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emy-loves-you · 3 years

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Snowed In

Janus and Remus get stuck out in the middle of the snowstorm. Patton is the kind stranger that saves them.

Pajamus (Patton/Janus/Remus)

Word Count: 4,718

Warnings: Mentions of Sex, Guns (but no gun injuries), Hypothermia

Masterlist

Janus growled as he trudged through the knee-high snow. “W-why did you believe that it was a good idea to p-play with a gun in the car?” His boyfriend, Remus, merely shrugged, apparently not seeing anything wrong with their current scenario. Janus rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I love you too, Janny-poo!” Even though Remus seemed to have no trouble moving forward, practically skipping through the snowstorm, Janus knew he wasn’t fairing much better.

Janus frowned as another shiver ran down his spine. “We need to find shelter for the night, and possibly a way to call Roman.”

Remus whined, trying to cover up the way his legs buckled for a moment. “Why did you have to bring up my brother? He always interrupts our fun time, even when he’s not here?”

Janus snorted, blinking rapidly when his vision went spotty. “You see this as a fun time?”

Remus giggled breathlessly. “Of course! We’re alone, I’ve got Bertha in one pocket and a condom in the other, and Roro isn’t here to cockblock us!”

“Hello?!” Both of them froze, staring at the pale yellow light in the distance. “Is anyone out there?”

“Over here, Sweetcheeks!” Janus couldn’t even find himself to be mad at his boyfriend giving away their location to a potential serial killer, his vision swimming as he forced himself to stay standing. The yellow light came closer, but Janus couldn’t focus on it, the winter chill seeping through his bones. He heard muffled words before his world went dark.

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When Janus woke up, his first reaction was to shiver violently. He groaned softly, gripping the soft blankets around him. There was a gasp followed by footsteps before a cool hand touched his cheeks. Janus flinched away from the touch before falling unconscious once more.

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This pattern of waking up to shiver before falling back asleep continued several times before Janus regained the strength to stay awake. This time he was actually able to open his eyes, and he was slightly surprised to find the room empty. Seeing as this was the first time he’s been awake long enough to see, Janus took stock of his surroundings.

The room was large, but it was difficult to view it that way, the walls covered floor-to-ceiling with large wooden bookshelves. Each shelf was filled to the brim with books, except for a few shelves clearly missing a book or two. The bed Janus was sleeping in was smaller than he was used to, most likely a double-mattress, with dozens of dark blue and space-themed blankets on top of him. A small lamp sat on the night table next to him, the stars and designs on the body of the lamp appearing to be hand-painted.

“Oh, you’re awake!” Janus’ head snapped to the doorway and he winced, clutching his head as a headache quickly formed. “Oh, don’t strain yourself, please! Here, take this.” Janus felt something being pressed against his lips and he quickly pressed them shut, not trusting whoever was in front of him. “It’s just pain medication, I swear. Here, would you take it if I showed you the bottle it came from?” Janus didn’t move, and the stranger seemed to take that as confirmation. “Alright, I’ll be right back!”

The footsteps retreated but Janus kept his eyes closed, trying to ignore how much his headache was affecting him. As he waited for the stranger to come back, he belatedly realized two very important things:

The clothes Janus was wearing were not the clothes he was wearing out in the snow, and he didn’t know where his clothes or his gun were.

Remus wasn’t there with him.

Janus grunted softly as he forced himself into a sitting position, ignoring how heavy his limbs felt. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, shivering as his bare foot brushed against the nightstand. Just as he was about to try and get up the footsteps returned followed by a gasp in surprise.

“Oh, please don’t get up yet! You’re fever just broke an hour ago and I don’t want you to overexert yourself. Here, I have the bottle they came in.” Janus glanced down at the bottle now in his palm and read the label. “Headache relief, take 2 every 3 hours, no more than 12 in 24 hours.” Janus tried to remember the numbers but his head was still sluggish. He tried to open the bottle, but the child-proof seal proved to be too much for him at the moment. A warm hand covered his own as the stranger opened the pill bottle, their movement slow and obvious as they kept the bottle in Janus’ field of vision.

The pills were gently pressed to his lips once again, but this time Janus opened his mouth to take them. A glass of water was held up to his mouth and Janus drank eagerly, a small stream spilling down his chin. When the glass was pulled away Janus gasped for breath, the cold water making it easier to focus. “...where...am I?”

The stranger turned away and Janus looked up at them for the first time. They were short and on the heftier side, tufts of curly chestnut-brown hair peeking out over a sky-blue turtleneck. “You’re in my cabin, around a 10-minute drive from where I found you, and you’ve been here for almost 2 days now. You and your friend had some pretty bad hypothermia. What were you doing out there in the middle of a snowstorm?”

Janus shrugged. “My friend was messing around and we crashed the car. Where are my clothes? And my friend?”

The stranger turned around and Janus bit back a gasp. Standing in front of him was the most beautiful angel he had ever seen. Soft, round face; a smattering of freckles across pale skin. A pair of wire-framed glasses made their cerulean blue eyes look big and innocent, and plump pink lips formed a little ‘o’ before they answered. “Sorry, I had to change you out of those wet clothes. They’re all clean and dry downstairs in the living room, along with your… other items.” Janus suddenly remembered his lack of weapons and gripped the blankets tighter, suddenly feeling much more exposed. “Your friend is in the room next to yours.” They gestured to the door they didn’t come in through. “The rooms are connected through that closet, and when you’re feeling better I’ll help you over there so you can see him. His fever broke last night, but he hasn’t woken up yet.”

Janus snorted, speaking without fully thinking. “Remus sleeps like a log, he’ll wake up when he’s ready to wake up.”

The stranger gasped, a pretty pink blush dancing across their cheeks. “Oh, how rude of me!” They held out their hand for Janus to take. “I’m Patton Heart, he/him pronouns please!”

Janus tentatively took Patton’s hand, giving him one firm shake before letting go. “Janus, he/him. Remus also goes by he/him.”

Patton smiled and Janus felt his heart practically melting. “Thank you for letting me know!” Janus heard something beeping and Patton gasped. “My soup! I’ve gotta go take care of that.” He rushed over to the door before giving Janus one last stern look. “Don’t you even think about getting out of bed, mister! You need to save your strength so you’ll get better.” He nodded dumbly and Patton smiled, closing the door behind him.

Janus stared at the door for a few more minutes before shrugging, deciding it best to follow Patton’s orders for now. The man didn’t seem threatening, and he didn’t appear to be a threat to Janus or Remus.

Janus groaned as he laid down. “Roman’s gonna kill me. I’ve gotta give him another raise when this is all over.”

Roman was Remus’ twin and Janus’ personal assistant. Janus’ parents had each owned their own successful companies before they passed away, and Janus had made work of expanding them into his own financial empire. Roman gladly took up the job of managing the company behind the scenes, making Janus’ only job to make the big decisions, keep Remus happy, and not get kidnapped. While that third one could be easily solved with a few bodyguards, Janus preferred to just have himself and Remus armed and vigilant.

He had been driving home from a business meeting (he hated having chauffeurs when he could drive perfectly well on his own) when Remus decided to mess around with his favorite pistol, or ‘Bertha’ as he tended to call it, and they ended up crashing the car.

Janus sighed, his eyelids already growing heavy again. Maybe just a few more minutes of sleep…

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It wasn’t until around noon the next day that Remus woke up. Janus had been awake for around 2 hours now and had just finished eating when he heard Remus swearing in the next room. While Patton went to assure Remus that ‘no, you aren’t being kidnapped right now, and no, this is not a sex thing,’ Janus slowly got himself out of bed and made his way through the open door and into the other room. This room was much darker than the one Janus was staying in, with purple and black decor and My Chemical Romance posters on the walls. Patton was facing away from Janus, fretting nervously. Remus was still laying on the bed, whining about how much his head hurt. “My head feels like it just had an orgy with Dwayne Johnson and-”

“Remus.” Janus growled out, and both of them turned to look at him.

“Janny!” Remus whined out, making grabby hands. Janus rolled his eyes and slowly walked over to the bed, putting his hand in Remus’ hair. Remus melted into the touch and Janus smiled fondly.

There was a sigh and Janus looked up to see Patton frowning slightly. “I could’ve helped you in here, you know.”

Janus smirked. “I’ll be sure to ask for help next time.” He then sighed. “We need to call a friend to pick us up. May we borrow a phone?”

Patton frowned, looking away. “I’m sorry, but the phone lines went down last night. And the storm’s still going on strong, so even if you managed to call someone they wouldn’t be able to get here until after the storm let up. But you can stay here for as long as you’d like!”

Janus glanced over to Remus, who just shrugged. Janus thought about it for a few minutes before sighing. “If you’re alright with it, then we’ll stay.” It’s not like there’s much else we can do.

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The next day, Janus and Remus recovered most of their strength and explored the rest of the house. It was a simple house, with three bedrooms and one bathroom upstairs, and a bathroom, living room, study, kitchen and dining room downstairs. When they made their way to the living room, Janus’ attention was immediately drawn to the dozens of photos that lined the walls. All of them had Patton with two children. One kid was pale and short, probably around 12 years old, with Patton’s chestnut-brown hair but brown eyes. They wore an oversized purple hoodie in most of the photos. The other kid was tall and lanky, probably around 16 years old, with much darker skin and wavy black hair tied in a knot and dark blue eyes. They wore a pair of glasses like Patton’s, along with a polo and necktie in most of the photos. “Hey, Pat?”

“Yeah?” Patton called out before his head popped into the living room, a tray of small sandwiches in hand.

Janus gestured to the pictures lining the walls. “Who’s in these pictures?”

Patton beamed, setting down the tray. “Oh, those are my kiddos! Virgil’s the one in the hoodie, and Logan’s the one with the necktie! They’re just the sweetest little things!”

Remus piped up from where he was sitting on the couch. “Why aren’t they here with you?”

Patton sighed, sitting down. “Well, Virgil’s mom got pretty upset when I came out as bisexual, so we got divorced around 3 years ago. I get to have him all summer vacation and on weekends, while she gets him on weekdays and all winter break. Logan’s technically my godson, but I adopted him 2 years ago. He goes to a fancy boarding school for gifted kiddos out in the city, and he wanted to stay there during the break since Virgil wouldn’t be here.”

Janus frowned, his chest aching at the sad look on Patton’s face. “What are your sons like, Patton?” he asked, not being subtle with his desire to change the subject.

Patton didn’t seem to notice, smiling like a proud parent should. “Oh, they’re the bestest kiddos ever! Logan’s really smart, and he always has fun little facts to share! And Virgil’s really good with music, I don’t recognize most of the songs he plays but they’re still really good!”

Janus smiled, taking a bite of his sandwich while Patton rambled on about his kids. Maybe staying here for a little while wouldn’t be so bad after all.

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“Remus, we are not having sex in a kid’s closet!”

It had been almost a week since Janus first met Patton, and things had been going pretty smoothly so far. The three of them spent most of their time chatting and spending time together. It was obvious that Patton was lonely in this big cabin all by himself, almost as obvious as how attached Janus and Remus were to the sweater-wearing dad. There were very few moments where Janus wasn’t either spending time with Patton or thinking about him. And it was very obvious that Remus was feeling the same way, and that he was trying to find distractions for these newfound feelings.

By having sex in a closet, apparently.

Remus whined, practically throwing all of his weight on top of Janus. “C’mon Jan, it’s been ages since I’ve touched you!” He pouted and batted his eyelashes. “Pretty please, Janus?”

Janus sighed, leaning back on the door that connected the closet to Virgil’s room. They hadn’t told Patton that they were in a relationship, and they were still sleeping in the kid’s bedrooms, so they hadn’t actually had any time together in a while. “Just kissing.”

Remus purred, his hand reaching behind Janus’ head to pull him closer. “Fine by me.” They wrapped their arms around each other, their first few kisses hot and desperate, before melting into slow, languid kisses-

“Eep!” Janus quickly pushed Remus off of him, who fell back on the floor with a quiet ‘oof.’ Patton stood in the doorway to Logan’s room, blushing brighter than a cherry. “I’m sorry- I didn’t- I- I’ve gotta go!” And then he was gone.

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When they eventually got over their own mortification of getting caught and found Patton again, he was perfectly fine, all traces of blush gone. “You should have told me that you two were together!” He chided. “I’ll take Logan’s bed and you can have the bed in my room!”

Janus blushed. “We’re perfectly fine with our current arrangements Pa-”

Patton interrupted, putting his hands on his hips in the ‘I’m the dad, you listen to me’ voice. “Nope, no buts!”

Remus snorted. “Hehe, ‘butts.’”

Patton smiled fondly before continuing. “I’ll be fine in Logan’s room. Besides, that bed’s too big for little ol’ me anyways.” He clapped his hands and spun around towards the kitchen. “Now, who’s ready for lunch?”

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Patton was avoiding them.

Well, avoiding would be the wrong word to use, but Janus didn’t really have a word to fit their current situation. He still ate with them and they still spent hours chatting about anything they could think of. But there were quite a few times where he would get really excited or he would give Janus or Remus a look that would make their hearts melt, but then the light in his eyes would die and he would close himself off. Janus didn’t know what to make of it.

It didn’t help that he and Remus were absolutely smitten with the kind-hearted man. They’ve been sleeping in Patton’s bed for 3 nights now (an alaskan king bed, two big for the two of them, and definitely too big for Patton all on his own), and contrary to what would’ve been expected, they didn’t spend their time getting, ahem, reacquainted with each other. Instead, they cuddled on the too-large bed, whispering about how they felt about the amazing man who slept just down the hall.

They had just finished lunch and Patton had rushed off to clean up the plates, despite Janus and Remus’ assurances that they could clean their own dishes. Janus got up to at least clean up the living room when-

Knock knock knock

Patton stepped back into the living room, his eyebrows pinched as he wiped his hands on a small towel. “That’s odd, no one should be out in the middle of this storm.” Patton opened the door and Janus immediately knew who it was from his voice alone.

“Hello, I’m looking for two men. One looks like me with a mustache and the other looks like he would actually take candy from a baby.”

“Gee, thanks.” Janus called out sarcastically as Remus shouted “Roro!”

Patton came back to the living room with an enraged Roman trailing behind. Roman stormed in and grabbed Janus by his (technically Patton’s) sweater, shaking him slightly. “Where the hell were you?!? I thought you and Remus were kidnapped! I was tempted to send out a search party! You’re lucky that the GPS on you’re car was still working!”

Janus gulped. He had almost forgotten how terrifying Roman can get. Almost. “Relax, we’re both safe and sound, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Roman glared at him before letting go of him with a huff. He then pulled Remus into a hug. “God, don’t scare me like that again.”

Remus chuckled softly. “You know I can’t promise that Roro.” He looked up at Patton’s confused look and pulled away from Roman. “Oh, time for introductions! Patton, this is Roman, my twin. Roro, this is Patton. He’s the one who saved us!”

Roman looked up at Patton and nodded. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Patton. Thank you for saving my brother. And my boss.”

Patton blushed. “Oh, it was noth- wait, boss?”

But Roman had already turned to face Janus. “C’mon, we need to leave ASAP. I had to postpone 3 different meetings to find you, and we can’t launch the new HYDRA TECH product until you officially give the go-ahead.” He looked around at everyone’s faces and suddenly realized that there was something he didn’t know. “...You have 10 minutes before the helicopter takes off.” He quickly left to give them privacy, the shutting of the door the only sound for a while.

“...So,” Patton chuckled nervously, looking away, “you have a helicopter.”

Janus blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… I inherited quite a few companies from my parents.”

“Oh.” Patton frowned. “...Were you ever gonna tell me?”

“Eventually.” Remus piped up. “It’s kindof dangerous, having so much money and so little protection. You can’t say things like that to just anyone, y’know.”

“Right, of course.” Patton didn’t really sound like he agreed though. He suddenly smiled, a smile that by this point Janus and Remus knew was fake. “Well, I guess it’s time to say bye.”

Janus frowned, stepping forward. “Patton-”

Patton held his hand up. “Nope, you heard him. You have important business stuff to go do. No reason to stay here any more than you already have.”

Janus looked hopelessly between Remus and Patton before sighing defeatedly. “Alright. Goodbye Patton.” And he left without another word.

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After a whole week of being away from Patton, Janus was just about ready to throw everything away and run back to him.

The only things stopping him were his company, and the fact that he was pretty sure Patton didn’t like him back. Or Remus, who seemed to have taken it even harder than Janus had. He’d spent the entire week curled up in their room, staring off into space or sleeping. Janus had completely dove back into work, hoping that by the time he was done all of his feelings would be gone.

Roman was the one who put an end to it, slapping a manila folder onto the desk.

“Here’s all the information I could find on the guy you were staying with. Patton Heart, age 36. Has partial custody over his biological son Virgil Heart, and full custody over his adopted son Logan Heart. Worked as a vet for several years before retiring shortly after his parents died 3 years ago. Owns that cabin and stays there year-round. No living family other than the kids. Virgil is homeschooled while Logan goes to Sanders Academy for the Gifted.”

Janus was surprised by the last part. “Logan goes to Sanders Academy?” Janus’ family had been huge donators towards the academy and Janus had joined in shortly after they died, even becoming good friends with the headmaster.

Roman nodded before realizing what was going on. “Oh, no you’re not. I see that look in your eyes. You’re plotting something.”

Janus sputtered. “I’m not plotting!”

Roman snorted. “Dude, that’s your plotting face.” He suddenly grew serious. “Just don’t do anything that’ll hurt my brother, got it? Goodness knows he’s already hurt enough.” And with that he left, leaving Janus to plot.

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Logan Heart was a very good student. He always showed his work, he aced every test, and he never, ever, cheated.

So, when Logan’s counselor arrived to tell him that Headmaster Sanders himself wanted to speak with him, without any warning as to what this conversation would be about, Logan grew to be very, very nervous.

He walked into the Headmaster’s office considering every option under the sun as to why he would be summoned in the middle of the day during winter break. He did not expect to find said Headmaster quietly chatting with the school’s main benefactor, Mr. Hydra.

Headmaster Sanders looked surprised, as if he didn’t expect Logan’s presence (or perhaps he just didn’t expect him to arrive so quickly). “Ah, Mr. Heart, how delightful for you to join us.” He suddenly got up, holding his hand out for Mr. Hydra to take. “I’ll leave you two some privacy. It was a pleasure to see you again, Janus.”

Mr. Hydra smiled, shaking his hand. “The pleasure was mine, Thomas. Tell the mister Remus and I said hello.”

The Headmaster chuckled. “I’ll make sure I will. Yell if you need anything!”

When the Headmaster left Mr. Hydra gestured to the seat next to him. Logan sat down stiffly, not entirely sure of what was going on. “Mr. Hydra-”

“Please, Mr. Hydra was my father.” The man interrupted, waiving his gloved hand. “Call me Janus.”

“...Janus,” Logan ammended, trying to not squirm as he kept eye contact. “I’m not quite sure why I’m here. Could you please explain that to me?”

Janus chuckled. “You’re so smart and polite, just as he said you were.”

Logan felt his lips twitch into a frown. “Just as who said I was?” It was highly unlikely that he was referring to the Headmaster, or any of the counselors. So that only left…

Janus shifted, suddenly looking… uncomfortable? Embarrassed? Logan always struggled with reading facial expressions. “Patton did. He’s actually what I came to talk to you about.”

Millions of scenarios began flying through Logan’s head at once. “What happened to my father?”

Janus waved his hands frantically. “No no no, nothing’s happened to him, I promise!” When Logan finally calmed down, he continued. “My boyfriend and I met your father around 3 weeks ago. We had crashed our car in a snowstorm, and your father rescued us and nursed us back to health. We stayed with him for nearly 2 weeks before leaving.”

Logan nodded. “You needing to tell me this implies that there’s more to this story.”

Janus blushed and looked away. “Yes, well, you see-” He huffed, crossing his arms. “This sounded like a much better idea in my head.” He turned back to face Logan. “My partner and I both developed romantic feelings for your father over the course of those 2 weeks, but we were forced to leave before we could tell him or learn if our feelings were reciprocated.”

Logan nodded in understanding. “You want me to ask Patton if he harbors any feelings towards you or…”

“Remus. And yes, I would be most grateful if you did so.”

Logan sighed, moving his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You do realize that it will be near impossible to do this, right? My father has an extremely difficult time with admitting what he wants. I hope you also know that my father wouldn’t want to enter a relationship that quickly. Contrary to what he might say, he is still rather heartbroken from Virgil’s mother leaving him.”

Janus nodded. “Of course, but I need you to pull every trick in the book. Guilt tripping, ‘innocent’ questioning, doe eyes, whatever you have to do. Surely you must know what makes your father cave by now. And we can take it as slow as needed, I just need to know before we accidentally break our own hearts, or his.”

Logan stared before sighing. “Alright. Do you have a number I can give him?” Janus scribbled off a number and handed it to him. “Thank you. This will most likely take a few weeks, so don’t get upset if he doesn’t immediately call. If I’m confident that he does not harbor any romantic feelings for you, I will call you at the earliest convenience.”

Janus nodded. “Thank you.” He went to get up, but Logan grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him down to face Logan.

“Oh and one last thing. If you do anything to harm my father, physically, emotionally, you name it, my brother and I will find a way to make your life a living hell. Got it?” Janus nodded, not even showing a hint of shock or fear. “Good.”

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It took two weeks for Janus to get a phone call.

It was the most miserable two weeks of Janus’ life. He hadn’t told Remus of his interaction with Logan, not wanting to get his hopes up. So, he spent two weeks glued to his cellphone, desperately hoping for and dreading the inevitable phone call.

He had been in bed when it came. He shot up and answered the unknown number, putting the call on speakerphone and ignoring Remus’ questioning look. “Hello?”

“...Janus?” Remus jumped at the voice but Janus put a hand up to silence him.

“Hello, Patton. I see Logan sent you my number?” Remus gave him a questioning look and Janus just mouthed ‘later.’

“Yeah, he gave it to me a few days ago.” The line went silent for a second. “Is Remus there?”

“I’m here.” Remus croaked out, apparently still awestruck by the thought that Patton was calling them. “What do you need, Pattycake?”

There was a giggle, and Janus felt his shoulders untense from the sound alone. “Well, the storm’s finally let up, and Logan wants me to come visit him at his school. I was wondering if maybe you wanted to meet up for lunch. Not on a date or anything! I don’t think I’m ready for that yet, but-”

“Patton.” Janus interrupted, and the line went silent. “We would love to have lunch with you. Would you like to invite Logan, and maybe Virgil?”

“...Yeah, that sounds really nice.” There was more silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was calm, peaceful, relieved. “How about next Tuesday at 2pm? We can meet up at Logan’s school and choose where to go then.”

“Sounds amazing Pattycake!” Remus called out, a new light shining in his eyes. “We’ll see you then.”

“Alright, bye!”

“Goodbye!” They both called out as Patton hung up. Remus turned to Janus, a large smile on his face as he kissed him. And Janus had just as big of a smile as they kissed. They kissed for hope, for new beginnings, and a chance for love.

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Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst @whatishappeningrightnow @idont-freaking-know @cute-and-angsty-princess @artsy-enby09 @girl-who-reads @larrymalecsolangelo

#sanders sides fic #pajamus #janus sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders

63 notes · View notes

twstarchives · 4 years

Text

Trey Clover・Voice Lines

Additional Voice Lines: Star Send-Off Garments Event Card

School Uniform - R

Unlock Card “It’s important that you be cooperative if you want to get comfortable with this school. There’s no harm in listening to what the vice dorm leader says, don’t you think?”

Groovy “Watching you brings me back to when I was a new student.”

Home Setting “How are you feeling?”

Home Transitions “Something smells sweet? ...Oh, I baked a cake earlier. There might be some left if you run to the lounge right now.”

“Don’t Ace and Deuce ever annoy you? They’re not bad people, but they’re definitely an exhausting set of juniors.”

“Hahaha, it feels like you’re still nervous wearing your uniform. What? That’s not a bad thing. It’s innocent and endearing.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Hey, are you done with your classes for today? Don’t get too wild and bother the teachers, alright?”

Home Taps “Riddle has always stood out, ever since the moment he arrived here. It caused a huge fuss when he became dorm leader.”

“It’s important to study, but you’ll get nothing out of it if you work so hard that you make yourself sick. Taking it slow is the best thing you can do.”

“You should get dental exams just as often as your regular check-ups. Should I refer you to a recommended dentist?”

“If you want to know how to get along with your classmates, go ask Cater. He’s got a lot of friends.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a little busy right now; could we do this later?”

PE Uniform - R

Unlock Card “Well, ‘easy does it,’ right? Getting too carried away isn’t a good thing.”

Groovy “You’re challenging me to a game of magift? Haha, alright. I’ll let you have a head start.”

Home Setting “Are you done warming up?”

Home Transitions “Ow... While we were in the middle of stretching, Lilia pushed my back down as hard as he could... I even told him to be gentle.”

“It’s really important that you exercise every once in a while and not just stay cooped up in your room. Well, I do understand not feeling up for it.”

“My glasses always get in the way when I’m playing sports... Maybe I should try contacts some time?”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “I’m really not that fond of exercising... But, I’m not necessarily bad at it.”

Home Taps “I used to play soccer a lot in the past. My parents were always really insistent that ‘You need to be strong for making sweets!’”

“Coach Vargas kept yelling ‘Show me what you’ve really got!’ at me today. I wasn’t exactly trying not to put in effort, though.”

“Cater was very insistent that I tell him how to grow taller. I told him that I didn’t really know, but he’s not the type to take no for an answer.”

“I agree that Flying is an important course to take, but the truth is, I don’t like it that much... Keep that between us, alright?”

“Since you seem to have so much energy today, could you go buy some things for me?”

Lab Coat - SR

Unlock Card “This kind of work is more my speed. No need to worry; let me handle things.”

Groovy “Work steadily and carefully. That’s important for both when you’re experimenting and when you’re cooking.”

Home Setting “What do you want me to make?”

Home Transitions “Have you gotten used to our school yet? You won’t exactly find a library or a botanical garden as big as the ones we have anywhere else.”

“They grow herbs and fruits that are kind of unusual in the Botanical Garden. Don’t go around carelessly touching them, alright? It’d be dangerous if one turned out to be poisonous.”

“Deuce was begging on his knees for me to help him with his work... I have to applaud him for that enthusiasm.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Why don’t you stop by the science club if you’ve got the time? I think Rook would be happy to see you too.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “I made caramel yesterday with some leftover ingredients I had. Would you like some? I have so much.”

Home Taps “I like chemistry. It’s a lot more time-consuming than magic, but in turn the satisfaction you feel when you see the reactions is much stronger.”

“Err, where did I put my glasses... Oh, here they are. I’ve been misplacing them a lot lately.”

“Professor Crewel is sort of... intense, but his teaching style is very thorough. He helps us a lot with our club.”

“Cooking is one of the science club activities too. It counts as a type of chemistry, doesn’t it?”

“If you honestly just can’t sit still for a few minutes, I’m worried about how you’ll be in the future.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Watching you guys reminds me of my little siblings. They were always causing a racket; I never knew how to manage them. Hahaha.”

Ceremony Robes - SR

Unlock Card “If you don’t want to lose your head, then behave during the ceremony, alright?”

Groovy “C’mon, are you sure you should be here right now? You’ll be in trouble if you’re late to the ceremony.”

Home Setting “Let’s hope nothing bad happens today...”

Home Transitions “What? Ace was trying to ditch the ceremony? ...I see. Thank you for letting me know.”

“Should you be wandering around by yourself here? We’re relying on you to look after Grim, Prefect.”

“You want to take my picture? I’m not that comfortable with things like this... Cater, on the other hand, would be thrilled to take one with you.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Alright, there’s a lot I need to get done today. Come let me know if you’d like to help out with anything.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Standing in the Ramshackle Dorm in your ceremony robes is definitely... an interesting sight.”

Home Taps “I know people have conflicting opinions on this, but I don’t think there’s a more fitting dorm leader for Heartslabyul than Riddle.”

“Lilia seems so bombarded with work on ceremony days. Being Diasomnia’s vice dorm leader must be rough.”

“The Headmaster takes very good care of the apple tree in the courtyard. That reminds me, which do you like better: apple pie or tarte tatin?”

“I don’t know how I ended up with Cater; it just happened. When I’m with him, I don’t have to be careful about anything—it’s very comfortable.”

“It’s for your own good that you stay obedient during the ceremony. It’ll drag on forever if you make the Headmaster angry.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Riddle has everything put together, so there’s not really anything for me to do as the vice dorm leader. I’m kind of like a decoration.”

Dorm Uniform - SSR

Unlock Card “I was in the middle of painting the roses, but... I guess I can’t turn you away if you need something.”

“The preparations for our parties must always be perfect. But don’t worry about it; I’ll handle everything.”

Groovy “It’s stressful having so many difficult people around. Make sure that you be good, alright?”

Home Setting “There’s nothing better than wearing clothes you’re comfortable in.”

Home Transitions “Here’s a chew toy so that Grim can clean his teeth... ow, ow, ow! Alright, I’m sorry! I get it—he can brush his own teeth!”

“Cater, I swear. He ran out on his flamingo feeding duty again. I have to admit, that silver tongue of his really is impressive.”

“Not a single rose can be overlooked while we prepare for our tea parties. They can’t be pink, green, or aquamarine; they all have to be red.” ¹

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Tea parties and croquet matches are both special, traditional events in Heartslabyul. As the vice dorm leader, I have to work hard for them.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Are you coming to our next Unbirthday Party? I’d like to hear your opinion on a new tart I’ll be making.”

Home Taps “The fireworks we use for the Unbirthday Parties are... What? Isn’t it obvious that we’ll be ending the party with fireworks?”

“‘Why aren’t our rose corsages painted all the way?’ It’s supposed to represent the moral that ‘You must not forget to double-check everything.’”

“I like hats, so I have several of them. This is a special one I had custom-made to match our dorm uniform.”

“Riddle and Cater are both so demanding when it comes to decorating the tables. Who do they think is the one who has to do it all...?”

“Oh, I know we’re supposed to have our buttons done, but... My bad; I’m out of uniform.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “‘When do I get mad’? It’s true, I guess it doesn’t happen very often... But isn’t that a good thing? It’s not like you want to see me that way, right?”

Duo Magic Trey: Sometimes we gotta show everyone our senior pride, Cater! Cater: Anytime’s fine by me, Trey! ♪

Birthday Celebration Outfit - SSR

This card was only obtainable during Trey’s birthday event (Oct 23 - Oct 29, 2020).

Login on Birthday “Haha, I’m kind of getting embarrassed. Thank you. According to the rules of the Queen of Hearts, you’re allowed to be selfish about anything on your birthday. So what should I ask you to do...? Oi oi, don’t get so tense. Wasn’t it obvious I was joking?”

Unlock Card “I’m glad that you’re all celebrating for me, but I think I’m better suited for being on the party planning side.”

“Today’s my birthday, huh...? I’d want to spend it as quietly as I can, but that’s impossible knowing this school. Honestly...”

Groovy “It’s actually kind of nice seeing you celebrate for me so passionately. I had fun thanks to you.”

Home Setting “I feel like this outfit makes me look like a birthday cake.”

Home Transitions “When you eat sweets at a party, make sure to brush your teeth thoroughly that night. That’s not one of the Queen’s rules, but I recommend it.”

“I used to bake the cakes for my little siblings’ birthdays when I was back home. I would burn them a lot when I first started making them.”

“Rook gave me a hat with a posh feather in it. ...What outfit would go well with this?”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “You remembered my birthday? Thank you. Let’s enjoy the party without going too over-the-top.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Now, since it’s my birthday, what should I ask you to do...? Don’t get so tense; I’m just joking. Just wishing me a happy birthday is enough.”

Home Taps “Cater and Riddle told me that I’m banned from entering the kitchen today. Am I really that predictable?”

“Lilia from my class told me that he used to get excited for his first 50 birthdays, too... What a weird joke.”

“Ace and Deuce asked me what I wanted for my birthday... and so I told them ‘juniors who actually listen to their seniors.’”

“Earlier, Chenya randomly showed up, said nothing but ‘Happy birthday,’ and vanished. He’s always so unpredictable.”

“This brooch’s design looks like rose vines in the shape of a club. Do you want to see? I could take it off and show you.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “I drink my favorite tea every year on my birthday. If you’d like, I could pour you a cup too.”

Duo Magic Trey: Oh, you came to celebrate too, Ace? Ace: As always, thank you, Trey!

Tutorial “We have to go soon. Or we’ll lose our heads.”

Lv Up “Haha, leaning on others for help sometimes is nice.”

“This wouldn’t have happened without you working so hard with me.”

“Yeah, I’m feeling really confident about this.”

Max Lv Up “I don’t want to let my juniors see the sides of myself I’m not proud of. That’s why I tried so hard.”

Episode Lv Up “I have a lot fun being with you. ...Hm? ‘That sounds like a lie’? What could I say to make you believe me?”

Magic Lv Up “My magic has gotten stronger than it was before. This is the result of the intensive training we’ve done together.”

Limit Break “I know this doesn’t sound like me, but... I want to try seeing how far I can go. Would you like to join me?”

Groovy “I’m happy to know even I still have room for improvement.”

Lesson Select “You seem kind of sleepy. I won’t wake you up if you fall asleep in the middle of class.”

“It’d be nice if our first-years here were just as dedicated to their studies as you are...”

“My best subject? I guess I’d have to say Alchemy... but I’m pretty average with everything.”

Lesson Start “Alright, time to focus.”

Lesson End “Good job today; let’s keep this up next time.”

Battle Start “I don’t really want to have to get violent...”

Battle End “I’m not that good at getting fired up about things.”

Other

Profile Quote “Sorry, but would you mind helping me paint the roses red?”

January 2020 Trailer “Whoa there! Be careful not to plant any white roses by mistake.”

Countdown Poster “Perfect timing! Would you mind helping me paint the roses red?”

Player Birthday Wish “Happy birthday. I went all out baking a special birthday cake for today. Now, what exactly is ‘special’ about it... you’ll see once you eat it. Everyone’s waiting for us. Let’s go.”

Valentine’s Gift Letter (2021)

These letters were originally in English. I didn’t translate or edit them in any way. They came with official merch from Aniplex, and are not present in-game.

Hey you, Thanks for the gift. I didn’t expect anything from you, so you kind of surprised me. Now what should I give in return… I don’t want to give you something you don’t like, so please tell me: Is there anything you want? If there is, I’ll try to find it for you! Hope you have a great one!

1. They can’t be pink, green, or aquamarine

This references a line from “Painting the Roses Red”

#twisted wonderland #trey clover #voice lines

200 notes · View notes

wazzupmrstark · 4 years

Text

breaking curfew [part five] || th x reader

A/N: a nice five am update for ya

Summary: When you got the job to be a counselor at the summer camp you’d grown up attending all your life, you expected to see some familiar faces. But you certainly hadn’t counted on having to work alongside the boy who had made it his life’s mission to make your life a living hell every summer. In fact, you thought you’d never have to see Tom Holland again. But he’s is in the cabin right across from yours with campers of his own- smirk, jawline, and all. If you didn’t know any better you might’ve thought that he applied for the position just to spite you, but who were you kidding? What kind of asshole would do something like that?

Warnings: swearing

What I listened to while writing: the breaking curfew playlist by @cinnamon-roll-peter!!

Word Count: 2.1k

Series Masterlist

You stared out at a small cluster of confused faces gathered at the base of the stairs and forced a chuckle, elbowing Tom in the ribs for him to do the same. The two of you had scrambled to clean the art cabin before the campers arrived and you were mostly successful. Mostly. You threw paper towels and clorox at anything with a stain, but had neglected to do anything about your own appearance. The cabin looked spotless, but you and Tom looked like something out of a mishandled coloring book which explained the looks of shock coming from the kids standing before you.

“Hi guys!” you exclaimed cheerfully and beckoned them inside. “Welcome to Arts and Crafts! I’m y/n and this is Tom and we’re so excited to get to spend the summer making cool projects with you guys! In fact, we’re so excited we decided to personify art, hence all the body paint.”

“Um, yeah,” Tom stammered. “We’re the human embodiment of what you’ll all be doing today! Anyone wanna take a guess?”

“Abstract art?” one kid piped up at the same time another one said “making ugly paintings?”

You choked on a laugh while Tom blinked in disbelief. “Not quite, we’re just going to be making regular paintings, but good guesses!”

You directed the campers to the tables and finished washing the brushes you and Tom had used while he showed them how to make hand peacocks.

While the water ran you watched him interact with the kids. He was goofing around with them, pretending to fuck up his painting to make them laugh. It came so naturally to him... and there was that jealousy bubbling up in your chest again, envious over how easily he got along with everyone, not just the campers.

“Those brushes clean enough, y/l/n?”

You looked down into the sink and realized you’d been rinsing the same four paintbrushes for several minutes while you’d been staring at Tom. You grinned sheepishly and turned the faucet off, shaking the brushes dry.

“Whatcha thinkin about?” he asked when you joined him back at the head of the crafts table.

“Hm?”

“You looked pretty lost in thought over there, what were you thinking about?”

“Lunch?” you offered.

He looked like he didn’t believe you but didn’t push any further, just smirked. “Figures.”

Fy looked amused when you approached him in the mess hall at lunch.

“I’m so sorry about your shirt,” you apologized weakly, staring down at the paint stains.

He shrugged and brushed it off easily. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I am worried about it!” you argued. “You were nice enough to lend me your shirt and Tom had to go and ruin it-”

“Oh, this is Holland’s doing?” Fy asked, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, we’re running the arts and crafts activity together,” you muttered.

“I should’ve known, this has his name written all over it.”

“Thought you guys were friends.”

Fy shrugged. “More or less.”

You wanted to ask what that meant, but your campers were calling for you from the table.

“I’ll wash the shirt and get it back to you good as new, promise.”

“I told you, it’s not a big deal, y/n,” he insisted.

“I’m still gonna do it.”

He smiled. “I know.”

“Catch you later?” you asked, liking the feeling of familiarity between the two of you.

“Showers? Same time as always?”

You felt your face heat up as you walked away, hoping none of the other counselors had overheard and gotten the wrong idea.

“Are you okay, y/n?” Amalia asked as soon as you sat down with them. “You’re all sweaty.”

Damn these kids didn’t miss anything.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little warm,” you lied. “Why don’t you girls tell me about your activities today?”

You zoned out as they talked, only half listening to their stories about archery and volleyball. You knew you should pay better attention, they were your campers after all, but you couldn’t stop thinking about this morning with Tom. It had gone weirdly better than you expected, and maybe it was just a fluke, but it was kind of nice. You almost let yourself think that maybe the summer wouldn’t be so bad after all. If you didn’t know Tom you might have actually believed it.

“Up and attem, girls!” you called out and flicked the lights on only to be met with a chorus of groans and protests.

It was only the fourth day and they were already exhausted. The newness of camp had worn off and routine was beginning to settle in. You knew they’d get used to the constant excitement of camp life soon, but there was always an adjustment period. It didn’t help that you had to get them up early today either.

You had to get them up half an hour earlier than usual for mess hall duty. Every cabin was assigned at least one breakfast, lunch, and dinner throughout the summer to do mess hall duty, usually with another cabin, and today just so happened to be Cabin 11’s breakfast shift.

“Come on!” you tried again, shaking Grace and Theo who still had their eyes stubbornly shut tight. “We’ve gotta get to the mess hall in five minutes! No one can eat without us!”

You managed to get them all out of the cabin in seven minutes, which was honestly more impressive than you were expecting, but it still meant you were running late.

Harrison and his campers were already gloved up and ready to go when you finally burst into the mess hall with your five campers in tow.

“Nice of you to join us,” Haz scoffed cooly once he laid eyes on you.

You rolled yours in return. “You think I’d miss out on an opportunity to work with you? I never turn down charity work.”

You caught a hint of a smile. “Good one.”

While Harrison was an asshole he was nowhere near as insufferable as his partner in crime and the two of you had always at least seemed to have an understanding when you were younger. You wouldn’t bother him if he wouldn’t bother you. That could only last for so long.

You instructed your girls to get some hand sanitizer from the dispenser and grab a pair of latex gloves from the box- all except May. Latex wasn’t an allergy listed on her paperwork, but you gave her the special rubber gloves just in case.

Harrison’s boys took the lead and started sorting silverware, showing your girls how to do it as they worked. They were only a little older than your campers, third or fourth grade, but they were patient with the girls. When Grace jammed the napkin dispenser her partner showed her how to fix it without getting frustrated. And when Eva dropped a tub of spoons all over the ground her partner helped her pick them up instead of making her do it herself. They were polite and responsible... and nothing like Harrison.

How had he ended up with such well-behaved kids? Either he played fuckboy way too well or he’d just gotten lucky. You were willing to bet on the latter.

“Tom told me you guys are doing arts and crafts together?” Harrison prodded as the two of you watched the kids work.

“Yeah,” you narrowed your eyes, “what’s he said about it?”

“Not much, just mentioned it in passing. How do you feel about it?”

“Like I’d tell you,” you scoffed.

“What’d I do?”

“You don’t think I learned my lesson in seventh grade when you told the whole music class I could play a Kesha song on the recorder? I told you that in confidence! You can’t keep a secret to save your life, Haz, and you’re a double agent no less.”

Harrison pretended to gasp and put a hand to his heart. “Smart and pretty? Who would’ve guessed?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

He took the bait and leaned in, quirking an eyebrow. “Then what will?”

You ignored him and straightened up. “So how’s Nicole?”

That snapped him out of it. “What?”

“You know, the girl you’ve been pining over for the better part of a decade?”

“She wants nothing to do with me,” he said simply with a shrug, not denying your previous statement.

“Maybe that’s just because you want something to do with everyone else?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You held your hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying, she’s not going to wait around forever.”

“And who says she is now?”

“I’m not!” you insisted. “I can’t pretend to know what Nicole is thinking, I’m just saying that you shouldn’t keep dragging it out if you’re not going to do anything about it. It’s not fair to her.”

Harrison sighed and crossed his arms. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

“Says the girl that openly admitted to playing Kesha on the recorder.”

“I didn’t openly admit it! I told you, Harrison, and you openly admitted it to the whole class!”

“The details aren’t important.”

“I think we should do mess hall duty every morning,” Grace announced as your cabin sat around the breakfast table later that morning.

“Why’s that?”

“Because Grace has a crush on Will,” Theo answered simply as if the answer was obvious.

Grace shot daggers at Theo from behind her bowl of cereal. “No, I just think it was fun.”

“Sure,” Eva chimed in sarcastically. “Doing the dishes is my favorite thing to do too.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get to do mess hall duty with Harrison’s cabin a few more times this summer, Gracie. But if you really like doing dishes I can always request that you be an assistant in the dining room every meal-”

“Nope!” Grace shouted, cutting you off. “I’m good!”

You smiled and nodded. “Okay, well let me know if you change your mind.”

Four days turned into five, and five turned into a week, and soon enough things were starting to feel normal. You got used to doing arts and crafts with Tom in the morning and spending free times with Z. You lifeguarded and helped plan excursions and cheered your team on during games for the competition. Even when they were losing- which was a lot. Rock climbing, scavenger hunt, manhunt, geocaching, all Ls.

They always got so down after losing a competition and all you could do was offer empty promises about how the next time would be different. They were tired of hearing it and you were tired of saying it.

Still, even though sweeping the entire competition was seeming less and less likely, you wanted to win at least one contest for your girls.

“You get the chalk, I’ll grab the hoola hoops!”

What had started off as a beautiful sunny day had quickly turned around to be dreary and overcast. You and Tom decided to take Arts and Crafts outside for the day so the kids could enjoy the weather, but dark clouds started rolling in as soon as you stepped outside.

Now it was pouring, and you and Tom had to scramble to get everything inside. You watched the colorful chalk portraits bleed off the sidewalk and into the gutter as you gathered up what was left of the pieces, feeling a little bit sad you hadn’t been able to capture them with pictures before they were ruined like you were planning.

All the kids were already gone. They’d run off to lunch when it started raining, but Tom was already up under the awning with all of the hoola hoops and jump ropes waiting for you. You tucked all the little chalk pieces into your shirt and raced up the steps to join him before retreating to the warmth inside.

You dumped the chalk on the first craft table, ignoring the stains it left on your shirt while Tom put the toys away in the closet. In the distance, thunder rumbled.

“Fuck, they’re going to lockdown the camp aren’t they?” you groaned, not wanting to be stuck with Tom for the duration of the storm.

“If the lightning gets any closer, definitely.”

“I don’t suppose it’ll go away if we ask it nicely?”

“Not how storms work, but I respect the grind.”

You slouched over into a stool and rested your head in your hands with your elbows on the table. The rain didn’t seem like it was going to be letting up any time soon meaning the entire schedule was going to be skewed- not to mention you were going to have to spend God knows how long locked up in this cabin with Tom Holland. “Fuck me.”

“Maybe later.”

You raised your head the tiniest bit and glared bitterly. “Wasn’t talking to you.”

“I’m the only one here.”

“Still applies.”

“Ouch.” There was a beat, then, “so you’re saying if we were the only two people left on earth, or a deserted island or something, you wouldn’t-”

“Can we not do this right now?” you sighed, rubbing your temples.

Tom chuckled indignantly and shook his head. “Jeez, no wonder your kids think you’re no fun.”

You whipped around immediately. “What the fuck did you just say?”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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#breaking curfew #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #enemies to lovers #tom holland enemies to lovers

523 notes · View notes

dcforts · 4 years

Text

[ring for an angel]

11k, half au, ao3.

Dean speeds up as soon as he spots the blinking Rooms Available sign half a mile away. The tires squeal on the wet asphalt as he makes a rapid turn and enters the parking lot.

It’s not a big place. Ten rooms or less, all ground floor. The blue neon sign on top of the short building says Feathers in a friendly font and has a pair of little wings and a halo to blink with it.

Pretty tacky, if you were to ask Dean in another moment. But right now, he doesn’t give a rat’s ass how the place is called. Right now, he’s got Sam slumped in the passenger seat, wet like a fish and shaking with cold.

They had an unplanned encounter with two vetalas they were hunting a couple of towns back. In the last few weeks the vetalas had lurked on a hiking trail, casually bumping into tourists to steal something valuable from them, only to attack them once they returned on their steps to search for it. Being the middle of winter, they’d been feasting undisturbed, favoured by the small numbers of people that braved the paths and by the sun setting early.

Dean and Sam waited the early hours of the morning to cross the police tapes and track them, but the trail was long, it was dark and cold and the vetalas had the advantage of being familiar with the grounds.

They hadn’t seen them coming.

They would have still managed to overpower them if only one of them hadn’t pushed Sam into a lake and fled and Dean had been too worried getting him out of the freezing water, to worry about the other one fleeing as well.

He got him quickly to the car, but all the motels they passed by were full, and every mile Dean had driven had seemed a mile too far and every second a second too long to have Sam paling and shivering and half unconscious in the Impala.

He had stripped him of his heavy jacket and shirt, draped his own jacket and flannel over him, trying to dry him as best as he could, and cranked the heating at its max, but Baby could only do so much. Outside the windows, it looked like it was about to snow.

Dean increasingly worried about the way Sam seems to slip more and more into unconsciousness. He tried to keep him talking, slapping his chest and asking him questions but for the last ten minutes or so, Sam had his head lolling on one side and his replies had become only barely coherent mumbles.

But they are here now. Dean stops the car and shakes him awake one more time; he touches his face, tries to meet his eyes.

“Hey, Sammy, look at me,” he says and Sam seems to make an effort to focus on him, “we are here. We’re gonna get you inside now, you hear me?” he says. “You just gotta hold on for one more minute. I’m gonna check us in and you’ll be warm in no time.”

Sam’s nod is weak and his pale face is not at all reassuring, but Dean knows it will do no good to stay in the car. He needs to get him inside.

So he braves the cold in only his t-shirt for the short jog it takes to get to the lobby. It’s a little inviting square of bright light. Mostly glass doors, which is an unusual choice for a motel, and especially not in a place of the country where it gets this cold. But the glass turns out to be thicker than it looks and the room, surprisingly warm. Dean finds himself exhaling relieved, as the door closes behind him.

The place is definitely new, all furniture is shiny clean and modern. In a corner, a few tables make up the breakfast area with a brand new model of coffee machine. Everything is in white, except the light wood counter right in front of Dean, that has engraved on it a replica of the blue sign that is outside. Dean only now notices that everything is angel and heaven themed. There are little white wings on blue wallpapers all around him that make the place look like a nursery. Behind the counter, there’s an open door that gives into a dimly lit backroom. But as far as humans, no one.

“Hello?” Dean calls, frowning and craning his neck to try and spot someone moving inside.

He turns towards the parking lot again and sure enough, it started snowing. Irritated by the delay, he approaches the counter and spots a little desk bell. It’s painted light blue and it says Ring For An Angel to match the theme of the place.

Dean hits the bell a couple of times but nothing happens. “Hello?” he calls, and he hits the bell again and again, nervously tapping on the wood with his other hand. He spots an open book next to keyboard of the main computer. Someone is there then. Dean doesn’t stop hitting the damn bell.

Come on.

How long a piss break can take?

He is about to shout “Hello?” again when, finally, someone emerges from the backroom.

It’s a guy about his height, dark hair and striking blue eyes. He is wearing just a white shirt and a blue vest with a tag that reads Steve and he’s carrying a steaming mug in his left hand. He lingers on the threshold, between dark and light and stands there, just watching him.

“Yes?” he says then, in a wary tone. His voice is deep and husky, as if he just woke up, and if you were to ask Dean in another moment, it was like the bow on an already rather attractive package, but right now Dean is too irked by his attitude to pay him that kind of attention.

What does he think he could he possibly want?

Okay, maybe aggressively hitting their desk bell and coming in from the snow with his arms bare and probably dirt smeared across his face, it’s not exactly the best first impression Dean’s ever given to someone. But who cares? He just wants him to do his job.

“I need a double for tonight. If you could make it fast,” he says, hastily. He ignores the way the guy just keeps standing there, watching him – he can be weird, but honestly, he’s seen worse – and fishes out his wallet to grab a credit card. He slams it on the counter.

“Make it two nights.”

Finally, the guy moves.

“I need to see some identification,” he says, placing aside his mug and exchanging it in his hand with Dean’s card. He studies it meticulously, looking at each side and everything.

Crap.

Usually at this time of night nobody even bothers with this. Dean has no idea whose name’s on the card he just gave him and he can’t really deal with this when Sam’s in those conditions back in the car. He pulls out one of his fake IDs and hopes for the best.

But of course the guy – Steve – does the opposite of giving it a once over, like anybody else would. In fact, the asshole holds the ID next to the credit card and, upon inspection, clicks his tongue.

He looks at Dean with a raised eyebrow.

“And how would you like me to register you, as Mr. Houdini or as Mr. Plant?” he says. He doesn’t look even a little bit amused.

Dean isn’t either. He clenches his fist and his jaw. He tries to keep calm but he just doesn’t have time to waste with this guy.

“Either works.”

“Not for me.”

“Alright, Poirot,” he bites out, “it’s my uncle’s card. Do you wanna call him in the middle of the night to check?”

Steve levels him with a hard stare.

“No, but I can ask you to leave.”

Dean pales. He feels the ground giving in underneath him.

“Jesus. Look, I don’t need this right now. I got a medical emergency. The card works, just give me the room.”

He knows he sounds distressed and as he hardens his tone and raises his voice, possibly a little scary, but he is just out of options. This is it. He doesn’t know what he can possibly do if the guy actually kicks him out of there.

The guy stays impossibly calm and that just adds to Dean’s anger.

“If you refuse to leave, I can call the police.”

“Damn it! I don’t have time for this.” he says making eye contact to try and get through to him. What is he, some kind of robot? Does he even blink? “You don’t understand. My brother is sick -”

“I could recommend another establishment three miles ahead. They are less selective with their guests. I’m sure they’ll be happy to welcome you.”

Fuck. Dean hits the counter with a fist so hard that the little bell shakes and a handful of business cards slide down from their pile. Steve doesn’t even flinch. Dean exhales heavily and tries to calm down. This isn’t doing any good.

“I can’t go any farther. Believe me, I would,” he says, matching his cold stare and trying to keep the volume of his voice in check. “My brother is outside in my car and he’s freezing to death,” he says, enunciating every word. Steve impassive façade crumbles a little. He looks suspicious, frowns and titls his head a little to the side. Dean keeps going, sensing an opening. “He can’t possibly go another mile in this snow. I can’t take him anywhere else. You gotta let me take him in.”

Steve blinks at him like he’s trying to understand if he is in fact out of his mind as he seems. “What?”

“My brother,” he repeats, still firm but now pleading, “he is soaking wet and unresponsive and I need to warm him up before he dies of hypothermia. I’m not lying, I’m begging here. I need you to do me this solid, man. And it’s gotta be now. Please,” he says, almost out of breath.

Steve searches his face with an inquisitive look for a long moment in which Dean can feel his heartbeat speed up. Then Dean sees him reach under the counter and he holds his breath. He may have a shotgun or one of those buttons that calls security or something. Instead what he holds up and slides over the counter is a room key.

“3 B” he says.

Dean exhales in relief, looks at the key, then up at him. In a second he’s grabbed it and he ran out again. The cold bites his bare arms but he’s almost at the Impala and he doesn’t care.

He opens the passenger door and lets Sam up, slinging one of his arms over his shoulders to carry him more easily.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Sammy, come on, I need you to walk now, can you do that? We’re almost there.”

But Sam barely moves. “Sammy?” he calls again, more urgent now. “You gotta help here.”

Sam tries to take a step but his legs give out under him. “I can’t do it.” he says. “It’s too cold.”

“Course you can. The door’s just there,” Dean says, struggling to keep himself upright too.

Then he hears footsteps behind them and suddenly the weight becomes more bearable as Steve is holding Sam up from the other side.

“Come on,” he simply says, in response to Dean’s silent question. Dean sees that he doesn’t have his coat on either, he must have been right behind him. Dean nods and accepts his help.

Together they can easily lift him and get him inside. Dean leaves Steve to lower him on the bed closest to the door as he turns on the lights, checks the heater and starts a warm bath.

Then he is over Sam again, untying his boots and taking off his socks and addressing him gently but urgently to keep him talking. He feels Steve’s eyes on him the whole time, boring the side of his face. He has taken a step back and he’s watching them from the door with a thoughtful expression. Dean looks up at him and not unkindly he says: “I got it from here”.

Steve nods, catching the drift. He says “I’ll be in the office,” and slips out of the room, clicking the door shut behind his back.

Three hours later, Dean can’t sleep. He is sitting at a little table against one of the walls and he is watching over Sam, finally asleep on his stomach, clutching his pillow. He promised him he wouldn’t do that, but he can’t help it.

It took a warm bath, dry clothes, a long sesh with the hairdryer (and a half-fight about hair length), all the blankets in the room, a cup of tea – that Steve brought on his own initiative, knocking lightly on their door – two temperature check and a hundred or so questions about how he was feeling, but Dean is fairly certain that Sam is fine now.

Dean is also fine. He doesn’t feel his heart in his throat anymore. He is tired, but he can’t sleep. He will be able to really relax only when the sun will come out and Sam will wake up and he will be able to forget about all of this. If he goes to sleep now, he knows he’ll only have nightmares.

But his legs are feeling stiff and Sam’s snoring is not very entertaining, so he takes out some change from his jeans and heads out.

The jacket that he used on Sam is still hanging to dry so Dean has to make do with just an extra shirt. Thankfully the snow has let up and he is only planning on making a quick stop to the vending machine he saw outside earlier.

As he walks towards it though, his eyes are drawn to the bright light that comes from the main building across the parking lot. No one seems to be in sight but Dean now knows who’s there. And he also knows that he kinda owns him an apology.

So he pockets his change once again and takes off towards it.

As the glass door swings open and he lets a swirl of cold air inside, Steve looks up. He is sitting on a high stool behind the counter now, and has his book on his lap.

Dean greets him with a nod as the door closes behind him.

“Hey.”

“How is your brother?” Steve asks, same cold tone and deep voice.

Dean stops one foot short from the counter. “He’s gonna be fine,” he says. “Sleeping now.”

Steve nods and doesn’t offer anything else. “So,” Dean shrugs in the awkward silence, “just thought I’d come say ‘sorry’ about earlier. I’m not usually such a jerk. You really saved my ass though, so, thanks.”

Steve appraises him for a long moment and in the end he asks, “What happened to him?” again sounding a little suspicious.

“Slipped into a lake. Just an accident” Dean gets closer to the counter, and clumps his hands together on the wood, trying to make it sound like it’s not a big deal. "He’s a little clumsy."

Steve’s frown deepens. “Why didn’t you bring him to an hospital?”

“It would be a little difficult to explain.”

“What would be?”

Dean tilts his head on one side and sighs. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you and you wouldn’t even wanna know, trust me.”

Steve doesn’t seem like he trusts him even one bit. In fact, he doesn’t seem to appreciate at all his evasive answers.

“If it makes you feel any better, we’re not bad guys.” Dean adds, going for charming, trying to melt the ice a little.

Steve still looks at him unimpressed. “That is exactly what a bad guy would say.”

And somehow the stark contrast between what he said and the way he said it makes it sound funny even if Steve didn’t intend to. Dean lets out a laugh and seeing him throwing his head back, one corner of Steve’s mouth tilts upwards ever so slightly.

The air around them lightens up a little and for the first time Dean takes in Steve’s mussed hair and broad shoulders, his strong arms, his tights trapped in his jeans. Dean realizes he may have checked him out a little too obviously when his eyes snap up and unsurprisingly he’s being stared at. He covers up his embarrassment asking: “So, whatcha reading?”

But Steve doesn’t seem in the mood to indulge his curiosity. He ignores his question and stands up to stop right in front of him. Despite the counter between them the guy is suddenly at a distance that Dean would deem a little too close for comfort for a stranger, and from where he finds himself now, he is forced to look up at him a little. But there’s a challenge in the way he confidently entered his personal space and Dean is not going to be the one who backs down.

Steve keeps eye contact as he takes something from under the counter and drops it in the space between his arms, right behind his clasped hands. Dean looks down: it’s his wallet.

“You forgot your personal effects.”

The wallet is closed and the credit card and ID have been put back inside, meaning that with every probability Steve has seen all the other stolen credit cards.

Dean is taken off guard but he’s determined to not give him the satisfaction of seeing him bothered, so he doesn’t move, says nothing and keeps challenging his gaze. Steve has an unreadable expression on his face, but judging from the lack of sirens swarming the place he hasn’t called the police. At least, not yet. He is staring at him as if he’s trying to see inside of him and from that distance, the intensity of his blue eyes make Dean’s skin tingle.

“I charged the room to your uncle,” Steve speaks again. "One of your many uncles apparently.”

Dean does his best not show how uneasy he feels.

He grins: "Guess you're not very familiar with the concept of privacy," he mutters, sliding his wallet in his back pocket.

"And you must be very familiar with the concept of theft."

"Hey, that's a very offensive assumption."

"Just an observation."

"Alright, then why haven't you called the police?"

He knows that he’s pushing his luck, this guy could make a phone call right away if Dean pisses him off. But there’s something that tells him that he won’t. He leans more heavily against the counter and the distance between them shortens still. He briefly licks his lips and grins cheekily up at him.

"You can say it's cause I'm handsome," he adds, teasing, breaking the silence.

Steve recedes of a few steps. "Your brother needed help," he says plainly, resuming his position on the stool, “I wanted to help.”

“And I appreciate that. Is there something I can do to repay you?”

Steve frowns. “I don’t want anything.”

“Oh, come on, we are friends now.”

Steve stays silent.

“Alright,” Dean grins. “Then allow me to give you a piece of advice. If you wanna be successful in this business, you really need to cut it out with the third degree. Cause, one,” he says, holding up a finger, “no one likes a busybody. And two,” he holds up another, “people coming to places like this expect the situation to be a little more chill when it comes to paperwork and whatnot. They aren’t gonna appreciate you playing the Spanish Inquisition with them, you know what I mean?”

“I just want the guests to be safe. I’m not going to endanger them letting just anyone walk in.”

“You made an exception for me,” Dean says, and it’s meant to be playful but it hangs heavy in the air.

Steve doesn’t break eye contact as he says “I did,” like he’s asking him not to make him regret his decision. If Dean had a collar now it would be a good time to tug at it. Man, the guy can be a scary son of a bitch with those eyes and all.

“Well, as I said, I’m not here to endanger anybody,” he says, rolling his eyes. "Alright, look, I can answer some more question if it’ll make you feel better.”

“And you’re going to answer truthfully?”

“Yeah.”

Dean starts to relax as he sees Steve’s face lights up with curiosity and for the first time since they met it’s the kind that it’s not suspicious, just genuinely interested. Then with a hint of saracasm, Steve asks, “Why are you here?”

“Working.”

“You and your brother are in the same line of business?”

“Yeah.”

“Which is?”

Dean stays silent, looks down at his hands, smirking slightly.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Let me guess. You’re not going to tell me because I wouldn’t understand nor wanna know.”

“Well, it’s true.” Dean shrugs in his defence. “But, it’s not what you think.”

Steve doesn’t press further but says, “He is your little brother, right?” Dean frowns a little and Steve adds, gentle: “You seemed very caring.”

“Yeah, well, it’s just us. We look out for each other.” He clears his throat. Steve must sense his uneasiness because he lets this one drop as well.

"Is your car stolen?" Steve asks then, out of the blue.

"What? No!” exclaims Dean, shifting on the spot. “That’s my baby. We’ve been together forever." He sounds outraged and Steve seems amused by it. “It’s a family car,” he grumbles, settling down.

“Do you carry a gun?”

Dean opens his mouth but no lie comes out of it. He gives him an apologetic look. "Generally, yeah."

Steve looks at him sternly. “Did you have one on you when came in the first time?”

“No, Jesus, who do you think I am?”

“I don’t know. You won’t tell me.”

Dean sighs and then plasters a big grin on his face. “My name is Dean Winchester, I’m from Lawrence, Kansas and I’m a Sagittarious. That’s it, really, it’s all there is to know.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” Steve says but he has his lips stretched in a half smile and Dean is gonna take it as a win. “But it’s nice to finally know your name, Dean.”

Hearing him say his name makes Dean’s heart strangely flutter for a second. “So, you satisfied?”

Steve lifts a shoulder. He seems to have relaxed as well.

Silence falls then and fills up the space all around them. There’s only the tired whirring of the computer informing them that it’s still alive and kicking and the hands on the wall clock that ticks away the night.

Dean doesn’t like the bright light, it makes the place look like the reception of a corporate office but he likes the way it smells, sweet, sugary, almost like – candy? It’s nice and Dean doesn’t want to go back to his room just yet.

He looks over his shoulder at the rest of the space, the heavy carpet at his feet, the fake plant in a corner, and his eyes linger on the pamphlet rack on the far end of the counter, stacked with local spring events brochures and hiking trails maps. He picks one up and gives it a once over.

“I heard about the missing people. Pretty freaky, uh?” he says, casually. “Did you know any of them? Heard they were mostly locals.”

“No. I- I moved here recently.”

The hesitation catches Dean’s attention. “Hm.” he puts the map back on the rack and focuses on Steve again. “From where?”

“New York,” he replies, a little reluctantly, and that picks up Dean’s interest even more.

Dean whistles and settles once again with his elbows on the counter. “Must be one hell of a change.”

“It’s quieter.”

“Got family here?”

“Just my brother, Gabriel, that moved when I did. My other siblings stayed in New York.”

“So, how did you end up here, then?”

Steve sighs and shakes his head. “It’s a long story.”

“Got all night.” Dean shrugs, then still sensing resistance he insists. “Hey, I answered your questions. Seems only fair you do the same.”

“If you call those ‘answers’,” he retorts actually air quoting and it makes Dean huff a laugh. He is starting to really like the guy. He’s kind of dorky but he’s cute and Dean is not sure if he’s ever felt more at ease with someone he just met than he does with him right now.

After another moment, Steve speaks again. “When Gabriel and I left New York, we went on a road trip. We were passing through and had a room here. The place was in shambles; but for some reason, Gabriel fell in love with it and, just - bought it. I guess he saw the potential in it.” he recounts. A fond smile blossoms on his lips. “He can be – very impulsive.”

“So you got stuck.”

Steve shakes his head. “We invested in it together. I was happy to stay.”

“Well, from what I’ve seen, I think you did a bang up job with the place,” he says, “Might even see myself sticking around for a couple more days. If something interesting to do comes up,” he says and grins suggestively.

But Steve frowns. “I’m afraid there’s not much to do around here. They closed all the hiking trails because of the missing people,” he says thoughtfully, completely unreceptive of Dean’s flirtation.

Dean rolls his eyes a little. “Right.”

“It’s better to visit during the summer. They even have concerts up on the mountains. They come from all over the world to see them.” he says and his voice gets a dreamy tone. “You get to meet all kinds of people.”

“Sounds nice.” he clicks is tongue and tries again. “So you brother is the owner, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then why is the place basically about you?”

Steve squints at him, confused. “How do you mean?”

“You know,” Dean grins and wiggles his eyebrows, “an angel.” Steve scoffs surprised and shakes his head as if he’s embarrassed to hear that, but Dean keeps going, “Helping me out even thought I didn’t deserve it. Trusting me. Giving me a chance when anyone else would have thrown me out,” he even throws in a wink.

“I would have never left someone to die out in the cold,” he says, but his cheeks are pinkier than they were a moment ago.

Dean gives him another of his patented dumb grins. “See? An angel in the flash right there,” he jokes and he even makes a show of ringing the little bell . “This must be the real deal. I mean, I rang for an angel and you showed up, didn’t you?”

Steve shakes his head again.

Dean leans over on the counter and lowers his voice. “Hey, you know what they say about freckles?”

“I don’t?” Steve says, surprised by the question. His gaze is drawn to the freckles all over his face and Dean feels his skin heat up.

“Well, you should look it up and let me know what you think then.”

They share a smile. The air gets charged and Dean gets a little dizzy. He bites his lower lip as his eyes follow the lines on Steve’s face, from his brow, his nose, his chin, along the line of his jaw covered in stubble and down his strong neck. Dean realizes he is shamelessly staring again.

With an almost involuntary intake of breath, he raps his knuckles on the wood. “Alright, uh, I should probably go check on my brother now.”

Steve nods, blinking rapidly, and he seems a little shaken too.

"And I should get ready to leave. My shift is almost over."

“Okay.”

Dean pulls back. “See you later, Steve,” he says, but all he receives is a confused look back.

“My name is not Steve.”

“Uh? Your vest says it is.”

“Oh,” he says, looking down at his clothes as if he only now remembers that he’s wearing them, “this isn’t mine. I’m just filling for someone else.”

Dean makes a pleasantly surprised sound. “Well, well, looks like I’m not the only one with a concealed identity after all.”

Not-Steve quirks his lips and says: “My name is Castiel.”

“Castiel." repeats Dean and he likes the way the name rings in his mouth new and unfamiliar. "Wait, so you’re saying you don’t work here?”

“No,” he says, “well, not usually. Only if they need me.”

“You know if they’ll need you tomorrow?” Cause I was kinda hoping to see you again, he doesn’t add, but Castiel must hear it anyway because he slighly blushes again.

“I have a shift at the library. Actually I should be opening in a couple of hours,” he pauses throwing a look at the wall clock, but then adds. “But maybe I can ask if Steve needs another night shift covered.”

Dean flashes his teeth. “Awesome.” then he eyes the clock above the counter too and sees that it’s five past seven already. He hasn’t notice because it’s still dark outside.

He makes a sympathetic face. “You are going straight to work after this? No hours of sleep?”

Castiel shrugs, “I’ll manage,” he says, but he hasn’t time to add anything else cause someone pushes open the glass door behind Dean and with a way too cheerful voice for that hour of the day exclaims: “I’ve got the kielbasa you ordered!”

A short blond guy comes in, carrying a big box that Dean instantly knows contains at least a dozen glazed donuts, and he can tell because his sense of smell when it comes to delicious food has never failed him. He feels his mouth watering and his stomach grumbles.

The guy says loudly and obnoxiously, “Good morning everyone!”

“Hello, Gabriel.” Castiel greets him.

“Cassie, what are you doing still here? I told you, you could leave early. You’re gonna be late for work.”

Castiel looks at Dean and then back at his brother, “I was with a guest.”

Gabriel follows the trajectory of his gaze and wiggles his eyebrows in an unsettling way, if you ask Dean.

“I see” he says, with a deep theatrical voice.

He rounds the counter and opens the box, angling it toward Castiel so that he can grab a napkin and a donut. Dean almost shouts “Ha!” as he discovers his predictions were correct. Those donuts look as delicious as they smell, and he can’t take his eyes off of them. He catches Castiel giving Gabriel an insistent look that prompts him to say, with a sight: “And does the gentlemen here have breakfast included, by any chance?”

“Yes,” Castiel says and Dean could kiss him right then if it wasn’t for the counter between them.

Gabriel rolls his eyes and open the big box to let Dean select a donut.

“And one for my brother,” he says, quickly snatching another before the lid closes on his fingers.

“Fine, two donuts! But now shoo Romeo, or Juliet here is gonna be late, and I’m the one they’re gonna blame,” he says, disappearing in the backroom.

Castiel wraps his donut in the napkin while Dean dives in unceremoniously on his. He watches as Castiel slips off his vest from his shoulders and starts gathering his things going in and out the backroom.

Then the glass door opens again and a petite dark haired woman walks in. She is dressed in all black and she’s sporting a pair of big dark sunglasses even if the sun is barely out.

She stops in her tracks as soon as she sees Dean. “Morning,” she drawls in a melodic voice, eyeing him up and down. Dean is on his second donut. Sam can’t miss what he never knew he had, after all.

He gives her a courteous quick nod, not bothering to cover his mouth full and the sugar all over his lips.

“Morning, Meg,” says Castiel behind him, and her attention shifts.

“Clarence, what are you doing still here?” she asks with the same phlegm, but Dean can sense a little exasperation as well, as if it’s something she often directs at him, “don’t tell me Gabriel is late again,” she is saying as she joins Castiel behind the counter.

“No, I was just about to go.”

She slides her sunglasses on her nose to look from Castiel to Dean and she keeps her eyes on him as she passes behind Castiel, making a show of trailing his shoulders with her fingertips. “Well, have a good day then, dear.” She says sweetly, disappearing in the backroom.

Castiel presses his lips together and gives Dean a somewhat apologetic look.

“She is a friend. And the bookkeeper,” he explains.

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Yeah well, you know what they say about people who wear sunglasses inside.”

Castiel looks at him confused.

“I don’t.”

Dean stops himself from rolling his eyes. “Forget it, another time, looks like you’re late already.”

Castiel’s eyes widen, “Right,” he says, as if he’d forgotten again that he was supposed to leave.

Dean downs the last piece of donut and eyes the coffee machine in the corner.

“Hey, coffee is free, right?”

Castiel throws a “Yes,” over his shoulder as he disappears once again into the backroom.

He remerges a moment later wearing a tan winter jacket and a wool beanie while Dean is still trying to figure out which damn button to press. Shouldn’t latest models be simpler? He turns back to Castiel who’s shouldering his backpack.

“How the hell does this work?”

Castiel huffs a laugh, grabs his car keys and goes to stand next to him. He quickly flips a switch, puts in place a paper cup and fiddles with the commands on the touch screen; the machine starts whirring. Dean realizes that they’re on the same side of the room for the first time in the whole night, if they don’t count the rescue mission for Sam. They are both looking at the coffee that is now filling the cup but Dean can’t help sneaking a glance at his profile, his straight nose and pink lips. He smells of some kind of sweet herbal tea and fresh snow, and Dean is inexplicably drawn to it.

The machine whirrs to a stop and starts beeping.

“Here you go,” Steve says, his voice low, and their fingers brush on the warm cup as he hands it to Dean. “Sugar?” he asks, now almost in a whisper.

Dean just shakes his head as if enchanted, and he kind of feels like he is, especially when Castiel smiles at him. It’s a pressing of lips but it reaches his eyes.

“I have to go.”

“Yeah.”

They both take a step back from each other like something just dropped at their feet and Dean realizes they were standing far too close than he thought. Suddenly, unprotected by the counter, he feels a little weird and seems like Castiel is feeling awkward as well.

He walks around him maintaining the distance, almost advancing on the side like a grab.

“Bye then.”

Dean nods and gives him an embarrassed wave.

Castiel hesitates with a gloved hand on the handle. He looks back at him.

“I’ll see you later?”

“Not going anywhere,” smiles Dean.

Castiel quickly turns around once again, and this time he pushes open the door and exits but Dean’s pretty sure he saw a smile on his lips.

He drinks his coffee and watches him as he walks towards his car. Then he loses him from his sight as someone in the room calls his attention back.

It’s Meg. She’s glaring at him, pointing at what Dean assumes are the donut crumbs that he left all over the counter. “How would you call this?”

She looks at him with her eyebrows raised, as she expects him to apologize but Dean goes towards the door and cheekily says: “A five stars breakfast. Thank you.”

Meg mutters something after him but he’s already out of the door and he can’t hear her.

Sam is still sound asleep when he goes back to their room. As the sun rises all the worries of the night before have disappeared. His encounter with Castiel has filled him with a lightness he can’t explain. He thinks it’s mostly sleep deprivation.

He takes a shower and when he gets out, he’s still feeling it. When Sam gets up, and he’s got glassy eyes, a nasty cough and a runny nose, and Dean argues with him to make it stay in bed – uselessly – but after that, he’s still feeling it. He even catches a nap as Sam showers and resumes his restless tapping on his laptop. And when he wakes up, he’s still feeling it.

Sam notices that there’s something different with him, because he keeps calling him back to reality, snapping his fingers and looking at him all weird as they plan what to do with the vetalas.

Dean insists Sam takes it easy and stays in for the rest of the morning – he complies, not without putting up a fight - while he drives back to the hiking trail. They fear the vetalas might have attacked again while they’ve been away, but there are no signs of them anywhere.

Which is still bad. If the vetalas skipped town they’re back at square one, and can only wait for their next attack, which could be anywhere, in a day or in a month from now.

But maybe they’re just staying low for a few days, thinking Sam and Dean will move on. Sam is really bummed out when they talk about it but Dean doesn’t think it would be too bad to stay around a few days more.

He gets back around noon to pick Sam up and go get something to eat. As they drive around Dean gets a chance to take a look at the town, the little shops, the tidy sidewalks, the nice little houses with their nice little gardens. “Hey, this place’s not so bad, uh?” he says.

Sam looks up from his tablet. “What?” he asks, like he was not paying attention. He sneezes. “Dean, we need to decide what to do,” he says then, but Dean is distracted by the tall building with the stone step they’re passing by. Hanging on the wall outside there’s a brass plaque that says Library.

“Uh?”

“Dean, are you okay? Have you, like, slept enough?”

Dean finally turns towards him, flashes him a smile. “You know what I think? I think we should look at some books,” he says, like he’s had a revelation.

“What?” Sam seems even more confused.

“Yeah, you know, get to know more about the local history, see if we can spot a pattern. Maybe these vetalas have been around for years. We should check for robberies gone bad too. I’m just saying,” he raises his eyebrows. “books always served us good.”

Sam opens his mouth but Dean cuts him off before he can retort.

“Let’s do this way. I’m gonna go to the library, okay? Do some digging. And I’ll see you back at the motel tonight and we’ll see what we got.”

“What? Tonight? Are you out of your mind?”

“Yeah, man, you know I’m a slow reader.”

“Seriously? You’re a faster reader than I am.” Sam is one bitch face away from losing his temper. He exhales, then says: “Dean, what’s going on?”

Dean rolls his eyes, but then he can’t restrain a smile, especially with Sam’s eyes that nags him to talk.

“Alright,” he concedes. He feels a blush rising on his cheeks and he keeps his eyes on the road to avoid looking at Sam. “There’s this guy – you know, the one back at the motel that helped us out last night.”

“Yeah?”

“He works at the library. Just thought I’d pay him a visit, that’s all.”

“And why would you - ” Sam cuts himself off and silence falls upon them. Sam clicks his tongue. “Unbelievable.”

So they decide over lunch that Sam is gonna drop him off at the library so that Dean can check the archives to see if there’s been attacks on different hiking trails in the area, see if they’ve got another habitual spot they might have switched to. Dean is paying for their lunch when on a whim also pays for a coffee to go.

Sam raises his eyebrows when he sees the coffee in Dean’s hand but thankfully he doesn’t comment on it. He assures him that he will keep his distance from lakes and other body of waters as he carries his own research, asking questions in tourist points in the nearby towns where hiking trails start and end.

The library is a small edifice of just a couple of rooms one after the other and Dean sees Castiel right away, behind the circular desk at the entrance. He is wearing a thick blue sweater, with a zipper down the front and snowflakes across his chest. It looks soft and warm and Dean wonders would it would feel like to press his face against it and how it would smell like, most likely of candy, fresh snow and herbal tea. Then he tells himself to get a grip because he is feeling way too happy to see someone he met less than a day ago.

Castiel is turned mostly away from the door and he is busy with a visitor so he doesn’t spot him right away. Dean hovers around the entrance, takes a peek at the newspaper rack by the door, until he sees the visitor passing him by towards the exit.

Castiel looks his way as he’s approaching him. He freezes in spot and Dean gets to see his eyes widen and his lips parting in surprise.

“Dean,” he says in a breath.

Dean flashes him a big smile. “That’s me.” He gets closer and confidently slips the coffee towards him. “Brought you coffee. For helping with Sammy and – not calling the police, I guess,” he says.

Castiel stares at the coffee and looks up at him again and Dean realizes. Castiel does look surprised – but not happily surprised. His gaze on him is intense and makes him shift on the spot.

Dean’s smile dims. Maybe he made a mistake, maybe he got it all wrong. Maybe it was all sleep deprived induced fantasy he entertained himself with? He tries to see it from Castiel’s perspective. He is a man who showed up in his motel in the middle of the night with a half dead brother offering no justifiable explanation, someone who then hanged around him till morning, flirted heavily with him and then followed him to his workplace. Okay, it sounds pretty bad put like that.

He tries to salvage his dignity, but he knows he looks as uneasy as he sounds when he says: “I’m not a stalker or anything,” he fakes a chuckle. “I didn’t come here just to hand you a coffee. That’d be crazy. Turns out I – I actually need some books.”

Castiel finally blinks and seems to deflate a little, looking relieved as he says “Oh,” and “of course. Right.” he even gives him a small smile. “You are in the right place,” he says awkwardly.

“Yeah” Dean takes a breath. Better cut this short. “So, can you point me to the local history section?”

Castiel doesn’t ask what he needs it for and gives him direction in a professional and practised voice. Dean’s got a knot in his stomach but still fakes a smile and says “Great. Thanks, Cas.”

He catches his eyes once again and he feels unable to move and unable to say anything and he suddenly feels like the heating is set on a little too high for him, still in his jacket.

Dean wonders how pathetic would be if he walked out of there saying “Let’s just pretend I never came in here.” Maybe it’s too late for that, but he needs to let him know that he’ll stay away, cause he caught the drift.

He says “Look - ” and at the same time he hears “Dean?”

Castiel precedes him in saying: “You first.”

“Uh, I was just gonna say that me and my brother are probably leaving town tonight, so – just – wanted to let you know in case you take that shift off of Steve.”

“And I wanted to tell you that I spoke to Steve and he needs the shift tonight, so – I wasn’t gonna make it either.”

“Yeah, okay,” it’s all Dean manages to say, already halfway turned to walk away.

“And thank you for the coffee. You didn’t have to,” adds Castiel quickly, as if only now remembering his manners.

“Yeah, no, sure Cas,” says Dean, and then ducks his head and makes his way to the local history section without looking back. He chooses the farthest table from the entrance and buries himself in old newspapers and doesn’t think at who’s only a couple of rooms away and the burning knot of disappointment in the middle of his chest.

A couple of hours later Dean has got absolutely nothing. Sam texted and he seems to have reached the same conclusion. A complete waste of time.

As he passes through the entrance to exit the library, his eyes dart to Castiel’s station but there’s someone else in his place. Dean doesn’t bother looking around to say goodbye, just takes the door.

The sun has already set and the temperatures have dropped significantly again. Dean is not in a great mood. He can’t wait to finish this job and get out of there and forget all about this town and this cold and those stupid vetalas.

More annoyed he is at the thing in his chest that since that afternoon has never dissolved. Whatever. He’ll never see him again and it’s not like it’s the first time that Dean’s been rejected.

Sam is waiting for him at the bottom of the stone steps. He is still wearing his FBI suit and his heavy coat and scarf but he’s got his hands buried in his pocket and his shoulder drawn together as if he’s still cold. As Dean approaches him he coughs a few time and Dean’s irritation for that case flares up again.

They talk again about how they don’t have jack squat.

Sam tells him in so many words that if the vetalas don’t show up soon they might as well move on. He says it tentatively and he seems taken aback when Dean agrees right away. “No reason to stay around,” he grumbles as they reach the Impala.

Sam opens his mouth to say something but he’s interrupted by a loud sound from an alley not far from where they are.

They stop, and stay alert, ears on. Another sound, then a muffled scream.

Sam draws out the gun from his inside pocket and moves quickly on the sidewalk towards the noise. Dean takes out the silver blades he got hidden in his right boot.

They move in synch and stealthily reach the alley. Just a look is enough to recognize the vetalas even with their back turned, the blonde woman that had thrown Sam into the lake and the young guy that had attacked Dean. They’ve got someone pinned against the wall and the man is whimpering and imploring them to let him go.

Sam shouts “Hey!” to catch their attention and as one of them turns around he shoots her in the chest. It does nothing to her except pissing her off, but Sam gets what he wanted, she hisses and lets go of the man to go after him.

That’s when Dean is able to see him clearly. That man is Castiel.

He sprints into action, white hot rage pumping in his veins and he wastes no time to grab the other vetala by the shoulders and rip him off of him.

Castiel’s eyes are wide and terrified. He looks in disbelief as the creature turns to growl and launch himself at Dean.

Dean shouts “Go! Run!” but he seems to be frozen in place, pressed against the wall.

Taking advantage of the distraction, the vetala hits him and he loses his balance, falls on the ground. He recovers quickly, rolls on his back and gets back up again just in time to tackle the vetala. They roll around punching and kicking each other until Dean finds himself pinned down, his knife trapped under his back.

He struggles to shake him off with one hand while with the other he tries to reach for the blade. The creature opens his mouth and he’s about to sink his fangs in his neck when Dean squeezing his eyes and pushing with everything he’s got, gets them to roll once again. The vetala is on his back, the blade now visible next to it. Dean quickly snatches it from the ground and buries it in his heart.

The vetala growls one last time as Dean twists the blade inside him and pushes himself up to watch the body whiter and crumble under his eyes.

He breathes heavily and looks back at Sam, who’s doing the same, catching his breath with a crumbled body at his feet. He meets his eyes and they nod briefly at each other, to let the other know that they’re alright.

Then Sam’s gaze flies somewhere behind his back and something twists in Dean’s stomach as he remembers that Castiel is still there, his body against the wall and his eyes frantically going from the crumpled bodies of the vetalas on the ground to Sam and Dean and back again.

“Hey, you alright?” Dean asks, shortening the distance.

“They had – fangs,” he says more to himself than to him, as if he’s still processing what he saw.

“You hear any ringing?” Dean asks, loud and worried, trying to catch his eyes.

Castiel lifts his gaze to look at him as he’s asking absurd questions.

“No.”

Only then Dean relaxes and looks back at Sam. “No venom.”

Castiel’s mouth is still hanging open: “Venom? Dean, what -?”

Hearing him speak his brother’s name, Sam’s gaze travels between the two of them and a look of understanding crosses his face. He takes a step towards him, and goes into his comfort-victim mode.

“It’s Cas, right?” he asks and Castiel’s wide eyes set on him as he nods. “Those were vetalas. They are creatures that poison humans and feed on them.”

Castiel scoffs. “Wha- how can there be such things?”

Sam shrugs. “There are all sorts of things.”

Castiel blinks as his world seems to be rearranging in front of his eyes.

“How did you - ” he looks between them. “How did you know they were here?”

“We didn’t. We were actually trying to track them; they must have followed us.” Sam says.

“You were tracking them?” he is in disbelief. “Why?”

“It’s our job,” chimes in Dean slipping the blade in his jacket. “We kill ‘em.”

Castiel looks at him and he’s silent for a long moment. Dean fights the urge of looking down, wondering what does he think of him now. Has this made his opinion of him even worse? In addition of being a stalker, does he now think he’s a killer and that he’s made a mistake trusting him with that key?

But Castiel just looks thoughful and in the end he just says, “You told me there were things I wouldn’t believe nor wanna know about. You were telling the truth.”

It’s not a question but Dean nods anyway and sighs in relief.

“You’re safe now.” he says and tries to lighten the mood. “So, can you stop going full Spanish Inquisition on us?”

Castiel seems to lose the last bit of tension he had left and exchanges it for a spark of annoyance and a challenging tone. “Well, I was about to die, the least you could give me is an explanation. What kind of job is that?”

Dean huffs a laugh. “That’s fair. Come on, we’ll give you a lift and fill you in. Where you headed?”

So they pile in the Impala while Sam gives their usual “hunters fighting monsters” speech. Castiel takes it fairly well. Or, at least, doesn’t start screaming or anything. He seems to have recovered from the attack fairly quickly too. Dean, on the other hand, feels weird with him in the backseat. Seeing him in the rear view mirror makes him nervous and smiley at the same time. Sam must sense that his unusual quietness means that something’s not right with him because he keeps sneaking glances his way.

But the whole thing at the library still burns and it’s made pretty clear what was what.

“It’s right up here.” Castiel says after not even five minutes on the road. “I told you there was no need to take the car.”

“Nonsense, you’ve just been attacked and it’s freezing.”

“Well, then. Thank you.” He says as the car rolls to a stop in front of a little house. It’s too dark to see it properly but under the snow, the front garden seems a little unkempt and there’s still a string of unlit Christmas lights with one end dangling from the gutter. Dean thinks it’s kinda cute.

Castiel pauses with one hand on the handle. “Are you leaving right away?”

Dean swallows. “I guess.”

“Oh,” Castiel hesitates, “so this is goodbye?”

Dean’s gaze darts towards Sam next to him. His brother shifts in his seat but doesn’t offer any lifelines.

“Yeah,” he breathes out.

Castiel meets Dean’s eyes in the rear view mirror and looks torn, like he’s about to say something. Then he seems to think better of it and just nods briefly. “Well, then, stay safe. And again: thank you. Both of you.” And with that, he gets out and walks away.

Dean doesn’t know what to do. He stares intensely at his hands on the steering wheel, with a sensation of wrong in his stomach. Every second is too long and not long enough to decide. Sam doesn’t ask what they’re still doing there, even if Dean killed the engine and it’s starting to get cold in the car.

But then quietly, with the corner of his mouth, he says: “He’s almost at the door.”

“Shut up,” Dean says, already reaching for the handle.

He walks quickly towards him, slipping a little on the snow covered grass.

“Cas,” Dean calls and he stops, looking curiously over his shoulder. Dean’s resolve falters, so he starts by saying, “Hey, mh, just wanna make sure you are okay.”

Castiel nods. “I’m fine, I guess I’ll need some time, but I’m fine.”

“Alright, well, I thought I’d give you my number, just in case uh -”

“Something else decides to attack me?”

Dean huffs a nervous laugh and looks at him. “Yeah. No. I mean, I don’t know, maybe you wanted to talk. Later.”

“I thought you were leaving.”

“Yeah, I was - I am. I am leaving. I mean unless…” Dean swallows, and just gives him a look that hopes it’s enough to finish his sentence for him.

But Castiel frowns and says “Dean?” and Dean doesn’t mean to be hopeful but he says it like he’s said it a million times before, like they’ve known each other for a lifetime and he only ever spoke this word to call him. Castiel squints and tilts his head to one side, “I don’t understand.”

Dean wants to laugh; they are so bad at this.

He steps closer. His fingertips are tingly with cold as he grabs the lapels of Castiel’s jacket and gently pulls him towards him. Castiel lets him. Lets Dean get so close that their lips touch. Dean kisses him slowly, sweetly. His lips are cold but soft and so close to him Dean can smell all the wonderful things he knew he smelled of. He pulls back to finally say: “I know I shouldn’t have shown up at the library today. I freaked you out, I didn’t mean to.”

Castiel seems windswept. His eyes are wide, his lips and cheeks bright pink. He cuts him off, shaking his head. “No, no, it was me. You took me by surprise and I wasn’t sure what to make of last night. This whole thing has been – weird.”

Dean smiles and leans closer once again to make their nose touch for a second.

“Am I making myself clear, now?” he whispers and Castiel smiles.

Dean feels ten pounds lighter all of the sudden. He lets him go, widens his arms, “Alright, then. Should we make it right? I can come pick you up in a couple of hours and we’ll go grab a bite or something.”

Castiel shifts on the spot, looks back at the dark windows of his house then turns again.

“Why don’t you just – come in now?” he asks hesitantly.

Dean’s mouth hangs open for a few seconds, then he beams up at him, nodding vigorously.

“Yeah. Or I could – do just that. Yeah. Sounds great. Just, uh, give me a sec.” he says and before Castiel can say anything else he goes back to the Impala to open the driver’s door.

“So, change of plans. You can go back to the motel, I’ll stay here.”

Sam’s eyebrows skyrocket on his forehead. “Are we staying another night?” he huffs a laugh.

Dean shrugs. “Sorry, Sammy. He is - ” he feels himself blushing, “I just gotta stay.”

Sam laughs again and slips in front of the steering wheel with an amused sigh. “Whatever. Don’t know what he did to you but as long as you’re sure he’s not a witch.”

“Nah, he’s an angel.” Dean says and that reminds him of something.

He ignores the way Sam rolls his eyes when he says Good night, Sammy and he goes back to Castiel who’s waiting for him.

“Hey” he says as they walk towards the door, “did you look up then, what I said about freckles?”

“Yes, and it was really cheesy. Like, very low level cheesy.”

“You liked it.” he teases, bumping his shoulder against Castiel’s. “I bet it made you blush and all.”

Castiel looks upwards in a matter than suggests annoyance, but he is pressing his lips together as if he’s keeping a smile at bay.

Dean’s heart makes a summersault. Man, whatever this is, must be powerful stuff.

Dean comes back two weeks after they finally leave town and three weeks after that.

And then he just keeps coming back.

Suddenly it’s spring.

And Dean mows Castiel’ lawn and they go out with Meg and he gets so drunk that Castiel has to drive them home and Dean keeps nuzzling his neck and jaw, making it difficult for him to walk to the door and later in bed he whispers in his ear things he never thought he’d say to anyone like “I missed you” and “I think about you all the time” and the morning after he doesn’t even freak out cause Castiel said it back and it’s all fine.

So he keeps coming back.

And then comes the summer and Castiel takes a few days off from work and drags him up to a hiking trail but it takes them all day because Dean keeps stopping at all the perfect trees to snog against – and that’s every tree. And in the end they are sweaty and sticky and Dean’s body hurts all over and would take a nest of vamps any day over something like this, but the way Castiel smiles in the summer sunset makes it worth it. He snaps a selfie and sends it to Sam and Eileen and his brother writes back glad to see you happy. give cas my love.

And then Cas’ posh corporate dick sister Naomi shows up unexpectated one night and tries to convince Castiel to go back to New York with her. Dean hates her the moment she steps in with a face like she’s coming down from Heaven to set her rich foot on the smelly Earth, and she very clearly despises Dean’s everything, judging by the way her eyes slide over the room and stop on him when she tells Cas, “Look what you’ve become”. And Castiel throws her out shortly after that but Dean understands that even if he doesn’t regret it and Gabriel too calls to say, “So what? The witch is dead, good riddance!”, Castiel is still feeling like shit. So he curls up on the couch with him and when Castiel whispers “I’m sorry for that,” Dean holds him tighter and when he hears him sniffle quietly Dean says, “It’s okay. I’m here,” and strokes his back until he falls asleep.

And Dean keeps coming back.

Soon it’s fall and when Dean gets there he finds Castiel in the little garage attached to the house looking for the leaf blower among the clutter. It’s the first time he sees the space and he is assaulted by the thought that his Impala would easily fit in there, next to Castiel’s car. He doesn’t dare mention it but the thought nags at him all weekend.

And on his last morning, Castiel pretends he doesn’t hear the alarm going off, keeps his arm tight around him and looks sad when he hands him his cup of coffee for the road. Later he texts him it’s getting harder and Dean’s chest fills with rocks because he knows exactly what he means.

It’s getting harder.

One time when he’s walking to pick up Castiel from work to go out to dinner together, his phone pings and it’s a text from Sam saying Dean, you know I wouldn’t bother you if something something case something something we need you. can you?

He puts it back in his pocket right as Castiel comes out of the heavy doors and happily bounces down the stairs asking “How was your journey?”. He is about to lean in to peck his lips like he always does when he takes in his expression and pulls back, asks what’s wrong.

“I gotta go,” Dean says and he sounds miserable to his own ears.

Castiel face falls and Dean hates himself. But Castiel straightens up, presses his lips together and nods. He says “I understand.”

It’s getting harder.

One time, on the bathroom tiles of a smelly motel, Dean is grinding his teeth, trying not to scream as Sam sews a gash on his leg.

His brother looks up at him, his hands bloody, his forehead covered in sweat. They don’t have any booze left, and Sam was never the best of them in that kind of things.

“Don’t look this way, think of something else,” he pants.

And Dean closes his eyes and focuses very hard on the weight of Castiel’s hand in his, on the familiar smell of his couch and on his voice the last time he picked up the phone and said “Hello, Dean.” He focuses on the silhouette of his shoulder against the light of the sunrise when Dean wakes up before him. He focuses on the sound of Sam’s laugh that time he’d seen him wearing an apron at Castiel’s and then they all went down to that weird spring event and Sam had won a salt and pepper set with little bees on them and how it’s now sitting in Castiel’s cabinet. He tries to pretend to be in his kitchen, with Castiel in the other room calling his name and telling him to turn down the radio. He thinks about those things and soon a wound is closed but another is open.

It’s getting harder.

One time he calls Castiel after being tied to a chair and tortured for five hours. He is limping out of the warehouse, holding his phone against a bloodied ear and Castiel replies on the first ring. There’s music in the background and Castiel’s got a cheerful tone when he says, "Don’t tell me you’re here already. The potatoes still have fifteen minutes to go."

And Dean’s heart breaks as he tells him that he won’t be able to make it. On the other end, he hears just music for a while and when Castiel speaks again he just says “I understand.” But he sounds disappointed and Dean feels like shit.

It’s getting harder.

Still, he keeps coming back.

And it’s winter again and the front garden is covered in snow. Dean lets himself in with his spare key knowing that Castiel is still at work and toes off his boots at the entrance. He places the wrapped boxes he brought under the little Christmas tree that Castiel has left up for him even if the holidays have already come and gone. He turns on the radio and starts their dinner. A few hours later, as he hears the keys turning into the lock and he’s filled with anticipation, he realizes, not as a surprise but more as a confirmation, that he doesn’t want to leave anymore.

They eat on the couch in front of the tv, their plates balanced on their laps, one of Castiel socked feet bumping lightly against Dean’s calf.

The commercials start playing and Castiel is telling him a funny story about Gabriel when Dean puts his plate down.

“Cas,” he says, “I was thinking I could stay a little longer next time.”

Castiel gives his calf a little kick. “The whole week?” he asks, and sounds hopeful.

“Uh, was thinking, maybe more than that. I mean, if it’s all right with you, I -”

Castiel doesn’t let him finish. He puts his own plate down and surges forward to kiss him.

Dean pulls back because he starts laughing. “I still haven’t- ”

“You mean it?” Castiel cuts him off. He is serious now, stares at him, studies his face.

Dean throat is tight. He only nods.

Castiel kisses him again then smiles. “Dean, this is your home since the first time you came through that door. Of course it’s all right with me.”

Dean kisses him again and this time doesn’t let go.

So, for the last time he leaves and for the last time he comes back.

He walks up to the door, carrying way too many bags with him.

He doesn’t take out his key, he rings the bell.

Castiel answers the door with a smile.

________

(* what they say about freckles: every freckle is a kiss from an angel.)

#deancas #deancas ficlet #deancas fanfic #destiel fanfic #11k #what's better than a story set in winter when it's 35degrees outside #this is very cheesy i smiled all the way throught the first draft #half au #librarian/motel owner!cas #human!cas #hunter!dean #sam gabriel and meg are in it #i think it's colorado where they are #i did some research and durango has all the things i mentioned #deancas ficlets #my writing

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beautifulblhell · 3 years

Text

A Kaleidoscope Of Colours Ch 1 (Finder Fic)

Pairing: Asami Ryuichi x Takaba Akihito

Summary: Having hated alphas for most of his life, the last thing Akihito wanted was to fall in love with an alpha. Except fate decided to reunite him with Asami. High school x omegaverse AU fic WC: 6099

Read it on: AO3

Chapter 1: Cherry Blossom Pink

Alphas are superior.

While it was true that alphas were born with good-looks and were physically superior to betas and omegas, and even if most of the top spots for the national exams were occupied by alphas, the automatic pass to ascend to the elite world, lord around others and arrogantly discriminate the omegas just because they were an alpha pissed Akihito off royally. That’s what had been instilled into everyone’s mind since the moment they were born, and society just accepted that as the truth.

‘Superior’ my ass, Akihito thought angrily as he agilely scaled up the tall iron gate. With a kick, he jumped off from the top and landed on the ground with a light thud.

“Hey, what do you think you are doing here?!”

Sure, they didn’t have to deal with those inconvenient heat cycles and take time off work, but most of the time they didn’t even work much themselves, only sitting on top of their ‘thrones’ and working others like slaves in a company that their forefathers had left them.

“Hey! I’m talking to you!”

Bunch of good-for-nothing leeches.

“Listen here, you punk-“

A man -whom Akihito assumed to be a security guard from his outfit- ran across the school ground and accosted him in a menacing voice. He reached out a hand to grab Akihito by the shoulder but instead-

“Eh- Argh! It hurtsssss!!”

Accompanying the shrieks were dull crunching noises as Akihito bent the guard’s hand in a direction that no human hands were supposed to.

“Argh! Wait wait wait, please let go!”

Akihito slowly faced the guard. The guard stopped struggling the moment he saw the deep-seated rage behind Akihito’s eyes, his fear temporarily eclipsing his pain. Beads of cold sweat ran down his face and he tried to smile, his lips twitching. He gulped noisily, then stuttered, “U-uh sir? How may I help you?”

“Is this Yozen Academy?”

“Sure is, sir. Um, may I ask if you have any business here?” The guard laughed nervously, his eyes flickering desperately side to side, probably hoping for reinforcements, but it seemed that even Satan had turned a blind eye to his plight.

“Sure do.”

Following those words, in one swift movement, Akihito delivered a roundhouse kick straight at the man’s abdomen. The guard sailed through the air, followed by a dull thud as he landed heavily on the ground.

“...”

There was no movement.

Akihito walked over and stared in disbelief at the unconscious figure lying limply there. He nudged the man with his shoes, but the foam trickling from the guard’s mouth was his only response.

At least he was still alive. Probably.

A one hit K.O. huh. What kind of lame-ass security did they employ that faints from a single kick?

That… did not satiate his burning rage one bit.

He had been expecting to face at least quite a few veteran guards so he came with the intent to fistfight God if he had to, but this… this single minion took only a moment for Akihito to finish. In fact, seeing that he was able to deal with this in one blow did nothing but flame his irritation even more.

Akihito cracked his knuckles, scowling. Guess his target will receive his full wrath then.

“Well, pardon the intrusion.” He stepped over the body as he said so. Narrowing his eyes, he scanned his surroundings.

Before him stood Yozen Academy, one of the most prestigious alpha-only high schools in the country. Only the most influential, wealthy, and powerful people around the world could send their alpha children to.

An imposing white building with an oppressive architectural style sprawled out in front of him, with wings adjoined on either side, giving the impression that Akihito was stepping into the mouth of a monster. It donned several stories high. Instead of making the building seem open, the giant glass windows seemed more like soulless eyes, gazing emptily at Akihito. Trees lined up the road leading towards the main entrance with the track fields and sports courts could be seen off to the side.

Heck, whose decision was it to make this school so huge?! I’m gonna need Google Maps to navigate around this monstrosity. He ran a hand irritably through his bleached blond hair.

Finding his target in such a vast space was going to be difficult. Akihito tried not to let his annoyance stop him. A few students had exited the building, then, after seeing Akihito, they all doubled back in panic, slamming the door with a loud bang. As if a door could stop Akihito.

Such a nice welcome, and here I thought that they taught manners at this fancy school.

It didn’t help that Akihito wasn’t trying to blend in. While all the students were in pristine white uniforms, excellently tailored that screamed ‘I’m made of money!’, Akihito wore the more plain black gakuran with his sleeves rolled up. The white t-shirt he wore underneath was emblazoned with the kanji “fire’ along with a drawing of flames. Plus, he carried a wooden bat with suspicious dark red stains dried on to it on his shoulders.

So yeah, not very inconspicuous.

Akihito stared moodily at the building, contemplating whether to charge in or wait it out, since he was apt to get lost in that huge building if he went in. As he was thinking, an old bald guy with a shiny forehead that refracted the sunlight, blinding Akihito temporarily, stuck his head out from a window and then quickly retracted, like those whack-a-moles in arcades. Akihito knew that he would be calling the police.

Ahhh, damn, gotta act fast. It would be a pain in the ass if the police come. Not that he minded, since he could lead them on another motorcycle chase. But Akihito was losing his patience and his self restraint was getting tired at this point, ready to snap anytime. Well, gotta get him out of there first. And to do that? Akihito took a deep breath.

“COME THE HELL OUT OF THERE, YOU PIECE OF CRAP ALPHA!”

Hundreds of faces peered at him from the square glass windows. To be honest, Akihito didn’t specify which alpha he was looking for, but seeing so many alphas looking at him, Akihito couldn’t resist saluting his middle finger at them as a greeting. The horrified faces granted him a tiny bit of satisfaction.

Probably never had anyone act like this towards them, especially an omega, Akihito sniggered inwardly.

It was then a door from the left wing of the building opened, and a single person walked out, his back towards Akihito. He had a lean physique and wore the same white school uniform as the rest of the students here, however, he had a presence that was impossible to ignore. A striking presence that commanded everyone’s attention around him, but also emitted a quiet coldness that warned people off.

A tall muscular black haired alpha, had an imposing air. Kou had said angrily while Takato had his arms around a sobbing Yuriko. He probably said a name, but as he had just told Akihito what happened with Yuriko, it rocketed in one ear and out through the other.

Yep, found him. With his temper hanging on by a thread, he stalked towards the boy.

“Oi, I finally found you, you little-“

Hearing his voice, the young man turned around in surprise. The moment their gazes locked, Akihito jerked to an abrupt standstill. Whatever words that were in Akihito’s throat evaporated, along with any coherent thoughts he had.

That spring day during Akihito’s sixteenth year, his world exploded into a kaleidoscope of colours.

The light spring breeze sighed softly through the cherry blossom trees in the courtyard, creating a soft pink snowfall. Petals danced and swirled around them, seemingly full of life, as if gently beckoning them to be closer, creating a veil that separated them from the rest of the world, a space where it was only them two.

Through the branches, soft sunlight filtered through, basking the young man’s features in its warm rays, and Akihito’s eyes widened, his need to breathe forgotten.

The alpha’s beauty was ethereal. His soft black hair fluttered in the wind, framing his handsome features. His eyes were a striking deep golden colour, which widened in surprise when they saw Akihito.

“Aki...hito?”

The words were spoken so softly, and amidst the sound of the branches shuffling against each other, it was almost impossible to hear, but the gentle wafting air drifting amidst the blooming flowers carried the young man’s voice to Akihito, along with a delicate sweet fragrance, tickling Akihito’s nose.

Time seemed to have stopped and the whole world ceased to exist. Inside the whirlwind of blossoms, it was a space where nothing mattered, only them, reflecting so clearly in each other’s eyes.

“Pretty bold of you to bring your omega to school, Asami,” The atmosphere was instantly killed by an obnoxious voice that drew from behind him.

As if someone poured cold water over him, the adenoidal voice sent Akihito crashing back into his disordered senses. Reality was a bitch.

For a moment or two, he stood there in stunned silence. He was dimly aware of the voice of the newcomer, but his mind was not processing the meanings. He was overwhelmed by the unexpected welter of emotions swelling up inside of him. Emotions that he had never experienced before, emotions that he doesn’t have a name for, that sent his heart pounding, his blood pumping furiously in his veins, carrying a warm feeling, spreading through his entire body. As if someone had played a melody, and his heartstrings were vibrating along with every cadence.

The anger he was just feeling earlier was being painted over with confusion.

Heck, what is this? This- this feeling-

“Sakazaki.” The voice was cold and deep. The mere sound sent a jolt through Akihito like he touched a live wire. Slowly, he turned around. The black-haired alpha was now standing between him and the newcomer.

“Is that another Kuroyama High omega?” The obnoxious voice carried an unnecessary arrogant tone.

Hearing that, Akihito shakes himself out of his daze and mentally slapped himself to focus on the reason he came here in the first place. He pushed aside the pretty alpha in front of him and faced the irritating newcomer.

“Why do you mean, ‘another’?”

The newcomer was another alpha who exuded extreme arrogance as he stood with his hands in his pockets, unbothered by Akihito’s tone. His head was tilted back as he looked down on Akihito through his glasses. He sprouted the most awful looking scraggly beard Akihito had ever seen on a human. Half of his shirt button was open, revealing a rather hairy chest.

The goatee guy leered at Akihito, “Well, there was a little omega who wore the same cheap uniform as you who came onto me recently.”

It took Akihito a moment to realize in his still confused state that this was the person Kou was talking about.

The anger that had subsided started to brew up again. He hissed through his teeth, “She never came onto you.”

The goatee guy appraised Akihito with slimy dark, cold eyes that reminded Akihito of the dead fish at the outdoor fish markets. He then shrugged and leered, “Why does it matter? Omegas should just obey the will of the alphas, since the only useful thing they can do is to spread their legs for us. Isn’t this why you came over? Wanting to find an alpha to look after you?”

A waft of a heavy sickly sweet smell, like an overripe fruit that has been left for too long and turned rotten suddenly brooded over the air.

“Sakazaki.” An angry warning tone suddenly sliced through the air as the black haired alpha stepped forward. In an instant, an intimidating aura came crashing down and the air froze over. For a brief moment, the goatee guy seemed surprised by the young man’s anger, but in the haze of his anger, Akihito barely registered the smell and the exchange.

If there was a type of person that Akihito hated the most, it was alphas. Looking down and trampling the effort of others without working hard themselves, and acting as though they could do no wrong. As if it was all a privilege that came with the status of being born as an alpha.

Akihito gripped the bat so tightly in his hand that the wood creaked. The rage that he had suppressed earlier came roaring back to life in his ears. “Listen here, you piece of crap that is worse than the dog shit I nearly stepped onto this morning-“

The rest of his words were drowned out by the sound of several cars coming to a screeching halt in front of the gate and of vehicle doors slamming shut. The iron gate opened, welcoming in a swarm of men in black. They came charging towards them.

“That’s him, the delinquent with a bat !” A wheezing voice screamed above them. Akihito scowled as he saw the whack-a-mole guy pointing at him from the windows.

“Leave.” The raven haired alpha said over his shoulder. He was still standing protectively in front of Akihito. But Akihito doesn’t listen. The flames of his anger had burnt down the last shred of his self control. He ducked to the side and aimed a heavy kick between the legs of the goatee alpha.

The goatee guy had fast reflexes, Akihito had to give him that. He dodged, barely missing Akihito’s kick, but Akihito was quicker as he followed through with his second strike.

Before the goatee guy could see it coming, Akihito’s fist slammed into his abdomen with full force. And exactly half a second later, Akihito’s other first landed on the goatee guy’s cheekbones, sending his glasses flying. All he saw was red. Anger, that every alpha he had encountered had treated omegas like shit, and anger, at his own helplessness when he was weak and could do nothing but watch. He was just pulling his hand back to permanently rearrange the Goatee guy’s face when his arms were stopped.

Cool fingers grabbed his wrists tightly, and an angry voice hissed in his ear.

“You need to leave.”

The moment Akihito heard the voice, it pulled him out of the red mist that so often controlled him when he was angry. He blinked in surprise, then all of a sudden, the feeling of the ground beneath his feet vanished. His vision titled, and a cloudless expanse of clear blue filled his vision. At first, his eyes were taken away by the beauty of the petals dancing amidst the blue backdrop, but then the shouts of surprise brought him back to his senses.

By then, the black haired alpha had already kicked off the ground and jumped on the high walls surrounding the school effortlessly.

While carrying Akihito in his arms bridal style.

As soon as the young man made a soft landing on the other side of the wall, he dropped Akihito onto his feet.

“Leave,” he repeated, his tone final, leaving no room for argument. His eyes were hard. If it was anyone else hearing that tone, they would have no doubt scuttled away by now.

But the words simply rolled off Akihito with absolutely no effect on him.

Akihito gaped at him. The whole process has been so fast that his mind had barely kept up with what had happened, but now that his two feet were back on the ground, his initial surprise abetted and indignation and embarrassment replaced it. “You- What the hell do you think you were doing?!” To be carried like that, Akihito had no face to show to the rest of the gang.

The young alpha’s eyebrows pulled together seeing Akihito’s uncooperative attitude. He opened his mouth, but the commotion on the other side of the wall disrupted him.

“They went over the wall. Catch them!” Thundering footsteps could be heard coming towards them.

The young man clicked his tongue in annoyance and without answering Akihito, he grabbed his hand.

The moment their hands touched, a bolt of electricity ran through Akihito’s hand. Akihito gasped as both of their hands jerked from the contact. An expression of surprise mirrored on both of their faces, before the golden-eyed alpha set his jaws and wrapped his hands around Akihito’s once more. The place where they were touching seemed to be burning.

Then they sprinted into the bright spring morning. The young man was fast, with his damn long legs, but Akihito had no problem keeping up. Giving the severity of the situation, that he had invaded one of the most elite high school in Japan and attacked a son of a probably-very-important figure either in the government or the corporate world, he should probably be panicking at the amount of trouble he would be in, but for some reason, his heart felt light, and everything around him seemed to be more colourful and brighter than before.

They both finally stopped when they reached the middle of a bustling street. Strands of the young man’s carefully combed dark hair had fallen into his eyes. He roughly pushed them back before turning towards Akihito, his jaw tight, which only helped highlight his cheekbones and show off his jawline.

“Why do you never listen?”

“What is that supposed to mean? ”Akihito pulled his hand back and scowled, “I didn’t ask for your help. I could have beaten them on my own.”

The young man narrowed his golden eyes. “They are professionals.”

Akihito shrugged. He knew but that doesn’t mean he was going to admit he couldn’t defeat them. Well, not all of them, anyway.

“Why did you help me? You’re an alpha.”

The young man seemed visibly confused. “What’s that got to do with me helping you or not?”

“Alphas think they are superior right? Like that hairy gorilla guy with the ugly goatee earlier. You think the rest of us are below you.”

His golden eyes hardened a fraction when Akihito mentioned the arrogant guy.

“Don’t put me in the same league as Sakazaki. That doesn’t mean all alphas act like that.”

Akihito snorted. “Sure, you might pretend that you are nice at the beginning, but in the end, you’ll leave. Someone I know deserted me once he knew he was an alpha and I was an omega. I hope that asshole lives happily ever after.”

The alpha suddenly stiffened, a flash of pain entered his eyes before he shifted his gaze away.

Akihito felt that he said something that shouldn’t have been said, but the sun can start orbiting around the moon before he apologies to an alpha.

They looked in the opposite direction, neither one willing to break the awkward silence between them.

That was when Akihito caught sight of a small figure standing hesitantly amongst the throng of people. The little boy looked left and right, his big eyes welling up with tears as he looked helplessly around him.

Akihito walked up to the child.

“Hey kid, can’t find your parents?”

“My mother… I can’t find her.” The boy’s voice was trembling from holding back his tears.

“Mother, huh,” There was a twinge of sadness in Akihito’s voice, but before anyone could take note of it, he squatted down so he was eye-level with the small child, and smiled brightly, patting the boy on his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you to find her!”

At first, the boy looked relieved, but as soon as he saw the bat Akihito had in his hand, his lips quivered and broke out into tears.

“I want my mummy!”

“Hey- wait! Why are you crying?!” Akihito tried to soothe the child, but to no avail. He turned around and looked at the young man in a panic, “Hey you! Don’t just stand there, do something!”

The young man looked as if Akihito asked him to summon up a pink elephant and alien and teach them waltz.

An old lady ambled up to them and clicked her tongue, “Young people nowadays, you think it’s alright to skip school and hang around in town and cause a ruckus at this hour of the day?” She took one look at the crying child and raised her voice even higher, “And exhorting money from an elementary school kid! Shame on you! This is why society is going downhill nowadays! I’m going to call the police and they’ll sort you out!”

Akihito was just about to argue that it wasn’t his fault that society is the way it is now when the old lady’s hand shot out with surprisingly nimbleness and wrenched the bat out of Akihito’s grasp.

“Hey! Give that back!”

But the old lady turned up her voice to maximum volume, so it sounded as if she was speaking through a megaphone.

“Talking back to your elders now, are you?! And what are you doing walking around with a weapon like this, threatening upstanding citizens like myself in this area?”

By now, a small crowd of onlookers had gathered around them. Akihito knew it wasn’t good for them to be attracting attention now, but he wanted his bat back.

“Look, I’m not threatening anyone with it, I-“

“What’s going on there?” A voice shouted from afar, and Akihito saw a policeman patrolling the area running towards them.

As if reading his intentions of wanting to grab his bat back, a hand pulled him back and dragged him away.

‘Hey wait! Let me go! I need that bat!”

But the young man didn’t let go. After dragging a struggling Akihito along a few streets, he finally released Akihito.

Akihito turned to run back the moment he was free, but he had hardly taken a step when he froze.

…

Where was he?

Glancing left and right, he saw designer boutiques lining up the wide pavement, and foreign cars whizzing along the road.

There was no way he could find his way back to where they were.

Akihito clutched his head in his hands and let out a groan. He was going to be so much trouble for losing that bat. He wanted to put it back before anyone found out that he took it, but now…

Seeing that Akihito was no longer running away, the young man said, “We should go somewhere inside for a while. They might be searching in this area soon.” After saying so, he walked off, as if expecting Akihito to follow him.

Akihito contemplated not following the young man, but he wasn’t familiar with this part of Tokyo at all. After all, no one without at least 100,000 digits in their bank account would come to this area.

He sighed.

With no other choice, he walked behind the other boy.

Everywhere they went, passersby turned their heads and did a double take at the young man. Akihito scowled. Sure, even amongst alphas, the young man was pretty good looking, with his tie yanked down and collar loosened, but he has flaws too, like…

…

Akihito couldn’t come up with any imperfections. And that irritated him even more.

There’s no way someone has no flaws. Maybe his height? But he was pretty tall. Then his face? Nope, it seems as if God had forsaken the rest of humanity’s appearance after creating one masterpiece.

Because Akihito was so deep in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the boy in front of him had stopped in his tracks and walked straight into him.

“Oww,” Akihito complained, rubbing his nose. At least he smelled good-

Wait, what?

Shocked at his own thoughts, he realized a second too late that the other boy had already veered off course and into a building.

He looked up at the building. The bright lights displaying the word ‘cinema’ shone down on him.

Akihito quickly darted inside the building. The smell of popcorn greeted him. By the time he stepped inside the foyer, the black haired boy was already at the ticket counter. Turning to Akihito, he asked, “Are there any films you want to see?”

“Yeah sure, are they still screening Barbie or My Little Pony?”

The young man gave him a deadpan look, then turned back to the lady at the booth.

“Then two tickets for the next film that’s screening.”

The lady smiled at them both kindly, and handed them their tickets.

“Please enjoy.”

Akihito walked up to him when he saw he paid for both of them. “How much was it? I’ll pay for my own.” He moved to put his hand in his pocket, but-

Shitttttt

His hand came up empty.

He had left in such a hurry this morning that he had forgotten his wallet.

“I-uh…”

Akihito shifted his feet, eyes gravitating towards the ground, suddenly finding a spot on the carpet really fascinating.

“I kinda...uh…”

The young man simply handed Akihito his tickets, along with a wad of notes.

“The concession stand is over there. I will wait for you at the entrance of the screen.”

He spoke curtly, and before Akihito could protest, he had already walked off.

Akihito stared at the bills in his hands, eyes wide. Holy crap, he must be rich. The black haired guy still seemed a bit angry, but Akihito brushed it off his mind and headed towards the snack stand.

When Akihito came back, the raven haired boy raised his eyebrows. In fact, all the cinema goers did a double take when Akihito walked past them.

He was holding a jumbo pot of popcorn. Balanced on top was a super sized hot dog and a small tray of takoyaki. In his left hand he was holding a cup of soda, and dangling between his fingers was a bag of candy floss. His trousers pockets were also bulging.

He shrugged when he saw the other boy staring at him.

“I didn’t have breakfast.”

Miraculously, or perhaps, incredibly, Akihito was able to walk down their aisle without dropping a single popcorn. He stopped short when he arrived at their designated seats.

“...”

“What is it?”

“No way. No way in hell am I gonna sit in that.”

What Akihito was referring to was a special seat for couples. The red sofa-like seat was heart shaped and there was no armrest in between.

Just looking at it made Akihito shudder.

Why the hell would they give them that seat?!

He stormed out of the screen.

“I want a change of seats.”

The lady at the booth looked flustered. “Ah, uhm, my deepest apologies, but there are no more vacant seats.”

“Is that delinquent causing trouble?”

“Maybe he wants to watch it for free and is harassing the poor girl.”

I can hear you, Akihito turned and scowled at the other movie goers whispering behind his back.

A hand yanked his collar.

“Hey- what are you doing?! Let me go!”

So once again, Akihito was dragged away, back towards the screen and into the seat.

“Did no one tell you it’s rude to drag someone?” Akihito glowered at the other man.

“Then don’t make a big scene, unless you want to be kicked out.” He sat down, and faced the screen, putting an end to the conversation.

Armed with no more options, Akihito sulked in his seat.

But they were in such close proximity that everytime they moved, their knees would brush, so Akihito sat like a stone, only moving his hands from the food to his mouth.

The movie seemed to be a romance one, something about a pair of childhood friends finally reuniting, a jealous stalker that comes with the package because the male lead was too handsome, and an unnecessary side character that keeps trying to steal the limelight.

Akihito was bored. Corny romance movies like these made his lone brain cell want to self-destruct. Especially that scene when one of them got kidnapped and got left on a stranded island, and the other braved through blazing gunfire and somehow could miraculously operate a helicopter and save the other person.

Maybe it was because of the film, but a certain memory from his past surfaced up, a memory that he had hardly thought of anymore.

When he was young, he made friends with another boy slightly older than him. He thought they were best friends, but after they got their tests back on their secondary gender, and he told his friend that he was an omega, the other boy slowly then completely dropped contact.

Probably thinks he’s too great to play with an omega.

What was that boy’s name again? Asami Ryuichi right?

...

Suddenly, the popcorn in his mouth felt like sand. The bucket of popcorn tumbled from his hand, spilling loudly across the ground. Several heads turned towards them, but Akihito couldn’t care less right at this moment. He jerked his head towards the person sitting on his right so hard that he nearly got whiplashed.

Didn't the Goatee guy call him Asami? Akihito raked through his memory hard. But it was all a blur since that weird time-stop moment had happened.

“...What’s your name?”

The black haired boy’s mouth thinned, as if Akihito had asked him a question he didn’t want to answer. His eyes stayed glued to the screen.

The glare of the light from the screen should have turned his face into an unattractive landscape of washed out colours, but it only made him more beautiful.

Just when Akihito thought he didn’t hear him and was about to ask again,

“...Asami.”

His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but Akihito’s heart took the expressway straight to his stomach. His jaw dropped to the floor.

So that’s why he looked uncomfortable when Akihito mentioned the person he knew from his childhood, they were the same person!

“Why didn’t you say that you were Asami earlier?!”

Unable to contain his shock, Akihito inadvertently raised his voice.

The other movie watchers turned to them in shock.

“Did he say Asami?”

“The Asami?”

“No way!”

The whispers spread like a ripple across a still lake. Asami stood up abruptly and exited the screen. He didn’t say another word until they were both outside the building. Akihito followed behind without a word, slightly regretting his outburst. Then, with a furrow in between his brows, Asami said with a voice that carried an exasperated resignation.

“Do you have to cause a commotion everytime you go somewhere?”

“Hey, that wasn’t on purpose!” Akihito said reflexively. Or rather, heard himself say. His mind was still reeling at the revelation.

But it wasn’t surprising that the other people were shocked. The Asami family was famous. It was an old family, with their influence extending to everywhere from politics to business. And they were one of the wealthiest families in Japan.

They walked aimlessly down the street in silence.

A thousand questions burned in Akihito’s throat, and a thousand questions extinguished in his mouth.

What should he say? How have you been? Or, why did you leave?

The betrayal after so many years still stung, but everytime he saw Asami, the questions died. There was something different, something untouchable about Asami now, that made him seem so different from the young boy that lived in Akihito’s memories.

A loud rumble echoed.

It seemed that Akihito had done too much thinking.

Asami turned back, his eyebrows raised.

“Are you still hungry?”

“Hey,” Akihito raised both of his hands, “I didn’t even get to finish eating the food I got before we left the cinema.”

Akihito's eyes trailed around, and landed on a golden arch of the letter ‘M’.

“There, let’s go eat there.”

He probably has never been into a fast food restaurant before. Akihito sniggered inwardly. Payback number 1.

Akihito grinned at Asami, “Though there’s no knife or forks there. Are you sure you are going to be alright?”

Asami shot him a withering look, then headed inside.

But to Akihito’s surprise, instead of looking uncomfortable, Asami walked up the counter and ordered without any hesitation.

The person at the counter placed a cup of sundae on their tray.

“Here, it’s a free special sundae for couples when you buy two or more deluxe meals because it’s White Day.”

...It’s White Day today?! Of all days to meet with Asami again. Akihito facepalmed inwardly. But Asami didn’t seem bothered. He took the tray, and sat them at a table near the corner. He pushed three burgers with fries towards Akihito, and only took one for himself.

His long elegant fingers unwrapped up his burger. He looked so refined, so out of place in a cheap burger chain, and if Akihito didn’t know Asami, he would have thought Asami was a model shooting a commercial.

At that moment Asami glanced up, his eyes met Akihito’s.

“Eat.”

Embarrassment coloured Akihito’s cheeks at having been caught staring. He quickly stuffed the burger in his mouth.

Still, after the three burgers, Akihito stared at the sundae. It looked delicious. Strawberry sauce dripped enticingly off the soft peaks of the ice cream.

Asami must have seen him staring at it with sparkling eyes because he said, “You can have it.”

“All of it?” Even when saying so, Akihito was pulling the cup towards himself.

The first mouthful was bliss, and a content smile naturally spread across Akihito’s face. But all too soon, the cup was empty. Akihito leaned back in his chair, his hunger finally abated. Now that they had both finished eating, the silence made Akihito shift uncomfortably in his seat. His fingers fiddled with the empty cup. He was just thinking about how to break the silence when Asami beat him to it.

“What were you doing there this morning?”

For a brief moment, Akihito’s mind pulled up empty. Then he stiffened as he remembered the reason and that he was with an alpha himself. A sour taste entered his mouth, and a scowl appeared on his face.

“That goatee gorilla guy harassed my friend's girlfriend. He forcefully used his pheromones on her and made her go into heat. Luckily Takato arrived in time, but who knows what would have happened if he didn’t.” The cup got crushed in his fist.

Asami was silent, then, “You should stay away from him.��

Akihito’s anger started to simmer up again. “Didn’t you hear what I just said he did? No way in hell am I gonna let him off the hook for what he did.”

“It’s not your problem, is it?”

“Takato’s like my brother, so of course it’s my problem! Plus, his attitude pisses me off, you heard what he said-“

“Don’t go near Sakazaki.” An edge had entered Asami’s voice.

Akihito sat back, folding his arms. He wasn’t about to back down. He glared at Asami. “Are you protecting him?”

Asami looked disgusted at the very idea.

“Then what’s your problem with me-“

“You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“That doesn’t scare me-“

“Akihito.”

The air surrounding them suddenly became thin. Akihito’s mouth snapped shut.

“Do. Not. Go. Near. Him.”

Asami’s words were flat, cold. He spoke slowly, but there was no masking his anger. His golden eyes burned into Akihito’s, preventing Akihito from looking away, and for once, Akihito was at a loss for words. Asami held his gaze for a few more seconds, then he stood up, taking the tray to the nearby trash can.

The silence returned, and neither of them made any attempts to break it. Akihito’s mood was black and refused to look at Asami. Did Asami expect him to smile, nod his head and go, “Yeah, sure, I won’t.”?

Asami made no move to break it either. He simply walked out of the restaurant and along Main Street and flagged down a taxi. Seeing Asami talking to the driver and handing him a wad of cash, Akihito had just decided to turn around and blindly walk around until he was at a familiar place when Asami pushed him inside the taxi.

He leaned against the car door frame, his eyes capturing Akihito’s, and said, “Remember what I’ve said. Don’t go near the school or Sakazaki again.”

“Now wait a damn minute you-“

He closed the door to the taxi before Akihito could say any more.

Then, he spun on his heel and strode away briskly, disappearing into the crowd of people, and the taxi pulled away.

*****

The moment Asami closed the door to his room, he slumped onto the ground, all the energy leaving his body.

Why, why did he have to appear again now of all times?

#finder series #finder series fanfic #asami ryuichi #Asami ryuichi fic #asami x akihito #finder #finder no hyouteki #yaoi #you’re my loveprize in viewfinder #takaba akihito

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

Text

chapter sixteen: gimme fever

Zelda sat next to Sam the whole entire time there on the curb outside of the front lobby. Testament had already left for the airport, but neither of them need not see them off. Eric did apologize to Sam however, but nothing could change the fact that she felt as though she had done something wrong. She had pushed him away all for nothing more than who she was. She came on too strong; she thought of that piece of rice paper in her bottom drawer and she wondered if it was even worth it.

She considered taking the next bus back up to the Bronx and throwing that rice paper in the trash, but the bus had already left the stop up the block. There was no way she could do it now.

Zelda had a few tears in her eyes herself, and Sam thought about what she had said about Alex, and his breaking in new shoes for their tour. But as she bowed her head a bit, Sam could tell that the whole deal with him left the both of them baffled. Eric crouched down next to him, and his smooth inky black hair swept down off of his head like a curtain, albeit one that protected them both from the hazy gray morning light.

“I'm still gonna be with the fan club,” Sam promised him, complete with a sniffle. “I can't do that to you guys.”

“I'll talk to him, don't you worry,” Eric vowed as he tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “He gets kind of worked up about some things—don't worry about it.” The last thing he did for her was put his arms about her: he did the same for Zelda as well.

“You guys have a safe flight,” she told him in a soft voice.

Chuck embraced the both of them as well before he left after him: the soft aroma of incense riddled about his smoothed out brown waves. He peered down at her, such that the light on the ceiling shone down on his head so it resembled to a full crown.

“There's a little art shop somewhere around the block here,” he told her, “can't remember where it is, but I did see it, though.” And yet she had no desire to do anything at that point. She hadn't really known Testament very well, but it felt as though she had been betrayed by a friend. She lay her head against his chest for a few more seconds, and he patted the upper part of her back a little bit before he let her go.

Sam stood there on the sidewalk with her arms folded over her chest as she watched Chuck and Eric climb into the van in unison; the latter showed her a little wave and she returned the favor to him as the tears stayed brimmed upon her eyes. She watched them drive off; even once they had disappeared behind the corner, she stayed there and she brushed away a tear with the back of her finger. She then sighed through her nose and doubled back to the front lobby where Zelda awaited her once again with an embrace.

But Sam bowed her head so no one would look at her. It came on so fast and so suddenly, that she swore she wouldn't look at anyone for the rest of the day. Zelda lingered right next to her, also with her head bowed.

Someone next to her patted a hand upon her shoulder.

She looked to her left and the sight of those long fingers upon her, and Zelda, who had backed off a little bit. She turned her head again and Frank stood right next to her with a soft look on his face. She sniffled again at the very sight of him.

“Things will be okay,” he promised her. She turned closer to him: even though summer was upon them, she knew he was warm enough to hold for the time being. She thought about that puffy sweater he had worn on that cold morning in which they rescued Joey from the snow. A warm late spring morning and yet everything was still cold as if a fresh blanket of snow had fallen around them.

“C'mere, Puff Daddy—” she begged to him with her arms outstretched for him.

“That's a nickname I haven't heard in like a million years,” he noted with a smirk on his face. Frank held her close to his body. Someone else joined them from the side: Sam moved her head and she recognized Charlie's curls upon his head. From the other side, Zelda joined in as well.

“Nice li'l group hug here,” Dan remarked from behind Frank.

“Group hugs and love,” Charlie added as he raised his head for him. “Good way to start off our day off.” Sam lifted her head from Frank's chest and she rubbed her eyes with one hand.

“C'mon, Sam I am—if it's open, we'll take ya all the way out to Coney Island,” Scott offered from behind them.

“That's kinda far, though,” Dan pointed out. “Be hell of a subway ride—take us all day just to get there.”

Sam looked over to Joey, who sat right there at the table on the other side of the room with a cup of coffee in one hand. They were in the City and the drive to upstate was a little too far. But she needed to be in a place where she could be alone, in a place like upstate New York.

“Well, we've gotta do something, though,” Zelda quipped. “Don't really wanna stick around here in the Big Apple with nothing to do, though.”

Joey then turned to her with his eyebrows raised; he took a sip from his coffee and then he stood to his feet and cleared his throat.

“I know what you can do,” he stated, and they all turned into his direction. He ran his fingers through his jet black curls and he gazed on at her with those large brown eyes.

“What's that?” she asked him with another sniffle. Joey picked up the cup once again, and he drank down the rest of the coffee. He ran his fingers through his curls again and then he gestured for them to follow him. Sam watched him walk towards the door right before them: he then turned around and gestured again for them to follow him outside.

“C'mon,” he insisted; his expression never changed from that of concern. Sam glanced back at them and Charlie nodded at her. She sniffled again and then she followed him outside to the sidewalk there. She peered over her shoulder at Zelda, Frank, and Charlie right behind her. Joey walked on towards the driveway when he stopped right at the edge there. He turned again and he gestured once more for Sam to follow him.

“I'm coming, I'm coming,” she promised him as he took out his mirrored sunglasses, despite the veil of marine layer clouds over the sun. He peered up the street to the small piece of traffic, and then he crossed the street first. His black curls waved behind him like a series of streamers there at the back; Sam caught up with him as he moved at a brisk pace to the other side. Meanwhile, Zelda, Frank, and Charlie waited there at the corner for the rest of the traffic to clear out a bit.

“Where are we going?” she asked him over the noise of the street; they reached the other sidewalk and he slowed up for her to catch up with him. “Joey, where are we going?”

“You'll see,” he replied. She thought about the art shop that Chuck had mentioned and she wondered if that was it. She also wondered what exactly was in there.

“We drove past this place yesterday,” he confessed to her. “Surprised you didn't even see it yesterday when we first got here—although I can't really blame ya because it's kinda tucked around the corner here. But I had my eye on it the whole entire time you and Marla were helping out the Cherry Suicides yesterday—Danny and I even went in here yesterday afternoon because I knew it would be right in your wheelhouse. Did not disappoint, either.”

“An art shop, right?” She grinned up at him.

“Not just any ol' art shop.” They reached the next block up and there it stood on the corner in front of them. A large bay window stretched around the corner of the building so they were able to have a look inside of there. Through the glass, Sam spotted a pure white wall in the back, past the rows and rows of silvery metal shelves.

The light turned green and they walked onward to the front doors there. Joey held the door for her and they strode inside there: once they were inside, Sam could see that the wall was not what she believed. She spotted the gears upon the highest corners of the wall: a giant roll of blank pure white canvas suspended against the wall. Indeed, beyond the shelves stood a stretch of floor for anyone to come in and paint whatever they wish.

“So you and Danny actually came in here yesterday?” she asked him as they made their way over to it.

“Yep. We went full on—what's that artist who does the splatter paint? You've taken art history—I think you know who I'm talking about.”

“Jackson Pollock?”

“Jackson Pollock, yeah. It's about eight feet wide so he and I were able to share it and paint all over it.” They halted before the canvas and she gazed up at the roll suspended near the ceiling. Eight feet wide and ten feet high: not very big on its own, but the sheer size of it shrunk her down to the size of a pinprick on a tack.

The front door swung open again, and Sam and Joey took a glimpse back at Zelda, Frank, and Charlie as they entered the room themselves in single file: Sam looked beyond them to Scott and Dan, both of whom crossed the street and strode towards the shop. Sam returned to the blank canvas. Not very large, but it seemed to stretch on forever for her by the way of the roll and also on either side of her. She then turned her head back in Joey's direction: he held his sunglasses close to his chest in both hands for a moment before he tucked them into his shirt collar.

“So what is it that you want me to do?” she asked him as Zelda, Frank, and Charlie congregated behind them.

Joey turned to the table next to them, the one with the jars of used paint brushes, large bottles of paint, and a couple of pencils, one with hard graphite, the other with softer graphite. She looked over her shoulder to Zelda, who frowned at everything that was going on before her, and Sam shrugged at her. Joey took a step over to the table there and with one hand on his black curls to keep it back, he kept his hand over the two pencils there.

“Joey, what can I do?” Sam asked him, and he picked out the hard pencil and he returned for her, and he handed it to her as if it was a weapon. She parted her lips at the sight of it, the sight of the hard graphite tip at the end. She gazed back up to the vast stretch of canvas up on the wall, and then she returned to him. The whole room was silent, except for the noise of the morning traffic outside.

“This,” he said, to which she shook her head.

“No—I don't feel like it,” she confessed as the tears returned to her again.

“It's your greatest passion,” he insisted.

“Joey—it's so big, though.”

He bowed his head a bit, so he hung close to her face: some of his black curls brushed against the sides of her face so they somewhat blocked out the five of them behind them. She flashed back on the memory of sitting next to Lars in that dark room; but she still shook her head. The encounter with Alex earlier still left her rattled to the core; Joey swallowed and then he spoke again.

“It is what gets you up in the morning,” he whispered, to which Sam shook her head once again.

“I can't,” she stubbornly said, and she bowed away from him. “I can't, Joey. I can't—”

“Sam, please,” he called after her. But she brushed past the five of them, back to the front door. The tears began to fall once more, but he caught her before she could open the door again. He turned her around so he could face her straight on; she tried to hide her face from him but he clutched both of her shoulders.

“Sam, please,” he begged her, “listen to me. You need to do it.”

“No,” she wept. “No! No!”

“Sam, do it,” he declared; and she could hear tears in his voice as well. “Do it! Do it!”

She kept on shaking her head at him. Joey set her free hand on her shoulder and he bowed his head so he looked right into her face.

“Sam, listen to me,” he persisted in a gentle voice, “you're all about protecting me from some horrible things. It only makes sense that I do the same for you. I need you to do what you love. I need you to go forth.” He showed her the pencil. “Do it. Please. For me.”

She looked up at him as a tear streamed down her face. Those brown eyes, cold and earthy like the venom he had injected her with before, now soft and riddled with tears himself.

“Please,” he begged her in a single breath. She closed her eyes: he never let go of her, even though she wished for him to do that and let her go out to the street. The tears were almost too much to bear for her, but then she opened her eyes again.

“Please,” he whispered to her. She sighed through her nose and she took the pencil from Joey's hand. He closed his eyes and sighed through his nose; he ducked past her to the group behind her. She gazed up at the white canvas up on the wall. She looked down at the pencil in her hand. There was one thing she could do with the pencil there on the canvas, but the canvas itself seemed so big and daunting before her.

She curled her fingers around the body of the pencil, and she lifted her gaze to a row of paint brushes. Up to that point, she had been a student. The student with two years under her belt, and yet there wasn't much to take from the whole entire time. She came to New York on a whim and a promise, and yet it felt as though she had learned hardly anything from those two years.

There had to be more. There had to be more within her.

She then tucked the pencil behind her ear, and she turned to the paints on the table. The bristles on the brushes were clean, albeit stained from a few colors, namely the Prussian blue, the cadmium red, and the veridian green. But she spotted a jar off to the side for a bit of a washing.

Just the pure paint, and the way in which she felt about everything up to that point.

She had made her friends and so much had happened in the past two years. Two years worth of everything, and it felt as though she had built up some kind of new armor all the while. Armor built up by living alone in the Bronx, and she knew it had toughened up a bit by the loss of Cliff and by being in class all this time. But then again, as she thought about the loss of Cliff, and the fact they were almost a year away from that accident, she wondered if it was even tough anymore.

The encounter with Alex earlier had opened a new notch in that armor, such that it felt as though it need not be in place anymore. Seeing Joey opened yet another notch for her. To see his brown eyes so soft and so watery brought on such a tight feeling inside of her chest. A tight feeling that only caused the hardest and most astute of armors to weaken in its wake. The very venom he injected her with had brought it all down to its most basic level.

Red paint first for a base. Like blood stains on the otherwise pure white canvas before her.

She thought about Joey and Dan in there the day before with the whole splatter method. She dipped the head of the thick brush into the mouth of the bottle and then she threw the paint onto the pure white canvas before her.

Blood on the canvas. Cliff's blood on the pavement, on that road in the heart of darkness, over in Sweden.

She did it again. Even more blood before her.

She reached for the black paint: that time she splattered some from the mouth of the bottle itself and she used the larger of the brushes for a smearing. The bristles split apart a bit at one point and she thought of Alex's hair. That jet black hair with the little sliver of gray over his forehead.

She moved it towards the red. Towards the proverbial blood, as if Alex had hit his head on the pavement alongside Cliff.

More black and red. That time around, she used the big brush and she employed shorter, much more shallow strokes. The brush resembled to a knife. She moved about more quickly and much harder over the canvas: if she could jump that high, she would cover the whole canvas with the violent feeling, the feeling of betrayal and wanting to inflict a knife onto him to teach him a lesson.

“Such emotion,” Charlie whispered out at one point.

Harder. Faster. Just like the Cherry Suicides the night before. Her heart hammered inside of her chest. She moved about as if she was lighter than air. Alex's angered expression burst into her mind right then.

He pushed her and she was pushing back against him. The knife right into that boy's face. What he gets for being so cold and callous, even in the face of Cliff's demise. There was no way she could take it from him. No way. Not ever.

It was all shedding away from her, like the old skin from a snake.

“Looks like a grindcore cover,” Scott remarked as she took one of the smaller brushes. A bit of yellow right smack in the middle of the canvas.

Hair first. Followed by the shape of his handsome face. Then the brim of his hat. That black hat he had given her. Right against the red and black, right against the blood and the pavement. She then painted a piece of rope from the base of his neck and she led the end of it to that first patch of red on the canvas.

Her boyfriend gone and all his band could do was replace him.

They replaced him. They replaced him! They replaced him before they could rise up through the clouds with him! Lars said it himself: he was their brother.

Their brother and yet they still replaced him.

Breathing heavy and with a bit of sweat that ran down her back, Sam finished the little thick rough portrait before her. She then backed off so as to catch her breath and to let her heart calm down from the feeling. She held her arms out on either side of her like a crucifix: the paint brush in one hand and the bottle of yellow paint in the other. She gazed on at the scene of violence before her, something that she had never done before, not even in her wildest dreams. All of the art she had done before then was so calm and serene, but this had no restraint whatsoever.

The walls had come down before her and she could finally shake off the remnants of that broken armor. All those dark thoughts before her on canvas. Those dark thoughts of which she swore she had buried had made their way out before her.

“Is that—” Frank swallowed; Sam looked back at him and the tears in his eyes.

“It is,” she told him in a light whisper. He lingered closer to her and they both looked on at that rough painting of Cliff together. She then felt a hand on her shoulder once again: she turned her head to find Joey right next to her. He hadn't tears in his eyes anymore, but he did have a soft reassuring look upon his face for her.

“C'mon. Let's take this with us and then we'll go back to the hotel for a li'l sump'n else.”

“Like what?” Sam asked him, and he turned to Zelda, who raised her eyebrows at that.

Neither of them answered Sam as the clerk in there helped them cut down that piece of canvas for themselves: once they were sure that the paint was dry, she and Joey rolled it up and then he tucked it underneath his arm before they each pitched in to pay for it. The bunch of them returned up the block to the hotel: Sam was about to take the canvas back upstairs to the Cherry Suicides' room, but Joey gestured for her to follow him.

“I'll take that,” Zelda promised her. “I'll take it and take good care of it—don't you worry 'bout a thing.” She flashed her a wink as Sam handed her the rolled up canvas; Joey led her past the front lobby towards a door on the far side of the room. He held it for her, and she was met with a cozy dark room lit up by a series of candles in red jars. A low bar stood before her and she turned back to Joey, who had a smirk on his face.

“No,” she told him off.

“It's okay—I promise you. Yesterday, Danny and I came in here and we had Shirley Temples.”

She breathed out a sigh of relief as he guided her towards the middle of the bar. He tugged on the stool to his left, and he gestured for her to have a seat next to him.

“Bottle of wine for me and my lady here, please,” he announced to the bartender, to which she gasped at him.

“Joey!”

“What? You’re obviously lookin’ better now—we gotta celebrate. Besides, Frankie told me that wine is healthy and easy to digest. It’s not like we’re drinking beer.”

But she still shook her head at that.

“Please don't,” she begged him.

“It's just a single glass, though,” he pointed out with his eyebrows knitted together in sober seriousness. “I promise you—it’ll just be a single glass. One for you, and one for me.”

“Yeah, but—a single glass turns into a whole bottle of wine.”

“It won't this time,” he promised. “Trust me.”

Sam nibbled on her bottom lip as the bartender handed them two crystal clear wine glasses. There was no way Joey could keep it one glass, especially once that lush red wine poured inside of those two basins, one right after the other.

“Cheers to us,” Joey proclaimed with a raise of his glass; Sam followed suit. A little sip of that red wine was all it took for her to know that it would give him a rush. She turned to the bottle, which the bartender left there on the bar for them. If Joey wanted more, then he would have to fight for it himself.

“Gimme that,” she pleaded under her breath. She swiped the bottle and poured herself more, and then she drank it down in a few large gulps. The alcohol was bitter, but the wine itself tasted rich and full with those dark grapes. As dark as Joey’s eyes.

And yet, when he downed his glass, she hesitated before him. He then reached for the bottle himself. Before, she would have tackled him or at least slapped his hand, but that was all within her mind.

“Eh, why the hell not,” he said.

“Hang on, I thought you promised to only drink one glass of wine,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but—it's so good, though.” He offered to pour her another one, and she took the offer.

“Isn't it?” She downed it right there.

“It is. Very much so.”

She was two drinks in already, but she felt as though he was onto something. A big fat painting on the wall and now they treated themselves to a whole bottle of red wine. On the other hand, she was glad that he had taken a glass of wine rather than a bottle of beer or vodka for that matter. The red wine filled the whole basin of Joey's glass; he set the bottle down between the two of them and then he brought it up to his dark lips once again: the rich blood red color was warming and welcoming, even from the outside looking in.

Warm and welcome, even with the alcohol within there.

Sam's eyelids drooped a bit from the feeling within her. Two big drinks in and she already had a blush upon her face. A bit of fever brought on by the paint, the pain, and now the wine. She held still there with her hand on the glass as Joey poured himself a third glass.

And then she forgot everything after that.

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is0gild · 4 years

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Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 26

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 8,801

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

We stepped into the ballroom together and everything was just as grand and impressive as I'd remembered it. The room was immense, stretching two stories high with giant, elaborate gold and crystal chandeliers hanging from the embellished ceiling. Majestic columns lined the east and west sides of the room, with heavy red velvet curtains draped between each one, currently tied back to reveal the long banquet tables of food behind them. The celebration was already in full swing and the place was just simply packed with family and acquaintances I recognized, each guest dressed more fancy and sophisticated than the last as they all mingled or took a turn about the dance floor.

Or at least, that's what they all had been doing before Lea and I had made our entrance. Maybe it was just my imagination… maybe I was just being paranoid… but I swear the whole place suddenly went very still, all chatter dying down to a muted undertone as it felt like every last eye in the room turned toward me.

My chest seized and I swallowed hard, taking a tiny step back.

This was a mistake. I couldn't do this. I couldn't be here. I couldn't-

"Crabclaw?"

I twitched at Lea's low voice right next to my ear. My eyebrows knit together and I turned a quizzical look towards him. What… Was he asking if I wanted hors d'oeuvres? ...no, I don't think they were even serving crab tonight. I frowned, mulling it over for another second before squinting at him. "...is this you trying to whisper sweet nothings to me again?"

He chuckled, "Please. You'll know when I'm laying some sweet sweet nothings on you. Nah, I was just taking another crack at it."

"Crack at…?" I cocked my head with a frown. Crabclaw…? Come to think of it, something about it was prickling at the back of my brain. Now why did that sound so…"Oh!" Realization struck. "My favorite ice cream?"

"Yup!" he tapped his nose. Then his lips pursed to the left with a small hum before he was shaking his head. "But that's not it either. Seafood in ice cream? Blech! You're adventurous, but that's a lil too out there, even for me."

My brow furrowed. "...you think I'm adventurous?"

Did I miss something? Was today Opposite Day?

"Course!" he grinned. My face scrunched up in pure disbelief and he laughed. "Well let's check the scoreboard here. You ran out on your wedding and everything ya knew to start a new life from nothing. You followed a devilishly handsome stranger," he jerked a thumb into his chest with a smirk, "up a decrepit old clocktower. You jumped last minute into open auditions for a musical with barely any preparation or practice." Lea shrugged, "Seems to me there's at least some small part of you that's attracted to the unknown. Ergo: adventurous!"

I looked away with a tiny scowl. "I think you mean ergo: stupid."

"Eh. To-may-to, to-mah-to. No true adventure is complete without a healthy dose of stupidity thrown into the mix anyhow. Lil pearl o' wisdom for ya there, courtesy of yours truly," he beamed.

"Such sagely advice," I snorted before my face softened. "...thanks, Lea. I… think I'm ready to do this now."

"But you already are."

With a start, I realized we were walking. Had been walking. I hadn't even noticed when we'd begun. Those big double doors were long behind us now as we weaved our way further into the crowd. No one seemed to be looking at us anymore. I suspected they had only gotten more discreet about it.

"Oh, look, there's the birthday boy now," Lea gestured with his chin towards where my grandfather stood not too far off, greeting and shaking hands with a couple that'd arrived just before us. He was looking a lot warmer and friendlier than I'd seen him all weekend. Then again, Grandfather had always been very good at putting on a cordial mask for the public. Lea asked, "Shall we go give the ol' boy our best wishes?"

I gnawed on my lower lip for a second before sighing, "Alright."

Might as well get this over with.

We made our way over just as Grandfather was finishing up with those guests. As if sensing our approach, he turned to face us and immediately went very still. However, his poker face was in top form this evening for it betrayed nothing as he just stared at us impassively and waited.

"Grandfather…" I paused, floundering a bit under his scrutiny. But then I took a deep breath, forced a tremulous smile and simply said, "Happy birthday." Releasing Lea's arm, I stepped forward and got on tiptoes to plant a swift peck to Grandfather's cheek, just as I'd done for all his birthday's before. Just as if everything were normal, even though they were very much not.

He answered with a stiff nod and a polite smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "Thank you, my dear."

Retrieving my hand to once more fold into his elbow, Lea piped up, "Happy birthday, Sir!" I preemptively winced, waiting for the surely inevitable 'Gramps' that always followed. However, it never came. I stared at him in stunned silence. Pretty sure Grandfather was doing the same. Amazing… perhaps Lea actually could take things seriously when he really- "Wow, seventy huh? Keeping it tight, big guy! I mean, hell, it's gotta be more candle than cake at this point! But man oh man, you're still pretty spry for a dude your-"

"Enjoy your evening, Grandfather!" I said quickly, turning to make a hasty exit and yanking Lea along with me. Once we had put a safe distance behind us, I shot a tiny glare up at him.

"What? I was complimenting him!" Lea defended himself. I gave him a flat look and he snerked, "Hey now, I told ya I would be on my best behavior. No one ever said anything about my best being any good."

I huffed quietly, one side of my mouth twitching up. "Fair point."

"So then," he pulled us aside, stopping next to one of the columns as he grinned down at me. "We've put in our appearance. Did what we set out to do. We came, we conquered. Wanna split?"

A small laugh hummed in my throat. "As lovely as that sounds, we can't leave already. We've only been here a few minutes. I appreciate you trying to get us out of here as soon as possible for my sake, but I'm doing okay at the moment. I can last a little while longer."

His grin ticked wider as his hand rose to gently brush a strand of hair off my cheek. "Okay then. Whaddya say to a lil jaunt about the room then?"

"A 'jaunt' you say?" I cracked a smile at that. "My, sounds fancy."

"Babe, ya got me in a tux for this. Damn right I'm gonna be fancy. C'mon, you can point out all your relatives to me as we go, tell me all their deep, dark, icky secrets they don't want anyone to know about." His hand drifted down behind me, slowing to hover over my lower back as he looked to me in silent question.

I hesitated for a heartbeat before giving him a nod. Then I felt his warm hand pressing to the bare skin at the small of my back as he guided us into a walk once more. Suppressing a little shiver as we went, my eyes scanned the crowd for faces of interest.

Everyone was still doing it. Watching Lea and me. I could no longer see them doing it, but I could still feel it. All those eyes following us as we went. And really, I couldn't blame them for it. Hardly six weeks ago I'd broken off my engagement in the most public and humiliating way possible to my ex, his family, and my family… and now here I was, parading my new "boyfriend" around my grandfather's birthday celebration as if everything were fine and dandy and like I didn't have a care in the world. This seemed inappropriate. Callous. I wouldn't have even done it if my parents hadn't all but insisted… why? Why were they putting me through this? They must have had a goal, an objective behind it all, I just had yet to fathom what it could possibly be.

Trying to take my mind off the swirling questions, not to mention off the ever growing numbness in my knees from anxiety, I focused harder on searching the room. "Hm… ah!" I pointed, "See that man over there? In the wheelchair with the wild poofy hair?"

His gaze followed my finger. "Talking 'bout that mummified corpse they wheeled in? Ya mean that thing's alive?"

I pinched his arm. "Be nice, he's very old. Anna and I have called him Grandpabbie ever since we were little. He's Grandfather's father."

"Shit, that's not old, that's ancient. Have ya ever asked him what it was like, growing up in the freaking Stone Age?" He snorted as I swat his shoulder. "Seriously though, how many years we talking here?"

A crease formed between my eyebrows, "...I don't really know actually. Honestly, I'm not sure anyone remembers anymore, possibly not even Grandfather. Certainly not Grandpabbie himself, he's sadly not really all there these days," I grimaced as we moved on before my eyes landed on another pair of people who were peering in our direction. "And there's the Duke by that painting over there."

"Ah yes, the Duke. Still reeling from the pleasure of the last time we met," Lea waggled his fingers in a teeny wave towards my uncle. Even from all the way across the ballroom, we could see him agitatedly puff out his mustache as he stuck his big nose up high into the air and looked away. "I think he likes me."

"Oh yes, he's positively tickled by you," I said dryly. "That woman he's talking to is Yelena."

Recognition flickered in Lea's eyes. "Right, Anna mentioned her showing up with your cousins this morning. She's your aunt?"

"She's Mother's aunt, my great aunt," I corrected as I observed her. She was studying us both currently with a slight frown and a calculating look in her eye. "She's… strict. Solemn. Very stern and proud. But I think she always means well."

Lea scoffed, "Boriiiing! C'mon, where's all the juicy dirt on these people? Looking for the primo, blackmail-worthy shit here."

My feet came to a stop once more as I half chuckled, half sighed. "Sorry, there just isn't any dirt to share. My family is rather unexciting in general."

"Nah," his hand shifted over to my hip now, pulling me in to nestle up against his side, "they're rich. And the rich always got some nasty skeletons hidden away in their closets, just gotta know where to look."

"If you say so," I muttered, face warming slightly as I leaned my cheek against his chest. It just felt natural. I mean, it's what a girlfriend should do, right? Listening to the low, soothing rhythm of his heartbeat, I cast another glance around. "...oh, there's Mattias. See the woman he's dancing with?"

"Ya mean the one he looks all twitterpated over?" Lea murmured as his hand came up to fiddle with a few of my curled locks.

Nodding, I said, "That's his wife Halima. I've known her since before I can even remember. She's very sweet."

"Mm," was his only acknowledgement to that, fingers still twirling the pale strands between them.

I went on, "She always made the best macaroons… Ah! Here's some dirt for you," I whispered conspiratorially. "Her secret ingredient? Baby applesauce."

"...mm-hm," he hummed softly as I felt him press a kiss into my hair.

Pushing away from him now, I narrowed my eyes up at him, "Hey, are you even listening to me right now?"

"Wha-? I-" he stammered, sheepishly scratching a spot behind his ear before laughing. "Course I am!"

I turned my head slightly, giving him some side-eye. "Really? Then what's the last thing I said?"

He shrugged and smirked, "That Halima's the one in the wheelchair."

A traitorous snort escaped me despite myself. "Oh, you think you're funny, don't you?"

"I'm a goddamn riot and you know it. In fact-" his words suddenly cut off as his gaze landed on something past me. "Uh oh. Inbound, six o'clock."

I turned to see what he was talking about. It took me a second before I spotted them: the Duke and Aunt Yelena making their way through the crowd, beelining straight for us.

Oh goodie. This should be fun.

"Ah!" Uncle Weselton declared as they closed the distance to join us. "Here's the young mongrel-" he forced a loud, exaggerated cough into his fist, "ahem, I mean young man now. Elsa's new consort…" he sniffed and glared down his bespectacled nose at Lea. Or at least he tried to but seemed to be having some difficulty, seeing as how Lea towered at least a good foot over him. "...I believe… Lou, was it?"

He flashed a toothy grin back. "Lea, actually, but that's alright. Names can be tough to remember, especially the single syllable ones and especially at your rather… distinguished age." The Duke bristled, huffing under his breath something along the lines of 'the audacity' but remained otherwise mute. Turning his attention to the other person who'd joined us, Lea held out a hand towards her, "And you must be Aunt Yelena. We were just talking about you a sec ago. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Yelena's face was unreadable, neither cold nor warm as she considered the hand offered to her for a few seconds. At last she took it with a curt, business-like shake but didn't release it right away. No, instead she turned it slightly so she could have a better look at his fingernails. More specifically, at the black painted to them. Her only visible reaction was to arch one silver brow.

"...charmed, I'm sure," she stated evenly in that flat, no-nonsense voice she always seemed to have as she finally let him go. Then her eyes turned to me and she bowed her head slightly, "Elsa. You're looking well this evening."

I ducked my head quickly to return the greeting. "Yes, as… as do you."

Turning her sharp gaze on Lea once more, Yelena began, "So tell me, young man… how did you and my niece meet?"

Wasting no time, I see. Diving straight on into the interrogation.

Just keep your cool, Elsa. We'd already worked out the details to this story, so everything should be fine.

...so then why was there this uneasy feeling churning in the pit of my stomach?

"It was 'bout a year ago," Lea was saying, his hand reaching for mine and lacing our fingers together. "Met on a train and struck up a delightful lil conversation with her."

"I was on my way back to Traverse Town from Corona," I tacked on. "You remember that trip Anna and I took last summer, Aunt Yelena."

Her eyes flicked slowly back and forth between us and I noticed there was now the barest hint of a downward pull to her lips. Settling her gaze back on Lea, she remarked, "And you thought it would be okay to seduce and corrupt a young, innocent woman in a long-term, committed relationship who was engaged to soon be married?"

It wasn't said like an accusation, merely a dry statement of fact. Still the sheer bluntness of it seemed to catch Lea off guard as he stiffened, stammering, "I- uh, heh… well, ya see-"

"And you," she turned those flinty eyes on me now. "You gave little to no thought as to the impropriety and dangers of a girl of your means and station consorting with some strange man you'd just met on public transport."

Again, there was no harshness to it, no criticism but more just a… curiosity. And again, it struck like a blow to the gut, only this time to me. "Ah… Aunt Yelena, it… it was just a harmless chat on the train…" I said, fidgeting with one of my earrings.

"Outrageous!" barked the Duke, startling a flinch out of me.

Yelena's gaze narrowed on him briefly before returning to me with a harrumph. "Harmless, you say… tell that to the fiancé you left standing at the altar."

Ouch.

Sighing deep in her throat, she looked up at Lea. "Please. Go on."

He blinked and echoed, "Go…?"

"I presume there's more to this than a chance encounter on a railcar. Continue," she insisted dully.

"Oh! Right! Er…" he gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his head as his eyes darted about. Interestingly enough, Aunt Yelena was the first and only member of my family so far who seemed to give him pause and think twice about snarking her. "...well, there… may have also been a, heh… romantic, late-night stroll round town?" It came out sounding more like a question, almost as if he'd be willing to change his answer if she didn't like it.

She held him with a long, hard stare. Then she was addressing me, still with that ever-present monotone, "You mean to tell me you took your sister to stay out all hours of the night, wandering an unfamiliar town with some mystery man you'd only just met?"

"Disgraceful!" Uncle Weselton snarled, swishing his bushy mustache to and fro. Yelena shot him another not so subtly veiled glower out of the corner of her eye.

Ignoring him, I squared my shoulders and told her, "No, don't be ridiculous, of course not!" However, I was quick to deflate as I nibbled at my lower lip. "Anna wasn't there. It was just me... alone with the mystery man… roaming the streets and back alleys of a city I was unaccustomed to… all night long… straight through to morning…"

Great. Thanks a lot, mouth. Way to make that all sound so much better.

"Deplorable!" was the Duke's deep and insightful commentary this time. Yelena just remained stoically silent.

Pulse beginning to thud loudly in my ears, I licked my dry lips and tried, "It… it actually wasn't as untoward as it- wait, let me start over… you see, there were these floating lights- lanterns! That's what they… what they're called. That's when- on the train, we... " I screwed my eyes shut. My throat was closing up. I pushed past it, "...let's see… there was a… a park, and… a f-ferris wheel… a café with a belly dancer- wait, no, palm reader! ...or p-poet… was it? Lamppost! Almost forgot! Earlier, there was a lamppost! That Lea, he… just bam! Right into… actually, now that I think about it, that part isn't really… all that important to the-"

"Annnnnd that's enough storytime for now!" Lea suddenly chimed in, interrupting the absolute trainwreck that was spewing forth from my lips. Thank god. "If you'll 'scuse us, I promised my lady fair a spin 'bout the dance floor." I felt his palm at the small of my back once more, steering me away from my aunt and uncle.

The Duke blustered nonsensically for a few breaths before snapping, "Listen, you, you, you- we're in the middle of a discussion here! You can't just walk off, you-"

"Watch us," came Lea's dangerously chipper response as he led me away.

"Well, I never! Of all the rude, abhorrent, insufferable, belligerent-"

"If you don't have anything of substance to add to a conversation, could you please kindly cram a sock in it, Weselton?" I heard Aunt Yelena cut him off dryly. Her eyes remained trained on us as we went, her expression blank as ever. Eventually she turned to walk away, leaving a spluttering and blotchy-faced Duke behind in her wake who eventually stormed off.

...was this why my parents had requested Lea and I attend? Were they purposely putting my shame out in the open and on display so it could be met with censure and rebuke? Were they trying to teach me a lesson of sorts? ...or maybe it was more like a punishment. Disciplining me for disappointing them. For being so thoughtless and selfish. Showing me that there were consequences for my actions.

I pulled myself from my musings, only just now realizing that we'd stopped moving. Lea had come to stand in front of me, taking both my hands in his. Brow furrowing, I glanced about to see that we were surrounded by other couples twirling gracefully in time with the melody of the nearby string quartet. My eyes widened, "Oh, we're really…? That wasn't just an excuse? To get away from…" I trailed off, frowning. I could still feel all those eyes. All that judgement. All that disapproval. My hands pulled free of his and I hugged myself, feeling all my muscles beginning to tighten and lock up. "No. This isn't right, we shouldn't do this. People are staring."

"So?" he said softly as his hands found mine again and held them to his chest, tugging me a step closer. "Let them stare."

I looked down, eyes shifting about frantically. "But-"

"Forget them. Don't even give 'em a second thought. They're not important." He hooked a finger under my chin, gently lifting my gaze to meet his. "Just focus on me, 'kay? You and me. We're all that matter right now."

Part of me still wanted to argue, but the words were getting stuck in my throat. So instead I swallowed hard, gave a small reluctant nod, and did just that. I focused on him. On those mesmerizing green eyes of his. On his winged guyliner that he'd still elected to don in all its swoopy glory, even here, to this ball of all places. On his warm smile that was starting to melt away some of that tension inside of me bit by bit.

He was drawing me closer now, pulling my hands up to clasp together behind his neck. Shaking my head, I managed to find my voice enough to mutter, "This is not how a couple is supposed to waltz, you know."

That infamous dimple of his emerged. "This is how we waltz," came his low reply as his arms encircled my waist, hands coming to rest at the exposed small of my back once more. This time, I couldn't hold back the tiny shiver.

"...this could be considered quite scandalous really," I told him, fighting the impudent little tug I felt at the corner of my lips as Lea started to turn us in slow circles. "I suspect that even now the Duke is watching us, stewing and steaming and this close to blowing his combover sky high."

"All the more reason to be doing it," his eyes crinkled as he lowered his forehead to mine.

He was doing it again. Giving me that look. The soft yet intense look. The look that made my insides a little wobbly. The boyfriend look. He was so good at it. As well he should be, he certainly practiced it enough, even at times when it was just the two of us with no one else around. I suspected he probably had trained and perfected it in front of his mirror at home. It was… potent, to say the least. And just not fair, really. My ex had never looked at me this way, so it wasn't something I was used to. I didn't know how to deal with being the target of such a stare. I didn't know how to process. It was overwhelming… confusing…

...ugh, get a grip, Elsa! It wasn't even real! He was just an actor playing a part for the masses around us.

Still… knowing that didn't exactly make this any easier…

Quick! Distraction time! Find something to talk about!

I gave a weak chuckle, "So… I'm royally awful at the whole talking thing, huh?"

Interesting tactic. Starting a conversation by pointing out how bad you are at conversations. I like it. It's gutsy.

"Dunno 'bout that, you do just fine with me," he grinned, not removing his forehead. "But if ya mean what happened back there with your aunt and uncle, heh… maybe you should just leave the chitchat to me for the rest of the evening."

"Probably for the best," I agreed. "But I had to give it a shot at least once. I have to learn to stand up for myself eventually, you won't always be around to fight my battles for me."

His smile faltered a fraction. "...El, I always got your back. No matter what our fake relationship status is, I'm always gonna be there for you, got it? I'm not going anywhere."

There they were again. The warm fuzzies, marching right on in like a parade with banners waving and trumpets blaring. "Thanks, Lea… I'll probably need it. My family can be quite persistent and stubborn, especially when they think they're only doing what's best for me."

Lea shrugged, "Well, no one ever said the fantabulous emancipation of one Elsa Fryse was gonna be easy."

"Don't I know it," a sigh escaped me. Then a tiny, wistful smile pulled at the edge of my lips. "...we should have ran away when we had the chance. Maybe we still can. It's not too late."

"Mm, don't tempt me," he smirked as his hold around my waist tightened, hugging me closer still. I just hummed a soft laugh at that. His gaze became half-lidded as he continued to watch me. Then he cleared his throat, "So, uh… I've been thinking…"

I wrinkled my nose with a snort. "Uh oh."

"Hey now, hear me out. You wanna send a message to your folks, right? Tell 'em they can't boss you around anymore, that your ex is gone for good and that I'm here to stay, so they can take all their controlling bullshit and shove it up their hoity-toity posteriors, right?"

Biting back a grin, I said, "Not quite how I would have phrased it but… yes, more or less I suppose."

"Well I may have a way to do just that. Send a message, loud and clear, big and bold as a giant, flashing neon sign. All we gotta do is kinda, sorta break one of our guidelines we set up at the beginning of all of this. Not so much break though… more like bend. Nudge it, really, into a nice easy curve," he explained as the ballroom kept gradually spinning around us.

One of my eyebrows quirked. "Oh? And which guideline would that be?"

There was a tiny glimmer dancing in his eyes now. "...let me kiss you."

I snerked and shook my head. Impressively, his forehead still managed to remain connected to mine. "You kiss me all the time."

"No," the tip of his nose tickled mine, his breath warming my lips as he murmured, "I mean let me kiss you."

...oh…

...actually, no, I still wasn't quite sure what he was trying to-

Oh!

Wait, no... I mean, he couldn't be- That wasn't what he- Not that, certainly not! He didn't- He would never… He couldn't possibly mean…

"...as in on the mouth?" suddenly came blurting out of me.

No way. There was just no way. He wouldn't-

"Mm-hm," he nodded with a sly little grin.

Oh. Well then, my mistake. Apparently he would.

...ah! This was a joke! He was just messing with me again! That had to be it! Alright, fine then, let's play along.

I breathed a feeble laugh, "And you really think that would get my parents to back off for good?"

"Well, I think it's at least worth a shot!" His grin twitched wider, "So...?"

"So…" I squinted at him uncertainly. Then I blinked. "...what, you mean right now?"

"No time like the present!" Lea chirped.

"But here? In front of all these people?" This was a joke. A prank. That's all it was. A game of chicken to see who would wimp out and veer away first.

"Exactly! What better way to make a statement. A declaration, one that your whole family wouldn't be able to ignore. We could go all out too," his eyebrows waggled. "Give 'em on hell of a show. I could shove you up against one of those columns over there, or throw you on a table and just really go to town on you."

Now I know he was kidding. He was being absolutely ridiculous. With a little huff of a laugh, I said, "Oh wow, you'd be willing to do all that just for me? You're too kind."

"My generosity knows no bounds," he agreed solemnly before the smirk was back. "So…?"

"So…?" I repeated, stretching the syllable out as I knit my eyebrows together.

"Let me kiss you," those words passed through his lips again, this time in a whisper that made my heart flip-flop.

He… was joking… right? Somehow, I wasn't so sure anymore. And come to think of it… the idea of kissing him didn't seem quite so scary as it had a couple weeks ago when I'd first established that rule. In fact, it now seemed like it might be maybe sort of… nice… One might even say appealing and-

Oh gosh, I wasn't seriously considering this, was I? This was a bad idea! A dangerous idea. The line between crushing on the guy and fake dating the guy had already become perilously blurred enough as is. Throw a kiss into the mix and it could only jumble my already befuddled feelings even further.

...then again… how much harm could one teeny, tiny, insignificant little kiss do? Really? We were professionals, weren't we? I could handle it, couldn't I? And okay sure, did I actually think one small peck at a party would be any sort of deciding factor when it came to whatever my parents had to say to me tomorrow? Not really, no. But you never know, it could, uh… rattle them! Yeah! Or-

Was I seriously trying to rationalize the kiss to myself now?!

That's it. Mouth? As the main involved party that will be most primarily affected in this matter, I leave the choice up to you. You should have zero problems coming to a decision, right? I mean, you speak your mind all the time without consulting me first anyway, so just go for it. I wash my hands of this. Go on, decide away!

Pulse racing and face heated and having zero clue what I was about to say, my lips parted.

"Pardon me."

Both Lea and I froze at the sound of another voice.

My mother's voice.

I watched his eyes close and his shoulders slump, heard a faint exhale escape him. Then he lifted his forehead from mine as he straightened up and plastered on a smile that he directed towards Mother. She was standing just off to our right, beautiful and sophisticated in her purple evening gown accompanied by a shawl draped loosely around her arms. Lea greeted, "Mrs Fryse. You look lovely tonight, Ma'am."

"Thank you," she nodded graciously in return. "And apologies, I don't mean to intrude, but it was dawning on me that I've been neglectful in my duties as your host. Please, come with me and we can make our rounds introducing you to some of the family."

"Oh! Uh…" he frowned, his gaze drifting back towards me.

"It's fine," I said hastily, my hands unfastening from behind his neck and retracting as I took a step back from him. "Please, go on ahead. I'll…" my eyes flicked about before spotting a familiar flash of auburn across the way. "Ah! I think I see Anna over there, so I'll just go join her and you can come find me when you're done."

He still seemed reluctant to leave and I didn't blame him. Some of my relatives made Yelena and Weselton seem like an absolute treat by comparison. Finally he rose a hand towards my face, grazing the curled knuckle of his pinky along my cheek. "See you in a bit," Lea's voice was low as he tenderly pressed his lips to my brow.

Then he turned, offering his arm to Mother in a gentlemanly fashion. She slipped her hand around his elbow and he grinned, "Lead the way, Ma'am."

I watched them disappear into the crowd. This was for the best, really. Now I could avoid a repeat of the minor fiasco I'd experienced in front of Aunt Yelena. Lea was so much better at dealing with people anyhow. Who knew, maybe he'd even have the whole family singing his praises before the night was out.

Wishful thinking, but hey, it could happen. You don't know.

I brought a hand up to rest lightly over my heart, which had yet to fully calm down. I still didn't have the foggiest as to what my answer to Lea would've been if Mother hadn't interrupted us. And luckily for me, I'd probably never have to find out. The moment had passed. Honestly, it was probably for my own good too. Now wasn't the best time to be opening up that particular can of worms.

Sighing, I started making my way towards where I'd seen Anna. It only took navigating the crowd for a few seconds before I located her standing next to one of the banquet tables, chatting and laughing with Maren.

I couldn't help but notice how elegant they both looked - Anna in her slinky yet tasteful green dress and hair done up in a voguish bun, Maren in her stylish, strapless black gown that accentuated the sparkle of her jewelry. Anna looked so at ease here, so natural. She was in her element here, while I very much was not. This world had always been more her domain than mine. I could certainly put on a fancy dress and look the part, but beyond that I was a lost cause. I did try. For the sake of my parents, I really had tried. But the more time I spent away from this life, the more I came to realize just how much I'd never truly belonged in it in the first place.

Maybe after this nerve-wracking weekend was finally and at long last behind me, I could start to figure out where it was that I did belong.

"Sis!" Anna smiled as I approached them. "I was hoping you'd turn up soon!"

I tipped my head to one side. "...you were?" Anna? Not taking one look at me and running from me like the plague? And actually, dare I say it, pleased to see me?

"Uh-huh! Because now I can give you this," she beamed, plucking a glass flute up off the table and offering it to me. It was identical to the one in her other hand and filled with some mystery beverage - guessing champagne, judging by the bubbles.

"...oh," I breathed, trying not to let my disappointment color my voice too much as I gingerly took it from her. "Thanks." Bit of a let down, especially considering I probably wasn't going to be drinking it. But hey, at least it was something. At least she had managed to stay in my presence for longer than ten seconds so far. Maybe this could be seen as her way of making a peace offering. Extending the olive branch. Maybe she was ready to talk about whatever she'd been holding back from me.

"So Anna," I began, but immediately stopped as I watched her blanch and go rigid.

Okay… take that as a no, she wasn't ready. Not at all.

I clamped my mouth shut, eyes darting to the left as my mind scrambled for something safe, something light. "...your dress is very pretty. Both of you look gorgeous this evening."

Anna visibly relaxed, piping up with a, "Thanks, Sis!"

"Back at you," Maren grinned, clinking her own glass to mine before raising it to her lips. "Slipped away from that boyfriend of yours, huh? The way you two were carrying on, I thought you were going to be attached at the hip all night."

I laughed softly, shyly twiddling with one of my earrings, "No, Mother whisked him away so she could introduce him around."

"Brave man," Maren snerked.

Trailing a finger absently along the rim of my flute now, I asked, "And where are your dates tonight?"

"Pft, you kidding?" My cousin shook her head. "As if I'd ever drag my girl into the lion's den. Trust me, she's perfectly content staying out of the Lifestyles of the Rich and Snooty and I am more than happy to let her do that."

"I envy her. Staying out of all this sounds like a dream come true," I nodded before glancing to Anna. "And what about you? Where's your new boyfriend? I was looking forward to meeting him finally."

"Oh, him? He, er… couldn't make it at the last minute! That stinker," she gave a weak chuckle, averting her gaze as she took a swig of her drink. "Yeah, he unfortunately… had a thing to do… with the stuff! And you know how important the, uh… the thing and the stuff can be! But he'll be here tomorrow, I promise! You'll totes get to meet him before you leave! Yup! Yooou betcha! Heh..."

"...I see." Tomorrow? Would that really be wise, given all the family drama that was surely about to explode that very day? Ah well, I suppose there was nothing for it. I forced a small smile, "Can't wait."

"Oh hey! Tomorrow's your big talk with Mom and Dad too, right?" she piped up suddenly and I nodded with a slight grimace. "Aw, chin up, don't look so blue! I'll be there holding your hand through the whole thing! We're in this together, Sis, so you got nothing to worry about, I promise!"

Another smile, this one relieved and a touch more genuine. "Thanks…"

Then there was a pause.

Of the long and uncomfortable variety.

...screw it, I was just going to try and ask her again.

"Anna, I-" There it was once more. That panic flooding her eyes. I hesitated, taking a sip of my drink just because it was there. I hardly even realized I was doing it. Oh well, one sip wasn't going to hurt me. I was too anxious to even taste it. Rallying, I tried again, "Could we please maybe-"

"Oh my god, is that Grandpabbie?! Sis, did you know that Grandpabbie was here?!" Anna squealed. "Lookit him, he's so cute and squishy and small! I'm gonna go attack him with snuggles and smoochies!"

Once again, off she went. I had no choice but to let her go, just hastily calling after her, "Be careful, he's fragile!"

"Please, he's tough as a rock!" Anna shouted back before the crowd swallowed her whole.

My lips pressed into a thin line. Maybe Lea was right. Maybe I had to stop trying to push her and instead just give her space, trusting that she'd open up in her own time.

Still… didn't mean I had to like it.

"Sorry about earlier, by the way."

I gave a tiny jolt as Maren suddenly spoke up. Fudge, I'd forgotten she was here. Not quite sure what she was talking about, I turned a bemused smile towards her, "Oh?"

"Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable by drooling over your man," she grinned and shrugged, swirling the liquid about her flute. "I was only teasing anyhow since I didn't think you two were serious, but I never would have in the first place if I'd known."

"...known what…?" I arched an eyebrow, just now becoming aware of the fact that I'd idly brought the glass up to my lips again. Whatever, two sips weren't going to hurt me.

"That you're in love with him."

I choked and spluttered on my drink.

Sorry, who's in what with huh now?!

Wheezing for breath as my face flared up red, I asked, "In love? Who said anything about-"

"It's okay, nothing to get all bashful over," Maren cooed, free hand flicking a dismissive wave. "Anna told me."

My eyes narrowed. "Told you what exactly?"

"I believe her exact words were true love," she used air quotes with a snigger.

"Ugh, Anna," I grumbled, pinching the bridge of my nose. "You know how she is. Just take everything she says with a grain of salt."

Maren cocked her head, a shrewd glint to her eye now. "So then you're saying it isn't love?"

I twitched, cheeks warming again. "I, er… well I never said... um…" Why did this question make me nervous? With a start, I realized my anxious hand had raised the flute to my mouth yet again. Gah! Someone take this thing away from me, I was turning into a friggin' lush over here! Swiftly depositing the glass onto the tray of a passing-by waiter, I cleared my throat and wrung my hands together. "I, uh… I'd rather not talk about it."

She considered me momentarily. Then a knowing smirk spread across her face and she simply shrugged again, looking past me now. "I'll say this for your boy. He certainly seems to be handling the gauntlet well."

"The gauntlet?" I asked, turning to follow her gaze. There Lea stood, a bit of ways off with Mother still on his arm, the pair of them surrounded by what looked to be a small army of my relatives. I frowned, "...you don't think they're giving him too hard of a time, do you?"

"You kidding? Our family is a bunch of vultures who can smell lower-middle class from a mile away and trust me, they're tearing into him like a fresh carcass. Correction, politely tearing into him," she snorted, downing the last of her beverage before swapping it out with a fresh one from the tray of a different waiter. "Love or no, it's not everyone who'll put up with that BS. He must really care about you."

...they probably were indeed putting him through the wringer over there. You wouldn't know it by looking at him, for he was all big grins and loud laughs and modest hair ruffling. But you could see it in the faces of my relatives. In their smiles that were just a little too plastic and in their eyes flashing with poorly concealed disdain.

Perhaps this was why we had been invited to the ball. My parents had indeed wanted to teach a lesson, only not to me but to Lea. Try and make it clear to him how unsuitable and unacceptable they thought it was for him to be with their daughter. That no matter how he dressed himself up, they'd always consider him unworthy and lesser than. That he would never belong in this world… never belong with me.

And yet, he didn't seem to be fazed by any of the subtle yet nasty snobbery. He was still just as bright and cheerful as ever. He was putting himself through all of this and for what? He was getting nothing in return. He was going out of his way and turning his life upside down, all just out of the goodness of his heart and to help a friend.

I'm not sure what exactly compelled me to do it. Maybe it was this foreign, tingly sensation tugging inside my chest. Or maybe it was just the champagne talking. Either way, I quietly excused myself from Maren as my feet started walking forward, pushing my way through the other guests and heading straight for Lea.

Coming to a stop behind him, I reached for his sleeve with a soft, "Pardon me."

He whipped around at the sound of my voice, eyes lighting up. "Need something, El?"

"Could I borrow you for just one moment?" I smiled up at him, slipping my hand into his.

"Course!" He looked back to my mother and the rest of that little group. "If you'll excuse me, ladies and gents, I'll be back in a jiff!"

Entwining our fingers together, I lead him a few steps away from my relatives, just enough to be out of earshot. When I turned to face him again, he grinned, "So what can I do for ya?"

I didn't say anything, just crooked a finger. Probably assuming I wanted to whisper something in his ear, he ducked his head down next to mine. I then gently cradled one of his cheeks in my hand and pressed a kiss to the other.

Except it wasn't so much his cheek I kissed as the corner of his mouth.

I blame the champagne.

Because really, what other logical explanation was there?

His whole body tensed, his eyes growing round and unblinking. As I started to pull away and take a step back however, one of his hands shot out to snag me around the waist. Pulling me back to him, he nuzzled his nose to mine, gaze hooded as he murmured, "You missed."

Ignoring that little flutter in my chest, the corners of my eyes crinkled as I hitched my chin slightly. "I suppose I did. I was aiming for your cheek."

"Right… cheek… that's what I meant," Lea released a breathy chuckle as he let me go now and straightened back up to his full height. "So, uh… what was that for anyway?"

I gave a low, thoughtful hum. "...just a small thank you for everything you've been doing for me. These last couple of weeks can't have been easy for you... putting up with this silly, harebrained scheme, not to mention juggling it with your school and job too. And now on top of all of that, you have to deal with my haughty and condescending family as well."

"Psh, it's nothing," he brushed off with a laugh, scratching his cheek. "I can handle a lil passive aggressive crap from these pompous old farts easy. Trust me, I've dealt with a way worse, so don't even sweat it, El. If this is what'll help ya out, I'm more than happy to do it!"

"But it's not just that. If it weren't for you, I think I might have gone out of my mind over the past weeks dreading seeing my parents again. But you kept me calm… and actually also kind of made it a bit fun too. And you've also always just been so supportive, which has meant a great deal to me. I don't know if or how I'll ever truly be able to repay you for all of this madness, but just know that I… I'm very grateful for all that you've done." Then a slow, tiny smirk tugged at one side of my lips. "...plus, now maybe you can finally rinse off your nose. It has been getting a bit smelly."

Both his hands shot up to clamp over said nose. "Shit, does it really?"

I gave him a flat look. "I was kidding. Please tell me you weren't actually serious about never washing it again after I kissed it last week."

"Dead serious," he beamed as his hands lowered. "And jokes on you, cuz now neither my nose or this spot are ever gonna know the touch of soap again!" He pointed a finger to the corner of his grin, just now drawing my attention to the fact that my lipstick had left a faint mark there.

A noise emitted from my throat that was part scoff, part snort. "Come here," I sighed, reaching a hand up to wipe it away.

However, he snatched my wrist, stopping my thumb a centimeter short of his skin. "And just what do ya think you're doing, Missy?"

"I got some of my lipstick on you, I was just-"

"Leave it," he winked. "It's a gift from my fair maiden. I'm gonna wear it proudly, like a badge of honor. Now if you'll 'scuse me, a gaggle of your persnickety relatives are still just dying to rip me a new one. I shan't keep them waiting any longer." Planting a quick peck to the back of my hand, he said, "Be back at your side before ya know it. Try not to miss me too much."

I crossed my arms, shaking my head as I watched him go. As he rejoined that group with Mother, I couldn't help but overhear one of my aunts commenting, "Lea dear, you got a little…" Her lips pursed and she swiped a finger at the corner of her mouth, causing my face to warm as I realized she was referring to the lipstick.

It only roasted more when Lea declared boisterously, "Hell yeah I do!"

If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find a rock to hide under now.

Burying my face in one hand, I spun around and made a fast retreat.

"I saw that."

My step faltered as I heard those words and I glanced over, discovering Anna had appeared practically out of thin air to fall in step beside me, a wide cheshire grin stretching across her features.

A crease emerged between my eyebrows. "Saw…? I'm not sure I-"

"Don't play coy with me," she said smugly as she nudged my shoulder with hers. "You know exactly what I mean."

My head tilted to the right. "...you're referring to the kiss? That was just for show," I averted my gaze, dropping my voice to a whisper so as not to be overhead.

"Sis, please. There's being a couple, and then there's being a couple. I can't help but notice you two have been getting awful cozy this weekend, going a bit above and beyond. Maybe it is just all part of the act, but you do realize that there's no bonus points for any extracurriculars, right?" her eyebrows bounced.

A soft hmph. "Anna, you're reading too much into things. It was nothing. Really. Just… just the champagne bubbles going straight to my head, that's all."

"Champagne?" she blinked and frowned at me. "...didn't I tell you? That was apple cider I handed you earlier. Of the totally non-alcoholic variety. Figured you'd want to keep a sober head tonight."

"Cider?" my head jerked back.

"Yup! What, you didn't realize that when you tasted it?" she giggled.

"No, I… guess I was too distracted…" I mumbled, hugging one arm around my abdomen while I brought the other up to bite down into my thumbnail.

Oh gosh, then… all that back there with Lea hadn't been just the champagne talking?

...oh no. My crush was gaining in power, able to control me without me even realizing it now. Today was just my body, but tomorrow? The world.

But that was a matter for another time. Right now, I just needed to focus on surviving this weekend. Putting a pin in it and shoving it back to the deepest, darkest, furthest recesses of my mind where I tended to put any other emotions I didn't know how to deal with, I glanced back to Anna.

...okay, I knew what Lea had told me. I knew that pushing and prodding at her had gotten me nowhere so far. And I knew I had decided but a few mere moments ago to let her be so that she could talk to me when she was ready. But right now, she seemed so content and carefree, just like she always had been with me. Well, that is, up until yesterday, of course. But maybe… just maybe it wouldn't hurt to try one more time.

I took a deep breath. "Anna, I was hoping-"

"Ahhh! Do you see the size of that chocolate cake?! I'm gonna-"

No. Not again. Not this time.

My sister has barely made it two steps before I'd seized her by the wrist, making her stumble into an awkward stop. With a huff of frustration, I snapped, "Anna! Can we please for one minute just-" However, the words died on my tongue when she looked back at me, eyes wide and face stark white. Feeling a small pang in my chest, I released her, my hands fidgeting together. Tucking in my lower lip, I struggled to find the right thing to say to her. If I only knew what that was. Finally, I just settled on, "Please, just… know that I'm here for you. Whatever's troubling you, you can always come to me about anything. Anything at all."

She didn't say a word. Her expression didn't change. There was just the barest hint of a quiver to her bottom lip. Then she took a small step back before turning and running off.

And I just let her, left at a complete and utter loss in her wake.

Author's Note: Ooooo dRaMa! Haha I can't help but laugh because it's so rare for me to write it xD Anyhoo, Yelena made her appearance this chapter! I know she's not a bad guy in the F2 movie, more just a very stern, no-nonsense character. Carrying THOSE traits over into this story however, it kind of turns her a bit into a sorta bad guy, but really only cuz she's reacting to the facts she's been dealt and those facts? Do NOT look good xD Minor fun fact: The Fryse ballroom here is based off Arendelle's castle ballroom from the first Frozen movie! Minor fun fact 2: The ice cream this chapter, Crabclaw, is named after Atlantica's keyblade and I imagine its description on the menu would look something like: "This butter-infused ice cream topped with sweet cooked crab will have you partying under the sea in no time!" This is based on real ice cream that's sold out there somewhere in the world (for real! google it!), except replace crab with lobster (I figured it would probably work out close enough!)

Next chapter, will Elsa finally get to the bottom of what's bugging Anna? And what's that I see on the horizon? Could it be? Is the dreaded, the feared, The Talk (TM) at last upon us? Will Lea ever correctly guess Elsa's favorite ice cream? And just what IS Gramps secret for keeping it so tight for a man his age? Possibly that "Flower Gleam and Glow" anti-aging cream mentioned back in chapter 21 xD In any case, stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

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soft-stormcloud · 4 years

Text

You’re Important [Guardian Angel AU]

Synopsis: Virgil and Adam (Sympathetic Deceit) sneak out at night to graffiti. Sequel to My name is Patton, and I’m your Guardian Angel.

Trigger warnings: Throw up mention, basic description of severe eczema

A/N: This is the last fic I have done but I have ideas for way more so when I write and post the next one will depend on your guys’ interaction and excitement for this au. I appreciate asks.

“Virgil. Virgil!”

Virgil startled away, gasping. Adam was sitting on his thighs, hands gripping Virgil’s shoulders, a terrified look on their face.

“What?” Virgil asked in annoyance.

“What did you do? There’s throw-up on the carpet, and in the toilet- Did you do something stupid?”

“No, what?” Virgil laid his head back on the pillow, eyes fluttering shut. “No. ‘Course not.”

Adam’s grip loosened. They rested one hand on Virgil’s chest. Their voice lost its bite. “What happened, then? Why didn’t you show up after school?”

“I left early, I was feeling sick. Good thing, too, or else I would have thrown up all over your new shirt on the walk home.”

Adam chuckled weakly. Virgil cracked his eyes open, and he couldn’t help but be grateful he had failed. Adam stared down at him with their warm brown eyes, the left one half-swollen from how often they rubbed at it. Their dark brown skin was covered in angry red patches, most of it concentrated to the left side of their face, where their eczema was worst at the moment. They were wearing the new shirt Virgil bought them, a Mayday Parade band t over a black and white striped long sleeve turtleneck. His eyes landed on the lip ring he swore Adam would regret, the skin dry and angry around it.

“Don’t say anything,” Adam whispered with a grin.

“I told you so,” Virgil whispered for the hundredth time.

Adam rolled onto Virgil’s side and rested their head on his shoulder. “I brought my camera even though you told me not to. I figured you needed to get out of the house.”

“What time is it?”

“Three a.m.”

“Just give me a few minutes to wake up. I took some Atarax when I got home.”

“What’s that?”

“Allergy medicine. Usually knocks me out for, like, ten hours.”

Adam and Virgil only met a few months before, when Adam transferred to Virgil’s school and into his homeroom. They still had a lot to learn about each other, but they felt like they were soulmates.

Eventually, Virgil pulled himself from the warmth and comfort of his best friend to get up and clean up the vomit on the floor. He snuck up to the kitchen to grab some heavy duty cleaning equipment, considering how long it had sat there. While he was up there, he noticed Remus’s dinner plate was still sitting on the counter, covered in crumbs. He sighed and put it in the dishwasher.

When he finished cleaning and spraying air freshener, Adam had picked out his outfit. They were standing by Virgil’s ferrets’ cage and had Milo asleep in their arms. Though Adam would never admit it, Milo was their favourite because Milo would just fall asleep in your arms, while Bandit preferred to run around and jump and play.

“Put him away,” Virgil said after he got dressed. He wore his favourite ripped black jeans and his old, plain black hoodie, and a shirt he had stolen from Adam a month ago. It was a size or two bigger on Adam, so it completely swallowed Virgil. It was an old MCR t shirt that Adam never wore anymore. He pulled on a black beanie to hold his bangs back, and dragged his backpack from under the bed. The spray paint cans clanged together inside it. “I’m ready.”

“Goodnight, gorgeous,” Adam cooed and kissed Milo on the side of the head. They settled him back in one of his hammocks and closed the cage.

Virgil slung on his backpack and led Adam out of the house and down the street. The town was full of blank walls waiting to be tagged, and the best part was that Virgil wasn’t the only graffiti artist in town. He didn’t know who the others were, of course, they were all so careful to not get caught, but every now and again a new piece showed up overnight, better than Virgil could have come up with himself. Virgil remembered reading that their little town had the highest graffiti rates of any town within the Kingdom. He wondered how boring, lifeless the other villages could be if their tiny population could outdo them without even trying.

Virgil brought Adam to the spot he had in mind, a nice clear spot on the outer wall, right above the river that ran alongside the entire left side of their village. There were a few rocks breaking up the flow that Virgil thought he could jump across to get close enough to the wall to paint his idea.

“That’s a stupid idea,” Adam said.

Virgil shrugged and took off his backpack. “Hold this. Throw it to me when I get to the other side. Just do your job, okay?”

They rolled their eyes and took his backpack. “Fine. But if you get caught, I’m running.”

Virgil took a breath and looked into the water. It wasn’t too deep, it would probably only come an inch above his head, maybe to Adam’s shoulders. If he slipped, it would be annoying but he’d be fine.

He took a running start and leapt out into the river, hitting the first boulder with a gasp. He almost slipped completely off, his feet in the air, but something grabbed him by the shoulder and firmly sat him down. He ignored it and hopped onto the next one.

He made it to the other side of the river without any more slip ups, and when Adam threw him his bag, he caught it. He put it on backwards for easy access and grabbed the brown spray paint. He worked in silence for a while while Adam took watch.

“Oh my God,” Adam whispered after a while. Virgil looked back and laughed. Adam was crouched down, holding his hand out to a stray kitty. She strut up to them and sniffed into their hand, then nuzzled against it. Adam let out a little squeal as they pet her.

“HEY!”

The cat hissed and dashed off. Adam jumped up with a gasp. Three guards stormed towards them with hard glares.

Adam, always true to their word, sprinted off, taking two guards with them. Virgil’s fright had him frozen. He stared into the other guard’s eyes, dread creeping over him. The freezing night air rushed through him, and he almost fell into the river.

And he was certain he had steadied himself. He know he did.

But somehow he still ended up in the river.

He screamed and sucked in a breath before splashing in, and swam as far deep as possible. The river’s current pulled him far, he was sure, but he was tumbling and hitting boulders and he couldn’t breathe. He just prayed it took him away from the guard.

He couldn’t imagine what Roman and Logan would say if he got arrested. He couldn’t imagine the embarrassment.

When he thought he would pass out from lack of air, a pair of hands grabbed him and yanked him out of the river. He was somewhere deep in the residential district. It would take him at least an hour to walk home.

“Jeez, are you okay?!” Patton asked, his face and voice filled with worry.

Virgil doubled over and coughed up water, wheezing. “You threw me in the river!” He yelled.

“I know…” He frowned guiltily. “I know. I’m sorry, I panicked. It was all I could think of.”

“WHO ARE YOU?!”

“Shh! Shh! You’ll wake people up, I can’t be seen!”

Virgil buried his face in his hands, groaning. “This can’t be real…”

Patton forced a smile. “I know it’s hard to understand… If it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t supposed to tell you!”

“How would that make me feel better?”

“I don’t know.”

He couldn’t help it- That pulled a chuckle from Virgil’s lips. “God… What am I supposed to do now?”

Patton shrugged and wrapped an arm around Virgil’s waist, helping him towards his house. “Everything you were doing before. Everything you planned on doing. I just gotta make sure you’re okay.”

“Does everyone have a guardian angel? Does Adam have one?”

Patton was quiet for a minute. Then, reluctantly, he said, “No.”

“Why me?”

“You’re… Special, Virgil. You spend your life protecting your parents, your brother, Adam… You’re important. The world just can’t afford to lose someone like you, someone so… Caring.”

Virgil was silent.

“I know that’s hard to believe-”

“More like fuckin’ impossible!”

“Virgil-”

Virgil shoved him off. “Get off of me! God, what kind of fucking joke is this?! Just… Leave me alone!”

Virgil stormed off.

Reblogs help, likes do not

#virgil sanders #sympathetic deceit #deceit sanders #patton sanders #anxceit #virgil #deceit #patton #guardian angel au

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romaniassexdungeon · 4 years

Text

Shattered Romanticism of a God - chapter 13

Pairings: SuFin, NedDen

Warnings: swearing,

Wow, six months without uploading, I update twice in one day.

Read on AO3

...

Tino was going to destroy everyone he loved and held dear and spit on their graves, for they meant nothing to him that day. He was going to laugh as they fell, one by one, to his superior sniper skills. The snow around them would be stained red. And green. And maybe purple too. They would all beg for mercy and receive none. Yes, even Berwald, if he crossed him. No one would stand in his way and succeed.

He half-listened to the instructor, knowing full well how to play paintball. He checked his outfit, his armour vest pinching underneath his uniform. His helmet was still on the bench, for now. Berwald was standing next to him, putting on his gloves. There were a few rounds, throughout the day, with different objectives. Defending places, raiding places, all as a team. That was why everyone had planned this day out: team building. What he was most looking forward to was a hunger games where everyone was against everyone.

He was going to win that if it fucking killed him. There was no "I" in team, but there was one in sniper.

Eduard said he was too competitive, and that was why he never joined in with anything involving Tino. Especially Tino and guns and teams. He wasn’t even after the prizes, just the glory of winning. Maybe there was a darker, psychological element to it, about how his dad would constantly push him to be the best at “manly” things, but Tino didn’t like thinking about that. He preferred to call being so competitive it took the fun out of things for everyone just one of his “quirks”.

The first event was a simple two-person team game, with the last duo standing declared the winners. Of course, he and Berwald were going to be a team. And they were going to win.

He finished getting dressed, and the instructor finished explaining the safety procedures. The group were all led out of the tent and given directions to their starting positions. Soon enough, Tino and Berwald were alone, crouched behind a bush. Uncomfortably close. Or comfortably, as long as Tino didn’t pop a woody.

There were still a few minutes before the starting klaxon would sound, so he decided to familiarise himself with his surroundings. Every advantage counted here. The area looked fun, woodland made of tall, straight, evergreen trees and patches of grass. The forest floor was covered in pine needles, stretching as far as they could see. He’d have to be careful with that; the rustling of leaves could mask the sounds of approaching danger, or he and Berwald could give away their positions by constantly stepping on things. There were wooden cutouts, model castles and shallow trenches dotted about the place, thankfully creating cover for them. It looked like a fun place, all things considered. He’d have loved to have had a birthday party here as a child. Or an adult.

Nearby, there was a little dip in the ground, where a mud patch had pooled from the morning’s rain. Easy to miss, but vital.

“Perfect,” he muttered, discreetly pointing to it and winking at Berwald. He crawled over to the mud, scooped up a handful, and began smearing it over his face and helmet. Berwald gave him a strange look. “You want to get camouflaged, right?”

Berwald whined, shaking his head. “Messy.”

“Okay, but keep your pasty head down or the light will be bouncing off it into our enemies’ eyes.” He crawled back behind the bush.

“Enemies? Y’mean friends ‘n family?”

“Not here, not today.” Tino sighed and gently, but firmly, pulled Berwald down to eye level. "Okay, listen up. Do not blow this for me. No mercy, and no making yourself a target. I know that'll be hard, but just assume you're tall enough to be visible at all times and stay down."

Berwald nodded.

"I don't give a fuck that half these people are your family. If you show any hesitation in shooting them, you're dead to me. Understood?"

Another nod. "M'scared n' horny."

"Roger that. Make me proud out there, and there might be a treat for you." He winked. “I’ll roger you.”

Berwald shook his head. "M'not ready. Jus' horny."

"Reading you loud and clear, my man. Your treat is now a big, fat kiss in the privacy of my room."

"Thanks." He smiled and kissed his cheek.

"Hey, don't worry about it," said Tino, feeling suddenly very tender. "We're gonna be a great team, okay?"

The klaxon sounded, and Tino pulled away.

“Showt’me,” muttered Berwald.

“Showtime? You are truly the gayest man in history. This is war, Berwald, not theatre.” Tino blinked. “Wow. I sounded a lot like my dad there. Sorry.”

“S’okay. Kinda funny watching you get so inta this.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll probably ruin the mood soon enough. Now, let’s find Gunner before someone else gets to shoot him.”

Berwald nodded, very enthusiastically. “Let’s f’ck him up.”

...

Luca and Tolli, meanwhile, were busy hiding in a trench, huddled together and praying they wouldn’t be found. It wasn’t the first choice of activity for either of them, but everyone else had been super excited about it. Hopefully, they’d get to shoot someone at some point. At least they’d be going for a nice drink in a warm pub afterwards, and after there’d be a bath.

The two teamed up together, because Tolli didn’t want to be on a team with Vidar or Gunner, and Luca was closest to his own age. But they weren’t close enough to do anything but sit in awkward silence. There were probably things they had in common, but Tolli worried he looked like a little kid to Luca, or if Luca hated small talk. He had to try, though, or things would just get even more awkward. He could try a compliment, he supposed. They tended to go down well.

“I like your hair, by the way.” Tolli tried to rub some warmth into his fingers.

“Thanks,” said Luca, smiling sheepishly. “I like your eyeliner.”

“I like yours!”

He nodded, looking rather guilty. “Hey, can you keep a secret?”

“Sure.”

Luca lifted up his mess of hair to reveal the eyeliner on his right eye wasn’t as good as his left one. In fact, it was nothing short of a blotchy disaster. “I can never get the other eye right.”

Tolli giggled. “I hear you. It’s a weird power I have; I have to do Vidar’s makeup before going out, maybe I can do yours too, if you want.”

“You can be the band’s official makeup artist, maybe.” Luca nudged him. “And you’d get to hang out with your cousins more.”

“Ew.”

“Aww, don’t be like that. They talk about you all the time. Gunner’s super proud of you.”

“Gunner has his own siblings.”

“Really? Oh, yeah, I forgot.”

A blast hit both men in the chest, Luca, then Tolli, with no time for them to react. Tolli tried to scream, winded, but all that came out was a whimper.

“Gotcha!” Tino allowed himself a small jump for joy, from the cover of the woods he’d been spying them from. He high-fived Berwald, then ran over to the trench, ducking down until he was safely inside.

“That hurt,” Luca whined.

“Yeah, they do,” said Tino, “that’s why you have to try not to lose. Have either of you moved since you got here?”

Tolli shrugged. “We were just having a nice chat.”

“You’re not here to chat, you’re here to play!” When Tino attempted to teabag them, Luca punched him in the balls. Tino doubled over with a grunt. “Yeah, I deserved that.”

A second pair of shots sounded, both hitting Luca in the arm. This time, they’d come from Berwald’s gun.

“What the fuck?”

“Aww, my man got all protective,” Tino smiled at him warmly. “Anyway, there’s gotta be some better targets round here. Ones that are more of a challenge.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you fuck off and find them, then.” Luca rubbed his arm. “Leave us alone.”

“Will do, you pair of noobs.” Tino hobbled off back to Berwald, leaving Luca and Tolli to lie in the dirt, nursing the sore spots where bruises would soon be.

...

“Dude, how many weeds would we have to smoke to hotbox this thing,” Gunner looked around the crumbling, little hut they'd chosen to shelter in.

Adriaan gave him a withering look. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m just saying,” he said, “we’d probably need like 30 weeds. Lotta jazz cigarettes. Some dank blunt kush.”

That got a laugh out of Adriaan. “You're adorable.”

“Am I even using hotbox in the right context?”

“Sorta, I guess. It needs to be an enclosed space, and this isn’t really enclosed.” He nodded over at the doorless doorway and holes for windows. “A car or small room would be better.”

“So all the weeds would escape here?”

He sighed. “Yes, Gunner, all the weeds would escape.”

“See? I know about the Mary Jane. How could I be surrounded by all these green trees and grass not know about the Devil’s Lettuce?”

Adriaan snorted. “The Devil’s Lettuce might be my favourite word for weed. My sister always used to call it that.”

“She know you’re a super mega pothead?”

“Yes. I do have other qualities, y’know?”

“Like what?”

“That’s enough personal questions for now.”

Gunner looked at him. “We’re dating.”

“You have to work to unlock my backstory.”

“We’ve been friends for years.”

“And in that time I have remained cool and mysterious. Now, we should get moving. I’m not hiding in here with you when there are people to make miserable out there.” Adriaan stepped outside, glancing around and peering through the trees. Then, without warning, his head snapped back as green paint splattered across his vision. “Fuck!” He cried, ineffectively wiping the paint on his helmet.

“Who dare shoot Adriaan!?” Gunner ran outside, gun at the ready, only to get shot in the head. He stumbled, but the bullets kept coming, exploding across his chest and legs until he was knocked onto his back.

“Thanks. I feel very avenged.” Adriaan looked around for the source of the hellfire, and found Berwald peering out from behind a wooden wall, painted to look like cobblestone.

“Of course,” Gunner groaned, then lifted his gun to return fire.

Another paintball, fired from a different position, hit him in the shoulder.

“Don’t try it, cheater,” called Tino, “you’re out. No more shooting.”

“We didn’t get to shoot anyone!” Gunner cried back.

“Get better, and don’t just sit around making noise! We heard you, like, a mile away.” Tino peered around, then began crawling over to Berwald. “Nice shot, baby. Any ammo left?”

“Bit.”

“You think they’re taking this too seriously?” asked Adriaan. Gunner groaned and nodded. “Wanna go find some of the others and have a shootout instead?”

Gunner wiped dirt off his uniform, before groaning and lying back. “If you mean bullying Luca and Tolli, absolutely.”

...

It was just Gilbert and Vidar left, and they’d heard the others fall, one by one. They’d heard the screams, the gunshots. Neither knew who was next, and if it would be them. Probably them. And probably soon. They knew the Shite Death was on their tail. If they were being honest with themselves, they knew they didn’t have a chance of winning. Or escaping. They weren��t competing; they were being hunted. Despite all the cover of the forest, and despite the fact that both pairs of eyes hadn’t spotted anyone coming near them, the pair couldn’t help feeling like someone was following them.

“I don’t like this,” whispered Gilbert. Vidar shushed him.

They kept moving on, further into the map, and most likely towards danger. But the sooner the game ended, the sooner they could move on.

Gilbert slipped his hand into Vidar’s, and Vidar gave him a strange look. “Sorry,” he pulled away, “I’m tense.” He sure looked it.

Behind them, a twig snapped, followed by the rustling of leaves. Vidar picked up the pace, constantly glancing behind. The second he saw that little fucker, he was blasting paint like he was at a bukakke.

He almost shot a tree branch for moving too quickly.

Gilbert’s head was darting in every direction. This wasn’t supposed to be so scary, but even Vidar was on edge. He didn’t want his beautiful body bruised with bullets, paint or otherwise. It would hurt.

Another rustle, and they picked up the pace. There was nothing behind them, though. Vidar didn’t like this.

Another twig snapped, and Gilbert burst into a sprint. He lept over a trench, ducking past trees and firing wildly. Vidar cursed, and ran after him. The forest veered and swam in front of him, but he dared not stop. Just ahead, Gilbert threw himself over a hay bale, and immediately let out a scream. There was the sound of gunshots, and Vidar was helpless, unable to react as he watched Berwald jump up and start firing.

It was like being punched in the heart. Except he was shot in the heart from a metre away.

“Damn you, Berwald!”

Berwald gave him the smallest, but smuggest smile. Vidar walked around the bale to find Gilbert sprawled out across the floor, groaning and covered in paint. Tino was next to him.

“How the fuck did you manage to get ahead of us?” Vidar bent over, panting.

Tino frowned. “You ran right into us. It was a little ridiculous.”

“So it was Berwald stalking us through the forest?”

The pair shook their heads. “Nope. We were just sitting here, planning our next move,” said Tino.

Gilbert frowned. “So what was following us?”

Everyone turned to look behind them. There was nothing there. The forest was deadly silent, everyone frozen in place. Vidar smacked Gilbert’s arm.

“Idiot, there was nothing chasing us. We got freaked out over the wind.”

“Ow, sorry. I panicked.”

“Yeah, we all saw.”

...

Despite Tino doing everything in his power to kill the fun for the rest of the group, it had been a good day overall. The games where they were just allowed to let loose and shoot everyone were the best, since Tino tended to take out everyone. Even though he was a sore loser and worse winner, the rage and/or gloating tended to evaporate soon after each game ended.

But now it was the last event, the Hunger Games, and Tino was hunting, gun clutched to his chest. The klaxon had just sounded, and he was already on the move, peering through the trees for any sign of the enemy. He kept low, not the most difficult task for someone of his height. He felt like a wolf, moving in silence, looking for prey. He could hear very distant shouts, shrieks and gunshots, but no visuals just yet. Only trees and props.

But it wasn’t long before he found his first target. Oh, beloved Berwald, so blind. So oblivious. He was crouched behind a pile of logs, unfortunately, he had his back facing Tino, and that was his exposed side.

Tino shot him without hesitation.

Berwald made a strangled noise, turning around and giving Tino the most poisonous glare possible. He almost felt bad.

“Sorry, baby,” he tried. Was Berwald actually mad at him? Was this the end for them.

“Y’bastard,” Berwald joked, “y’cruel, backstabbin man.” He didn’t get up, instead lying in the dirt, pretending to choke on blood.

“I am, and you fell for it,” relieved, Tino crouched down next to Berwald, taking off his helmet and stroking his hair. “You fell for me, the homme fatale.” He kissed his nose.

“D’ya, regret it?”

“”No”, I lie.”

Something very hard, and very painful, hit Tino’s arm. He screamed, not from getting shot, but from the rage of losing so quickly. He threw his helmet on the floor.

“Ha!” cried Luca, “finally! Get rekt, noob!”

#sufin #APH Sweden #APH Finland #aph nordics #nedden #aph denmark #aph netherlands #aph luxembourg #APH Iceland #APH Norway #APH Prussia #shattered romanticism of a god #Hetalia fic #hws #Hetalia Fanfiction

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Girls Interrupted, Chapter 2: She Wants To Dance Like Uma Thurman, But She Can’t (Vatya) 2/2 - Maeve

A/N: Hi, it’s Maeve here, and holy fuck this is long! Sorry for the wait, everyone, it’s been a real time. I’ll admit that I spent a lot of time collecting firsthand accounts of real teen parties because homegirl has never been to one of the cool kid ones. I feel no personal shame! I hope you all enjoy it. I’m a one woman show over here, but I’ve tried to be as accurate as possible with the characterization of the queens. There are some parts of this chapter that might be a little confusing, but that’s because the story is told through Katya’s eyes and she doesn’t always have all of the information. She will soon, though! As always, constructive criticism (really feedback of any kind) is welcome. If there’s interest, I’ll drop my sideblog one of these days. Here’s some petty teenage bullshit to take your mind off of the outside world.

What do normal people wear? What’s ‘in’ with the youths? Katya furrowed her brow. She grew out of following trends in middle school. The clothes weren’t her, and they didn’t magically assimilate her into a friend group either. So Katya was no manic pixie dream girl, more of a manic sexy carny And that was okay…most of the time. There would be a wide variety of teens at the party—Alaska ran in many different circles—but all of them had eyes, and Katya wasn’t about to make Alaska question her judgement over unironically worn Hawaiian print. She’d have to pass for artistically different. Dresses were risky, so Katya opted for a pair of skintight black denim shorts and a well-worn Warner Brothers Studios shirt. A good french tuck and a statement jacket were just enough to polish off her shabby-chic ensemble. It would have to be good enough.

Katya’s freshly washed hair had dried in loose waves that framed her face beautifully. Two things she refused to guilt herself into were shaving her legs and putting on makeup, and she wore her bangs down to hide the hairline she was so self-conscious about. It wasn’t like she was trying to impress anyone. Katya had given up on that a long, long time ago. She glanced at the clock. It was only a few minutes past 6:00. Living in a constant state of perpetual anxiety was a real bitch.

Katya sighed, Wheel of Fortune and Diet Coke it is. Her parents were at the neighborhood’s annual Back to School Barbecue, so she had the entire house to herself. She hoped there would be a familiar face or two—or at the very least caffeine—at Alaska’s house.

Katya could hear the music coming from the inside of Alaska’s house through her massive front door. It was a hot and humid evening, yet Katya chose to linger in the yard. She wasn’t the first one there, and she wouldn’t be the last one, either; there was just something about crossing the solid oak barrier that made her presence…pressing. Awkward, even.

Alaska wouldn’t have invited you if she didn’t want you to be here, Katya reminded herself. She knew this was true—Alaska Honard was an absolute sweetheart—but her paranoia got the best of her. She pulled out her phone and sent a message to ‘Bianca del Realest’:

I’m outside. Walk me in? I don’t wanna know if pigs’ blood comes out of denim.

Her phone vibrated seconds later with a response from Bianca:

Pussy.

Soon, the door opened, revealing a smug Bianca del Rio. Katya grinned, “Yes, I do have a pussy, mama, and I’m serving fish all night.”

Bianca howled, “I don’t put things in me if I don’t know where they’ve been, and you’re a filthy whore.”

“You rotted cunt! That was a rash, not a herpes sore!” Katya protested.

“Just get your ass in here, Zamo, before the neighbors call the police to report a solicitor on the premises,” Bianca stepped aside so Katya could enter.

The first thing she saw was an ornately framed oil painting of Alaska and her family. It had to be at least her height. “Holy mother of pearl…” Katya gaped.

“Mother of Alaska, actually. Father and sister, too,” Bianca corrected. Katya gave her a shove. “What? I do this out of love, honey.” The blonde rolled her eyes. “Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Bianca grabbed hold of Katya’s arm and steered her towards the kitchen.

Alaska’s kitchen—which was a literal gourmet kitchen—was relatively empty save for an entire island of snacks and several coolers with drinks. She could still feel the thrum of the bass in her teeth, but the walls muffled the music’s full volume. What Katya found most shocking was actually who was in the kitchen. Trixie Mattel was leaning against the sink in a pair of light wash jeans and a flowing pink top.

Wow, Katya’s eyes went wide. She was in the same room as Trixie Mattel, about to be introduced by their apparently mutual friend, and she desperately needed to be able to pull herself together.

“Oh, honey, send in the clowns!” Trixie exclaimed, noticing Bianca’s return.

“I prefer to be called an erotic clown,” Bianca shot back. Katya snorted. “This is the creature I was telling you about.” Bianca gave Katya a small shove forward.

“Hi, I’m the chemical burn from the spiral perm, Trixie Mattel,” Trixie introduced herself extending a well-manicured hand. “I sit across from you in English, but we’ve never really talked.”

“Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova. But your dad just calls me Katya,” Katya winked and took Trixie’s hand, gently kissing her knuckles. Inside her head, Katya was screaming, Fuuuuuuuck. However, Trixie’s smile only grew. The life-sized Barbie doubled over with laughter.

Trixie turned to Bianca, “I’ll keep her!” Katya scrunched up her nose. She didn’t realize she was for sale.

“Just make sure to walk her often. She’s not house trained,” Bianca warned.

Katya wasn’t given the chance to retort because the door that connected the main room to the backyard flew open, and all three girls reached to cover their ears as Travis Scott’s voice grew three times as loud. An out-of-breath Jinkx Monsoon stood in the doorway, and her mouth began to move.

“What?” Bianca shouted over Sicko Mode.

Jinkx came further into the kitchen and screamed, “I said the hotshots just pulled up! If you don’t wanna get trampled, we should probab—”

“Bottoms up, bitches!” Willam shouted from somewhere in the hall. A cacophony of voices seemed to flood the space all at once, and then the kitchen was swarmed with all of the juniors on the cheer squad and football team. Hands and bodies were everywhere. Katya, standing at 5’1”, was swept away in the sea of future frat boys. Thankfully, the kitchen was only a stop on their route, and once the kitchen had been successfully raided, the four girls could get their bearings.

Jinkx straightened her dress. “Leave. I was going to say leave,” she finished her earlier thought and slumped against the kitchen island. “The real party’s out back. Now with added kegs.”

“Now, this I gotta see,” Bianca chuckled, “You in?” Katya shrugged and followed Bianca and Trixie past the horndogs sucking face in the living room and into Alaska’s massive backyard. She didn’t know what she’d gotten herself into, and she didn’t see it getting any better.

The glass doors let out onto a patio with a cabana and firepit. Stone steps led down to yet another seating area and a resort-style pool filled with floats, fountaints, and colored lights. There must’ve been at least a hundred people outside. She’d never seen so much illicit activity in one place. What was the word? Collusion? Collusion. Collusion vibes but not in a good way, Mama. We’re all going to hell, Katya swallowed thickly. The blonde was overwhelmed by the sweaty bodies, loud music, and flashing lights. Was this what a rave was like? The kegs by the pool were a happening place, and she planned to avoid them as much as possible.

When she looked to her right, she noticed Bianca had slipped away unnoticed, leaving her completely and utterly alone with one Trixie Mattel. Fuck. Again.

“Come get a drink with me!” Trixie insisted. She might not have been entirely comfortable alone with her crush, but tagging along was a significantly better option than hiding in a corner. The two pushed their way towards the booze. Trixie filled a red solo cup for Katya before grabbing one for herself and maneuvering them over to the poolside loveseat.

Katya’s drink felt awkward clutched in her hands. She knew that most highschoolers had experience with alcohol, but it was different watching her peers getting trashed. What’s the point? Katya wondered.

“That’s gonna get warm, you know?” Trixie snapped Katya out of her thoughts.

Katya gave her a sheepish smile, “I don’t really drink. Like at all. I just took it so you didn’t think I was lame.”

“Oh, honey,” Trixie began softly, “I would never judge you for something like that. Here, let me take that.” She made a grab for Katya’s cup, but Katya pulled it away.

“One sec!” Katya stuck two fingers of her free hand right into her beer and pulled them out. She saw the confusion on Trixie’s face and gave her a mischievous look. Katya took her beer fingers and wiped the alcohol across the pulse points on her neck. Playing it safe, she repeated the action until all the places she’d usual spray with perfume were sticky with beer. She was sure she smelled like a distillery. Perfect. Once again, Trixie made a grab for the cub, but another hand beat her to it. Alaska Honard in all her glory snatched it from Katya and drained its contents.

“Thanksss, Kati,” Alaska slurred. “Jus’ needed a lil’ liquid courage before I go on.” She swooped down to give Katya a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Alaska was sloshed. Her makeup was smudged she was swaying on her feet, and she smelled worse than Katya, who had just taken a bath in her beer.

“Go on what, Alaska?” Needless to say, Katya was a bit concerned. Because the two had done most of the work for their partner scene the previous class, Alaska and Katya were able to spend the day’s 3rd period chatting away. The demure girl from earlier was nowhere to be found. She was beginning to wonder if her friend had even processed her question when Alaska finally responded.

“‘M gonna be a star, Kati,” Alaska giggled. “Britney, bitch!” She then proceeded to fist up the fabric at the bottom of her dress and try to pull her black bodycon sequin gown up and over her body. Katya could only watch as she writhed around and made pitiful whining noises in her attempt to undress. “Off!” Alaska pouted, giving Katya her best puppy dog eyes.

Katya shared a look with Trixie before standing up and carefully spinning the blonde around. Her small hands were perfect for pulling down tiny zippers, and the dress slid down Alaska’s lithe body and pooled at her feet. Katya’s throat went dry.

Underneath her dress, Alaska wore a lacy, black strapless bra and a matching set of panties. Katya could not handle it. She didn’t mean to stare, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away. Soft, pale, flawless, Katya took in the beauty in front of her. Talk about body-ody-ody. Alaska was toned with the supple legs of a dancer—unfortunately, she lacked a dancer’s poise. Katya’s aneurism was cut short when the cheerleader stumbled trying to get out of the offending garment.

“Geez, Alaska,” Katya exclaimed, “Would you be more careful?”

“I may not be graceful…” Alaska trailed off, beginning to sway on her feet.

“I need my Lasky!” Detox shouted from the edge of the pool. Alaska visibly perked at her nickname and gave Katya a sloppy goodbye kiss on the cheek before teetering off towards Detox and Roy.

What the fuck? Katya raised her eyebrows. She turned to Trixie in search of an answer as to what just happened, but all the blonde had to offer was a shrug. Katya looked back to Rolaskatox and noticed a few pertinent details she’d missed in her first glance: Roxy and Detox were also in their skivvies, three chairs were now in a row on the bridge that separated the two halves of the pool, and the music had stopped.

Katya tried to do the math in her head: liquid courage + 3 scantily clad girls x 1 chair - Kendrick Lamar = ???? She had to be missing something. “‘I’m gonna be a star,’” Alaska had said…Fame = liquid courage + 3 scantily clad girls x 1 chair - Kendrick Lamar. Katya’s brows knit together. Some kind of performance? And then it hit her. “‘Britney, bitch,’”…They’re performing a Britney Spears number practically naked. Obviously the ideal way to spend a Friday night. Katya could think of no other explanation for the weird happenings of the last few minutes, but the answer she’d arrived at wasn’t any less of an acid trip.

The three girls took their places behind the chairs, and Roxy, who had at some point manifested a microphone, gave pearl a thumbs up.

“Where my party people at?” Roxy shouted into the microphone. Praise Putin for Pearl because the feedback on the mic might have made their ears bleed. The crowd around the pool hooted and hollered. Yuck, Katya gagged on the high school movie realness. “We’ve got a special treat for you tonight! Our little Lasky here,” Roxy pushed Alaska forward, “Didn’t think that she was going to make the varsity cheer team.” Alaska flushed at her friends divulgence and squirmed in her grip. Naturally, Roxy paid no attention to her friend’s discomfort, “So Toxy and I, we made a bet: if Lasky didn’t make varsity we’d have a Golden Girls marathon, but if she did…she’d have to show off her sweet moves at the Back-to-School Bash!”

“Hit it, Pearl!” Detox shouted. Roxy tossed the microphone to someone near the end of the walk, and the three girls took their places by their chairs. Alaska was clearly less thrilled about the performance than she was when she had been talking to Katya minutes ago. Liquid courage? No dice. The instrumental intro into Britney Spears’ “Toxic” began to play from the outdoor speakers, and Alaska’s gyrated her hips mechanically to the beat.

Baby, can’t you see

I’m calling

A guy like you should wear a warning

It’s dangerous, I’m falling

Katya was dumbfounded. Mouth agape, she wondered, Does this shit happen at all high school parties? Mother, I swear I’m sober. She hadn’t had anything to drink, so she couldn’t have been drugged or anything crazy like that. This was, in fact, happening. And Katya had thought she was fucking mental. A glance to her side told her that she wasn’t the only one questioning her sanity; Trixie’s eyes were bulging out of their sockets.

There’s no escape

I can’t wait

I need a hit, Baby, give me it

You’re dangerous, I’m lovin’ it

Dangerous. There was something sinister about the atmospheric red that bathed the trio and spilled into the audience. Her hands began to tremble. Brenda, not now, she willed herself to calm down.

Too high

Can’t come down

Losin’ my head, spinnin’ ‘round and 'round

Do you feel me now?

It wasn’t just her shaking, though. Alaska’s body was vibrating with tension—not ‘loving it’. Her sisters in scandal moved a lot smoother than she did, and she was concentrating hard on keeping herself from falling off of her chair. How much “‘liquid courage’” did this bitch have? The trio had gotten up on their chairs at the beginning of the chorus and were doing what looked like Christina Aguilera choreography circa Genie in a Bottle. Katya wouldn’t be surprised if Rotox had actually gotten the wrong blonde when choreographing. Katya frowned, Alaska, please don’t crack your head open.

With a taste of your lips I’m on a ride

You’re toxic I’m slippin’ under

With a taste of a poison paradise

I’m addicted to you

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

And I love what you do

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

She regained her breath when the chair acrobatics were finally over. The dance routine had evolved into what could probably qualify as softcore porn. Roxy, Alaska, and Detox were writhing on the platform in an obscene manner. Katya thought they looked like cats in heat. Alcoholic cats in heat. Which was actually quite a shame because real alcoholic cats in heat were something that Katya would totally like to see.

It’s getting late to give you up

I took a sip from my devil’s cup

Slowly, it’s taking over me

Too high, can’t come down

It’s in the air and it’s all around

Can you feel me now?

Britney Spears you are a cruel bitch, Katya chewed her lower lip. She was trying her hardest not to feel anything.

With a taste of your lips, I’m on a ride

You’re toxic, I’m slippin’ under

With a taste of a poison paradise

I’m addicted to you

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

And I love what you do

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

If she weren’t so put off by the course the night had taken and concerned for her friend, she might have been more than a little turned on. There was no denying that Alaska was attractive—even as she flopped about like a fish on a marble platter—but her mother raised her right. We do not objectify women, and we definitely do not allow others to take advantage of inebriated ones.

Taste of your lips, I’m on a ride

You’re toxic, I’m slippin’ under

With a taste of a poison paradise

I’m addicted to you

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

With a taste of your lips, I’m on a ride

You’re toxic, I’m slippin’ under

With a taste of a poison paradise

I’m addicted to you

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

Katya had to admit she was impressed. There really was no better way to draw attention to yourself than repeatedly slamming your pussy into the makeshift stage. It certainly seemed to be working now; she might just have to try it sometime.

Intoxicate me now

With your lovin’ now

I think I’m ready now

Intoxicate me now

With your lovin’ now

I think I’m ready now

Roxy, Alaska, and Detox all struck their final poses. Katya could see their chests heaving wildly as they held for the raucous applause of the party guests standing poolside. It was certainly strange, but she couldn’t knock their performance. Kids would be kids, right? She was about to chalk it all up to a bit of harmless fun, after all, when tweedle dumb and tweedle dumber broke formation and pushed Alaska straight off of the platform. Suddenly, the tall blonde was in the water, limbs thrashing about in response to the sudden change in environment.

“Pool party!” Willam shouted, stripping off her own dress. Leave it to Willam to make a splash. Literally. For some reason the most inebriated of the guests decided that it was a fantastic idea to accidentally drown themselves instead of their sorrows. Soon, the pool was full of bodies and she could no longer keep track of her friend.

Alaska finally scampered to the steps with the stability of a newborn fawn. She all but fell out of the pool and took half of the water with her. Alaska’s mascara streaked down her cheeks, and her hair hung limp and matted. Roxy and Detox were nowhere to be found—either to help her clean up or to read her for filth. Coco Montrese and her longtime frenemy Miss Alyssa Edwards, however, were more than happy to fill in.

They sound like those brain dead hyenas from The Lion King, Katya snickered to herself. Maybe not that lady one, though. That bitch was fierce.

Alaska coughed up a mouthful of water right at their feet. “Hey, Coco,” She began, “Your makeup is terrible.” Coco wasn’t laughing anymore. Point Alaska.

“Have you seen yourself, mama?” Coco fired back, The blonde rolled her eyes and snatched the drink in Coco’s hand. Alaska tossed it back all in one go.

“Thanks,” Alaska drawled, tossing the empty cup back and wrapping herself in the first available towel.

Katya turned to Trixie with a question on her lips. “Does this happen often?” She asked. Trixie gave a low whistle.

“Pearl has dragged me to a lot of weird shit, but I think this might just be a first,” Trixie answered with gusto. She checked her watch, “And it’s not even 10:00! The night is still young, honey!”

Right, Katya thought, the night is still young. Just great.

Trixie soon ditched Katya for Pearl—something about the stupid pumpkin carriage coming to steal her friend after midnight—and Katya hadn’t known Trixie long enough to reasonably protest the abandonment. She hoped Bianca was somewhere inside the house.

There were still people in the living room, but it looked like the horny gremlins from earlier had finally gotten a room. Literally. Unfortunately, the cheerleaders that had taken their place were not much better. Head bitch Violet Chachki had her legs draped over one of the arms of a stately armchair in a carefree yet superior manner. Why anyone would want to be queen of the hot messes? Katya couldn’t tell you. But apparently power—or at least the perception of power—gave one Violet Chachki a raging hard on. Gag.

Bianca wasn’t in the room, but the blonde was determined to see her valiant quest through. Hopefully, she’d stumble upon a nunnery with some sexy ladies along the way. Sneaking past the wicked bitch of the west and her flying monkeys, she regrouped in the kitchen. Katya went down her mental checklist: Keys? Check. Assorted limbs? Check. Clothes? Check. Inhibitions? Check. Virtue? Debauched. Sanity? Remaining hopefully optimistic. Bianca? Still M.I.A. The kitchen was empty due to the commotion happening poolside. Chips crunched under the soles of Katya’s sneakers. That was another reason she didn’t enjoy being out in the general public for extended periods of time: bitches be nasty.

The second floor was significantly cleaner than the first. An entire floor of the Honards’ house was dedicated to entertainment. Katya knew that Alaska had an older sister, Nebraska, but she couldn’t fathom why any child—or two children for that matter—needed an entire floor to play. How could the rooms not feel so…empty? Katya wondered, shuddering involuntarily. The blonde couldn’t picture Alaska spending much time up here now. She felt as though she was looking at an abandoned playground and couldn’t help but think it made Alaska sad, too.

After a few moments, it became clear to Katya that Bianca wasn’t there, but she continued to linger on the landing. Her blue eyes were drawn to the set of stairs that would take her to the third floor. It was an idea for the pantheon of bad ideas; she was tempted nonetheless. Katya could hear her grandfather’s words in her head: ‘Curiosity killed the kitty, лисичка,’ What her Deda didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Besides, I’m not that kind of pussy, am I? She justified.

Katya crept up to the dark third story of the house with the innocence of an intruder—she’d plead the fifth if necessary. The second door down from the landing was ominously open. Honestly, there may as well have been a big red arrow pointing towards the room because Katya’s feet were already carrying her towards it. Darkness engulfed the room, itself, save for a rectangle of warm light.

“Jinkxy, is that you?” Alaska groaned, presumably from the same direction as the light. “Jus’ leave the dress on the bed. Save the lecture for the morning.”

Katya cleared her throat, “Alaska? It’s Katya. Can I come in?” She received a grunt in response. The blonde followed the sound into what turned out to be Alaska’s master bathroom. Her friend was curled up against her marble tub with a beach towel wrapped around her.

“How was I, Kati?“ Alaska drawled.

Katya took a seat in front of her and pulled her legs to her chest. She thought for a moment before speaking, “80% sexy, 20% disgusting…like me.” Alaska whined. “Why are you still in your wet clothes?” She asked. Her friend shrugged. Right, Katya sighed. Alaska was half asleep; this wasn’t going to be a one woman job. Thankfully, Jinkx appeared moments later with her heels in one hand and Alaska’s little black dress in the other. Katya raised her hands in surrender. “I swear she was like this when I found her,” she blurted.

“This isn’t even the worst of it,” Jinx spoke candidly. She tossed her shoes onto the floor and pulled up her long, red hair. “I’ll wrangle the monkey if you go and find her some dry underwear and something to wear to bed.” Jinkx’s tone left no room for questioning.

Mother, I never thought I’d be a panty snatcher, much less an invited one, Katya made a face. Alaska’s dressers were easy to find, and she felt undeniably dirty as she began her game of panty roulette. Pulling open the first drawer, Katya sprang back, ready to strike. Assorted pajamas were hardly a foe, and she vanquished them swiftly. Rebel athleticwear laid in wait behind drawer number two. They, too, were no match for her feet of fury, Katya kicked the drawer shut with a battle cry.

“Katya, what the hell are you doing out there?” Jinkx called.

Katya had the dignity to look sheepish. “Nothing!” She shouted back. “Be there in a second!” The underwear turned out to be in the next drawer down. She thrust a hand inside without looking and tightened her grip on the first piece of fabric her hand found. Her feeling of triumph only lasted the few seconds it took for her to realize what she’d managed to retrieve: a lacy black teddy. Katya dropped the offending garment as if she’d been burned. I am going to hell, she shook her head, Straight to hell. I will not pass go, nor will I collect $100…Deuces never loses, right? The scarlet thong she fished out next begged to differ. Her face was almost as red as the fabric, itself, when she flung it across the room. Fortunately, the third time was the charm. The pastel pink boyshorts seemed like a more appropriate item to put on a drunk girl, so Katya returned to the bathroom to present her nightwear bounty to Jinkx.

The motherly redhead, unsurprisingly, was not impressed. Jinkx arched a brow expectantly.

“You see,” Katya began, “I wasn’t comfortable—I didn’t um feel right digging through her things without, you know, her permission?” She swallowed thickly. “So I thought maybe it would be less creepy if I just reached in and grabbed the first thing I touched. Well, you see, Alaska’s got such a wide range of tastes, and it-uh…It took a hot second to find something appropriate…for the…occasion?” She was expecting to find disgust when she raised her eyes to meet Jinkx’s, but the redhead cackled loudly instead.

“Lemme guess, you saw something you didn’t want to see?” Jinkx chortled. Katya managed a weak nod. “I’m sorry, doll, I forget that not everyone is as acquainted with Miss Honard’s unmentionables as little ol’ me.”

Not everyone is as acquain—Oh! Blue eyes threatened to burst from their sockets as Katya processed her words.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, not like that,” Jinkx exclaimed, reading the thoughts reflected on Katya’s face. “Lasky and I did community theater together. I’ve known her since the first grade. Drunk proof her nightstand for me? I’ll dress blondie over here.”

“Does this happen often?” Katya asked Jinkx after Alaska’s door was closed. The incapacitated cheerleader was finally sound asleep in her bed, and the two girls didn’t think she’d be up anytime soon.

Jinkx sighed sadly, “It didn’t use to. Roxy and Detox are more toxic than Drano, and there’s no one to stop her from going out with them. Look, Lasky’s a sweet girl. A good, smart girl. But she makes bad choices sometimes, and there’s nothing that I—that we—can do about it. She’s gotta be the one to say enough is enough.”

Katya understood. Katya understood more than she wanted to. She’d been a shell of a girl drowning in the voices in her head not too long ago. It didn’t matter how many hands reached out to her if she refused to take them. Alaska—happy and hopeful Alaska—might just be drowning, too. Katya wondered if she drank to impress, to keep up, or to forget.

Jinkx promised that she’d look over Alaska until the next morning, so Katya reluctantly chose to rejoin the land of the living downstairs. The first floor was significantly louder than it was when she left it. Games of flip cup and beer pong had picked up in the dining room, and Violet’s flock had not only grown, but had grown to include both Trixie and Bianca, who were trying their hardest not to laugh at the spectacle in the middle of the living area. Willam and Courtney were having a major bitchfest for all to see. Normally, Katya would run for the hills, but if Bianca and Trixie weren’t afraid of getting caught in the crossfire, she figured it was safe enough to stick around and tuned into the conversation.

“Your tone seems really pointed right now,” Willam pursed her lips. She was clearly the calmer of the two, as Courtney was beet red and positively radiating tension. Katya could tell Willam’s nonchalance was only winding the Australian up more.

Courtney folded her arms defensively. “Well, I’m sorry you think that, Willam,” she took a deep breath. “I feel like everything I say kinda comes from the heart, and I’m truly hurt that you threw yourself at Daniel when you knew how I felt about him.”

“Sorry ‘bout it,” Willam scoffed, picking at her nails. Her words reflected everything but the sentiment they were meant to.

Katya knew that Willam was a bitch, but this was a little much even for her. Willam and Courtney had been best friends since Courtney moved from Australia the summer of their freshman year; it was hard to believe that Willam would throw their relationship away. Katya held her breath. Everyone in the wings was uncomfortable during the pregnant pause. The scene before her was straight out of a 90s teen movie, and she didn’t have the popcorn to go with it.

All movement stilled when Willam finally looked up. “I tend to think emotions are for ugly people,” she deadpanned. The room let out a collective gasp. Courtney was across the room in a flash, and her palm made contact with Willam’s cheek. It would be logical to assume that Willam, who was just slapped across the face by her best friend, would be the most in shock at the sudden turn of events; it would also be the wrong conclusion. Courtney’s features were frozen in fear. The offending hand still hovered in the air, trembling like a leaf.

Willam was the first to react—and in a very uncharacteristic way. She engulfed the smaller girl in a tender hug. Courtney began to sob muffled apologies into her neck, and despite her obvious desire to recoil, Willam continued to hold her close.

Maybe Willam actually does have feelings, Katya’s eyebrows raised. The sight of Willam whispering words of reassurance into Courtney’s ear was enough to make even the coldest heart melt. Well, the coldest heart with the exception of Violet Chachki’s. Katya was pretty sure the stick up her ass was a permanent installment.

When the two pulled apart minutes later with smiles on their faces, they were met with a round of applause. Courtney wiped at her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup. If she noticed Willam’s arm around her waist, she didn’t give any indication as she addressed the spectators that had gathered, “Well, I’m gonna need to be less sober before I spill any more about myself. Truth or drink, anyone?”

Truth or drink? No thanks, Katya turned to sneak out. Unfortunately, Bianca had also chosen that exact moment to glance in her direction, and Katya was caught in the act.

“Bitch, you can’t leave yet. It’s not even midnight!” Bianca half whispered, half hissed.

And Bianca doesn’t associate with losers, Katya reminded herself. Don’t be a loser. “If my locker gets filled with worms next week, I will personally marinate you like a chicken,” she promised her friend.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. Blame it on Bianca Del Rio. Take a number, sweetheart, you’re holding up the line,” Bianca patted the space next to her on the floor.

Laganja had batted her eyelashes—and used her mouth—to coerce one of the mindless jocks to bring in one of the kegs from outside for their “slumber party secret sesh”. There were fifteen girls, including Katya, who stuck around for the potentially risky game, and Katya wasn’t thrilled to be playing with most of them. Adore finished off her beer and placed the empty bottle in the center of the circle.

“Party!” Adore shouted before giving the bottle a good spin. Around, and around, and around it went before coming to a stop at Coco’s feet. “Miss Coco Montrese, truth or dare?” She asked.

“I’ll pick truth, mama,” Coco answered.

Adore thought for a moment before speaking, “Are you afraid that you’ll always be the runner up?” There was a chorus of oohs. Everyone knew that the race for junior varsity squad captain their sophomore year was a sore spot for both girls. It was no secret that Alyssa was originally chosen to be captain by her teammates. However, when she became implicated in a cheating scandal, Coach Calhoun was forced to denounce her and give Coco, Alyssa’s best friend and the candidate to receive the second most votes, the position. To make matters worse, it was rumored that Coco was the one who suggested that Alyssa had committed academic dishonesty in the first place. Alyssa and Coco had patched up their friendship over the course of the last year, but there was no telling whether or not the structure would hold if tested.

“Out of respect for me and Miss Alyssa, I am going to drink,” Coco responded without hesitance. Adore poured her a shot, and Alyssa gave her hand a grateful squeeze as she tossed it back. “Ain’t no use bringing up what’s past.”

Coco spun the bottle next, and it chose Trixie as its victim. “Truth or dare?” Coco asked.

“I think I’ll pick dare?” Trixie responded with hesitance. Katya didn’t know much about Coco Montrese, but for Trixie’s sake she hoped Coco was one of the nice ones.

Said cheerleader gave Trixie a small and genuine smile, “Okay, mama, I dare you to let Miss Pearl over here do your makeup. Something has got to be done because you aren’t doing a pretty girl like yourself any favors.” The reactions to Coco’s dare for Trixie were mixed. Some of the she-demons tried and failed to hide their amused laughs, Pearl’s eyes opened fully, Violet’s grip on her chair tightened, and Trixie seemed to be not entirely opposed to the idea.

“Pearlie girl,” Trixie began, standing up and crossing to her best friend on the opposite side of the circle, “Treat my face like a princess and then fuck it like a slut.” The life-sized Barbie batted her eyelashes animatedly, earning her a laugh from pearl and a glare from Violet. The ice queen’s elevated irritability prompted Katya to reconsider her previous assessments—maybe it was an entire branch up her ass.

When Pearl and Trixie left, there was a void that seemed to swallow Violet whole. The physical space around her remained largely unchanged, but Katya could feel the emptiness that moved to fill the space Pearl left. And for the first time it occurred to her that Violet Chachki might be alone. I guess there might be some truth to the saying, she mused. After all, if you’re at the top, how can anyone else be? When you stripped away the glitter, the makeup, the clothes, you were left with a girl—albeit an arrogant, entitled, straight up cunt—plain and simple.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown, huh?” Bianca nudged Katya’s arm, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“What?” Katya asked. Had she missed something while she was contemplating the character of Violet Chachki?

Bianca chuckled, “You’ve been staring at Chachki since Trixie and Pearl left.” The blonde feigned innocence. “You know how I feel about that 48 Hours show, Zamo. Share with the class before your peanut brain short circuits.”

“What’s her problem?” Katya whispered. “I mean, aside from her general disdain for anything that has a pulse and moves.”

“With Trixie?” Bianca confirmed. Katya nodded. “Oh, this is old news. Her Royal Hardass doesn’t share, but Sleeping Beauty’s got a soft spot for one Trixie Mattel.”

The dots aligned in Katya’s head once again. “Violet’s the pumpkin carriage!” She whisper-shouted.

“Bitch, that was not English,” Bianca snarked, “You been hanging around with Jose Cuervo?”

Katya rolled her eyes at her friend’s question, “I have ninety-nine problems, and substance abuse won’t be one of them if I have anything to say about it.” She turned back to the circle just in time to see the neck of the bottle stop on Bianca, who didn’t even flinch. Katya was secretly proud; her friend had bigger balls than most of the ‘macho men’ at the party—this was going to be interesting. Since Trixie had gone upstairs to get her face redone, Detox decided that she would be the brave volunteer to issue the next truth or dare.

“Bianca, truth or dare?” Detox asked smugly. Katya couldn’t guess which one would be worse. Unsurprisingly, Bianca chose dare. “I dare you to ask Max for his number.” There was, again, a chorus of oohs, and it was Bianca’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Really, bitch?” Bianca asked. She stood up and righted her denim shorts before striding over to the meatheads playing beer pong with a clear purpose and her head held high.

Because Bianca could run with the boys, no one batted an eye—unless she wanted them to. She hoisted herself up onto the pool table in front of Max and held out an upturned palm. They were too far away to make out their conversation, and Katya was a terrible lip reader at best, but she could picture how the exchange would go down:

“Gimme ya’ numbah, beefstick,” She imitated Bianca in her head. The 1920s gangster voice was a bold choice, but she wasn’t going to mock it just yet.

“D’uhh…okay,” Fake Max droned.

The blonde chuckled to herself as the real Max stuck a fist in the pockets of his jeans and fished around. Finally, he produced what looked like a wadded up gum wrapper and snagged a pen from his pal, presumably jotting down his number. Bianca hastily took the offering and sashayed back to the group of girls. She dropped the wrapper in Detox’s lap before taking her seat by Katya.

While the hens squawked over her success, Bianca leaned over to Katya and whispered, “Never let a bitch see you sweat.” Katya had so many questions, but she wouldn’t be able to ask them until later. It was Bianca’s turn to spin the bottle, and Adore, unsurprisingly, chose truth when landed on.

“Adore, which girl on the squad is the skunkiest?” Bianca waggled her thick, black brows. Because she was the mascot and didn’t change in the locker room, she genuinely had no idea how rank the girls smelled after practice or a game. Sue her; she was curious. What Bianca also didn’t know was that the question had a definitive answer, and that answer would do damage far beyond her intent to poke a little harmless and innocent fun at one of the girls.

Even completely sloshed, Adore recognized the gravity of the question. “Fuck! If I drink any more, I’m gonna be sick,” Adore groaned. Her teammates looked at her with pity in their eyes.

“Yeah but it’s not like anyone’s ever died from drinking too much!” Laganja came to her rescue, topping off her cup, “What’s one more?” Adore could only offer her a weak smile.

“Uh, I think I’m just gonna spin the thing now…For everyone’s sake,” Adore informed the group. The bottle landed on Gia, and she picked dare.

The turns only seemed to bleed together as time went on. After Gia drank from the toilet, Roxy refused to reveal her weight. Laganja told her dad she was eloping in Vegas, and when she spun the bottle it landed on Violet. Because ladies don’t kiss and tell, the brunette tossed one back instead of revealing the number of sexual partners she’s had. Alyssa confessed that she was afraid she would never achieve her dream of owning her own dance studio. Courtney shared that she’d never been in love, and Willam exposed her entire browser history, telling Katya a lot more than she wanted to know about the girl. For obvious reasons, Joslyn refused to eat a raw egg. Detox followed by removing Adore’s socks with her teeth. Katya played it safe and suggested that Bianca would be a bad date because she’s insulting people all the time before daring Gia to reveal any childhood nickname she had. Things didn’t start going downhill until the bottle landed on Violet a second time.

“Violet,” Gia cooed, “Truth or dare?”.

“Truth,” Violet answered with an unreadable expression.

Gia thought for a moment before asking the first truly problematic question of the night, “Who in this room do you like the least?”

Ruh-roh, Katya winced.

Violet didn’t waste a moment before answering, “Willam.” There was a collective gasp across the room. Willam, on her part, didn’t seem to be phased in the slightest. Then again, you could never really read Willam Belli.

Pearl and Trixie returned, arm in arm, before Violet could spin the bottle. Katya’s jaw—along with all the other girls’—dropped. Trixie looked gorgeous. Pearl reclaimed her seat next to Violet, much to the cheerleader’s delight, but brought Trixie with her. At the group’s insistence, Trixie was allowed to take the turn that she missed, and Detox was dared to call a random number in her phone and deliver the worst pickup line she could think of. Katya was glad for the change in the room’s atmosphere after Violet’s confession until Detox took her turn. After the call, Detox dared Violet to spend the next hour trapped in a bathroom with another girl from the circle chosen at random. Anyone who didn’t know Detox might think she was trying to create a seven minutes in heaven type deal, but even Katya could pick up on her intent to stir up trouble. She pitied the poor soul who ended up stuck in there.

Of course that poor soul ended up being her, and she wasn’t about to pussy out in front of the most popular girls in school. Peer pressure was a bitch. Judge, jury, and executioner had all decided it was her time, and she accepted that; she just wished her death march had a better soundtrack. Katya would be cooped up in one of the Honards’ bathrooms with a less than pleasant—soon to be considerably more less than pleasant—Violet Chachki. She was going to punch Detox in her stupid mouth.

Katya entered the bathroom the same way she’d rip off a band-aid: quickly and without much thought for the immediate consequences. Violet, who was perched on the bathroom counter, had been engrossed in her phone when the door swung open to reveal the one girl that she just couldn’t seem to get away from. Unsurprisingly, the cheerleader wasn’t thrilled.

“Really, bitch?” Violet griped, giving Katya a once over. It wasn’t like the situation was ideal for either of them.

Katya put her hands on her hips, “You know what you can suck? My whole dick.” She unenthusiastically plunked herself down against the wall opposite of the door. “We’ve got two options, Chachki, we can either suck it up and spend the next hour in here in silence, or we can French a little.” Violet was aghast at her words. If Katya were a proper woman, she might have been able to hold in the cackling fit prompted by the girl’s scandalized reaction. Violet wasn’t impressed with her wheezing, either. Katya finally calmed down and attempted to explain herself, “Sorry, I could have been more clear, but your reaction was priceless.” She wiped at her eyes. “Thanks. I needed that. Detox said she was “‘feeling generous,’” and if we so choose, we can suck face and then get the hell out of Dodge.” Violet sneered, and Katya wondered if it was with anger or disgust; she didn’t know which one was better.

“As fucking if,” Violet scoffed, clearly feeling as though Detox’s so-called coup de grâce was more of a personal attack.

“Well, I don’t see anyone lining up to get the kiss of the spider woman, either,” Katya observed. “I told you that you weren’t going to like it.” The cheerleader exhaled sharply, and she was surprised not to see steam come out of her flared nostrils.

Violet pursed her lips, “Just shut up and stay on your side of the room.” With that, Violet returned her attention to her phone, but Katya didn’t fail to notice that her expression didn’t soften. If Katya weren’t trapped in the room with her, she’d probably find Violet’s situation hilarious.

Katya had made the mistake of leaving her jacket—and consequentially, her phone—on the coat rack in the hall. Call her old fashioned, but it was a force of habit. Besides, she didn’t need her phone because Bianca was supposed to be there to pull her out of trouble if it arose. But are we really surprised to find ourselves here? Katya asked herself. No. Not at all. At least she found herself entertaining. Hoping to bring forth inspiration, she laid back on the floor, let her gaze unfocus, and tried to lose herself in the plain ceiling. Katya didn’t know how long she’d been drifting for when Violet’s voice shattered the silence.

“Fuck!” Violet cursed, and the sound of hard plastic hitting the floor made Katya’s whole body go rigid. She squeezed her eyes shut. I am not going to be equipped to handle this, Katya bristled. Maybe if I just keep my eyes closed, I can fall asleep. It seemed like a feasible plan until she heard the first sniffle. Of course I find out she has feelings when I’m stuck in a room with her, the blonde facepalmed inwardly. Why today, of all days, to be railed in the ass by life? Her left eye opened first, searching for any signs of danger before being followed by her right eye.

“I knew you didn’t like me Chachki, but I didn’t think you found me this repulsive,” Katya spoke. “Quite frankly, it’s offensive.”

“Fuck you,” Violet spat, but the usual venom in her voice was gone. Katya propped herself back up against the wall to get a better look at the girl on the counter. Her attention was unwanted, and Violet turned towards the door with a huff.

Clearly comedic relief wasn’t the answer. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Katya tried again. No response. The girl’s side profile was growing red and blotchy, and Katya had sent her mom enough photos of her crying to know that Violet was trying and failing to stifle an emotional response. Go figure. “I won’t tell anyone if you cry, you know?” She said softly. “Bottling it up is just gonna make you feel shittier than you do now.”

“Do you think I’m a goddamn idiot?” Violet barked. She wiped furiously at her eyes before whirling around in an attempt to intimidate the blonde. “Better make your fifteen minutes last.”

Katya was genuinely taken aback. Does this bitch really think I’m in on this? She shook her head incredulously. Her airhead friends would literally eat me alive, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t given her any reason to think that I’m faker than Malibu Barbie. If I were made of plastic, why in the hell would I keep my hands this small? “Are we really back on this bullshit, Violet?” Katya snapped. “I’m sorry you think that the universe revolves around you. I hate to burst your bubble, but I have better things to do than conspire against you with your teammates over scones. Get over yourself, Princess.” In her head, Katya blew the smoke from the pistols in her hands. Call me perestroika, Mother, for I am reforming problematic practices, she hooted.

“Whatever,” Violet grumbled. Katya, on the other hand, wasn’t willing to let this go; some conversation was better than nothing.

“How’s the back?” The blonde inquired and was pleasantly surprised when Violet outright snorted at the shift in conversation. Katya took her in as she threw her head back in laughter. There was something about this Violet—the unguarded and natural Violet—that captivated her. Violet’s eyes crinkled, and she clasped a hand over her mouth in a flimsy attempt to stifle the noises she was making. It was frustratingly endearing.

Violet cleared her throat before answering, “Fucked. I’m considering outlawing acrylics on the squad. That shit’s not even practical for a cheerleader, and it’s hurting like a bitch to corset.”

“You’re wearing a corset?” Katya gasped. For the first time that night, she took all of Violet in. She wore a nude illusion dress with a loose black lattice pattern. It covered just a little more than her ass and was cinched at the waist with a rocker belt, squeezing her in a way that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. How in the world do you hide a corset under that? Katya wondered. In addition to the dress, she donned thigh high, slick black boots and a thick, black leather choker that looked more like a collar. Hot damn, Katya could n e v e r, and she knew it. She finally composed herself, “First of all, you’re literally a cheerleader with a body to die for. Second of all, why wear something that hurts you?”

The cheerleader didn’t even seem phased by the inquiries, almost like she’d dealt with them hundreds of times before, “Pain is beauty, and I’m the prettiest.” Katya couldn’t argue there. Violet was beautiful, but she still thought her ideology was questionable.

“So what actually happened at the pep rally? We all saw you fall, but I’ll believe it was your fault when the garden is full of ducks holding pastry in their hands. You’re too much of a hardass.”

Violet raised her eyebrows, as if daring Katya to say it again, “I will let that slide only because it’s technically a compliment. And you’d be correct; I am a professional, unlike others. You’d do well to take note: one of my biggest pet peeves is when people don’t take the things I love as seriously as I do. I accept nothing less than perfection.”

“That must be lonely,” Katya couldn’t stop the words from spilling from her mouth. “You know, having such high standards? Does anyone ever make the cut?” Opening her mouth was clearly a mistake because Violet seemed to shut down all at once.

“What do you know about how I feel?” Violet fired back, crossing her arms over her chest.

Keep digging yourself deeper, why don’t ya? Katya shook her head. She needed to tread carefully. It was a miracle that she had even been having a civil conversation with Violet in the first place, and she didn’t want to ruin the progress they had made. “I know that you work harder than anyone else on that squad, and nobody gives you credit or appreciates you for it,” Katya began. “I know that people are fast to discredit your talent because of how young you are. I know that you’re waiting for the day those bitches stop hoping that you’ll screw up or get hurt, the day you can finally stop looking over your shoulder, the day that you no longer have to prove yourself. I know that you’re tired of fighting tooth and nail for the respect that you’ll probably never earn, and I know it’s fucking hard for you to pretend that your peers aren’t harboring resentment towards you. I know that at night you try to wash it all away because you’re still holding out hope that it will all be worth it in the end. Cheer and theatre aren’t that different. It was obvious in the gym, and it’s obvious now.” Katya took a deep breath. Maybe she’d been thinking a little more about Violet that afternoon than she’d like to admit. She hadn’t meant to go off on a tangent like that, but she certainly didn’t regret what she said. Based on Violet’s reaction, however, maybe she should have. The brunette’s hands were clenched into tight fists at her sides, and tears began to roll down her cheeks. Katya tried to backtrack, “Violet I—”

Katya was cut off by the bathroom door swinging open. Pearl, who stood oblivious on the other side, immediately noticed the state of her friend. “Vi?” Pearl approached her hesitantly. Violet’s gaze didn’t move from the floor. “Hey, what’s going on? Talk to me.” She moved to lift Violet’s chin up, but Violet recoiled from her touch.

“Don’t touch me!” Violet shouted, her voice almost frantic. Katya’s eyes darted from one girl to the other. Pearl, who was visibly shocked by her reaction, looked hurt, which was very uncharacteristic for the mellow girl. Katya, herself, had never seen anything but characteristic nonchalance reflected on Pearl’s face, and the change made her uneasy.

Pearl took a reluctant step forward and spoke in a whisper, “Violet, did something happen? You know you can tell me anything.”

“Is that the truth, Pearl?” The brunette questioned. “Because clearly I don’t know you as well as I thought I did.”

Pearl shook her head in frustration. “Cut the crap, Vi,” She demanded, “You’re literally my best friend, and—”

“Bullshit!” Violet interrupted. “I call motherfucking bullshit!” Both girls were standing now with less than a foot between them, the situation escalating by the second, and Katya was stuck in the middle of it. She tried to push her back further into the solid wall behind her, but there was nowhere for her to go. Fuck me! Katya grimaced. Why is Toxic so damn appropriate right now?

“What the hell, Violet?” Pearl shouted back. “God, you’re fucking impossible.”

“Fuck you, Pearl!” Violet pushed Pearl, and the blonde hit the wall with a dull thud. “Fuck you! You and I are done! You hear me? Done! Save your goddamn lies for that pathetic dress up doll. I never want to see you again.” With a huff, Violet stormed out of the bathroom, leaving an uncomfortable Katya and a drained Pearl alone. What the fuck just happened? Katya tried and failed to process the encounter.

She was caught off guard when Pearl finally acknowledged her presence. “Forecast predicts drinking to forget,” Pearl deadpanned, nodding her head towards the door Violet had just stormed through. “Want in?” Katya shook her head furiously. Getting piss drunk with those two would be like making smalltalk with a Molotov cocktail. She’d pass. She’d pass hard. Pearl seemed to understand. “It’s flazéda or whatever,” The corners of her mouth turned up slightly. “Just do me a solid and remind me to fuck with Willam’s weed on Monday.”

Katya didn’t know what “‘flazéda’” meant, or the why and how of Pearl tampering with Willam’s weed, but the questions weren’t enough to persuade her to stick around the party longer. When Pearl left, Katya made a run for the Honards’ front door. She grabbed her jacket before taking off down the street. The blonde didn’t stop until she could no longer hear the music pulsing from the house. Her phone buzzed in her pocket with a text from ‘Bianca del Realest’:

Bitch, where are you?

What the fuck happened in there?

Earth to Yekaterina?

Katya sighed and pocketed the phone again. She’d call her when she got home. That would buy her some more time to put the experience into words…and to decide just how much information she should share.

The drive home from the Honards’ was quiet—too quiet. Music normally made being in the car enjoyable, but there was something about the night that didn’t allow Björk to keep her out of her own head. It didn’t feel real, and that terrified the shit out of her. Life was monotonous, life was mundane, life was one of those stupid time loop movies where you had to learn from your mistakes over time and find out what was important in the stupid haystack of chaos. Violet Chachki and her ex best friend potentially ex best friend were not supposed to have the Chernobyl of all relationship meltdowns in Alaska Honard’s guest bathroom right in front of her. Katya didn’t know who opened this tragic can of worms, but when she found them, she was going to slap a bitch silly.

#rpdr fanfiction #katya zamolodchikova #violet chachki #alaska thunderfuck #bianca del rio #trixie mattel #roxxxy andrews #detox icunt #high school au #lesbian au #slow burn #fluff #angst #enemies to friends #enemies to lovers #girls interrupted #maeve #tw anxiety and depression #tw drinking

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bangtangcorner · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1 : The Interview

pairings: mafia boss!park jimin x reader

word count: 1.8k

summary: You were just a pawn in the play. Things take a twisted turn when you fall in love with the one you were supposed to cheat on. Chaos, as usual, ensues.

warnings: a few cuss words, that’s all. Oh and a little bit of a toxic relationship?

a/n: OH MY GODDDD I AM SO EXCITED TO START MY FIRST EVER FIC ON TUMBLR! I really really hope that whoever reads this, likes it :) There is no particular time for the updates but I’ll try my best to keep them regular. Feedback and criticism of any kind is always appreciated <3

part of the deception series

****

Why do you sound like ‘soul’?

What kind of soul is it that you have?

What holds me back at your side like this?

****

“You are going to wear that?”

I turned around and saw Jackson sitting on the edge of my bed with a deep scowl on his face.

I looked down at my outfit and frowned, “What is wrong with this?”

“Baby, no offense, but you don’t look like you’re going for an interview to work for Seoul’s biggest Mafia in those clothes. Wear a skirt at least.”

“No” I deadpanned.

He raised his brows and tilted his head to the side,”Are you saying no to me?”

My breath caught in my throat as I panicked, my face contorting into a frown.

“I, uh... I-”

“I’m letting it slide right now, but think before you speak next time.”

I nodded and let out a shaky breath before turning around to look at the mirror and coated my lips with some peach gloss before spraying some perfume. I picked up my sling bag and slid in some essentials into it.

“Okay, I’m ready!”

Jackson locked his phone and stood up, standing in front of me. His hands firmly grabbed me by my shoulders as he looked me in the eye.

“Don’t do anything that you don’t want to. Don’t answer anything that you’re uncomfortable answering. You can’t, under any circumstance, blow your cover, you get me? We’re doing this for us, for Baekhyun. You understand, don’t you babe?” His eyes were bleeding into mine, tone stern.

“Yes, I understand.”

He smiled brightly at my words and dropped a little kiss on my forehead.

“Great, at least you didn’t wear those shitty pink sneakers of yours.”

“Jackson!”

****

“Hi, I’m here for an interview?” The statement came out more like a question. I couldn’t help it, the surroundings made me jittery.

The girl at the front desk seemed to notice this as she chuckled, typing something in her computer.

“First time in a place like this, sweetheart?”

It was a warehouse turned into a makeshift office. The walls were black, paint crippled. The furniture looked old and damaged. People were rummaging around the whole area, some with files and papers in their hands, others with guns and knives. It was hectic; not one person looked like they had slept for more than 3 hours.

I looked back at the girl who was now looking at me with raised brows.

“No, not really.”

As soon as the words escaped my mouth, someone came barging through the front door. His face was extremely bruised, cuts on almost all of his exposed milky skin. He doubled over and groaned, spitting out blood while falling to his knees. His hands clutched his stomach and people rushed to him, helping him up and taking him to what I’m assuming, the infirmary. He removed his blood covered hand from his stomach to reveal a big gash, continuously bleeding. I cringed at the sight and twirled around on my feet.

“I take my words back.”

She laughed lightly, “Your name?”

“Y/n”

“You gotta wait for a few minutes.”

I sat down on one of the chairs laid out beside the front desk. I took my phone out and saw that I had a missed call from Jackson. My fingers quickly worked against the phone screen as I called him back. He picked up at the first ring.

“So now you don’t pick up my calls, huh?”

“Jackson..I was talking to the receptionist.”

“You know it doesn’t work this way baby, no excuses, remember?”

“Yes, I’m sorry Jackson, it won’t happen again.” I sighed and closed my eyes, leaning back against the chair.

“It’s okay Y/n, when is your interview?”

“It’s i-”

“Y/n!” I looked up to see the receptionist nodding at me, silently telling me it was time.

“I have to go Jackson.” I said as I stood up and slid my sling over my shoulder.

“Knock em’ dead baby.”

“Bye.” Slipping the phone in my sling, I followed the girl to the elevator.

“15th floor?”

“He likes heights.” She smiled. “I’m Rosé by the way, and I’m not a receptionist. Thought you should know, just in case you get the job.”

My face turned red as I looked down at my feet, feeling embarrassed. She clearly had heard my conversation on the phone earlier.

“What do you do then?

“I’m his secretary. My girlfriend works at the front desk but she’s running a fever today so I’m covering for her.”

“Oh”

The elevator ‘dinged’ and opened, revealing the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen. The city looked breathtaking, the sky sparkling under the sunlight.

“Surprised?” Rosé’s voice snapped me out of my stance. I turned around to see her grinning face.

“This floor is exclusive so you should feel lucky to be here. And Y/n..”

I looked at her, she continued, “To the outside world, this is a normal warehouse. It should stay like that. We both know the power boss has, if you leak information, you’ll be basically signing up for your own death.”

I nodded, too dumbfounded to say anything. The whole building looked like it was severely trashed but this floor was absolutely gorgeous. The walls had a beautiful texture and were adorned by various paintings.

“These paintings are marvelous.” I said as I walked closer to the wall on my right. The colors were lively and splashing into each other. It made me feel warm in the chest, made me feel content and calm.

“I know hun, but you can stare at these for as long as you want once you get the job and for that, you gotta ace that interview with boss.”

I giggled and followed Rosé down the hallway. We stopped at two huge doors. She knocked twice before calling his name out.

“What?”

“I have the hacker chick for the interview.”

“Send her in.”

Rosé turned around and patted my shoulder, “I hope you get it, you seem like a great girl.”

I nodded and looked at the door before closing my eyes shut and taking a deep breath. Now or never.

With a shaky breath, I pushed the doors open. My breath hitched in my throat as my eyes fell on the seven overly exquisite men scattered all over the room. I suddenly felt dizzy, bombarded with too many alluring faces at the same time.

I bowed down to all of them which they acknowledged with short nods.

“Hey, you must be Y/n?” The one with dirty brown hair squealed, his big grin almost blinding me.

“Hobi, calm the fuck down!” The one with blue hair scolded him.

“Please sit Y/n.” The one who sat at the desk in the middle of the room said. My eyes met his and for a whole second, I could feel my heart violently throbbing in my chest. His blond locks were perfectly styled on top his head, eyes captivating and lips plump and red like fresh cherries. He looked back at me with the same amount of intensity with which I stared at him, his mouth parted slightly.

I cleared my throat and took a seat in front of his desk.

“I’m Park Jimin” He said as he offered me his hand. As soon as his fingers clasped in mine for a handshake, I felt my skin burn at the touch. His skin was soft yet had the right amount of roughness.

“Y/n Y/l/n, but you probably already knew that.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat and nodded, bending forward to pick up a file. He started flipping through it while clicking his tongue.

“You have quite an impressive resume, Ms.Y/n.”

“Thank you Sir”

“I don’t really give a shit about this.” He said as he threw the file on the desk. I gasped in surprise and slouched back in my seat, suddenly feeling very small under his condescending stare.

“I know you hacked your college’s server to bring down the college website because it was trying to stop the students riot against the authorities. That was enough for me to know that you’re not only good at what you do, but you also do it for a good reason.” He said.

His words made me smile, his voice softer than before.

“What I need to know is that you will be loyal to me, to my men. Give me one reason why I should hire you and not those pathetic dweebs who need this job a hundred times more than you do.”

My throat felt parched as I tried to speak.

“Can I have a glass of water?”

Jimin nodded and pushed his glass towards me. My hands clamped around the cool surface as I chugged down the whole glass in a single sip and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Suddenly, I became very aware of the 7 pairs of eyes staring at me fiercely, making me feel more intimidated than I have ever felt in my whole life.

Keeping the glass back on the table, I answered him, “I’m sure you must’ve done a background check on me. I live with my friend Jackson. He found me on the streets when I was 18 after I ran away from home. He helped me get a job and go through college. Now he needs me to step up and take charge.”

I stopped for a second and leaned back in my chair, looking up and meeting Jimin’s focused eyes.

“He has stage 1 cancer and we don’t have enough money for his treatment. I know this job will pay me well even if it’s not in the most ideal condition. I know my life will be at a constant risk working for Seoul’s biggest mafia boss, but if it means that I get to help Jackson survive, then I’m willing to work with this risk.” I let go of the breath I’d been holding and look down at my lap, nervously playing with my fingers.

“These 6 men around you are not only my best, but they have also grown up with me. You will directly respond to only us and no one else. Rosé will show you your work space and introduce you to Jisoo tomorrow. Is that clear?”

My eyes widened as I looked up, “Does this mean I-”

“Yes Y/n, you got the job.”

I grinned as I clapped my hands like a little child and thanked him again and again.

“There’s no need to thank me Y/n. Rosé will guide you and clear all the doubts you have.”

I nodded and bowed down to all of them before practically running out of his office.

I immediately pulled out my phone and called the last dialed number.

“He-”

“I’m in.”

****

a/n :Phew, so that happened.

Deception Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#park jimin fanfic #park jimin imagine #park jimin #bts #bts x reader #bts imagines #mafia bts #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #kim taehyung #jung hoseok #jeon jungkook #rm bts #j-hope #jimin x reader

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everlastingcaptainswan · 4 years

Photo

Contractual Attraction (8/?)

Enchanted Forest AU

Summary: The war had raged on for many years, the people of Misthaven would say too many, and there was only one way to end it, only one way to quiet talks of rebellion. Princess Emma of Misthaven would have to marry the enemy, Prince Killian of Montave.

Notes: Hope everyone is having a good week!

FF Ao3

Chapter Eight: There’s No Place Like Home

The cold winter wind seemed to cut through Emma and Killian harsher than it did in Arendelle. Their heavy cloaks helped, but not by much. Ruby approached them with a wolfish smile that Emma saw falter for one moment, her quasi aunt had to hide her surprise when she saw Emma and Killian’s arms linked together. The war had aged her aunt significantly in looks, just as it had done to Emma’s parents. Her dark brown hair had subtle streaks gray throughout, and she had wrinkles as well. While she may look older in appearance, it was her attitude that gave her a youthful glow and energy.

“Well aren’t you two cozy?” Ruby said in a husky voice, playful as ever.

“Gotta stay warm somehow. Ruby, this is Prince Killian, and this is Ruby, basically my aunt.” Killian extended a hand; which Ruby took and shook hard.

“Pleased to meet you, Lady Ruby.” Killian withdrew his hand from hers. Emma and Ruby practically doubled over with laughter. Ruby wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Emma’s hand left Killian’s arm to hold her side.

“I’m sorry, did I miss something?” Ruby just smiled and brushed her long dark hair over her shoulder.

“Well you certainly have a charmer there, Emma.” Killian’s confusion intensified and he looked to Emma, who finally collected herself.

“While Ruby is considered family and has been offered Ladyship numerous times, she has never accepted. Ruby is not a Lady, although she is flattered you think so.” Understanding finally dawned over Killian, and he blushed for his blunder.

“I have a seat on the council, that’s all that has ever mattered to me. Lady would involve much more responsibility than I have ever wanted. Not to mention I could hardly help Granny in the kitchen being a Lady.” Ruby shrugged, “Now, let’s get out of the cold. Horses await both of you.” Ruby stepped aside and gestured to three beautiful horses patiently waiting for them. Emma smiled and walked up to her horse Buttercup, whispering sweet words of praise. After being at sea and in a foreign country for weeks she had missed her horse dearly. Ruby and Killian walked toward their own horses and mounted them. They made their way inland toward the castle with the knights trailing behind them, Graham and August leading the group. Emma was able to break away from Killian and spoke to her aunt in a hushed tone.

“Did father make all the knights accompany you for a reason, or...?”

“He’s been worried, so has your mother. You were supposed to be home almost a week ago. We figured; well the worst was feared. Scouts saw the ship yesterday and those fears dissipated, but you know how protective your father is. He’s convinced the Prince is up to no good,” Ruby said quickly. Emma rolled her eyes.

“Of course, he does. We ran into two storms; they know the channel is dangerous this time of year.” Bringing Killian home was going to be much more difficult than imagined.

“We tried to tell them, but you know how your father can be. No one ever mentioned how handsome the Prince was. If I weren’t with Dorothy well…” Ruby practically licked her lips at the thought.

“Oh yes we all know what you would do,” Emma chuckled.

“He certainly knows how to pick out jewelry, I’ll give him that.” Emma looked down to the ring, the jewels glistening in the sunshine. When Emma doesn’t respond Ruby moves on.

“What do you make of him?” Ruby glanced at Emma, reading her expression.

“He wants this to work as much as we do. I don’t think he has an evil plot to overthrow Misthaven and burn it to the ground. He knows what’s at stake.” Emma said coolly, not making eye contact with Ruby.

“Hmm, that’s reassuring, but not what I was referring to at all,” Ruby turned her gaze toward Killian, not giving Emma anytime to answer her, “Your Highness, have you ever seen such beautiful mountains as those in Misthaven?”

“I can’t say I have. Montave is rather flat, we are a seaside kingdom. No mountains I’m afraid,” Killian raised his voice slightly to be heard by them.

“There’s nothing like it,” Ruby smirked. Ruby trotted her horse ahead and led the way to the castle. This left Emma alone with her thoughts and she was trying to figure out the best way to approach her parents. Killian strode up to her.

“Should I be worried?” Emma raised her eyebrow, “For my life.” He stated plainly.

“No, my parents wanted this treaty more than I did. They know better, but I fear you’ll get a rather cold reception from them.” Killian’s jaw clenched, but he looked ahead. They could just barely see the castle in the distance, they would arrive just after midday.

“I was prepared for that.”

“Like I said on the ship just look to me when you’re lost.” Emma tried to reassure him as much as herself.

“Why do this for me? You could let me drown and be swept up in mistake after mistake. You don’t owe me a thing.” Killian’s brows furrowed together. It was something that had been weighing on him.

“Because like it or not we will be married in a few months’ time. I could allow you to flounder and drown, but you’ve been kind to me. I do owe you; you saved my life on the ship. I’d like us to have a partnership of sorts and it does me no good to throw you to the wolves. It’d hurt me in the end,” she said, not sure of how he would react to this. A small smile crossed his face.

“I see, Princess.” Her answer made him hopeful that one day she would view him as a friend at the very least. He knew it would be foolish to hope she would ever love him. Killian glanced at her and noticed her face was as grim as he felt.

“Shouldn’t you be happy you’re almost home, you haven’t seen your family in weeks?” he asked, curious.

“I am happy to be home. I love my family, but…” she shook her head, “They will want to know everything that’s happened and well they won’t be pleased.”

“Well, when you’re in trouble you can always look at me.” She smirked at his response.

“My my Your Highness, what will they think of us staring at each other?” She teased him.

“I’m sure your court will think of something scandalous,” he chuckled. She simply smiled and shook her head; he couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was. How comfortable and at ease she looked astride a horse. They rode the rest of the way to the castle in comfortable silence.

They first approached the small village that surrounded the castle, and Emma could see that the village had pulled out all the stops for her homecoming. Flowers and banners covered every available surface. Her name was painted on the banners with the villager’s thanks. Several mothers and wives reached out to her, some even managed to reach her hand in time. She allowed them to and waved Graham off, who got nervous with Emma in a crowd.

“Thank you, Princess. We know everything you have given up for us, for our men to come home,” One mother whispered before her eyes cut to Killian. Emma nodded and they slowly made their way through the village. There were many other cries and shouts from mothers and wives echoing the same sentiment. It was clear to see the love people had for Emma.

When their group pulled up to the castle gates, they swung open for the group and Emma noticed new flowers were everywhere, the guards were in their finest gear, and there was a literal trumpet playing. Her parents were pulling out all the stops for them, just as the village had done.

Leo was waiting for them at the castle doors, a smile on his face. Emma had missed him dearly. Leo was just taller than Emma with ebony hair, just like their mother. His eyes were their father’s, however. He had a slim build, but knew how to wield a sword even though he preferred a bow and arrow.

They dismounted their horses and servants walked up, leading their horses back to the stable. Emma hugged her brother tightly.

“Hey, Ems,” his eyes widened when he noticed she wasn’t wearing the gloves she was sent away with, “Why do I have a feeling a lot has happened since you left?” He asked as she pulled away. That’s when he noticed the ring sitting on her finger. He blinked quickly, but didn’t have the chance to say anything.

“You have no idea, anyway. Prince Killian, this is my brother, Prince Leo.” Emma stepped aside making the introductions. Killian and Leo shook hands.

“Welcome to Misthaven,” Leo nodded before turning to Emma, “We should get moving, mother and father are anxious to see you.”

“That’s what I heard, let's not keep them waiting.” Leo chuckled and led the way with his arm linked with Ruby’s. Without thinking about it Emma linked her arm with Killian’s once more, he couldn’t say he really minded being this close to her.

Killian couldn’t help, but to admire the beauty of the castle, it was so different from Montave. When they reached the throne room, Killian sucked in a deep breath. Emma gave his arm a little, reassuring squeeze.

While outside of the castle there had been plenty of fan fair for them, inside the throne room only sat the King and Queen of Misthaven. King David fixing Killian with a cold, menacing stare. He expected no less. While Killian was looking at David, Emma was more focused on her mother, who had to hide her momentary shock of finding Emma willing touching the Prince from Montave.

Ruby and Leo bow before the throne momentarily before moving to the side. Emma takes her arm away from Killian and oh how he wishes she hadn’t. He missed her touch already. Emma curtsied and Killian bowed. The King and Queen looked relieved to see their daughter home once again.

“Mother, Father may I introduce Prince Killian of Montave, Chief Commander of their Seven Fleets. Your Highness, my parents Queen Snow and King David.” Snow’s gaze drifted to Emma’s hand and landed on ring that sat there, glistening in the sunlight streaming from the high windows in the throne room.

“A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness,” Snow nodded politely, dragging her gaze away from Emma’s hand. David didn’t fail to notice the ring either.

“Can’t say we have much need for Chief Commanders of Naval forces around here,” King David mutters. Emma narrowed her eyes at her father and Killian swore he saw Snow stomp on his foot. Killian nervous, glanced at Emma, grateful for her presence.

“But Welcome to Misthaven.” Queen Snow said sweetly, “Now you two had a long and tiresome journey, why don’t you get cleaned up and meet us in the council room?”

“Of course, Your majesty. Thank you for your kind hospitality,” Killian said before bowing once more.

“Naturally, Your Highness. After all, Misthaven is your home, now. Emma, I hope you don’t mind I gave him the suite next to yours.”

“Of course not. I’ll show you the way,” Emma nodded, knowing her mother was dismissing them. Killian offered his arm again and Emma took it, aware of all the eyes on them. When the throne room doors shut behind them Emma released a sigh of relief.

“That wasn’t terrible.”

“No, but it is only the beginning. The hard part is next, come on,” she told him. She gave him a brief tour of the castle as they made their way up the grand staircase and toward the Royal Family’s suites. He listened intently, happy to let her ramble on since she was clearly nervous. She came to a halt in front of a door, disentangling herself from his arm. Emma opened the door leading the way into a suite. There was a fire already roaring, warming the room. There was a large bed and a small table and chairs in the corner, along with an armchair near the fireplace. There was a small balcony that looked out over the village they passed through and to the harbor. His trunk was waiting for him at the end of the bed.

“I imagine this will be all yours until we marry, I hope it’s to your liking.”

“A fire, a view of the ocean, and a bed. What more could a man ask for?” He joked.

“Oh, I’m sure you could think of something,” she teased, “Well, I’ll let you freshen up and then we’ll head down?”

“I’m invited into your council room, to this meeting?” He asked surprised.

“Oh yes. My mother will likely use the opportunity to size you up. Don’t worry you’ll do fine.” Emma turned and left the room, leaving Killian a little shocked with his mouth wide open. The door shut behind her and Emma slipped into her own room. She leaned against the door, giving herself a minute before she changed into a simple white dress, she took off her tiara and left her head bare. Her family had never placed a huge importance on jewels when it was just them. She sat at her vanity and let her hair out of its elaborate up do, letting her curls cascade over her shoulders. She splashed some water on her face, attempting to get some of the grime from traveling off of her. Emma stood up when there was a knock at her door. She opened it to find Killian waiting for her, in a long, black leather jacket and red vest. It almost took her breath away because he looked so good in it and at ease. She had seen the jacket on the ship, especially during the storms when he wore it as another layer, but the red vest was new and well he looked damn good.

“Are you ready, love?” he asked, slightly breathless. Her beauty stunned him slightly. He had seen her in ceremonial dresses of elaborate silk and jewels, but something about the simple, white dress let her natural beauty shine bright. Not to mention that his mother’s ring still sat on her finger and that affected him more than he cared to admit.

“Yes, let’s go.” Emma led him down a series of back staircases to the council room. A fire roared in the room, both her parents whispering at the fireplace, Leo and Red drinking some wine at one end of the large oak table, and Graham and August at the other end of the table. All eyes landed on Emma and Killian when they entered. Snow looked absolutely livid and Emma’s eyes darted to Killian, he longed to reach out for her, but feared that would not do either of them well at all.

“Graham has been filling us in about everything that has been going on since you left. Emma, how could you be so reckless?” Snow snapped.

“You told me to go there and do whatever it took to get the treaty signed and well I did just that. Certain sacrifices had to be made.”

“Emma, we are just worried about you. If those scars get higher,” David shook his head.

“I am acutely aware of what will happen. The Dark One was all too happy to remind me of that.” Emma crossed her arms over her chest.

“He showed up in Arendelle?” Leo asked shocked.

“What did he want?” David asked.

“He wants Regina to stay powerless as much as we do. If I die that spell will be revoked and she’ll be back.”

“I won’t have you dying, you need to stop trying to use our magic!” Snow raised her voice.

“Why because Regina would be back and out for you?” Emma snapped, shaking her head.

“No, because you would be dead! I don’t give a damn about Regina; I care about you.” Snow threw her arms up, exasperated with her daughter.

“I haven’t tried to use my magic in years! It’s not a particularly fun experience if you recall. You weren’t there, I had to do it,” Emma raised her voice.

“Had to?” David asked, eyebrow raised. Killian cleared his throat and all eyes snapped to him.

“If I may, Emma’s right. My brother was being a horse’s ass it put it nicely, which both Elsa and I berated him for. There wasn’t much choice in the matter, he wouldn’t have rested until he saw her magic was gone.” Emma smiled softly at him. Finally feeling like someone in this room was on her side, that not everyone was attacking her.

“No offense, but your brother sounds like a dick,” Leo scoffed causing Emma to laugh. Red smacked Leo’s shoulder and muttered something along the lines of not helpful.

“You’re not entirely wrong.” Killian shrugged.

“Fine, just don’t do it again,” Snow ordered Emma.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” Snow turned her attention on Killian, “The treaty stated you require a ship, I am assuming you want a naval ship?”

“I would prefer one, yes.” Killian maintained eye contact with her never breaking for a moment, not backing down.

“We only have passenger and trade ships at the moment and after the war many of our naval ships have been destroyed, so we would have to commission one.”

“That won’t be necessary, I can have my flagship sent over. I wouldn’t want to ask so much of you.”

“King Liam would part with it?” David asked, shocked.

“He would, he promised it to me when I left Arendelle. It is just a matter of sending word to him.”

“Who would bring it over?” Emma asked, warily.

“My crew,” Killian said as if that were the most natural thing in the world. Leo spoke up this time, “That might not be the best idea, Montavians aren’t well liked around here. You would be putting them in danger.”

“We can arrange a safe house for them. We all have pieces of the treaty to fulfill. Will that work for you, Your Highness?” Snow asked in her most diplomatic voice.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I thank you for your generous hospitality. Now, I should be off to tell my brother we arrived safely,” he nodded at Snow and his gaze drifted to Emma one last time before he left. Once the door shut Snow and David immediately relaxed.

“Now that he is gone, Emma, what on earth do you think you’re doing sleeping with him?” Snow confronted her.

“Excuse me, I have done no such thing!” Emma snapped back.

“Honey, your scent is all over him and his is on you as well,” Red gave her an apologetic look.

“We had to share a room, which wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t send me on the Snowbell with it’s one private room. Also, why are you so outraged, I am going to have to marry him anyway!”

“There is a time and a place, you know that.”

“Please just continue to attack me, I thought you’d be pleased I was home. Why the hell are you so angry?”

“We aren’t mad, we’re simply frustrated by this situation. None of this is ideal, we didn’t want this for you,” David interjects.

“You’re not the one who has to marry him. I’ve come to terms with it over these few weeks why haven’t you?” The questions stuns her parents into silence, “I’ll leave you to think on that for a while.” Emma stood from her chair in one swift move and stormed out the door.

David turned to Snow, “That could’ve gone better.”

#cs #cs au #cs au fic #cs au ff #Captain Swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #captian swan #royalty au #cs royalty #Enchanted Forest AU #enchanted forest #emma swan #Princess!Emma #killian jones #Prince!Killian #I hate you but I have to marry you #enemies to lovers

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porkchop-ao3 · 4 years

Text

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 41)

Galerie Laurent

Arthur and reader decide to make the most of the spare time before the bank job. They spend some time with a very interesting Frenchman, and bump into another familiar face too... there’s some mild nsft in this chapter, but nothing major. This chapter is also a little longer than usual. Enjoy!

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

Arthur came up to me while I was hanging up some washing to dry; he looked slightly nervous. Well, not nervous, but he was acting a little strange, not quite his usual self. I wondered if it had something to do with the upcoming bank job, but then he started asking me about my chores, if I had many to do that day. I had a fair amount of clothes left to wash, then there were some dishes from the previous day that no one had cleaned yet; I told him that. A little crestfallen, he'd asked if it could wait.

"Why? Arthur, what're you up to?" I asked, slightly amused. He chuckled quietly, dodging eye contact and looking elsewhere.

"I was wondering, I got all day free. We're doing that bank tomorrow, but today…" he began, licked his lips to wet them, "I wanted to ask you out somewhere, thought it would be nice if we did something together while things are still relatively calm."

I paused, a smile blooming on my face. "Well, what did you have in mind?"

"I uh, I know a feller. Met him in the city, real interesting character he is," he explained, going to lean against one of the posts holding up the canvas shelter we were under, though it shifted and he abruptly straightened back up, "anyway, he's an artist. Charles Châtenay. He's got a show on at the gallery, thought maybe you'd like to go with me. Might be our last chance to go to the city for a while."

"Like a date, at the gallery?" I grinned, my heart rate quickening.

"Uh, a date. Yeah, I suppose it is," his mouth turned up at the corner and the colour in his cheeks wasn't dissipating. "We ain't done nothing like this, really, have we?"

I shook my head. "I'd love to, though."

"Miss Grimshaw won't mind me taking you away from your chores, will she?"

I snorted. "I don't care either way, I'll get 'em done at some point. But I ain't passing this up for nobody. What shall I wear? I gotta get changed!"

"Anything, you always look pretty to me," he shrugged. Arthur himself was dressed a little smarter than usual in his vest and good trousers; without stains or tears. He also had a little pomade in his hair, I noticed.

I simpered at his flattery. "I'll put something nice on, give me ten minutes," I held a finger up to him and ran off towards the house.

I put on some of the nicer clothes that I'd acquired over time; a lavender coloured walking suit with a pretty black trim, and a heavily ruffled shirtwaist underneath. I braided my hair, too, made it look as presentable as I could without the help of the girls, then hurried downstairs to meet Arthur by the horses.

We were discreet as we mounted up – me riding side saddle behind him on Jet – leaving as quietly and quickly as possible as to not alert anyone. We would essentially be slacking off in the eyes of some of the others, and I was not in the mood to get an earful; or worse, to be stopped at the last minute and not be able to go. I figured Arthur and I deserved to have a nice day out, it wasn't like we'd ever done it before. Not often, at least.

We rode to Saint Denis, and I was a little surprised at Arthur's willingness to go into the city for the sake of a date; I actually found it very flattering and sweet. He was very gentlemanly when we arrived at the gallery, gripping my hand as I slid down off the horse, taking my arm as we walked side by side into the building, holding doors open for me when we got inside. I was a girlish, grinning fool the entire time and I felt so happy to be on his arm. Just going on a date like a normal couple, having people see us together like we were, it felt so good.

When we got inside the gallery's foyer, we were greeted by a very eccentric Frenchman who I soon learned was Arthur's artist friend. He was a small man, with dark hair and a nicely styled moustache, striking, weaselly features that made me squirm a little when he stepped too close. Seemed friendly enough, though.

"Arthur! You came, mon ami. And you have company, I see," he exclaimed in his heavy accent, appraising me with a sweep of his eyes. "You did not tell me you had a wife, Arthur. May I say a very lovely one, too."

"Oh, we…" Arthur chuckled, eyeing me up as he decided whether to correct him. He let the sentence dissolve, and my heart skipped. "She is lovely," he agreed instead, then introduced us formally.

"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Châtenay," I gave a sweet nod of my head.

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine, I assure you. Has Arthur shown you the little drawing I gave him? Are you an admirer of my work?" Charles asked me eagerly, stepping forwards, just slightly too close for comfort. I gave him what I hoped was a polite smile that hid my mild unease.

"Oh, he hasn't, actually. I guess he wanted to surprise me with your work, but I'm sure it's lovely," I told him, and he gave a pleased chuckle.

"Mm, I sincerely hope you like it, ma chérie, perhaps you will like it so much that you will want to model for me, hm?"

"To model? Oh, wow, you'd want to paint me?" My eyes widened a little, and I heard Arthur give an uneasy laugh beside me. I glanced at him curiously, but Charles took my hand, lifted it, positioning me to get a better look at my form.

"Of course! I am always on the lookout for beautiful women who would be willing to sit for a little painter like moi, I can certainly see myself getting along well with you. She is a fine subject, Arthur, no?" He said, his moustache curving with his lips, eyes narrowing playfully.

"She, uh, she sure is," Arthur said, his smile a little forced, eyes not matching his mouth.

"Imagine that, being on the wall of a gallery for all to see, for all to admire! Such a pure beauty you possess!" Charles continued, squeezing my hand tighter.

"I couldn't imagine seeing myself in a gallery," I giggled, feeling my face warm up at all of his charm and flattery.

"Oh, I can picture it. I am picturing it," he said, his eyes rolling down my body.

"Okay, that's… that's enough now, I think," Arthur said awkwardly through a chuckle, his grip on my arm tightening minutely. I looked at him, confused. Charles was being nothing but complimentary, why was there an issue?

"You do not think she'd look right at home on the wall of a gallery, Mr. Arthur? Pah! What kind of a husband are you?" Charles exclaimed, though he was wearing a mischievous smile the whole time.

"Of course she would, not in any o' your paintings, though! I've seen the kinda work you do, partner," Arthur retorted, irritation seeping into every word, raising hairs on my arms. My eyes widened.

"I thought we were friends, hm? And now you insult my work? You must be no better than these uninspired, tasteless, boring idiots who come in droves just to complain," the faster Charles spoke the thicker his accent became, and some of his words merged together but I could still understand him.

Arthur sighed, held his hands out to him and waved a metaphorical white flag. "I ain't insulting your work, I'm just saying, I don't think the lady knows just what modelling for you would entail. Can we just– let's just go in. Come on, princess."

"Yes, let us go in, princess," Charles tittered, following us in as Arthur guided me by the elbow. I glanced cautiously over my shoulder at him, not missing the way the artist's eyes lingered on my behind.

We passed through a small room decorated with elegant stone sculptures and photographs on the walls. Mostly wildlife photographs of wolves and alligators and horses, but one portrait. The portrait made me do a double take as we passed it, and I stopped dead in my tracks where it hung on the powder blue wall.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, forgetting where I was and turning a few heads. "Arthur, this guy looks just like you!"

Arthur glanced up at it, his casual expression soon turning stiff and shocked with eyes as big as wagon wheels. His face coloured up very quickly, and his eyes darted to the other photographs in the room, a sliver of recognition appearing. I took a second look at the portrait, at the gentleman's clothes; that jacket and satchel looked far too familiar, and even through the graininess of the image, those eyes were unmistakable.

"Goodness, that is you," I murmured in shock, peering up at Arthur. He chuckled nervously.

"Ah, yes! I always thought that man seemed familiar!" Charles added, leaning between us to get a better look at the image.

"Alright, that's uh– okay, the paintings are in the next room," Arthur mumbled, prying me away from the print.

"What the hell? Why are you on the wall?" I queried.

"It's uh, it's a long story," he chuckled.

"Perhaps I should turn my viewfinder to you, mon ami. You're clearly no stranger to being the artist's muse. How about I paint you? Or the both of you together? Oh, that's an inspiring thought," Charles suggested and Arthur gave him a look.

"Watch it," he said, voice low, a hint of a threat there.

We stepped into the room, then, and it all suddenly made sense. The room was lined with a dozen or so paintings of nude – or mostly nude – models. So that's why Arthur didn't want me posing for him. I peered at Arthur, cocked a brow above my smirk.

"Wow, I have to admit. This ain't at all what I expected, Arthur," I said quietly.

"What were you expecting? Boring landscapes? People painted in dull colours and dramatic lighting, frolicking in the countryside or something?" Charles asked as he passed by me, sauntering into the middle of the room with his arms crossed.

"Honestly, kinda," I laughed, looking around at the people attending the exhibition. There were a lot of well-to-do city folk about, each with a turned up nose and a hissy whisper, their mannerisms screamed disapproval and I couldn't help but laugh at the people getting all worked up at a rather artistic rendition of a gentleman's pasty behind.

"Did I, uh, make a mistake bringing you here?" Arthur asked me under his breath, but I turned the smile I was wearing to him and shook my head firmly.

"Course not. I can handle a few breasts and backsides, Arthur. This is real different, in a good way!" I told him, strolling into the room, a flash of red, blue and yellow catching my eye immediately. My lips parted and I got up close to the painting of a woman barely concealed by the drapery of her undergarments. The vivid colours in the painting were beautiful and carefully balanced, and the brush strokes were rather blocky and gestural, but communicated her form and the seat she was situated in clearly. I hadn't seen art like it before.

"Ain't this something?" I said to Arthur as he stepped up beside me. He tilted his head at the painting, pursing his lips a little.

"Sure, it's something. It's a woman with all her stuff hangin' out," he murmured and I scoffed, patting him on the arm.

"Ain't this at all appealing to you? If not in an artistic sense, then purely based on the fact you're a strapping, hot-blooded man?" I quirked a brow playfully at him. He laughed at my wording.

"Don't do much for me, I don't know the woman," he shrugged his shoulders, and his response surprised me. What interesting reasoning.

"What if you did know her?" I asked curiously.

"Depends who it was," he looked down at me, "if it was you it wouldn't be on the wall of a gallery," he snorted.

"Where'd it be?"

"Back page of my journal, never leaving my side," he smirked, his tone playful as it fell low for my ears only.

"Dirty dog," I quipped back, fully in jest, my cheeks aching from smiling and hot from the flush of blood rising there.

I moved onto the next painting – a man wearing nothing but a hat, laying on his front – leaning in to study it only for a moment before a ruckus caught my attention beside me. Voices were being raised, outrage amongst the visitors, Charles standing in the middle of it all with a comically disinterested expression. People obviously weren't happy about the nudity on display. Especially since the woman in the painting we'd just been admiring apparently happened to be the wife of the guy raising all the commotion. A woman soon stepped between the painting and Arthur and I, spreading her arms to obscure it.

"Stop lookin' at my husband's buttocks!" She crowed, and we stumbled backwards away from her with wide eyes.

"Stop lookin' at my momma!" Another guy yelled. Arthur and I shared a glance; he looked as if he was trying not to laugh.

"Well, maybe she shouldn't've exposed herself like that," the woman quipped back with a sneering, snooty little tone that irritated even me.

"Says the woman whose husband's ass we've all been staring at," I whispered very quietly to Arthur, being careful that he was the only person who could hear. He cracked up, wheezing loudly and attracting a few looks, but they were all soon distracted.

One man was throwing a punch at another. Charles was being battered to the ground by a handbag, wielded by another miserable looking woman with a face all puckered and flushed. Chaos was breaking out, and I watched on with wide eyes, backing into the corner out of harm's way.

I personally couldn't see the harm in a few paintings like the ones on display, it was the human form, we all had some rendition of the same thing hidden under layers of clothing. If art couldn't celebrate our freest form, what could? Perhaps it was the colourful eroticism of some of his paintings that was making them recoil, the rawness of some of the nude figures as they lounged and twisted, showing every crease and curve not usually seen by eyes other than one's lover. I was taken by my own musings, gradually becoming more and more enamoured with Charles' work. I wondered what it'd be like to be drawn in my natural state. Perhaps not by Mr. Châtenay himself, but by someone…

My eyes flashed from a painting of a lady lounging backwards with no sense of shame, over to Arthur, who was helping Charles up to his feet and directing him away from the commotion. A gentleman went after him, only to be held back by a hand on his shoulder; one not appreciated. The gentleman, so outraged by nudity though not above petty violence, raised a fist to Arthur. He caught it, wrestling it away from him as I gasped.

"Hey, calm yourself, friend," he said in a low and commanding voice woven with a thread of menace.

"Don't tell me to calm myself while that sick pervert just stands there with that look on his damn face–" he yelled, spit flying, seething in a way I felt was disproportionate to what was actually going on. Charles was indeed standing there in the doorway as fights broke out before me, I edged away to join him, side stepping towards the archway, dumbfounded by the events unfolding as other women filtered out.

With his wrists gripped tight by Arthur's hands, the man jammed a kick into his thigh. I stepped forwards as Arthur grunted in pain, wanting to do something to help.

"Son of a– don't make me hit you in front of the lady," Arthur threatened through gritted teeth.

A glob of spit was fired in his face and he didn't think twice, letting go of his wrists only to swing, laying the man out seemingly effortlessly. That's when the real chaos ensued.

"Get out of here!" Arthur urged me, and I did as I was told, trotting out of the room as Charles took my elbow in his hand, briskly guiding me away from the messy display.

"Hit him as much as you like, now the lady isn't watching!" Charles called over his shoulder, tittering to himself.

"Charles!" I scolded, tugging my arm out of his grip and stopping by the stairs that led down to street level.

"What? Le branleur deserved it. None of those men stand a chance against him, do they? Big, impressive man your husband is," he said, his eyelids lowering.

"No, you're right about that," I sighed. "What a bunch of lunatics. Imagine getting so worked up over art!"

"Oh, but I think I have finally arrived. That was a memorable opening day, they're sure to be talking about my exhibition for years," he cheered.

"Yeah, hopefully not 'cause of the body count. I hope he restrains himself," I frowned, looking over my shoulder into the gallery. Arthur appeared a few moments later, shaking his tender hand out. He looked to have fared quite well from the ordeal, sporting a slightly swollen lip and a couple of hairs out of place, and that was it.

I sighed and took his hand in mine when he reached us, inspecting his red, blood speckled knuckles.

"Let's get out of here," he said, altering the relation of our hands by entwining our fingers.

"Yes, I know a place I can lie low!" Charles said, scampering down the stairs. Arthur and I followed close behind him, figuring it was best to accompany him before he got himself into any more trouble.

"You're welcome, by the way, for dealing with that mess," Arthur grunted as we walked, "you artistic folk ain't too good at dealing with the public, huh?" He snorted.

"The purpose of art is to provoke emotion, no?" Charles said, throwing a smirk over his shoulder as we left the gallery and crossed the street, heading down an alleyway. "Their emotions were too strong to be contained. It is not my job as the artist to police emotion. Only to bring it. I'd say I did my part tremendously."

"Yeah, you sure did your part," Arthur muttered, rolling his eyes. "I guess my part is stopping you from gettin' lynched."

"And you too, did your part tremendously. Merci, mon ami!"

"Violent outbursts aside, I have to say I was rather impressed," I said, and Charles turned around with an impish grin on his face once we reached a door.

"Perhaps you will want to pose for me after all?" He delighted, and I narrowed my eyes a little.

"Perhaps not. I ain't quite ready to be the subject of people's horror, up on that gallery wall."

"Shame. The world is not ready. One day they will see my art as something to celebrate, and not to detest. Maybe then I will seek you out, eh ma chérie?" He said, grasping my hand and lifting it to his mouth, getting away with brushing a kiss against my knuckle just before Arthur shoved his shoulder.

"Get out of here," he grumbled, though his face betrayed his amusement.

"I am going!" Charles exclaimed, turning and knocking on the door, slipping through as he called out to whoever was inside.

Arthur shook his head, chuckling to himself as he turned and we started heading back towards the street.

"That man," he breathed, "I told you he was an interesting character."

"That's putting it mildly," I smirked.

"He liked you," he noted, sounding inwardly peeved.

"I liked that photograph of you," I steered the subject, falling into step with him once we were back out on the street. "You ever gonna tell me about that?"

Arthur's expression lifted and he shook his head mildly. "Ahh, I met this photographer. Albert Mason. Funny man, seems to always be tryin'a get himself eaten whenever I see him, by some animal or another. He took that photo of me, I thought he just wanted a test shot."

"You didn't know it was there?" I raised my brows.

"Course not. I probably wouldn't've let him get away with it if I did," he chuckled, "clearly he didn't take me for someone who visits galleries all too often. I don't quite know why he'd display that."

"You wouldn't," I murmured, "but anyone else with a pair of eyes would. It's a lovely photograph."

"Was real embarrassed when I saw it," he admitted, laughing breathily.

"You shouldn't be. Though… I think I would be if I was in your shoes, so I get it," I laughed.

"If it was a photograph of you up there, Charles' exhibition would've flopped. Not that it was a roaring success as it was but you get the picture. Everyone'd just be lookin' at you."

"Are you flattering me again?" I smiled mischievously at him. Arthur didn't respond, just wore a satisfied smile and kept on looking ahead. I lowered my lids flirtatiously. "I do wonder, though, what if I wanted to pose nude for an artist?" I said the final word with a playful, french flair.

"Well that… that would be up to you, I suppose," he murmured, though he frowned, "but I know that man, didn't take me long to suss him out. He's after more than artistic expression."

I raised my brows. "But he thinks we're married," I smirked a little at that, pointing it out indulgently.

"Trust me, that wouldn't stop him," he snorted.

"Well then, I guess I'll just have to pose for some other artist," I shrugged, innocently clasping my hands behind my back, bringing a casual sway into my walk as I looked at him through the corner of my eye.

He stared at me, his brows lowered in confusion, I could practically hear the cogs turning in his head, and I giggled.

"Are you trying to make me jealous, or somethin'?" He eventually questioned, and I burst with a laugh.

"No!" I exclaimed, searched our surroundings for listening ears, "I'm trying to flirt with you, you silly man."

Arthur's eyes widened, a pretty pink hue creeping up his neck and to his cheeks.

"You're an artist, ain't you?" I added.

"No," he snorted bluntly, and I shook my head at him. "Not like Charles Châtenay, I don't do paintings and whatnot."

"Yeah, but you draw. And you're damn good at it," I told him, taking his hand and turning to him, a flirty smile on my face, "I'd take my clothes off for you so you could practice your figure drawing, for sure."

"Saying those things in public? You're playin' a dangerous game, little lady," he hummed, wearing a big, amused grin on his face, darkened a little with desire. We turned a corner and found ourselves on a deserted street. I let go of his hand and skipped ahead a bit so I could turn around, walking backwards so I faced him. He strolled along after me, eyes appreciating my body.

"Dangerous, how?" I lilted, shimmying my skirt up to flash just a little bit of ankle. Arthur flushed darker, scrubbing at his face a little as he shook his head at my silliness. I dropped my skirt back into place and turned back around, staying ahead of him.

I gasped in surprise when I suddenly felt his hands at my hips, and I was being pulled down the little alleyway between the nearest two buildings.

"See, this is why I don't like cities," he began under his breath, his voice so deep and smooth and sweet like molasses. I stared at him with wide eyes, backed up against the wall. "If we were out in the wilderness, I could take you up on that, no problem."

His hand went to my chin, tilting my head up, from side to side a little so his eyes could study my entire face. He licked his lips and I closed my eyes, anticipating the warm press of his mouth; craving it. The air felt unnaturally cool when the contact never came, and eventually I opened my eyes to see his smirk. There was a ghost of arrogance there; it cropped up every now and then, always surprised me, though I liked to see it. He could do with the confidence, he was otherwise so unsure of himself.

"Holding off on me?" I questioned, pouting.

"If I kiss you, as tempting as that is, I fear I'll get carried away," he said, stroking my bottom lip with his thumb.

"What if I ask nicely?"

"Ask as nicely as you want, pretty angel, but I ain't promising nothing," his tone was playful.

"All I want is one kiss, Arthur, this is a date, after all," I dared, dipping my mouth to kiss the tip of his thumb. He made an involuntary sound.

"One kiss'll turn into two… three… God knows what else, the way you've got me feeling. Especially after seeing that Frenchman's eyes on you, got me feeling like I need to make the most of having you before someone comes along and takes you away from me."

"By all means make the most of it," I nodded eagerly and he gave a dirty chuckle. "But no one's taking me away, I'm yours."

"You're making this real hard for me," he breathed, eyes closing momentarily. He smirked at a private joke and I tilted my head.

"That's the idea. I'm trying to get my kiss," I teased, stroking my hands up and down his broad chest. His eyes dropped down to my hands briefly.

"You could just take it for yourself, you know."

"You wouldn't try and stop me?"

"Find out," he dared.

Of course, I didn't hesitate. I pressed my lips to his, hard, with embarrassingly little skill or restraint, immediately reining it in a little when he grunted in surprise (maybe even pain, with his swollen lip). My fingers crept up his body, into his hair, quickly letting go when I remembered he'd made the effort to pomade it. The kiss was a mess until Arthur responded, tilting his head and moving his lips with mine, helping me out. My experience – or lack thereof – certainly showed when he handed me the reins. Even so, it was easy to lose myself in the kiss.

When he pulled away, I found myself voicing my desire without thinking. "God, I want you," I breathed, and my voice shook unexpectedly.

"Perhaps we should get ourselves a room at the hotel, and I can give you what you want," he murmured, pressing his body firm against mine. I was turned on, feeling hot and pleasant between my legs, resisting the urge to rub against him like an animal.

"Oh, pretty please," I nodded.

"You're gonna kill me," he whispered, pressing his forehead against mine. "Or get me arrested, gettin' me hard in public so easy."

"Oh my," I sighed, arching forwards, feeling the proof of his words against my belly. "Your fault. You took me down this alleyway."

"Shit, I did, didn't I?" He mused.

"Let's go to that hotel, have a little lie down together, hmm?" I said sweetly, and Arthur groaned quietly. His hips rolled forwards, grinding his erection against my belly once before he pushed away from me, a frustrated growl bubbling up his throat. I stayed pressed up against the wall, watching as his hand went between his legs, readjusting himself so the bulge there wasn't as obvious.

"You're a menace. How can I walk the streets like this?" He questioned, though he seemed more amused than anything.

"You want me to describe what I found in Uncle's union suit last time I washed it?" I asked, giving him a mischievous grin. He winced.

"Christ no, the thought alone will be enough."

We headed to the hotel once Arthur was able to be seen in public, eager to check in and get behind closed doors. There was nobody at the front desk when we arrived, so we dinged the little bell and waited, standing side by side a good foot apart to avoid temptation. I was a bad influence, of course, because my hand found its way to his, delicately entwining our fingers. Arthur peered at me, brows soft, suddenly looking warm and sentimental at my touch.

Movement caught my eye over his shoulder, someone appearing in the doorway that led to the rooms. For a second I thought she was the clerk, but my brain sparked with recognition when I looked at her face. Arthur turned his head, following my gaze, and I heard his sharp inhale.

"Arthur? You came!" Mary exclaimed, clearly shocked to see him.

Of course. I immediately recalled her letter, the one Arthur had tossed into the fire; she was staying at this hotel. It hadn't occurred to me before, but I was faced with the realisation that Arthur had taken my virginity while she was probably in the same building, we just hadn't known at the time. My face immediately heated up.

"Oh, uh, hi Mary," Arthur said after a pause that was unnaturally long, "Hotel Grand, this is where you're staying."

"Yes, my letter said so," Mary said, her tone a little confused. I averted my eyes, tried to let go of Arthur's hand, he gripped onto me though, didn't let me separate our hands. The small act made my heart want to dance out of my rib cage.

There was another awkward pause, and Mary looked at me. It took a moment, but she seemed to recognise me from the day I'd gone with Arthur to see her all those weeks ago. Her lips parted, she didn't know what to say for a moment, but she gathered herself quickly and reassembled her composed expression.

"Oh, perhaps you didn't receive my letter. This must be a coincidence," she said, her laugh quite hollow. "What a small world we live in. I'm Mary, you must be the girl Arthur was with before. You were new to his… group, as I understand."

"Yes, I remember you," I nodded, smiling at her despite the fact that my heart was racing and I felt so nervous my hands were immediately clammy, "it's nice to meet you."

"You too," she nodded, returning my smile. Her eyes casually dropped to where Arthur and I's hands were connected, then she looked away awkwardly. "Well, I won't keep you. I was hoping I could ask a favour of you, Arthur, but I suppose this is a bad time."

"I, uh, I'm sorry, Mary. This is… no, I can't really– we are–" Arthur stammered, looking between the two of us. He was the human embodiment of a fish out of water, just struggling and panicking and suffocating right in front of us. I felt awful for him. I squeezed his hand.

"We've moved around some since the last time Arthur saw you, your letter must've gotten lost along the way somewhere. We had no idea you were here, I'm sorry for this awkward confusion," I stepped forward, chuckling and trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"Oh, no, it was my mistake. I just assumed…" Mary shook her head, clasping her hands in front of her, fiddling with them.

I shook my head dismissively and introduced myself properly with my name, letting go of Arthur's hand only to offer mine to Mary. She looked at it for a moment, then delicately shook it.

"We're only in the city for a little while, just saw a show at the gallery. Real interesting painter, Charles Châtenay," I conversed, holding Arthur's hand again right away.

"Oh, I know Arthur has a creative streak, with that journal he keeps," she noted, nodding. "I always thought he could make something of himself if he poured more time into his artwork."

I looked at Arthur for his response to that, but he just stood there, mouth slightly open, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Um, anyway, I should let you get on. Arthur, if I could ask you for one more favour… if you get the time, may I speak with you? It's about Daddy," she said, her brows arching sadly. Arthur released a breath a little harder than natural and shook his head.

"Mary, you know what I told you last time–" he began, but she spoke over him.

"I know, but his drinking and his gambling has–" she stopped, shaking her head. I frowned, a sudden drop of sympathy manifesting for her. "Oh, Arthur. I know he was never kind to you."

"No, he wasn't. I'm sorry Mary, but I can't help you. I'm sure somebody else will, but I'm–" Arthur glanced at me, then sighed. "I'm moving on. Me and this lady here, we're trying to spend some time together. I'm… I'm real fond of her, and it'd be mighty improper of me to leave her to run an errand for someone else."

"No, you're right. I understand," Mary said, nodding her head. Her expression was difficult to read, her lips were pressed together in a tight line.

"I think it's best for the both of us if… if we let things lie."

"Of course," she nodded, not looking either of us in the eye.

"Mary, I'm sorry," Arthur said softly, he sounded guilty, his expression was pained. I kept quiet and fiddled with the buttons on my jacket.

"No, it's okay. You have your own problems to worry about, I understand that. I should've asked someone else," she sighed. "I don't know if this will mean much coming from me, but I'm happy for you."

"Oh, thank you, Mary," Arthur said, a little stunned. Mary looked at me for a moment before meeting Arthur's eyes again.

"I'm glad you've found someone. I just hope she can give you what I couldn't. And I hope you do right by her, you're not–" she paused, looking down as she searched for the words. "You're not an easy man to love, Arthur."

I recoiled a little at that. I figured she didn't mean that as harshly as it sounded, at least I hoped she didn't; I gave her the benefit of the doubt. Regardless, I begged to differ.

"Goodbye Arthur, Miss," she nodded to us both, then hurried away, out of the hotel before either of us could say anything else.

We were left alone in silence for a while, the clerk nowhere to be found. Eventually, Arthur ran a hand over his face, released a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry, princess. I completely forgot that she was staying here. I wouldn't've come here if it had occurred to me," he said quietly, his voice almost devoid of emotion.

"It's alright. I forgot too, and I suppose I'm glad to have met her, in a way," I shrugged, hugging his arm and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm– I'm fine. I just didn't expect to see her here, it sort of– God, I'm a fool. You had to do most of the talking, when it was my thing to deal with. I'm sorry I put that on you," he murmured, turning and leading me to sit down on the loveseat nearby.

"You were shocked, understandably. And it was real awkward there for a while," I gave a small chuckle, then shook my head, "don't worry. I think you handled it okay."

"You don't mind that I told her about us?"

"Of course not."

"Do I… do I do right by you? Are you happy with your lot, the lot I give you?" He asked me out of nowhere and I stared him in the eye, completely taken aback.

"Arthur, you've told me you'll leave the gang to run away with me after this job. You took me into the city that you hate just to take me to an exhibition you thought I'd like. You… you held onto my hand in front of Mary just now, which sounds silly but that made me feel so, so happy. Don't doubt yourself over me, things are crazy right now but I would never wanna go back to how things were before I knew you," I told him quietly, gripping his hand tightly and leaning close to him.

"I just know what you deserve, and I'm worried I can't give it to you," he murmured, a frown etched seemingly permanently between his brows.

"Oh, be quiet with that, Arthur," I sighed, holding his cheek and turning his head to look at me. "I hate it when you talk like that. You don't know how happy you make me."

”I'm sorry. I guess Mary just summed it up, there, the thing I'm always thinking about."

"What's that?"

"That I ain't an easy man to…" he trailed off with a sigh, shaking his head. "I understand why."

"Arthur, I ain't struggling," I said, smiling sweetly. "Let's enjoy our day, hm?"

"Angel, you say the right thing every time you open your mouth, what I wouldn't give to have that skill," he gave a breathy laugh, shaking his head.

"You're looking at me through rose-coloured glasses if that's what you think, just the other day I was telling everyone how much I loved your fingers, remember that?" I rolled my eyes.

"Of course," he smirked. "That was real cute."

"Cute? Good lord," I breathed, flushing and averting my eyes. Arthur grinned.

"Where the hell is the clerk? I wanna take you upstairs," he said abruptly, rising to his feet to ding the bell a few more times.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #atink #reader insert #rdr2 fanfic

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adventuresloane · 5 years

Text

Déjà Vu All Over Again

((Amnesty spoilers up to episode 27!))

Read on AO3

If Ned were being honest--and he hadn't been, because he almost never was, with others or with himself--he would have said that he knew from the moment he met her.

It was an inkling, at first. Just enough to make him do a double-take when he saw this girl, this kid with a-bit-too-large eyes making her look always alert. There was a hunger about her, and he knew hunger when he saw it, the kind that made cavities inside the body and that couldn't be filled up with food. It was something in her slightly sunken cheeks and long, thin limbs, and every time he looked at her he felt a niggling in the back of his mind like a hairpin inside a stubborn lock: Where have I seen you before?

The thing was, Ned "Astute" Chicane never forgot a face. It had been indescribably useful in his former line of work, one in which frenemies and associates, his fellow thieves and cons, rotated through a dozen aliases and identities without warning. When a Reginald on Tuesday became a Martin by Thursday, it was handy to be able to take one look at a guy and remember whether or not he was the type to screw people over. He knew on sight whether they could be bribed or bargained with, whether they were a rat, whether they would stab him in the back, whether they would stab him in the eye.

But then this Audrey--"Aub-rey," she enunciated slowly when he got it wrong for the third time--this Aubrey was familiar to him, but in what context, he had no idea. It was like remembering a string of notes but neither the words nor the title of the song. Sometimes she painted herself neon with the shiniest and brightest makeup she could, gave herself a face like a bicycle reflector. Like she was afraid of not being seen, disappearing in the dark. That, for some reason, was when he really thought he had seen her before, when she was alight like that. But he didn't recall knowing anyone who dressed that way. Damn it. He was getting older. He was sure of it.

And then, a little while later, he watched her catch fire.

And though her hair had been longer and duller back then (twisting up and snapping in a wind he couldn't feel), and though her now-slender arms had then been more on the gangly side (dangling from her like dead weight until she raised her fist), and though she kept her feet on the ground now (she had been lifted as if suspended by wires), he knew. The light of the flames struck her cheekbones just as it had that night three years ago and that's how knew it was her, and that it was just his rotten luck, or maybe the just punishment of some god he'd never seen, that even in podunk Kepler he would run up against his past and that the one out-of-towner who actually decided to stay would end up being the one--

No. It was impossible, definitely. The odds were too long. There was a resemblance, maybe, but Aubrey didn't look that much like the girl from the house. And anyway, even if it were true, who could prove it? No one. Not even him. He shook his head to knock the idea out of his brain. He had more pressing things to deal with, like saving his own hide from the amalgamation of fangs and eyes in front of him. And so, because the thought was not useful, he tamped it down.

That didn't mean he found it easy to look her in the face for a little while after that. The day after their first fight with a monster, he sat in the hospital parking lot and argued with himself for twenty minutes before going in to see her. She was asleep, and he thought for half a second about trying to wake her or waiting until she got up herself. But then, he assumed it wouldn't do much good either way, and he turned around and left.

To say that Ned had never been interested in having kids was an understatement. Heaven forbid. What would he have even done with one? Carted them around in the back of his black van and pretended the six police cars on their tail were playing tag? For that matter, who would he have raised them with? There hadn't been anyone since Mosche, and if there were anyone less fit for fatherhood than Ned, it was him.

That door had all but closed to him at his age, anyway. He was glad of it. He thought of having kids and could only imagine how he would fuck them up. He thought of pouring every resource into a tiny person until they turned into a big person, grew to hate him, and left. No, thanks.

So it wasn't out of any fatherly instinct that he started talking to her. It was just that he knew that look. He hadn't meant to pry, but he had been sitting in the lodge's lobby, early for a Pine Guard meeting with Mama and the others, when he saw her and Dani leaning into each other's space. As they talked, they kept shrinking back just before they could touch foreheads. But Aubrey's puff of tight curls kept brushing the other girl's skin. She mouthed the word "bye," ducked her forehead for a moment, and then placed a careful kiss on Dani's cheek as though it were a fragile thing. When Dani departed, she kept beaming in her direction for awhile afterwards.

Then Aubrey turned to the window and saw him. That was when he realized that he'd been staring. There was the look, the jolt of alarm that knocked the grin off her face. The look of being caught. He recognized it, alright.

She recovered, though not entirely. As she walked in and sat down, she did not quite meet his eyes.

There was no noise for a time, aside from the tick of the clock above the fireplace and the rhythm that she tapped out on her knees with her fingers. Then, Ned attempted, "Have I ever told you about my master criminal origin story?"

She rolled her eyes, in a way that was both rude and somehow not unfriendly. "We all heard about you stealing Audrey Hepburn's necklace from Breakfast at Tiffany's, Ned."

"Oh, no, no, this was well before I took on any big targets like that." He paused. "Though I'll have you know that trying to pry off her roof tiles in broad daylight without getting caught was no easy--"

"Ned."

"Alright, fine, fine, you've heard it. What I was going to say is that I got my start back in the dinosaur era, when I was a high schooler."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yep. Started picking locks to impress boys."

Though he was not looking right at her, he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, the way her head snapped towards him. She smiled, and after she let a breath out she looked like she had gotten rid of a weight. Recognition.

"Yeah," he continued, "there was this lacrosse player who...well, you know what lacrosse players are like, eh? Anyway, he always talked about breaking into the school greenhouse and sleeping out there. Bucket-list thing for him, I guess. Well, guess who learned to pick the lock for this kid? Ned 'Impeccable Judgment' Chicane."

She chuckled, then pursed her lips, as though considering. At last, she mumbled, "Did it work?"

"What?"

"Was he impressed?" She went on before he could answer. "I figured out how to pick my classroom door's lock in the third grade. I was liberating Spud. Uh, Spud was our turtle, like a class pet, but her cage was way small, or at least I thought so, so I broke into the room to get her out. Is that really--damn, could I have used that to impress cute people all these years? Dammit! How'd I never think of that?" She ran a hand through her hair, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Of course it worked. I was very good. I mean, we got caught and suspended later, but before that? He thought I was pretty damn smooth." She laughed again, and he waited for her to stop before he went on, "But, well, it seems like Dani's pretty impressed with you already, if you don't mind me saying so."

She grinned down at the carpet beneath her feet. It wasn't quite embarrassment, he didn't think, but rather a surge of joy that added an extra warm tint to her deep brown cheeks. "Thanks, Ned."

Always she was moving. He got the idea that if someone ever tried to take a candid photo of her, it would inevitably come out blurred. Her fingers worked constantly, pulling back her cuticles or igniting small flames or clacking the Snapple caps she always seemed to keep in her pockets. That, perhaps, was why she had tried for the whole stage magic thing. It kept her hands occupied. Even with the real magic she had now, she practiced her flourishes and sleights-of-hand constantly. Little interlocking rings. Cards slipping into and out of her sleeves. Coins disappearing.

"Is this your card?"

Head in his hand, he gave a sardonic grin to the three of clubs she had produced from her sleeve and shook his head.

Aubrey turned the card towards herself and gave a look of mock surprise. "Oh, what a mess! This card might be a little worse for wear, but don't let appearances deceive you, Mr. Chicane!" (She had never, even when they had first met, called him "Mr. Chicane" at any other time except when she was performing. He had appreciated that.) She scrubbed the card against her shirt as though to clean it and then flipped it around to show him again. Miraculously, it had become the three of diamonds. "You can always find diamonds in the rough."

He chuckled and clapped exactly three times. "Nice job. I didn't see you pull the other card out from under your collar that time."

"Ugh, you're no fun," she grumbled, dropping the act. "You're supposed to at least try to buy into it."

"Hey, I've gotta be a skeptic! In order to be good at bullshitting, first you gotta know how to spot bullshit. That's how I'm able to scam other people."

She huffed. "Yeah, you know bullshit alright, Ned."

He shrugged and took another bite of his Slim Jim. (Aubrey had wrinkled her nose when he had offered her half. Well, more for him.) For a few quiet moments--or moments that would have been quiet were she not flapping the card back and forth absently--they sat in their headquarters in the lodge's basement. "Aubrey, can I ask...why stage magic?"

She answered immediately, enunciating, as though it were a rehearsed line like any of the ones she would utter during a show. "Because people told me not to." Before he could respond, she quickly went on, with an effort at evenness, "I know you probably think that's a stupid reason, but it's the truth."

"Heh, well, Aubrey, I'm not the sort of person who can really talk about doing what people tell him."

Her mouth had been open to say something else, but instead she glanced at him, then grinned. Her shoulders dropped a little. "Yeah, I guess you did super rob a lot of people, huh?"

"I most certainly did. Is that the only reason, then?"

She tapped her toe, then her heel, against the wooden deck. "It's not that I'm doing it out of spite, so much," she said slowly.

"I didn't say you were."

"Right, but like, people assume that when I say that, you know. But it's more like...I know people think it's a joke, right? I'm not dumb. And the more people think that, the more they assume it's impossible, the more I want it. What's there to having magic powers, if not to make people believe you can do impossible stuff?"

"I hear you." He heard, and he understood. He supposed that he had hungered for the impossible, too, when he was younger. Why else steal Clooney's Oscar than to prove he could? Why else stomp out of his parents' house with a duffel at sixteen, leaving his mother weeping into the chest of his father--his impassive, shale-faced father, whose grayish countenance was hard and brittle enough that it would crack before it ever loosened or bent--and set out on his own? It had probably been wrong to leave like that, he knew now, but the idea of right and wrong hadn't crossed his mind at the time. He had simply been daring something, finally, and that had felt like it had to be something good.

He looked at her and wondered when he had last risked, really. At some point, he had started going only for the sure thing. The easy thing.

Like so many other times, he thought he recognized her. But this time, it wasn't that he thought she was the girl from the burning house. There was something else, in her youth, that was familiar to him in a different way.

Sometimes, she scared the hell out of him.

Sometimes, what freaked him out was the lingering suspicion about who she was. Now and again, when the light hit her a certain way, the thought would come to him again like a bump in the night. Something that shouldn't have scared him--it wasn't real, just his imagination--but left his skin crawling anyway.

That was becoming increasingly less common though. Mostly, he was damn near terrified when he saw what she could do.

Had he turned his head to one side or the other, water was all he would have seen. The wave had encircled him in shining, glassy blue, as all-encompassing as the roar of its rolling. Of course, he did not turn its head to one side or the other, because his neck was fixed in place, like the rest of his rigid body, paralyzed before the wall of water cresting up and up and never ceasing in movement. It reached its apex, rearing like a striking snake, and then momentum led it down--

"Ned, look out!"

There was a rush of hot air behind him, and the laws of physics were suspended. There, in front of him, the water stopped. It hung over his head but did not reach him, as if gravity itself had stopped cooperating with the abomination.

And right behind him was Aubrey, palms straight out in front of her.

Her ability to bend the will of the world scared him, sure. But what frightened him more, what was more unfathomable, was her ability to leap into the path of a wave primed to swallow her and tell it no.

He tried to give her a shaky grin, but she looked forward without seeming to see, wide-eyed.

Later, when things had gone quiet, and when he had finished convincing some deeply confused insurance agents over the phone that yes the Cryptonomica's water damage had obviously come from a burst pipe, he found her.

"Aubrey," he started, then faltered. People had saved him before--Mosche, for self-serving reasons, and Victoria, for reasons he still tried to wrap his head around--but he had seldom thanked them for it. There was no way not to make it awkward. "Thanks for, uh...your...judicious use of magic back there. You, hah, really saved my slow ass there."

She sat on the curb with her chin resting between her knees, eyes locked on the yellow dandelion that had slipped up through the concrete. It took several seconds for her to react at all, and when she did, she shook her head quickly. It was as though his voice had taken time to penetrate her brain. "Yeah...yeah, Ned, don't mention it." She spoke in a soft, slow voice, only half-present.

At the risk of sliding this conversation even further into awkward territory, he ventured, after several moments, "You, uh, holding up okay after all that?"

"Yeah. It wasn't the monster freaking me out or anything, I just..." She flicked her forefinger against her thumb over and over again, like one striking a match. Indeed, more often than not, orange sparks shot off. Then she glanced at him. She seemed to be weighing cost and benefit, as he did so often. "It's just, for some reason I started thinking about my dad when I stopped that wave."

He swallowed his saliva. This was not the sort of talk he had ever in his life been equipped for. Just her saying that had activated his flight-and-flight mode, which was like the fight-or-flight mode, except that there had only ever been one option for him. But, shit, she looked sad. So he turned toward her and waited for her to go on.

"Today, I was just like...I don't even know. You almost beefed it, you and Duck both, and it scared me, and somehow it got me thinking that if something were to happen to my dad, or to me, neither of us would know about it for awhile. We don't talk enough for that." She stopped the finger flicking and instead clenched her fist around the fabric of her pants. "Whatever, I don't know."

"No, I get it. There are...things you want to tell him, maybe?"

"Yeah, exactly. You know what that's like?"

"I do." He nearly said, I don't recommend it, but there was no need to open that can of worms. No need to make it about him. He returned to his shop that evening and remembered whose shop it was, really, even after all this time, whose shop it had always been.

He hadn't known about the mother.

In fact, he knew almost nothing about the accident, beyond what he had seen for himself that very night. When he had passed by a newspaper stand with a flaming building on the front page, he had held back his bile and looked away. He had decided not to read the paper for weeks afterward. He had been too afraid of learning exactly what he was learning right now, lying there under the fluorescent hospital lights that he could see through his eyelids, listening to Aubrey and Mama speak softly so as not to wake him.

No killing. That had always been the one rule. He could bring himself to sink to any other low, but he could always assure himself, still, that he was a good guy, well, a decent guy, well, not completely heartless because he refused to kill. He avoided being detestable that way, he told himself.

Well, he always had been a liar.

He had killed a woman. He had killed a girl's mother and maybe killed the girl, too, in some way, killed the person that she had been before that night. How does someone so young go through that without metamorphosing under the strain, turning into someone harder to recognize?

He had done it. Even if he hadn't been the one to start the fire, he had done all of it. And somehow, he had known it, deep down, all along.

See, Ned "Fucking Coward" Chicane feared many things. Just because he was part of a big monster-hunting and -hiding conspiracy didn't mean he feared any less. It might have seemed that way on the outside. True, he was beginning to grow numb to claws and yellow eyes and pain. But now he was afraid of other things. Of being useless, hurtful, hated.

He was afraid of looking Aubrey in the eye.

So if anyone thought it was bravery that made him jump into his Lincoln and speed down a snowy hill after a train, they were wrong. It was one result of the fear that he was, in fact, a bad man, and part of his frenzy to prove himself wrong.

Aubrey leapt in too, of course. She would have, whether he had tried to argue against it or not. She was brave, for real. As they careened down the slope, shouting over each other, and as she leaned over to grip his steering wheel with one hand and cling to his arm with the other, he saw the way in which they were unalike. She was running towards something, while he ran away.

He wasn't sure he would have bailed out of the car when he did, either, if she had not prompted him. His panic had turned him tunnel-visioned, enough that he barely escaped getting his body tangled up in the twisted wreckage of his loyal old car.

"I'm proud of you, Ned," she said when it was all over.

Her hand was on his shoulder and she was smiling at him with sympathy. He made eye contact with her for the first time since the hospital and saw that, of course, she still knew nothing of who he was, and that's when a new thought of the niggling sort came into his mind: This could work. For now, he could let her believe that he was alright. What good would it do right now, anyway, to hurt her with the knowledge of what he had done? There was time enough to tell her all of it. And in the meantime, he could keep trying to atone.

This could work, he kept telling himself, even after he found himself beginning to avoid her, when her eye turned as orange and bright as the pendant that he had taken from her home.

To Aubrey, he wasn't anything like a father, not really. He knew that. She had one of those already (but not a mother, he always recalled, and every time he did, he felt tempted to replace the memory in his brain with a bullet). He was, at best, a weird uncle. But a good kind of weird, apparently, judging by the way she seemed to seek out his company now and again. Like an uncle, he was less prone than a father to judge or give a lecture. It meant that, once in a blue moon, she swung by the Cryptonomica by herself, despite her distaste for the web-footed monkeys in formaldehyde and the taxidermy chimaeras.

"Remind me again where you got all this crap from?" she called, tapping on a display case showing the vertebral column of a mermaid. (Most people were unaware that mermaids' unique biology gave them bones made of plaster.)

"Oh, a little from here, a little from there," he said with a flippant wave. To avoid looking at her, he busied himself with invoices at his desk. Twenty minutes to closing time, the winter sun had already set, and they were the only two people still in the shop, with the exception of Kirby, holed up in the back. He considered calling Kirby out for some mundane thing or other. He avoided being alone with Aubrey nowadays. "By the way, Aubrey, what are you doing here?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Can I not be here?"

"No, no!" He waved his hands out in front of him. "No, of course you can. My...my friends are always more than welcome. It just seems that maybe, uh, you'd rather hang out with someone like Dani or Jake than some old dude like me."

She sighed. "I'm...procrastinating, I guess."

"Oh?"

He heard her inhale, as if to speak, but no words came immediately. That was when, finally, he dared to look up at her. She had her back to him, shoulders scrunched. "I was gonna call my dad on the payphone across the street, but I turned in here instead."

"Did you..." He hesistated, felt his way. "Were you going to tell him something?"

"Not in particular. I just feel like I wanna talk, like, for real. We used to talk all the time. I think, just...I know I didn't ever tell you, but my mom died, about three years ago."

He felt about ready to throw up, as her voice strained with the effort of telling him what he already knew.

"My dad and I were both...really fucking hurting, obviously, and I don't think he knew how to help me, aside from getting me a therapist, and I sure as hell didn't know how to help him. And I left home so soon after that, just to get away from where it all happened...I don't know. I wanna be able to talk to him about real shit again. Like, he's my dad, you know?"

Her voice caught. He took a few steps out from behind the counter before stopping. Of all people, he wasn't the one to comfort her about this. But then, he was the only one there. If not him, who?

He wasn't going to hug her. He didn't even know if she'd want that. Instead, he settled for a placed carefully on her shoulder. "Um...he'll be happy to hear you, I'm sure."

She smiled as her odd eyes shone.

The next time she stood in his shop, she burned, like she had that night. Everything about her burned, her hands enveloped in flame and her glaring eyes. Even the blood pouring from her leg--his eyes kept flicking to the puddle on the floor with concern--seemed to give off a hot red glow. The tears making dark tracks down her face, he was sure, were burning too.

When he told her to burn him up, he tried to make himself believe it was out of bravery. Trying to resolve the situation. Bullshit. He was doing what he always did, avoiding.

"I hate you." She spat the word with as much ire as she could, despite the break in her voice. "Because you knew."

She didn't kill him, the way he had asked her to. Just told him, not in so many words, that to her, he was dead already.

And as she walked out into an evening the color of molten rock, as he threw things in boxes while barely looking at him--all junk, anyway, bric-a-brac with big names attached--he knew he should've expected to run all along. It was all he knew.

He should've seen it coming. He had seen it coming. Right from the start, he had known.

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#hey please read this and then cry with me #taz #taz amnesty #the adventure zone #taz fanfic #fan fiction #gen #gen fic #the zone cast #ned #ned chicane #aubrey #aubrey little #danbrey #moschicane #<--they're just background pairings tho sorry

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