crash Accepted! on his post. It leads to Alexei’s profile, which just has his name, a counter for Dates Crashed (7) and a picture of him giving a big smile and a thumbs up.

There’s a banner prompt at the top, asking, Was your date successfully crashed? Kent selects YES, and Alexei’s Dates Crashed counter automatically ticks up to eight.

Kent grins, closes the app, and pulls up his earlier conversation with Jeff.

date officially over.

Jeff sends a thumbs up.

thanks for the hinder thing, it saved my ass.

someone showed up?

yeah.

and????

two words: tall & russian.

tell. me. everything.

#patater #preslash #i want to write more #here's hoping i do #omgcp #fanfic #oneshot #or is it #savvy writes

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thatbluegibson · 6 years

Text

CH 74

By the time Taylor caught up with Dave, he had already downed three shots of whiskey and was impatiently waiting for a fourth.

Taylor leaned an elbow against the bartop next to him, "You know you're way in the wrong here, dude."

Dave straightened his spine and glared at his friend, then swiped his freshly poured shot and threw it back. "I should have fucking known you'd side with her," he muttered, throwing his shoulder into Taylor's when he stalked past him.

Taylor sighed and shook his head at the bartender, effectively cutting Dave off. He ordered a couple tall glasses of water and watched Dave stomp away, knowing things were bad when even the drunkest of fans recognized the look on Dave's face and shied away instead of asking for a photo.

"Go ahead," Taylor sighed and folded into a wooden chair at the tiny table he found Dave at. "Get it all out."

Dave straightened up in his chair and held his hand in front of his face, resting his elbow on the table top as he counted off on his fingers. "One, she has a fucking busted head and shouldn't be alone. Two, I have that big ass empty house where it's just me and occasionally the girls, who are fucking dying to meet her and she still fucking insists on some shitty rental out on the coast. It's like an hour's drive from me!"

Taylor listened carefully, watching the crowd milling around the other side of their table.

"Three during rush hour," Dave added miserably and it took everything Taylor had in him not to laugh. He looked like a petulant child that was told he didn't have enough tickets at the prize counter.

"All right, ready?" Taylor shifted to look him in the eye. "Put your goddamn fingers back up cause I'm addressing every single one of your complaints."

Dave shot him a glare out of the corner of his eye. "Fuck you," he muttered into his water glass.

Taylor ignored him and held his own fingers up, unable to hide his smirk. "One, her head is fine. She couldn't have fixed up that house with her head caved in and you fucking know it. Two, and this one is multidimensional so pay attention. Yes, you're alone in that big ass house, but your loneliness doesn't mean she needs to uproot herself and her kids just to make you feel better. Do you honestly expect her to meet the girls when she's knee deep in packing peanuts? 'Hi, I'm Liz, I'm moving into your Daddy's room because I'm your new Mommy!'"

Dave practically lunged at Taylor, "Fuck you, Hawkins. You know that's not-"

"Phee is going to see it that way, dude. She's three." Dave's silence was the only answer Taylor needed. "Jesus, Disco. Give the poor girl some space. Meet her family, get to know her better, let things happen naturally. You do this every time."

"I do not."

"No? You don't find some amazing woman and spend every waking moment aggressively wooing her until you're latched on like a goddamn barnacle? You rush into things because you think she'll find something better before you can get your hooks in. There's more than just your feelings in play this time, man. You have to consider the kids and above all, her."

Dave crossed his arms in a huff, letting Taylor know that everything he had said was accurate. "Just a couple months ago you were begging me not to see her."

Taylor snorted into his glass. "Say that again, but slowly."

Just a couple months. Fuck.

"David!" Paul's cheerful voice called through the phone after several rings. "I have a feeling I know why you rang..."

"Hi, you wouldn't happen to have my girlfriend, would you?" Dave moved his coffee mug off of the note Liz had left him and re-read her handwriting. By the time he had woken up that morning, Liz was gone and a note stating she was at Abbey Road with Paul lay in her place on the pillow. The rest of the night before had been tense, but civil for the sake of the cameras that had discovered their presence on the streets of London, though she did burrow her way into his arms when she finally came to bed. It felt as if they were at an impasse and all he wanted was to get back to normal.

Paul hummed a little then said, "Oh, I think I've seen her skipping about. Would you like to come down and look for yourself?"

Fifteen minutes later, Dave slipped through the side door at Abbey Road Studios, successfully avoiding the crowds of tourists trying to get their own photo out on the zebra crossing or in front of the graffiti wall. The heavy quiet of several insulated studio walls greeted him in the lobby and he tossed back the hood on his sweatshirt to nod at the woman sitting in reception. She smiled and tipped her head to the door behind her, wordlessly giving him access to the depths of the historic studios. Dave wondered if he would ever get used to his face being its own ID badge, especially on such hallowed grounds as these. He moved quickly down the long hallway, peeking into tiny windows set into doors and avoiding rooms with the ominous 'in session' red light shining above the room plaques.

Abbey Road held six studios all ranging from the largest purpose-built recording room in the world down to what was known as 'The Front Room' where only a couple musicians could comfortably fit into the booth. Just as Dave was looking over the schedule posted outside of Studio Three, the door opened slightly and Paul appeared to wave him in.

The control room was dark, lit only by the 96 channel console and a dim lamp on an end table while a piano played through the desk. Paul dropped into a chair at the console and pressed his fingertips together in front of his lips, nodding out into the studio to indicate Dave should take a look.

The studio was dark and looked significantly smaller than he remembered now that the acoustic screens were pulled into position around the ebony grand piano Liz was playing. A single light on top of the piano was aimed at her hands on the keys and her back was to him as her right foot kept silent time against the Persian rug beneath her. Headphones were perched on her head, skewed slightly so she could hear herself play in real time and in playback and Dave could just hear her voice singing softly along.

"Damnit," she said loud enough for the mics to pick up and turned her head to the side. "Once more?"

Paul leaned over the desk and pressed the intercom button. "As many as you like, love. I'll just leave it running."

She didn't wait before starting from the beginning and Dave slowly sat in an empty chair. He had never heard her play the piano, though she looked perfectly at ease like she was playing in her own living room.

"She's a bit distracted this morning," Paul said softly.

"Yeah, that's probably my fault," Dave admitted.

"Hmmm...," Paul thought about what to say before leaning back in his chair. "You know, the very second I laid eyes on Elizabeth I thought she was a long lost daughter of Linda's. Or, if I had really believed all that reincarnation rubbish the Yogi threw at us, that she is Linda."

Dave looked over at him not sure what to say, Paul seldom brought Linda up and he sensed it was because it still hurt too much. "Really?"

Paul nodded, his eyes still fixed on Liz's back. "My girl was this vast ocean of talent that took years to get to the bottom of...," he paused for a moment, deep in thought. "Sometimes I think maybe I never made it to the bottom. She had so much more in her... And I always hated that, yeah? She was something in her own right and then here I come to make her just Mrs. Paul McCartney. Didn't seem very fair for her to lose all the recognition from her art just because she fell for a bloke like me."

Dave looked back at Liz, watching her sway in time to the music. He hadn't thought of it like that before. She had worked so hard to get where she was and now that she was quitting, what did that make her? His girlfriend. Just a rock star's girlfriend.

A sour note rang across the board and Liz pressed her fingers into the keys in frustration, then hung her head. Paul chuckled a little, "If only she were blonde, it would feel just like fifty years ago in this same bloody studio. You don't get a song like 'Maybe I'm Amazed' with just any woman, now do you?"

Liz got up to stretch her arms and Paul followed her cue by standing from his chair. "I'll go find us some tea, then," he muttered, then left the control room, whistling as he walked.

"You're here!" Liz popped her head in the control room and smiled at Dave. "Sorry you had to suffer through that."

"I loved it," he offered. "Like a jazzy disco-era Stones." He watched her move across the room in her leggings and loose shirt and shifted a little in his chair. He couldn't stay too mad when she looked like that.

"Oooo, Disco Angie! You should rock opera that," she laughed and flopped into Paul's empty chair, hit the playback and spun the chair to face him. "Did dear old dad give you a talking to as well?"

Dave pulled his hat low on his forehead and grinned. "Yep."

"Was it about the domestic bliss that awaits us if I could just quit being so goddamn stubborn?"

He laughed and leaned his elbows onto the board, wishing he had some coffee, "No, mine was more of a reminder that you're pretty kick ass with or without me, so I need to get my shit together if I want you to stick around."

She smiled and tucked her bare feet under herself, "I got the lease on the house in Malibu knocked down to three months."

His heart skipped a little at her words. She had shortened her lease to meet him halfway and he immediately began to think of a way to return the favor. "So we'll come to blows again in three months?"

She smiled and turned back to the board. "It's a date."

#ThatBlueGibson

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