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ghostly-cabbage · 1 year

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Hi and congrats on 1k!

For a request, I’d love if the fellas from TTB had some fun bonding time together over a mundane activity (watching a shitty ghost hunting show, baking a complicated recipe, the horrible game known as Monopoly, etc.)

Thank you so much for sending this request!!! I loved this prompt so much you have no idea. I care them so many. I set this more or less in the timeframe that we’re in currently (which was harder than you’d think). But, as the story goes on requests like this will be more and more fun, trust me ;) Anyway! I hope you like!

"Cuppa?" Danny asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah. You know, like a cup-a tea?" Alex says, dragging Danny down the empty hall to the hotel breakfast lounge. "No offence, but you American's have shit tea."

Danny snorts. "Wouldn't know. I'm more of a coffee person to be honest."

Alex looks at Danny and the dark circles under his eyes. "You know, coulda guessed."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Alex holds his hands up but can't bite back his smirk. "Nothin'. Nothin'."

The hotel dining room is half full. People are milling about with plates, scooping out one-tone scrambled eggs and mini-sausages onto plates. There's someone scrolling on their phone, standing next to the waffle maker that reads 2:14 and counting down, looking bored. Across the room the bulky TV mounted on the wall plays the news.

Alex side-steps someone on their way away from the counter, making a beeline for the beverages and coffee dispensers. There's a small wire rack with tea boxes. Calm Chamomile, Soothing Mint, Earl Grey, English Breakfast. He's not familiar with any of the brands.

"You've really never put milk in your tea?" he asks plucking two paper cups from a tower next to a hot water dispenser.

Danny stands at his shoulder. "No? Sounds kinda gross, dude."

"It's not, I promise. You're gonna have to trust me, yeah?" He shoots Danny a smile and reaches for the English breakfast tea.

Danny makes a soft noise, a scoff concealing amusement. For all of his apparent secrets, Danny is easy to read.

"Would you get the milk? 2%." Alex nods towards the mini fridge at the end of the counter, stocked with milks and single serving yogurts.

Alex fills the cups with hot water, steam unfurling from within the cup. He tears the packaging on the tea and plops the bags into the water--tossing the garbage in the closest bin and snagging two stir sticks. Danny is walking back towards him when he picks the cups up and moves to a table with clear view of the exits.

Danny sits across from him, setting down the small carton of milk.

"Now what?"

"Now, we wait."

Danny slouches back in his chair, hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie. On the surface he looks lazy--unconcerned. But Alex can see how tense he is, eyes fliting away to track anyone that gets up or walks in. It's a strange sort of relief, knowing someone is else is watching for red flags. Before Yassen--Malagosto--Alex was used to being in the field alone... This isn't the field, but it might as well be, maybe in a way this is worse.

"'S it true to you have 'tea time' everyday?" Danny asks.

Alex snorts. "No. People have lives. But some people do I guess. Old people. It's nice on days off."

"Makes sense," Danny says before breaking into a yawn.

The urge tugs at the back of his jaw and before he can stop it, he's yawning too. His eyes water and he shakes his head. "Dude, stop, you're making me tired."

"It's not my fault you and Yassen wake up at the crack of dawn," Danny mutters, quiet enough to keep it between them.

Alex rolls his eyes. He wants to ask Danny if he's actually been sleeping or not but... Something makes him hold his tongue.

"Force of habit. I'm sure Yassen has had the same sleep schedule since he born." Huh. Now that he thinks about it, it's hard to think of Yassen as anything other than what he is--a dangerous Scorpia assassin. The idea that once Yassen was a kid that wanted to sleep in and avoid school is almost too absurd to entertain.

Unasked questions flicker across Danny's face, but in the end, he asks none of them. Probably best that way.

After a period of amiable silence, Alex's attention captured by morning highlight coverage of a world cup football match aired last night--he decides the tea has steeped long enough. He takes the bags out and puts them on top of a paper napkin. He pops the carton open.

Danny shifts forward, sitting up. "Tea time, innit?" Danny says with a shit-eating grin and the laziest attempt at a British accent Alex has ever heard.

"Hey," he says, sharp but fighting a smile, "if you're gonna be a dick, you don't get any."Danny laughs, small but genuine. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry." He gestures at the cups. "Continue."

Alex pours milk into the cups, watching it plume at the bottoms like mini explosions. He stirs them and then pushes Danny's cup towards him with a satisfied nod.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"No sugar?"

"You can, but then you miss out on the flavor of the tea itself, man."

Danny lifts a skeptical eyebrow. "Thought you said American tea was shit?"

"Christ sake, just try it!"

Danny grabs the cup and brings it to his lips, blowing across the surface and dispersing the lingering steam. He takes a sip.

"Well?"

Danny hums, setting it back down. "Not bad. I know what'd make it better, though."

"What?"

Alex watches in horror as, from out of nowhere, Danny pulls out a small blue container of French vanilla coffee creamer.

"Oh, that's just blasphemous."

Danny's smile twists a bit evil as he pulls the seal and dumps the creamer in. And then a second, and a third.

"How many of those do you have? It's not even tea anymore, dude. You gotta stop."

"Sorry, I didn't even ask. You want some too?" He moves towards Alex's cup with a creamer at the ready and Alex yanks it away, twisting away from Danny in his chair.

"Don't you dare."

Danny snickers.

"Not everything has to have a metric fuck-ton of sugar." He lowers his voice, "American drinks are so sweet, I don't know how you stand it."

Danny picks up his cup and shrugs, taking a drink, eyes drifting away from Alex and out the window. "Stick around long enough, you'll get used to it."

#beachpie #asks #1k celebration requests #ttb #my writing #this comes to you very sincerely from someone who makes my london fogs with coffee creamer sometimes and its good #and I won't hear a WORD about it #that aside please look at these boys i love them so much #There's so much in store for them they don't even know #alex rider #alex rider crossover #danny phantom #danny phantom crossover

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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“And at last I see the light! And it's like the fog has lifted... And at last I see the light, And it's like the sky is new! And it's warm and real and bright, And the world has somehow shifted... All at once everything is different Now that I see you...”

~ “I See the Light (cover),” by Elsie Lovelock and Kestin Howard

x~x~x~x

It’s interesting how, even when two parties know they have something special, it can still take a while before they find the right words to express how they feel and what they want. Even when Orion Amari and Carewyn Cromwell had each come to grips with their romantic feelings, it didn’t really change how many obstacles would be in the way of them living a traditional “happily-ever-after” with wedding bells and a little house of their own. Although yes, Orion felt deeply for Carewyn, as she did him, they both also greatly valued their own independence and autonomy. Carewyn and Orion didn’t even live in the same country anymore, one residing in England and the other Scotland, and their respective careers -- one at the London-based Ministry of Magic, the other for the Montrose Magpies Quidditch team -- would make it close to impossible for them to move. Merging households would be a nightmare under such circumstances...and yet, at the same time, neither Orion nor Carewyn was comfortable giving only part of their heart away. They both knew that the subject of their affection deserved everything and more from whatever partner they chose -- they just had no idea if they could be that “everything” for them, even if they wanted to.

That all changed, though, one day in December 1999, a year after the Second Wizarding War ended.

Carewyn’s feelings for Orion had not gone unnoticed by her closest friends. The lawyer’s unofficial twin and fellow “Fireball” Charlie Weasley had been almost affronted when he caught wind that Carewyn had let Orion stay the night on the futon in her living room without having made plans ahead of time -- Carewyn was a planner first and foremost and she never let Charlie crash at her place without giving her fair warning. Charlie vented his disbelief to Ben Copper and his wife Wendy @drinkyoursoupbitch, and they were both pretty shocked too. Wendy ended up following up with Carewyn later that week when she stopped by Carewyn’s office one evening for some coffee.

“On your futon, huh?” she said, her blue eyebrows raised and her lips spread into a playful smile.

Carewyn rolled her eyes up toward the skylight in her ceiling, her red lips turned up in a smile. "Charlie's that jealous about it?"

Her smile faded as she turned her focus toward her paperwork rather than look at Wendy. She wasn’t uncomfortable, of course -- she just had a lot of work to do that night before getting back home and starting dinner for herself and Erik, that was all.

“ ...Orion had had a late night, and he'd have to be back in London early the next morning. It'd be cruel to force him to go home and then lug himself and Eos out of bed so early, just to get back where he already was..."

Wendy's eyes twinkled knowingly. "Oh, of course. But still...is there something there?"

Carewyn kept her focus on the files she was sorting through, her blue eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly as she siphoned through them.

"I suppose it depends on what ‘something’ you're referring to,” she said after a moment. “If you're referring to a romantic relationship, then no, there is not."

Was that a touch of melancholy in her eyes? Surely not.

Wendy studied the other woman over the rim of her coffee cup as she took a long sip.

"I mean, Carey," she tapped the porcelain, considering her words carefully. Her tone shifted to a gentle sincerity, "is there an attraction there for you?"

Carewyn stopped rifling through her papers. She paused, before slowly closing her eyes and exhaling through her nose in a heavy sigh.

"...Of course there is," she admitted very softly. "I've always been fond of Orion -- I liked him pretty much immediately, and I respected him all the more, as the years went on. All I wonder is when that fondness...grew to the point that it had to plant roots. And what to do about it, now that it has..."

Wendy smiled fondly. "Well, I suppose the big question is, do you want to do anything? I mean...if you were looking for a tofu-eating Quidditch player to pine over, you certainly picked the best one."

Carewyn rested her head in her hand on her desk, her eyes falling onto the wood instead of looking up at her friend. "That's just it, Wendy, I...I do want to do something. I don't want to have to bottle this up -- I want to protect him, to take care of him and Eos, to...love him with everything I am. But..."

Her gaze moved up to the skylight too, her blue eyes deepening with more of that odd melancholy.

"...At school...when I dated Andre...I didn't know myself like I do now. I probably would've accepted a marriage, and a family, and frequent sex, at that time, not knowing any different. But now that I do know myself...know that I don't want that happy ending attached to most romances...how do I pursue a romantic relationship? How do I ask someone to date a woman who wouldn't give up her job and life for him...no matter how deep my feelings are?"

She closed her eyes, visibly hurting at this thought.

"Especially when...he's already been hurt before...when he's already had partners who tried to force him to give up everything, to please them?"

Carewyn bowed her head.

"...How can I love him the way he deserves, when I'm so selfish?"

Wendy considered her answer, her eyes drifting up to the skylight in Carewyn’s ceiling that reflected the London sky miles above them.

“They say that sacrifice is a foundation of love, and it’s true,” she said slowly, “but...sacrifice between two people who love each other is a two-way street. I love my work — you know I do. Ben knows how much I love it. But if he ever asked me to give up,” she gestured broadly, “everything...I’d do it. I wouldn’t want to, and Merlin, it would hurt like…well, more than anything in the world! But I’d do it. And…I know in my bones he would do the same for me. Hell, he’s almost died for me a few times...”

The old memories made her pause, closing her eyes briefly to try to block them out.

“Thing is…he doesn’t ask for that. He…won’t ask for it.”

Wendy looked back down at Carewyn seriously.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is...sometimes loving someone -- not just being in love, but really loving them -- means that you know you could ask them to move heaven and earth for you and they’d do it, no matter how much it’d hurt...but you won’t ask that. It’s good that you’re thinking about this now, of course -- but you don’t have to have it all figured out just yet. If you want this...don’t be afraid to let Orion in. Let him see everything you have, and everything you fear, and let him decide. Maybe he wouldn’t want you to give up everything you’ve built here for him. Maybe he would. Maybe he’d want you to meet him halfway, somehow. But…let him make that choice to love you, whatever it might look like. You’ll never know if it’s meant to be if you don’t ever ask if it could be.”

Although Carewyn didn't look Wendy in the face nearly at all as she spoke, it clearly was because she was taking in what she said and thinking hard, not because she wasn't listening. When Wendy was finished, Carewyn brought a hand up to brush her bangs out of her face, her hand sliding past her right eye as it went. Then, with a swallow, she forced herself to look Wendy in the face at last, even though her eyes were still full of so much emotion.

"...Thank you, Wendy.”

The lawyer couldn't keep eye contact very long. Soon her eyes once again almost of their own accord drifted off to the corner just over Wendy's shoulder.

"I suppose...I always have had a bad tendency, to put the bar too high for myself. Orion's never expected perfection from me, however much I expect it from myself..."

Her eyes softened noticeably.

"He’s always been happy with what he has, even while he’s reaching for something better. But I know he appreciates the work and time I put in, too...how much I care. Even when I care too much, and 'flare up like a Fire Crab.'”

She brought a hand up to try to hold in her giggling.

Wendy’s lips spread into a mischievous grin. “Hey, at least he doesn’t compare your temperament and coloring to a Billywig. But I guess it’s his way of getting back at me for calling him the Tofu King -- ”

In that moment, Ben Copper had abruptly run down the hall, skidding to a halt in the door frame of Carewyn’s office.

“Carey,” he said urgently, his face very white and grave, “the Aurors have just been sent to your street.”

Carewyn and Wendy both shot to their feet in alarm.

“What!?”

As the prosecutor for nearly all of the cases involving ex-Death Eaters, Carewyn had received a lot of recognition and praise, but she’d understandably also gotten a few anonymous death threats from people who had Death Eater sympathies. She wasn’t the only one -- quite a few other prominent members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement like Talbott and the newly hired Harry Potter got them too. This day in particular, however, a swarm of dementors -- newly banned from Azkaban by Minister Shacklebolt, in part due to their association with Lord Voldemort during the War -- had been set loose in several areas of London that contained the homes of prominent Ministry employees...including Carewyn’s. Naturally Carewyn herself was not home yet -- but her ward Erik had just returned from Hogwarts for winter break in the midst of his first year, and he as a latch-key kid was at their flat completely alone until Carewyn got off work.

Carewyn immediately dropped everything and rushed home as quickly as she could, Ben and Wendy in tow. When she arrived on her street corner, she found the neighborhood in chaos. The entire street was blanketed by unnatural, heavy black fog, as if it was being suffocated by a blanket made of mist and tar. Muggles were running blindly in all directions since they couldn’t see the dementors, while the Aurors who could cast Patronuses shot them at every part of the darkness they could reach. Ben, Wendy, and Carewyn immediately all cast theirs, and their dun stallion, unicorn, and Abraxan winged horse charged into the fray to help the Aurors’ other pearly white creatures in their fight. Carewyn herself was determined to find Erik and raced in the direction of her flat. As she and the Coppers drew close, however, they were startled by what they saw.

Carewyn’s Abraxan Patronus had charged to the front, flapping its wide wings in an attempt to break up the suffocating darkness. As it did so, another bright white Patronus soared through the air toward hers, gliding through the air with incredible grace and helping it beat the dementors back.

It was another Abraxan winged horse.

The second graceful Abraxan Patronus’s wings seemed to brush lightly over the wings of Carewyn’s before flying back in the direction it’d come from. Her eyes very wide, Carewyn raced after it, her own Patronus flying over her as she went. The second Abraxan Patronus ended up landing a short ways away, its wings spread protectively over two people knelt down on the ground -- a small almost-thirteen-year-old boy with curly blond hair and tears streaming down his pale face, and the Patronus’s caster, an olive-skinned man with an uneven haircut, a beard, and black eyes, dressed in harem pants, arm warmers, and loose-fitting robes.

It was Orion. And although Carewyn halted mid-step several feet away, her breath stilling in her throat, her Patronus flew down to meet Orion’s, the two Abraxans’ noses touching when they met.

Orion had known for years that his and Carewyn’s Patronuses were the same. The knowledge had surprised him, but he’d managed to keep his emotions in check at the time. Carewyn, however, didn’t do as well in containing hers -- her hands flew up to her mouth to try to suppress the choke that left her throat and although she didn’t cry, her eyes flooded with tears.

Her Patronus disappeared in a puff of white smoke as she barrelled over to them, collapsing onto her knees so she could pull Erik into her arms and hug him tightly, her face white with terror.

“Erik! Erik, thank Merlin -- ”

Erik was very pale and shaking in her arms, but he had trouble looking her in the face. His jaw was clenched hard as he clutched at Carewyn’s sleeve. Ben and Wendy rushed over too, looking just as harried.

“Erik -- kid, you okay?” asked Wendy.

Ben glanced from Erik in Carewyn’s arms to up at Orion and his Abraxan Patronus hovering over them, his brown eyes slightly narrowed. Orion’s face was just as solemn.

“I was in the area when I felt the dementors’ presence,” he explained. “I found him out here, shooting Lumos charms and Knockback Jinxes at the dementors to try to drive them away...it’s possible he may have come out to help, knowing Muggles can’t see them...”

Carewyn cradled Erik in her arms, her hands resting on his back and the back of his head protectively as she squeezed him tight and gently stroked his hair.

Leaving Erik at home alone was never an arrangement she’d liked, but he was old enough to be there at her flat without supervision, as long as he stayed inside and didn’t let anyone in. But clearly the protective enchantments she’d placed weren’t strong enough to prevent the dementors’ draining influence from creeping inside...and once Erik felt that, it was unsurprising to Carewyn that he’d wanted to do something about it. His history in dementor captivity when he was rounded up by Umbridge’s Muggle-Born Registration Commission was explanation enough.

She hadn’t done enough. She hadn’t thought that anyone would go so far as to threaten her son ward, while she wasn’t there to protect him...

Carewyn swallowed the huge, painful lump that had formed in her throat, closing her eyes tight to try to force back her tears. She had to show a brave face for Erik: he was scared enough as it was.

The image of Orion’s and her Patronuses touching noses rippled over her mind. The memory of their light, equally bright and perfectly matched, seemed to weaken the grip of the fear strangling her heart.

His Patronus was the same as hers. His soul...was the same as hers...protecting Erik when she hadn’t been there...flying to the side of hers, when it was most needed...

The memory filled her up with such courage and warmth that Carewyn thought she’d likely never struggle for ammunition to create another Patronus again.

“Erik...we need to get you inside,” the lawyer said at last, her voice coming out as a low, steadier whisper than before. “Some chocolate will help.”

Ben brought a hand onto Carewyn’s shoulder and squeezed it. “We’ll take care of things out here with the Aurors, Carey. You stay with Erik.”

Wendy glanced at Orion.

“Orion, maybe you should go with them with your Patronus...clear them a way back home, you know.”

Although her eyes and face were serious, the way her eyes flickered between Carewyn and Orion spoke volumes. Orion, his head bowing almost self-consciously, nodded. He tentatively brought an arm around Carewyn’s shoulders, his black eyes trailing over her face to down at Erik.

“Erik,” he said softly, “can you stand, little Jarvey?”

Although he wasn’t able to speak, Erik clutched onto Carewyn and Orion’s arms and used the grip to hoist himself up onto his feet. Sensing that he was still too weak and disoriented to walk on his own, Orion quickly swooped in and snaked one of his strong arms around the boy to hold him up.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured. Carewyn moved to Erik’s other side and wrapped her own arm around Erik too, so that both she and Orion were supporting him. “...We’ve got you...”

Orion’s eyes met Carewyn’s over Erik’s head. The light from his Patronus reflected in their depths, making them resemble two tiny night skies flecked with stars. A perfect match for Carewyn’s, the color of which could be compared to a cloudless blue daytime sky.

((OOC: Thanks to @drinkyoursoupbitch for roleplaying that first scenario between Wendy and Carewyn with me so many months ago!! I’m so delighted I finally got to include it in this! 💙))

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #my art #my writing #orion amari #carewyn cromwell #erik apollo #ben copper #gwendolyn gordon #other people's mcs #don't worry about eos mcnully and kc agreed to babysit that day XD #hey girl's gotta know her godparents #orion associates eos with mooncalves because of her big round eyes and erik with jarveys because of his snarky attitude and potty mouth #poor erik has a lot of trauma surrounding dementors for pretty obvious reasons ._.#this whole event actually prompts him to learn how to cast a Patronus while he's still a teenager #it also makes it so that whenever he encounters a dementor he feels the urge to destroy it not just ward it off #as an Auror he's passionate about making sure that every dementor is wiped out so that they can never hurt anyone else again #and admittedly considering they were originally created through Dark magic rather than evolving like a regular magical creature #the thought isn't entirely off-base #orion and carewyn will get to talk I promise #but yeah gotta take care of this poor boy #fortunately the next thing I draw involving erik will be more 'fun' *eyes azariah steele mischievously*#THAT ABRAXAN WAS HARD BTW #holy s*** do I hate drawing horses #caps cw

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spine-buster · 5 years

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Alone, Together | Chapter 15 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: Thanks to everyone who told me / reported / helped with the plagiarism fiasco on AO3. It was very much appreciated since I don’t have an active AO3 account. Please, if you see my work copied anywhere, let me know! For now, I am only posting this story to Tumblr. I might decide to post to AO3 in the future, just so this never happens again. I’ll let you know if/when I do.

Still loving all the Mo/Bee canon questions. Keep them coming! And if you haven’t seen, I’ve posted the playlist link for Spotify. I’m working on the YouTube version.

Anyways, it’s Christmas in June! Merry Christmas!

Since knowing Angie, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day had grown to be Bee’s favourite days. It wasn’t because of the small gifts her family gave to her, or because she got to stuff her face with amazing food. It was because Angie’s younger brother, Joshua, would set up board games for the family to play on Christmas Eve before they went to midnight mass at their local Catholic Church, and then he’d put funny IOUs in everybody hand knit stockings (that he knit himself) on the fireplace mantle. It was because Angie’s family had a cozy wood-burning fireplace at their house that her dad would roast chestnuts in while her mom opened the tub of ice cream and scooped some out for everyone even after their enormous meal. It was because their family dog, an old Cavalier King Charles spaniel named Sarah Jessica Barker (yes, really) would curl up on Bee’s lap as the family watched whatever movie was on TV.

Angie’s house, for however much it was not Bee’s home, felt like her natural home. Besides her old apartment, it was where she felt most at ease, where she could kick her feet up, fall asleep on the couch, go into the fridge whenever she was hungry, and drop in whenever she wanted. There was always room for her. There was always space.

When she arrived with Angie and Mason on the morning of Christmas Eve, Rocco and Clarette welcomed her with open arms and warm hugs. Their house was decorated with all of Joshua and Angie’s old Christmas artwork from grade school, poinsettia tablecloths, and figurines on Santas, snowmen, penguins, polar bears, and more. It sort of looked like Christmas threw up, but Bee loved it. She loved how festive Clarette got and she loved how Rocco just let her decorate the house however she wanted.

“How are yooooooouuuuuu,” Clarette cooed as she let go of her tight hug, her French Canadian accent music to Bee’s ears. “I haven’t seen you in such a long time! Angie told me you finally finished school.”

“I did!”

“And your graduation? When is your graduation so we can book the day off?”

“Mom, you’re both retired. You don’t need to book off anything,” Angie deadpanned.

Bee giggled. “It’s not until June, Clarette,” she informed her. “You still have a lot of time.”

“What about jobs now? Are you going to join Angie at Indigo?” Rocco joined in. His voice was stern and serious, but Bee knew he was a complete softie who talked to the dog in a baby voice.

“I don’t think they’d allow that. They’d destroy the place,” Mason piped up.

“She’s in finance Rocco,” Clarette chastised her husband. “She’s gonna handle our retirement savings. Right mignonette?”

“Sort of.”

“Well come in, come in. Go drop your stuff off in your room,” Clarette encouraged. “I’m going to make some tea. You want your Earl Grey? Rocco knows how to make a London Fog now. We got a new machine. Angie, tell Joshua dad is making London Fogs for everyone.”

Rocco and Clarette’s house was everything that Bee envisioned a family house to be. It was a side split in the suburbs with three bedrooms on the second floor and a room converted to a fourth bedroom on a split level between the main and the basement. It was very homey, not ostentatious in any way, although Rocco and Clarette did invest in some upgrades before they retired, like a new kitchen, a fresh paint job, and some new floors and furniture in the main living areas. It was perfect and modest – what Bee dreamed of when she saw her life ten, fifteen, twenty years from now. It was everything she could want.

Her room was always the fourth bedroom. When Rocco’s father lived with them for two years before he passed away, Bee would just shack up with Angie, but now the room was dedicated to her again. She threw her weekender bag on the bed and plopped down dramatically, taking in the scent of the freshly washed sheets. Clarette had even put a little chocolate on the pillow. She was in heaven.

A slight knock on her door revealed Josh standing in the doorway with a smile on his face. At twenty, he was a tall, lanky university undergrad studying theatre at York University. He wanted to become the next Shakespeare, or at least the next Laurence Olivier. He even had a prop skull on his bedroom desk.

“How’s my favourite Angie friend?” he asked, leaning on the doorframe.

“Your mom’s the best. You know that, right?”

Joshua chuckled. “I do.”

“I hope you kiss her every night.”

“When I make it home,” he winked, waltzing into the room. “Angie told me you’re done with school.”

“I am.”

“So are you going to be able to tell me what a poor starving artist I’ll be once I finish this theatre degree?”

Bee snorted. “You’re going to marry rich, Josh. Remember? You’ll be richer than all of us combined.”

“I don’t think I’ll be richer than everyone,” he said, sitting down on the bed beside her. “A little birdie told me you’re dating a Toronto Maple Leaf.”

She rose from her position dramatically. “Your sister’s got a big mouth.”

“I’m sure Mason appreciates it.”

Bee pushed him over. “You’re fucking gross, Josh.”

“Stop trying to deflect. She told me it’s Morgan Rielly.”

“It is Morgan Rielly.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Fine,” she side-eyed him. “How’s Patrick?”

“Fine,” he gave her the same side-eye. “He’s back home in St. Thomas, but we’re seeing each other Boxing Day.”

“That’s sweet,” she said, and she meant it sincerely. She was glad Joshua found someone that made him happy. “Are you guys gonna join your sister and I at the Eaton’s Centre?”

“We’re going to have brunch first, then we might, depending if we’re in the mood,” he said. “Are you…I mean, how are you feeling about everything that happened?”

Bee knew that Angie would have told her family. She was an extension of the family, so it was only natural. And it was only natural that Josh was worried, that he cared about her and that he wanted to make sure she was okay, since it only happened a month ago. “Better now,” she said, giving him a smile. “I’m living at a new place with a doorman and stuff. It feels much safer. I got some new clothes and a new laptop, and everything’s been good.”

“My parents were really torn up about it,” he revealed. “My dad was ready to hop in the truck and drive down to the Annex. Angie had to stop him. Told him it was already being taken care of.”

“Yeah. Morgan helped a lot,” Bee revealed. “And, um, you know, some of the other Leafs.”

A grin appeared on Joshua’s face. “Look at you. Getting help from the Leafs.”

“Hey kids! London fogs are ready for you!” Rocco called loudly from the kitchen area. “Get ‘em while they’re still hot!”

“C’mon, let’s go,” Josh stood up, extending his arm for Bee and pulling her up from the bed. “Angie told Dad too and he’s gonna interrogate you for the remainder of the day.”

***

Christmas morning was typical of the Favaro household. At around 8:15am, Bee heard Clarette clanking around in the kitchen, preparing a quick breakfast that everyone would eat before they moved on to opening presents. Soon, she heard Josh’s voice helping her out, probably preparing the pot of coffee. Every Christmas morning, he was the designated bacon fryer – a job he took very seriously, since bacon was always the first thing to go.

When Bee emerged from her room, still in her pajamas like everyone else, she got a big hug and a kiss from Clarette. Josh, already too busy with the bacon, pointed at his cheek for her to come over to where he was standing at the stove and kiss him, which she did. Soon enough, Rocco, Angie, and Mason arrived, and everybody did their part to set the table and plate the scrambled eggs and bacon. Rocco slapped Josh’s arm for eating a piece of bacon before everyone else could. Angie almost spilled the entire sugar jar all over the counter.

When breakfast was done, they made their way into the family room to open presents. Sarah Jessica Barker trotted over to the commotion and jumped up onto the armchair Bee was sitting on, snuggling herself into Bee’s side as Mason passed everybody their presents. Bee bought Clarette and Rocco gifts every year despite their insistence that she not, and she also usually bought a gift for Josh.

Clarette and Rocco began unwrapping their gift from Bee at the same time. She got them both books – for Clarette, Elena Ferrante’s Neopolitan novels in her native French, and for Rocco, Warlight by Michael Ondaatje since he wanted to take up reading now that he was retired.

“You’re always so thoughtful, Bee,” Rocco said, smiling at her as he read the book sleeve. “I remember taking Clarette to go see the English Patient when it came out as a movie.”

“I’ve been wanting to read these forever!” Clarette exclaimed as she took the plastic film off. She elbowed her husband next to her on the couch. “You know, because they’re in French they’ll be closer to the original Italian.”

Josh opened his gift too – a mug with a packet of David’s Tea. He drank more tea than the entirety of Britain, so it was only fitting. Bee’s gift to Angie and Mason, S’well bottles, also went over well. Josh got her a floral scarf, which she loved, and she threw it over her shoulders dramatically. Angie and Mason got her a candle and a nice white frame, undoubtedly to put a picture of her and Morgan in for the new apartment. Clarette and Rocco gifted Bee a nice cutting board, knowing how much she liked to cook, and also a gnocchi board that she was super excited about. “From the good Italian supermarket,” Rocco said, nodding his head. “That was probably made by an old nonna somewhere in Italy.”

“I’m gonna use it next week,” she said, her fingertips feeling the grooves, thinking about Morgan’s return to Toronto and how she cold make him homemade gnocchi now. When Bee thought all was said and done, she noticed one more box under the tree that nobody had touched. “What’s this one?” Bee asked, nodding towards the large box.

“Oh honey, that one’s for you,” Rocco said. “Your man friend dropped it off.”

She froze at the mention. She looked to Angie, who was actively avoiding her gaze. “You…you mean Morgan?”

“Mhm,” Rocco nodded his head. Josh handed her the box. “Came yesterday afternoon.”

She gulped. How did he even find the time to drive all the way up to North York to deliver it? What could he have gotten her? She…she didn’t get him anything. She wrote him a nice card and stuffed it into his carry-on as a surprise for him, but she didn’t explicitly buy him a gift for Christmas. She didn’t think he would for her either. She should have known better though. This was Morgan.

Bee ripped open the sides carefully, and in one long stretch, the wrapping paper was pulled back to reveal ‘Mulberry’ on the box. She froze again, her hand resting over the letters. She knew exactly what this was.

She looked up. The entire Favaro family was looking at her. She took a deep breath. She didn’t want to do this in front of them. “Can I…um…can I…”

“You can go to your room if you need to dear. I’ll start the hot chocolate,” Clarette nodded her head. She got up and pointed at all the wrapping paper, then pointed at her husband. “You. Clean that up.”

Bee picked up the box, half-wrapped, and scurried into her designated bedroom, plopping the box down on the bed before closing the door. She took a deep breath before ripping the rest of the paper off. When she opened the box, she lifted up the dust bag and pulled out the Amberley satchel bag in the most gorgeous and perfect oxblood colour. She had seen it with Lucy when they had gone shopping, and Bee had commented on how beautiful it was – the most perfect bag in the world besides the Birkin. Lucy urged her to get it, but there was no way Bee could have justified the purchase after the Chanel bag, the Louis Vuitton bag, and the Yves Saint Laurent bag. Lucy must have told Morgan, because of course she did.

As Bee ran her fingertips over the pristine leather, she noticed two square outlines still in the dust bag. She couldn’t even fully take in the absolute beauty of the bag after noticing them. She set the satchel down gently and dug into the dust bag, pulling out two identical blue boxes with Birks ribbon wrapped around them.

Bee gulped. She had walked by the Birks storefront on Bloor Street West countless times, trying not to ogle the pretty and blindingly shiny diamonds in the window. Now she was holding two boxes from them in her hands. She was going to kill Morgan. Absolutely murder him.

She began to open one, delicately pulling on the ribbon and opening the box to reveal a stunning gold bracelet. Bee’s cheeks flushed as her fingertips felt the pearl and onyx. She tried to imagine it on her wrist – and realistically, she could have just taken it out of the box right then and there and put it on – but for some reason, she didn’t. It didn’t feel real to her; it didn’t feel like it was hers yet. She didn’t get gifts like this. She didn’t get expensive jewellery from boys – from anyone – and it didn’t feel like it was meant for her, although she knew Morgan probably scoured the store or the website for hours looking for the perfect gift.

The second box. She pulled the ribbon again, opening the box. What she saw inside made her chest tighten fiercely. Tears formed in her eyes automatically. A beautiful, delicate necklace, in matching gold, with a bumblebee medallion. For her. Bee.

Morgan’s Bumblebee.

She grabbed her phone and ripped it out of the charging socket before dialling Morgan’s number. As it rang, she barely registered that it was still only about 6am in Vancouver and he probably wasn’t even awake yet.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled into the phone, not bothering to say hello. “Merry Christmas.”

“Morgan…” she began, her voice cracking.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone immediately switching. The last time he got an unexpected phone call from her and she sounded like this, it wasn’t exactly the best.

“I’m fine,” she clarified, wiping a tear from her cheek. “But what’s wrong with you?”

“What?”

“You’re nuts, Morgan. Absolutely nuts,” she continued. “This is a $1500 dollar bag. More, I think.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I can’t accept this!”

“Wait, what? Is it the wrong one? Lucy said you loved it in the store!” he got worried.

“Morgan…I love it, it’s gorgeous, it’s the most perfect bag ever created aside from the Hermes Birkin, but I cannot accept this as a gift.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a $1500 bag!”

“I feel like we’re going around in circles here,” he admitted. “That’s the bag you liked, right? Lucy was adamant that that’s the one you liked. The colour and everything.”

“Morgan, it is, but --”

“The bag isn’t even the important part,” he interrupted her. “Did you find the jewellery?”

“Yes,” Bee said, and at the mention of the jewellery, new tears fell down her cheeks. “Morgan, why are you like this?” she asked, not knowing how to word it in any other way.

“Briony…”

“Why are you so nice to me? Why do you buy me nice gifts all the time?” she asked, trying not to let her voice crack.

“Bumblebee,” he began, his voice sombre. “How many times do I have to tell you that you deserve it?” he asked rhetorically.

“You know that you don’t need to like…buy my relationship, right?” she asked. “I’m not some girl that needs to be bought. I’d still be with you if you weren’t a rich hockey player. I’d still like you and still cook for you. I came from absolutely nothing and I can go back to nothing. I’d give all that stuff back if I had to.”

“I know Bumblebee, I know. But I’m gonna keep repeating it until it gets to you. You deserve nice things. I want to spoil you because you deserve it, not because I’m trying to buy you or anything. You. Deserve. Nice. Things. For. Once. In. Your. Life.”

Bee tried to take his words to heart, but it was hard. It was hard to take to heart when she wasn’t used to it. It was hard to take to heart when growing up, Christmases and birthdays weren’t celebrated because it wasn’t affordable. It was hard to take to heart when since sixteen years old she had been literally counting pennies to stay afloat. Most importantly, it was hard to take to heart when her mother told her she didn’t deserve anything. “Thank you Morgan. I really…I really love the bumblebee necklace.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah,” she said, wiping away the last of her tears. “It’s beautiful. I’m gonna think of you whenever I see it or touch it.”

“Good,” he said. “My Bumblebee.”

There was a moment of silence. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

“Um, what you got me Friday night was enough,” he said, chuckling slightly.

Thoughts of that night came rushing back to her and she felt a shiver go up her spine. It was probably the best sex she’d ever had. Memories of it still flashed through her mind from time to time. If she got lost in her thoughts, she could still feel Morgan pounding into her or pulling her hair. She still had the marks on her ass to remind her too. “Yeah. That…that was good,” she said quietly, trying not to get too riled up thinking about it.

“When I come back, I wanna fuck you wearing only that necklace,” he said in an equally quiet voice. His tone sent more shivers down her spine. “Unless you have some other pieces you’re waiting to surprise me with…”

She smiled. She thought about some of the other sets of lingerie she bought and wondered how he would react to them. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

He groaned in response. She giggled and he groaned some more. “You’re such a fucking tease. Fuck. I woke up hard dreaming about what I’m going to do to you when I get back.”

“This is the Lord’s Day,” she joked. “I don’t think he appreciates your dirty mind or you getting hard the morning of his birthday.”

He groaned even louder and she let out a heart laugh. “Don’t remind me. We still have to go to Church.”

“Will I be able to talk to you later today?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” he said. “After my wine drunk nap I take after lunch, I’ll call you. So maybe three or four my time.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “Merry Christmas, Morgan.”

“Merry Christmas, Briony.”

She paused before hanging up the phone, wondering if there was anything else to say.

***

The Eaton’s Centre was packed. Bee tried to get Angie to wake up on time so they could at least get there at mall opening, but Angie was a bitch in the morning and liked to sleep in, so they were late. It was 10am by the time they arrived, and shoppers were in full swing. Angie was doing a majority of the shopping anyway; Bee didn’t exactly need anything more. Maybe she’d pick up a book or two.

But first, coffee.

As they stood in line in the Starbucks at Indigo, Bee looked down at her phone to field some more messages from another round of bots that seemed to have infiltrated her Instagram. She began automatically deleting the messages until one message in particular caught her eye.

R u dating morgan rielly? Do I have ur attention now? U didn’t answer me last time.

She furrowed her eyebrows. Who was this person? She clicked on the profile, but whoever it was had it on private; the only thing Bee could see was a half-face selfie of a girl who looked five years younger than she did with false lashes and lipstick. She went back to her inbox, deciding not to delete the message. Instead, she took the opportunity to actually read what was being sent to her. It became adamantly clear to her these accounts weren’t bots.

If you’re dating Morgan shouldn’t you be prettier and skinnier? Sent from a girl with a bikini shot as her profile picture.

are the leafs wags as nice as everyone says? i wanna become one who is single? Sent from a girl who didn’t look older than 12.

Cut your hair. It doesn’t look good.

Do you really think Morgan doesn’t cheat on you when they’re on the road? Hockey guys have bunnies in every city.

Ur just a puckbunny wanting morgan’s money. stay away from him!!!!!!!!!!

You’re such a slut. Stay away from Morgan.

Just another puckbunny making her way around the leafs. You are pathetic.

“Grande caramel macchiato with coconut milk for Briony!”

So u go to u of t and u think ur smart? Whatever bitch

What does Rielly see in you? You’re so ugly

“Bee, you should grab your drink before someone else steals it.”

Why don’t u post pics w morgan

Can you please post pics with morgan so we can see

Why are you so close with some of the wags but not with others?

I hope u know morgan prob just keeps you around as a fuckbuddy. He’s got them all over the city. There were hundreds of girls before you, and there will be hundreds of girls after you. Actually, there are prob hundreds of girls DURING you too.

“BRIONY!” Angie’s voice screaming her name pulled her out of her trance. When she looked up, Angie was holding both their drinks, shoving her caramel macchiato towards her. “What’s so important on your phone?”

“N-Nothing,” she said, locking her screen and shoving her phone into her jacket pocket.

“Did Morgan send you a dick pic?”

“Can you not?” Bee slapped the arm of her best friend. “You’re so crude. You’re just like your brother.”

“Well, same genes and all.”

“Where are we going first?” Bee changed the subject.

“We need to go to Sephora. If the Nars Sheer Glow is as good as you say it is then I need to get some.”

As Briony followed Angie around in Sephora, she tried to get rid of the thoughts swirling around her head about the messages from the random girls. She assumed this is what Morgan meant when he said some Leafs fans could be crazy and obsessive. But were these fans? Or did these girls just want to hook up with Morgan?

As Angie chatted with a Sephora consultant about her foundation shade, Bee took out her phone again to see the rest of the messages that were sent to her. A lot of them were variations of the messages she had read earlier. Some accounts had even messaged her multiple times.

Can u pls post pics with mo where u show his face pls ppl are wondering if ur dating him and we need to know

Aren’t you a little too fat to be a wag?

What’s stephh lachancee like in person shes so pretty

Ur a puckslut. Ur only after Mo’s money. U should be ashamed of urself

Everybody knows you’re dating Morgan so there’s no point in hiding it anymore. The more you deny it the more we’re gonna message you. Just post a pic with him already. Get over yourself. You’re such an attention seeker by NOT posting a pic with him and it’s honestly ridiculous. Stop lying and stop trying to play coy.

Bee mostly wondered where these people got the audacity to send her such messages. She didn’t understand why they were being so hostile, and why they wanted information about something that was so clearly private. Did they just think she would message them back? That she’d reveal juicy, salacious details about their relationship? That she’d send them pictures of Morgan that were on her camera roll? What exactly did they want?

As she started to delete all the messages, she heard giggles and saw two girls out of the corner of her eye. They were whispering to each other something Briony couldn’t hear because of all the commotion in Sephora, but then she swore, she swore she heard the iPhone camera shutter sound. She looked up immediately to see the girls giggling at something on the phone they were looking at. The phone wasn’t in her direction, but Bee got self-conscious. When they both looked up from the screen at the same time and noticed Bee staring at them, they stopped giggling.

“Are you taking a picture of me?” she asked.

The one girl, with the phone in her hand, looked like a deer caught in the headlights. It was her friend that came to her rescue when she piped up, “No no! We’re not! We just love your Chanel bag.”

Bee looked down at the bag, the one Morgan had technically paid for, with pearls adorned all over it, the logo still shining against the leather and satin material. She looked back up at the girls, who were still looking at her. “Um, thanks?” Bee didn’t know what else to say.

“Where’d you get it?” the one with the phone asked. These girls weren’t older than sixteen.

Bee gave her a look. “At Chanel…?” her response came out more as a question than a statement. Where else would she buy a Chanel bag?

“Right. Of course. Sorry if we…we just really liked your bag,” they scurried away, looking mortified but still smiling at each other as they ran out of Sephora, looking down at the girl’s phone.

“Bee?! Where’d you go? I found the shade!” Angie’s voice called from the next aisle, her head slightly above the top shelf. “Come here!”

Bee returned to the Nars aisle, and saw that the beauty expert had matched her skin tone perfectly. “That looks amazing, Angie.”

“Where’d you go?” Angie asked, grabbing the foundation from the beauty expert and putting it in her basket.

“I just had teenage girls take a picture of my bag,” Bee said, shaking her head in disbelief still that it had happened. “That was…I’ve never had that happen to me before.”

Angie shrugged her shoulders. “It is a nice Chanel bag.”

#morgan rielly #morgan rielly imagine #morgan rielly fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #nhl imagines #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #alone together series

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