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mxchellesworld · 4 years

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𝟑 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐂𝐚𝐭 𝐀𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞, 𝐀𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst, heartache, drinking, drug use (I am not promoting it at all please don’t get the wrong idea)

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

***

You don’t know how long you stayed on your couch but you did know you were out of tears. Physically speaking of course. Mentally you were filled with sorrow and ready to burst at any given moment.

Nothing seemed real to you anymore. Of course you had past relationships which were serious and followed with breakups. However none were as heart wrenching. Especially with how little time you were involved. But intimacy does bring out the feelings locked down within.

You knew that once you lost Cat, Spencer would be gone also. Seeing him would be too painful. Perhaps they did have a reason for the no relationship rule. Had they broken the heart of others before and made it up just a precaution to save you from the pain?

Maybe you really were just a toy for them to use. Maybe it was all part of their game to have you fall at their feet then leave once they were satisfied. But Spencer was so kind. He adored you. Right?

You thought Cat really liked you too however that was quickly disproven.

Your mind was racing a mile a minute screaming at yourself for letting out those stupid fucking words. None of this would be happening if you could just think before you spoke.

Cat had gotten home around midnight. She peaked her head in the office to see Spencer quickly marking off tests. He looked up after hearing the soft padding of her slippers on the wooden floors.

“Hey you’re back? I thought you’d stay the night over there,” he said with a soft smile.

“What are you kicking me out already,” she tried to deflect with a joke. In his tried state he wasn’t able to detect the way her eyes were shifting not to look into his.

“No of course not,” he laughed but it was cut off by a yawn “lets get to bed though. Busy week, we gotta rest.”

She was grateful for his kindness and ability to lift her spirits without even trying.

He stood up behind her and rubbed her shoulders on the walk to their bedroom. They did their nightly routines silently, making little conversation about house chores and Spencer’s exciting lesson plans.

When Cat got into bed she couldn’t help but notice it seemed a bit colder even with his arms around her. She knew it didn’t have to do with their thin blankets but instead the newfound ache growing in her chest.

The work week seemed to drag on for you. Gone was the glow you felt everyday with the anticipation of seeing Cat and Spencer for dinner or hearing from them over the phone. Although Spencer had sent you multiple texts in that time. None of which you responded to. Cat must’ve not told him about what happened.

She couldn’t have expected you to explain it. You weren’t his girlfriend.

It hit you. You weren’t his girlfriend. You weren’t either of their girlfriend. That’s why it was so easy for her to just walk out. The feelings were probably one sided all along.

Abbie had to constantly tap you on your shoulder to get you back to work when your thoughts would spiral out of control. She noticed how the spark in your eye had dimmed and felt worried. Even when you were new, you were always so lively and ready to make conversation.

During lunch she noticed you stayed in the office break room. She made her way to the cafe around the corner you liked and got you a coffee with your favorite pastry. She hoped you had stayed there so she could talk to you.

You looked up from your phone hearing the tap of her flats on the floor. You gave Abbie a small smile noticing the coffee tray in her hand and baggy that smelled like sweet bread.

“Hey Abs,” you said quietly perking up.

“What’s going on Y/n/n. You’re not as smiley anymore. Do I need to beat someone up,” she tried to say menacingly.

Her words made you chuckle. You could barley imagine her 5 foot stature reaching the top shelf so the thought of her beating up someone over a foot taller than her was almost comical.

“No need to get violent. But thank you for the offer, I appreciate it.”

“Ugh fine. This is for you,” she said handing over the peppermint mocha and pastry. You look a bite of the bread and let out a content sigh. It was the first thing you had eaten all day.

She sat down in the seat across from yours and put her hand over yours. Her small warm hand brought you a sense of comfort you had been craving all week. “You know you can tell me anything right,” she said searching your eyes.

You sighed before responding, “I messed up Ab.”

“Is this about the couple?”

You nodded, “I fell hard. And last Sunday Cat was over and we had just finished ya know.. but um the words just slipped out and I said I loved her,” you quickly wiped away the tear you felt slide down your cheek, “And she said she couldn’t do it and she didn’t love me back. Then she just left.”

Abbie stood up from her spot and made her way around the table to pull you to her frame. Her hands wrapped around you and she rubbed your back, “Oh Y/n/n I am so sorry. Don’t feel bad for expressing your emotions,” she let go and took your hands in hers to look in your eyes as she spoke. There was a look of understanding upon her features instead of one of pity.

“In the few months I’ve known you, you have shown to have such a big heart and you care so much. And if they can’t give you the same then they’re not worth it. Okay?”

You nodded at her words pulling her back in for one last squeeze. You grabbed a napkin and started to pat your cheeks dry. Your phone started to ring and a dreaded contact name popped up.

Before you could reach it, Abbie snatched it off the table and answered, “Listen buddy. Don’t call y/n anymore if you’re just gonna fuck with her. Or else you’ll have someone else to deal with.” She angrily pressed the red hangup button and you burst into laughter.

“Abs you are insane. Where do you keep all the rage pent up in there?”

She waved you off taking a sip of her coffee, “No one fucks with my girl.”

There was a silence between the two of you. However your phone dinging kept on disturbing it. Spencer. He was asking what happened and what was going on. Why had you been dodging his calls and texts.

“You know what you need,” she said with a smirk. You didn’t like where this was going. “You need a rebound.”

“Abs it’s been a week,” you sighed, “I don’t know if I’m up for it.”

“Ok I got you just hear me out. What if we go to the lounge. I can come over before and get you all dressed up. We show up and boom people are falling right at your feet because you’re so hot. Show them that you don’t care about them, you can have anyone in the whole fucking club if you want.”

You really thought about it. Revenge was best served cold but you were so warm. You did care about them. But Abbie was right if you wanted you could have anyone. And you couldn’t let them take over your life because of a month of lust. A long month full of sweet smiles, warm hugs, and the best orgasms of your life.

No. You couldn’t think like that.

“You know what. I will go. Come over to mine at like 4 on Saturday then we can get ready together, pregame, and get there at like 7.”

She happily clapped and cheered, “Yes that is the Y/n I love.”

It felt like some of the ache from the week was sliding off your shoulders. You were excited to hangout with her. It was like all your focus was on them and now you were able to live your life freely again, not giving a fuck about anyone tying you down. Both literally and figuratively.

Saturday rolled around and you were buzzing. Abbie had showed up with the goods. Vodka and makeup. You already had on your dress. It was tight and black, perfectly hugging your frame. She had on a burgundy dress with long sleeves. Her hair and makeup were already done up, the only thing missing were the heels she held in her hand.

“See Y/n even with just a dress on and you’re already sexy as hell,” she said laughing.

“Yeah yeah. You don’t look too bad either, burgundy suits you well,” you said pulling out shot glasses.

She poured them to the brim and you guys clinked glasses before shooting them back. You both shuttered at the heat growing in your chest from the clear liquid.

“What the fuck is this rubbing alcohol?” you said looking down at her.

“Do you wanna get fucked up or not Y/n/n.”

“Yeah but I’d like to be in control of my hands if I’m gonna be curling my hair,” you yelled at her as she walked over to your speaker.

She connected her phone music started to fill your apartment. God you hadn’t felt like this since college. You missed having girl friends to hype you up and get you out of your funk after a break up.

Within a few hours the sky was dark and the bottle of vodka was halfway gone. Your hair made it out into loose curls with minimal finger burns. Abbie had done most of your makeup. A sultry dark shadow was on your lids along with a matching lip. Everything was different than your normal look however a change was always good.

Getting into the uber made your nerves spike up. You wished you had drank a little more before you left. Abbie could sense your uneasiness and grabbed your hand to comfort you.

“Hey wait, I have these,” she pulled out a tiny bag which held two small pills.

“Are you crazy,” your eyes widened as you looked at her. You had taken them before and it wasn’t a bad experience but they definitely clouded your judgement.

“It’s just one,” she reasoned, “It’ll last like maybe an hour and you’ll feel so good.”

Fuck it. If you were acting out tonight then you were doubling down. It dissolved on your tongue and you just had to wait for it to kick in.

When you pulled up in front of the club, the driver wished you a safe night and told you to take care. If only he knew.

Abbie held your hand as you walked in. You took a deep breath and opened the door for her to walk through the dark corridor you hadn’t seen a while.

You smiled widely seeing Luke sitting in the front desk. All the embarrassment from before was long gone as a giddy, floaty feeling took over your body.

“Y/n you’re back,” he said excitedly, “No Cat or Spencer?” he questioned.

“Nope. Those days are over. But this is my friend Abbie, we work together,” you motioned to her.

Luke reached his hand out for her to shake, “Luke Alvez, welcome to the Underground Library sweetheart,” he said kissing the back of her hand.

“Well we are gonna go have fun, see you later,” you said looking at him.

“Of course, have a good time ladies,” he waved you off.

“I’m fucking him tonight,” Abbie said looking up at you.

You laughed at her and guided her over to the bar. You both ordered a mixed drink along with water. Your eyes roamed around taking in the place. Part of you knew who you were looking for but part of you was also dreading running into them.

You noticed that the area which usually had couches and seats was turned into a make shift dance floor. Sweaty bodies were pressed up against each other and you knew exactly where you needed to be.

You leaned closer to Abbie to talk to her, “Hey do you wanna dance?”

“I’m not much of a dancer. But you go have fun babe, I’ll keep an eye on you from here.”

You nodded and left your coat with her, “Hey why don’t you hand these over to Luke,” you said with a wink.

You both split up and you made your way to the dance floor. The substances in your body made all your thoughts float away. You didn’t care if you were alone, you were in a sea of gorgeous individuals who were also having the time of their lives.

A pair of hands grabbed your waist. You didn’t bother to turn around and just enjoyed the feeling of their body close to yours. You felt soft lips on your neck and you tilted it back to give them more access.

The music was pounding in your ears. It was like the bass was boosted and pumping through your veins. You could barley hear the soft moans you were letting out from the feeling of their mouth and hands roaming your body as you grinded against one another.

Finally they turned you around. It was a woman with straight long brown hair. She pulled you closer to her thin frame and you wrapped your arms around her neck.

You leaned in to her ear saying your name, “I’m Y/n. What’s your name.”

“Lindsey,” she said with a smirk.

𝐚/𝐧; 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐞𝐲? 𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚? 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫!

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #cat adams x reader #cat adams smut #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #chellewrites

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dirtyblupjeans · 4 years

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(This year for Kinktober, I’m gonna do something different. Last year I focused on quality over quantity. This year I’m going to aim to do one story told over the course of the month. Hope you enjoy!)

Barry sat in bed reading. Or rather he sat in his bed with a book open in front of him doing a passable imitation of a man reading. Mostly, though, his attention was on his closed door.

She probably won’t come tonight, he told himself. His eyes moved back to the book but the words remained unread. He was barefoot but still in his jeans, legs stretched out in front of him on the blanket while he leaned back on the pillows gathered at the head of the bed. His shirt was half buttoned and in the past twenty minutes he had both unbuttoned and rebuttoned it to varying degrees.

There was no reason to think she might come to his room that night. They had no formal agreement. That she sometime came to his room, that they sometimes had sex, and that sometimes she even slept there were all things they’d not really discussed. So while he had no reason to expect her, he had every reason to hope.

It had started late last cycle, about three months before the Hunger had arrived. Taako had been hit with a curse during a skirmish with a pack of Rakshasa. For days he’d been catatonic and Lup had been scared and fretful. All she could do was watch her brother and worry.

Barry had tried to get her to eat or rest to no success. Only when Taako had finally come around had relief had broken her cycle of fearful observation. Once it was clear her twin would recover she’d finally let Barry cajole her into eating. And then, that night, she’d knocked on his door.

It was a shock to see her there. She’d grown so wan and pale after days barely moving from Taako’s side. She’d eaten and slept just enough to survive and not a single ounce more. But once he’d woken she’d eaten and, in the time since Barry had left her alone with a plate of food and her alert and recovering brother, she’d showered and changed.

“Hey,” she’d told him, staring at her feet. “Can I... um... would you sit with me while I trance?” she’d asked.

“Of course!” he’d told her, grateful to be able to help. She’d given him a quick hug and then gone over to his bed and settled in the middle with her back to the wall.

Barry had hovered at the door, unsure what to do. She’d asked him to be around but he wasn’t sure what that meant specifically. A flicker of smile had crossed her face and then she’d tapped her hand on the bedspread, indicating he should settle on the bed next to her. He’d done so, though he’d left as copious an amount of distance as the small space would allow.

Over the years, he’d seen the twins trancing. On peaceful planes, in good weather, they liked to settle on the deck in the sun, back to back, and trance there.

But this felt wildly different. She seemed so much more vulnerable, somehow. Her hands rested on her legs, fingers lightly curled on the soft looking material of her pajama pants. Her long hair was still damp and clinging to the shoulders of her loose sweatshirt. He could smell her shampoo, familiar and comforting.

Barry had sat beside her for hours, afraid to move and disturb her when he knew how badly she needed the rest. He’d just stayed quiet, his own thoughts drifting not so dissimilarly to the way hers did while she tranced, actually.

And a good bit of that time was wondering how soft the material of her pajama pants really was.

It wasn’t even in a sexual way. He was literally just curious after years of seeing her wear them. They were purple and turquoise flannel and old enough they were starting to show their age. He made a mental note to find her a new pair the next time they had a Candlenights on a civilized planet, one that didn’t have curse slinging cat people trying to murder them constantly.

“Hey,” she said, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You didn’t have to just sit there the whole time, ya goofus.”

“Nah, it was fine,” he protested. “I’m just glad you finally got some rest.”

She stretched, arms high above her head, head tilting this way and that. “Yeah, I needed it. But I just…” She turned back to him and shrugged, gave him that quiet little smile that was his favorite Lup smile because it wasn’t like all the other Lup smiles that were big and showy and for everyone. This was the kind of smile that felt like it was made special just for whoever she aimed it at. “It’s just… Taako, you know?”

“I know.”

Stretching again, she yawned. “I’m still exhausted, though. Maybe I can just sleep now. I couldn’t even do that before. Had to get my brain to chill the fuck out.” Tilting slowly, she leaned on his shoulder. “Kick me out now, Barold. I’m gonna fall asleep on you.”

“Then sleep.”

“That’s not fair to you,” she said, even as she slipped down further and shifted the rest of her body to get more comfortable. “Tell me to go.”

He laughed. She was practically melting like a cartoon character, sliding down him like liquid, apparently entirely boneless. Finally she was stretched out along his bed, her head on his thigh. “You need the sleep, Lup. If you can rest, do it.”

“Mmm,” she said, her cheek on his denim clad leg. “You make a good pillow.”

Hesitantly, he reached and pulled her hair out of her face, smoothing it back out of the way.

“Thanks,” she murmured, already sounding half asleep. “Tha’s’nice.”

“Shhh,” he whispered, and continued stroking her hair.

After a while, his legs started going numb and he shifted slightly. She stirred but didn’t wake, proving just how tired she’d been. Eventually he’d fallen asleep as well.

Now, of course, he knew just exactly how soft those pajama pants were. And better, he knew just how soft *she* was. Those hours of her sleeping in his bed had turned into days and at some point the careful sharing of space had stopped being so careful. Comforting touches became hesitant exploration and by the end of the cycle their relationship had gone from friends to friends with benefits.

Barry was no fool. He knew he loved her. He’d known it for decades. But he also knew that, like most of the crew, when the plane they were on allowed for it, Lup ‘spent time with the locals,’ so to speak. Rarely the same one twice as far as he knew. It was sort of an unspoken agreement among the crew. No one really talked about it much - beyond some mild teasing between the twins - and no one ever brought anyone back to the ship.

He’d tried a few times himself but it all felt so pointless when he couldn’t get Lup out of his head. So when sleeping together became sleeping together he knew he was in for heartbreak. But it didn’t seem to matter when he was curled together in his bed with Lup in his arms, and her hand flat against his chest. Her green eyes looked up at him with that unspoken question so clear it might as well have been a neon sign; he’d had his own unspoken answer: he’d kissed her.

There was a soft knock at the door then it opened.

“Hey,” she said, a smile breaking across her face. It was a lot like that smile he’d thought was his favorite but an even better one. It was soft and private and made him feel like she’d made the expression just for him and him alone. But it was combined with a teasing look that made it even better. “Want some company?” she asked, already unbuttoning her shirt.

Closing the book in his lap, he tossed it on the nightstand and put his glasses on top. “Absolutely.”

He swung his legs over to sit on the edge of the bed as she moved forward, her shirt fully unbuttoned and hanging open. She stopped at the side of the bed, standing between his splayed legs, and his hands moved to part open her shirt and slide around her waist.

Lup’s hands settled on his shoulders and she laughed as he leaned forward, nipping at her belly with play bites while his fingers teased under the waistband of those familiar pajama pants.

“Down boy,” she told him with another soft laugh as he pressed his teeth gently against the underside of her breast. “Don’t make me get a muzzle.”

“You wouldn’t,” he answered, pausing to look up at her.

She wound her fingers in his hair and tugged lightly. “Nah, I wouldn’t. I’ve seen what that mouth can do and I like it.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked with a grin, fingers beginning to tug her pajama pants downward. “Lemme see if I can get an upgrade on that ‘like’ to something better.”

“Let's get these clothes off first. I like seeing Barry Bluejeans without his blue jeans.”

“Plenty of time for that later,” he countered, wrapping his arms under her ass and standing, picking her up with him. He turned and dumped her on the bed.

Laughing, she grabbed a pillow and threw it behind herself. “Later, huh? You do seem to have other plans.”

“Yup,” he agreed, pulling the pajama pants down. She lifted her ass so they could slide down and he saw she hadn’t been wearing anything under them. “Nice,” he said approvingly, freeing her legs from the soft flannel.

“Yeah, figured I’d save us the t-” Her words cut off as he yanked her forward so her ass was at the edge of the mattress. “Oh, glad I went for the time saver. Someone’s feeling eager.”

He didn’t answer, just spread her legs and went for it. There was a feeling of rushing tonight and he went with it. She was right, it seemed. He was eager. He’d been half convinced she wouldn’t come and now that she was there he couldn’t wait to taste her.

“Oh, fuck,” she said, curling her fingers in his hair again. “Not wasting any time tonight.”

His tongue was curling up through her and he was gratified to find that even with no preamble, it was evident she was pretty eager herself.

“Yeah,” she said as he moved higher. Her fingers tightened in his hair and she just made a humming sound. Encouraged, he continued, his tongue sliding up through her then teasing closer to her clit. “Come on,” she complained when he started over without giving her the focused attention where she wanted it.

The next time his tongue came near, she pulled at him, pressing him against her. “Please,” she said, her voice low and breathy. “You were so eager, don’t tease.”

So he did, pushing his tongue against the spot then switching to using his mouth to suck at her, alternating between the two until he felt her leg hitching over his shoulder to pull him closer still.

“More,” she demanded.

When he pulled his mouth away from her clit, she whined. But he replaced his tongue with his fingers, working the spot while he lapped at her.

She wrapped her own hand over his, adjusting his touch and speed. “Yeah,” he said, moving back to look, “show me how to make you feel good.” He let her direct his hand, almost like she was using his hand to masturbate while he just watched. Her breath was coming faster, punctuated by little whines that got louder and longer, becoming moans. He quickly threw up a Silence spell on the room just as she got louder still.

“Keep going,” he told her. “I want you to come for me, okay?”

She hummed an agreement and kept rubbing his fingers against herself.

“Fuck. So good, Lup,” he said, so fucking turned on he’d have had his cock in his hand if he’d gotten undressed earlier.

And then, with a wordless cry of pleasure, her orgasm hit. She fell back against the pillow, still holding his hand.

He climbed up into the bed beside her and kissed her. “That was so fucking hot,” he told her.

“Yeah?” she asked, grinning, eyes still closed. “Yeah. I… yeah. That was… I liked that.”

(To be continued...)

#kinktober2020 #blupjeans #dirtyblupjeans #there'll be no links between because tumblr #so if you want the full story check blog

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islareeveswriting · 6 years

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INSTAS

An apple a day keeps the doctor away.

Of course if that were true, Molly would never have been to see a doctor in her life. As a child Molly and her sister had all but lived off the apples from their grandparents orchard. They picked them in the late summer and ate them fresh from the tree, lying on a picnic blanket, and staring up at the hazy summer sun. It was bliss. When the months got colder, but the apples were still ripe for the picking, they stewed them to make crumbles or pies, baked them in pastry and ate them with the yellowest, fresh egg, custard. Nothing was better.

However, as Molly sat in the cold, hard chair of her GP’s office with a lollipop stick holding her tongue down it was clear, no amount of apples could keep the doctor away. Molly had been sat in that chair for a good five minutes, freezing slowly she was sure. The coat she’d worn was draped behind her so Dr Middleton could check the crackle in her chest that kept her coughing, and with just her flimsy t-shirt on, she felt the coldest she had all morning. The waiting room, where she’d sat in a vastly more comfortable chair, had been warm, heated by electric heaters that buzzed and whirred and filled the room with a stuffy, claustrophobic heat. Harry had sat beside her, and that had helped too, their arms pressed together, nothing like the closeness they’d shared the previous night, but out in the open, it felt like more of a statement to do anything more than sit as close together as possible.

Of course Harry had offered to go with her when her childhood doctor opened the door to the waiting room and called her name with a friendly smile. Molly had told him she’d be fine, with what she hoped was a reassuring grin, though Harry’s uneven eyebrows and straight lips told her she wasn’t quite as convincing as she’d hoped. Even so, she followed the doctor down the little hallway to his office alone. The doctor had aged, his dark blonde hair was flecked with grey patches and he had wrinkles around his eyes and mouth that had likely come from stress. The suit he was wearing wasn’t as smart as the ones she remembered him in, it was loose, not at all tailored to actually fit him, and it looked as worn as the man in it did.

Perhaps Molly wasn’t the only one in that room who loathed walking through the sliding doors, and being hit my the clinical smell behind it.

“Well Cecelia,” Dr Middleton started, rolling back on his chair towards his desk. “You’ve got a case of tonsillitis," He informed her, and Molly felt herself relax, she knew that well. As a child she’d been plagued with it, though not enough to have her tonsils removed it would appear. “I’ll write you up a prescription for penicillin, take two a day for a week, rest up and plenty of fluids ok?” Molly just nodded. “How’s uni going?” The doctor asked as he tapped away at his keyboard.

“Yeah, it’s fine thank you, really enjoying it," Molly told him with a smile. The doctor just nodded as his printer whirred to life and spat out a small, green piece of paper and he handed it to Molly. “Thank you," Molly murmured, flicking her eyes over it.

“No problem Cecelia, when are you heading back to uni?” Dr Middleton asked as Molly stood and began to pull her coat back on.

“Expect we’ll head back today,” Molly told him, shrugging her coat onto her shoulders and fastening the button.

“We?”

“My friend Harry drove me down,” Molly explained and picked up her piece of paper as the doctor just nodded and tried not to look confused. Trust me, Molly thought, it’s not as confusing as it seems. She thought she could feel that now, things felt a little clearer somehow, as if it all it took to fix the fog in her mind was to dive in and swim. “Well thanks doctor, have a good day," Molly smiled and headed for the door, happy, she supposed, to have a diagnosis as to why she’d been feeling so awful.

“And you Cecelia, and safe drive." Molly just nodded and pulled the door open heading back for the waiting room with her prescription clutched in her hand. It was strange how familiar the doctors surgery felt, another little piece of home wrapped up in the sterile scent and mass produced carpet tiles. Despite the ball of anxiety that knotted in her stomach, there was something comforting in the familiarity of it.

When Molly got back to the waiting room, Harry was sat where she’d left him. That morning he’d pulled a beanie on, and it had left his curls fluffy and frizzy when he’d pulled it off his head. Now he was playing with the fold of it in his lap, pulling the hem down and folding it up again repeatedly as if he’d lost something there. He’d relaxed right down in his chair, his shoulder blades surely pushing into the back of the seat as his head fell forward to stare in his lap. As Molly got closer he lifted his gaze to her, like he could feel her coming.

“Hey,” he smiled, sitting up and forward. “How’d it go?” He asked, a little nervous anticipation across his features.

“I have tonsillitis,” Molly grumbled. “Gotta grab this before we go," Molly told him, holding up the little rectangular piece of paper that everyone from John O Groats to Lands End would surely recognise.

“Ok," Harry stood then and joined Molly to leave the doctors surgery. They walked side by side, the back of Harry’s hand brushed against Molly’s, their knuckles knocking against one another like pebbles. Molly glanced up at Harry out of the corner of her eye to find him already looking back down at her, there was a soft, subtle, barely there smile on his lips, asking a silent question. The smile she offered back was the answer, and Harry didn’t hesitate to take her hand in his and wrap her fingers up with his own.

They’d held hands so many times before, Harry had put an arm around her shoulder as they walked on countless occasions, but somehow it felt different that morning. After their night, after waking up in bed together, a little drunk on being so unashamedly close, intertwined fingers seemed to hold a little more gravity than they had before.

It had been Molly who had woken up first, the curtains they’d left open the last thing on their minds the night before, letting in the bright winter morning light. The sky was perfectly blue, the kind of blue people wanted the sky to be everyday, a wash of blinding light and completely cloudless. It would be cold, Molly could tell from the slight frost in the corners of the Georgian bars across the bay window. Beside her though, Harry was delightfully warm, his body heat called her closer and she gave in, snuggling into his side and wrapping an arm around his bare middle. The movement obviously disturbed him a little, because the perfectly even, gentle puffs of air that were pushing past his slightly parted lips, hitched for a few moments, but then his arm moved behind Molly and rested around her arms, his breathing evening out again as he adjusted so they could get closer still.

Everytime Molly had felt Harry’s skin against her, she’d felt her own skin tingle. It was smooth and soft, like warm caramel, under her touch as they cosied up under the never-used duvet. Her fingers had traced over the birds on his chest, but left it there, not quite managing to pluck the courage up to outline the butterfly let alone the ferns that continued to catch her eye. Up close the artwork was much more intricate than she’d realised, up close there was far more to Harry entirely that she’d realised. There were spots of yellow in the green of his eyes, there was a freckle on his bottom lip, and a dusting of stubble on his chin, not to mention the line of hair on his stomach. Wrapped up in one another they inspected each other subtly, Harry’s strong arm holding her close and tight.

His lips. She’d kept coming back to them, and she did the same when he held the door of the pharmacy open for her, though never letting go of her hand, and let her in. When she thanked him they curved slightly, plump, pink cushions that she longed to feel under her own. The idea alone sent electricity speeding throughout her, from fingertips to toes to hair follicles. There wasn’t an inch of her that wasn’t alive with the thought of kissing him. Yet, even with his hand on her waist, toying, literally, with the idea of lifting her shirt a little to find her skin, she couldn’t find it in her to press her lips against his.

The pharmacy was virtually empty. Apart from a little old man, bent over himself slightly, a stick in one hand and a flat cap covering his head, it was just Molly, Harry and the pharmacist. As they got closer to the desk, the old man looked up at them through watery, pale blue eyes, and Molly offered a friendly smile. For all she knew, it might be the only one he got all week. Molly’s hand slipped out of Harry’s with ease as she got close enough to the desk, the pharmacist waiting for her expectantly. Molly handed the fresh prescription over and watched as the pharmacist checked over the paper.

“Give me a second," The pharmacist said, and Molly nodded, turning on her heel expecting to find Harry just behind her, but not at all surprised to see him sat on the chair next to the old man, chatting like they’d known each other for years. Harry was grinning and nodding, chuckling a little, as the little old man talked away with a humoured little smile on his face. Endeared wasn’t strong enough for how Molly felt watching the exchange, and a smile crept onto her own face completely without intention. “Sorry," The voice was a little impatient and Molly jumped back to life, looking over her shoulder to find the pharmacist returned before turning fully. “This will be a couple of hours, can you come back later?”

“Oh right, erm, ok, erm-”

“It’s ok we can come back later," Molly flicked her head back towards Harry’s voice, he’d sat forward a little and was looking straight at the blonde haired woman behind the counter, who nodded at Harry.

“Ok, great, we’ll see you in a few hours," The woman grinned, looking to Molly again. “Mr Jeffries, it won’t be long, sorry to keep you,"

“Oh no, don’t be silly Maddie, I’ve just had a wonderful chat with this young man," Harry chuckled as he stood. “Have a lovely weekend Harry, make the most of it," Molly didn’t miss the wink Mr Jeffries offered as Harry pulled at his jumper a little to cover the waistband of his jeans once again.

“And you sir," Harry smiled, offering the man his hand to shake before turning for Molly and reaching out for her hand with careless abandon, wrapping it up in his own and waiting for her to join his side before heading for the door.

“What was that about?” Molly chuckled once they were back outside.

“Just a chat," Harry told Molly with a slight smirk. ‘Fancy brunch?”

“Sure, but it’s on me," Molly insisted, shoving her free hand into the pocket of her oversized coat as the cold air began to bite almost immediately.

“No it’s-”

“On me, yes, like I said," Molly forced, glaring up at Harry through fluttery lashes. Harry just stared back at her, seemingly waiting for her to crumble and concede, but she didn’t. Molly held her ground, and just shrugged when Harry refused to look away, as if he thought they were going to have a staring contest over who would be paying for brunch. “There’s a cute place by the river?”

“Sounds good," Harry mumbled, clearly a little disappointed with himself. “Y’know Lol, I’d really like to-”

“Nope, no arguments,” Molly cut in. “You’ve driven me all the way here, you’ve taken me to the doctors, the least I can do is buy you brunch before we have to leave again."

“About that,” Harry started, lifting his free hand and scratching at his jaw a little. “What I was going to say,” He continued, giving Molly a pointed look, “was, why don’t we just stay here for the weekend?” Harry finished, though not really, he didn’t give Molly a chance to answer before he began explaining himself; “I mean, you can relax properly that way and, obviously as long as your parents don’t mind, there’s no rush to get home," Harry pointed out.

“Do you not have rugby tomorrow?” Molly asked with a slightly creased brow. It was ingrained in her mind, Saturday’s were rugby days, and they had been most weeks since they met. It was the one day of the week they hardly spoke.

“No game this week," Harry grinned, and Molly nodded. “Do you think your parents will mind?”

“Doubt it, they’re going away anyway for the weekend, leaving when Mum gets home and dropping Jeanie off on the way," Molly explained with a shrug. It was news to her when Penny had asked her if they’d see Molly again before they headed off, though Penny was certain she’d told Molly her and her father were off for a weekend away. Not that it really bothered Molly, it wasn’t like she’d intended to be home that weekend and if Harry hadn’t been so insistent on getting her to the doctors, she’d have never known her parents weren’t at home anyway. “Well I’m happy to stay for the weekend as long as you’re sure you want to?”

“Yeah, I like it here, you can show me round your stomping ground," Harry smiled to which Molly just chuckled. “In between resting and relaxing of course," Harry warned, and it was clear he was entirely serious.

“Of course," Molly giggled.

The cafe Molly had in mind was relatively new to the area. Once upon a time it had been an estate agents, but they’d since moved further into the town centre and the building had been empty and desperate to be used for sometime before the couple who owned it now had moved from London and transformed it into a modern, spacious, cafe. It seemed it was what the town was missing, and it was always pretty busy, despite the large quantities of tea rooms and other cafes it had to compete with. Town elders had grumbled, they didn’t need anymore cafes, there was enough, it would take business away from establishments that had been in the town for generations. Though once it was open, and serving up something a little more suited to younger people and those from out of town, no one minded so much.

It wasn’t heaving, though for a Friday morning in a small English town, it would have been considered busy. The young, maybe middle aged, woman behind the counter didn’t look flustered though, she looked cool, calm and collected. There was a healthy glow about her and her dark bobbed hair was glossy and thick. She was the antithesis of how Molly was feeling when she pushed the door open. It appeared she was the only one working, and dealing with two customers at the desk, handing over money, until a sprightly young, blonde girl appeared from around a doorway.

“Hi there,” She grinned, “eating in?”

“Please," Molly told her, and the girls smile only seemed to get bigger with that as she grabbed a couple of menus and directed Molly and Harry towards a table. “Thanks," Molly whispered as she pulled out a chair and sat down, a menu appearing before her a little too quickly to have come from human hands. Or at least it seemed that way.

“So we’ve got everything on the menu, obviously,” The waitress giggled, “and we’ve aslo got bubble and squeak that comes with eggs and mushrooms or bacon, a beans and chorizo breakfast bowl, and a variety of smoothie bowls that come with three fruits of your choice and granola,"

“Great thanks," Molly grinned, and the girl simply bobbed her head before turning to walk away. Molly looked back to Harry before Harry had finished watching the waitress walk away. “Don’t ogle her like that," Molly scalded tapping the paper menu against Harry’s arm.

“I wasn’t ogling her, I’m just not sure how someone can be so sprightly working in customer service," Harry chuckled, picking up his own menu and glancing down at it, though Molly just creased her brow a little.

“I work in customer service," Molly pointed out, wondering how Harry could have possibly forgotten considering the fuss he’d made about it.

“And do you grin like a loon through every word?” Harry asked her with one cocked eyebrow.

“Not exactly the vibe," Molly told him, and Harry just shrugged in a ‘like I said’ sort of way. “Do you think I could work somewhere like this?” Molly asked, pondering it herself as she looked across the white washed walls decorated with modern prints, girls with flowers for eyes, messy sketches of palm leaves, quotes in scrawly handwriting.

“You could work wherever you want, love," Harry told her with a soft smile that told Molly he truly believed what he was saying.

“Do you think I should work somewhere like this?” Molly went on, relaxing back and dropping her menu out of her line of sight a little. Harry’s forehead dropped, a tiny crease indenting the skin between his eyebrows as he pulled his bottom lip in with this teeth before resting his tongue on it a little.

“I think you should work wherever makes you happy," Harry settled on at last. “Coyote makes you happy, that’s all that matters," Harry promised, tilting his head to one side and chewing gently on his lip again.

“You’ve changed your tune,"

“No, I have not, I said if it makes you happy, if it makes me happy is something entirely different, and I don’t want you to ever compromise your happiness for mine," Harry told her, and Molly sunk a little, pouting her lips as his words settled in. “Don’t pout, you asked," He pointed out to her. “Anyway, progress, I can talk about it without curling my fists up now," Harry jested with a wink that made Molly chuckle. It didn’t matter how much he tried, it was always clear Molly working at Coyote didn’t sit favourably with Harry. Molly had resorted to just trying not to say too much about work, it bothered her a little, but the pros with Harry far outweighed the cons, and she couldn’t see that ever changing when he made her feel so good about herself despite his qualms about her job.

When the waitress came back to take their order, they both went for coffee, whilst Harry chose the eggs benedict and Molly went for scrambled eggs on toast. If worse came to worst, and she couldn’t stomach the eggs at least she could scrape them off and have buttered toast. Conversation between Harry and Molly never ceased, chat was easy to come by, it never felt forced or like either of them were trying too hard, and when silence did come creeping, neither seemed to feel the need to fill it to save awkwardness. If anything they savoured the quiet for a few moments, taking each other in with quiet contemplation rather than what the other was saying.

Whenever Molly remembered they hadn’t even known each other six months, it felt like she was lying to herself. There wasn’t a soul she could think of, even those she considered her best friends, that she’d felt so comfortable with in such a short space of time. In Harry’s presence she simply felt calm, even when things were heated, she didn’t find herself getting so riled up in the intricacies and her mind didn’t seem to hold onto the details that might normally keep her awake at night. Somehow he lit up the parts of her she loved, and quelled the bits she disliked without making her feel any less like herself. It wasn’t something she’d ever realised she was missing until she had it, staring her in the face with yellow-flecked green eyes.

The food was as delicious as Molly had anticipated it being, and Harry seemed just as satisfied with his brunch choice. Rather than breakfast that morning, they’d opted to lie in bed until the last possible minute and Molly’s doctors appointment forced them to get up. It had been nice to lie in the morning light streaming through the window and giggle and chat, easing into the day steadily. Harry’s arm didn’t retreat from around Molly, even when she rolled away in a giggling fit, his hand just curled to hold the top of her arm to stop her going too far. It had been the best way Molly had spent the first hours of the day in a long time, but it also meant her stomach had started to growl a little, and the eggs on toast went down a treat. Better than expected if she were honest.

They finished up and Harry rested back on his chair, hands resting on his tummy, which he blew out so Molly could see the roundness of it below his jumper.

“Stuffed as a Christmas turkey," Harry sighed, letting his tummy back down.

“Lovely analogy," Molly laughed, looking past Harry to catch the eye of the waitress, who grinned and nodded before trotting off quickly to fetch the bill.

“You’re one to talk," Harry pointed out, though Molly just shrugged and grinned at the approaching waitress, who just placed the bill onto the table and smiled before flitting off again with their empty plates. “Right, pass it here," Harry requested, stretching across the table for the small handwritten receipt.

“I’m paying," Molly reminded him, snatching the paper before Harry could get it.

“Lolly," Harry warned.

“Harry," Molly returned with the same tone of voice, and slightly widened eyes to enforce her point. “You drove to Bath for me, paid for a hotel that you still won’t take any money for, took me for breakfast, bought me flowers, brought me here, literally the least I can do is buy you brunch, so you can please stop trying to be a nineteenth century gentleman and let me fucking pay," Molly listed impatiently. Harry just chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“Can’t be nineteenth century, haven’t got a top hat," Harry announced, grabbing his beanie from the pocket of his coat that was rested over the back of his chair, shaking it out a little to prepare for pulling it back on.

“Wouldn’t suit you anyway," Molly shrugged, reaching down for her bag and pulling her purse from it.

“I can pull of anything, thank you very much," Harry corrected confidently.

“Apart from green beanie hats and top hats," Molly jested, biting the end of her tongue gently as she glanced into her purse for cash, awaiting the response eagerly.

“Hey!” Harry shot, the offence clear in his voice. “You said you liked the beanie this morning."

“It’s important to be nice," Molly told him with a gleeful glint in her eyes as she smirked across the table at him.

“You shouldn’t lie though," Harry pouted, and Molly giggled as she placed cash down on the little saucer alongside the receipt. “Does it really not suit me?” Harry asked quietly, a little mumbled.

“I was joking Harry, it looks good, and you’re probably right, there’s not much you couldn’t pull off," Molly mused, grumbling herself a little, because it continued to take her by surprise the ease with which Harry wore everything from a plain t-shirt to the gaudiest shirts she could imagine that flaunted him in all the best ways.

“Got it in one love,” Harry smirked, annoyingly smug from her compliment. Molly just rolled her eyes and got up from the table, leaving the cash and Harry behind, but checking over her shoulder to make sure there was no trickery in which he ended up paying the way she knew he still wanted to. Despite their conversation, he’d watched her every move as she took money from her purse and placed it on the table, and she could almost see him bite his tongue back from offering his own money again. Harry just grabbed his coat though, and hung it over his shoulder as he took long strides towards Molly who was pushing the door open. “Thanks for brunch," He grinned, finding her hand again, quickly and easily, like it was stranger not to be holding hands as they walked down the street.

“Any time," Molly assured, and meant it, squeezing Harry’s hand just a touch as she said it.

They strolled slowly through the town for a while. It was unlikely that Molly’s prescription would be ready yet, and so Molly took the chance to show Harry around her childhood home a little. As much as she was certain she was going to end up in a big city after university, mainly because she was sure she would have to, to get any kind of decent job in her field, Molly couldn’t deny how much she loved the quaint charm of the town she’d grown up in. All the narrow streets, cobbled pavements and slightly wonky buildings that she knew by heart, all had a little story for her, a memory that filled her with bubbles of joy.

They spent an hour or so strolling around before they headed back to the pharmacist to pick up Molly’s prescription and then onto Harry’s car to head back to the house. On Harry’s instruction, Molly gave him directions for the long way home, taking in as much scenery as they could between the town centre and the little lane of a road that led to Molly’s house. Molly reeled off little stories about the places they passed, each one a trigger to a memory from her childhood - the pub she’d had her first legal drink in, the large oak tree she’d stood behind and had her first a drag on a cigarette, her secondary school that was filled with more memories than Molly could even begin to list.

“Sounds like you had a pretty sweet time here growing up," Harry mused with a soft, happy, smile. Molly just nodded as she watched her world pass by outside the window.

“Yeah, it wasn’t bad," Molly told him. Of course there were parts of her youth that Molly would rather hadn’t happened, memories she would rather not share, who didn’t, but on the whole she had no complaints. It had been a breeze really, and full of love, always. “Well maybe one day you can drive me around Manchester and tell me all the things you got up to, bet you’ve got some stories?”

“Not really," Harry mumbled. “Can hardly remember it at all to be honest, moved down here pretty young," Harry explained, eyes fixed solely on the road, unblinking, his jaw bouncing as he bit his back teeth together quickly.

“How old were you?” Molly asked tentatively. There was an obvious feeling that Harry didn’t want to talk about his childhood, but a few hours previous they’d been curled up, skin on skin. It didn’t feel like too much to ask, to want to know just a little more about what made him, who he was beneath the layer of easy small-talk and award winning smiles perfectly kept and smudgeless. It didn’t feel like too much to want more of him, to want an invite inside.

“Seven," Harry answered quickly, a little too quickly, almost like a snap, like the words had been poised on his tongue ready for the question. Molly just nodded and turned to look out of the window again, her smile faltering, and trying to ignore the sinking feeling that she was being kept out of something she’d rather be let into.

The car ride following that was quiet. It seemed Harry’s mind was whirring as much as Molly’s, neither of them said a word. Molly was wondering what it was about her that made him not want to open up, was it something she’d done, or said, wondering if she’d come on too strong, if inviting herself into his bed was too much, and something made him think he couldn’t trust her. For the rest of the drive, Molly spent the time, watching the world go by in an unfocused blur, thinking back on every interaction with Harry she could remember, and looking at the details, trying to spot what it was that made him keep her locked out. Wondering if it was just her. In typical Molly form, her feelings felt bruised, and she looked for the fault in herself, unable to separate her self-worth from her feelings.

When they pulled up in the driveway, both Molly’s parents cars were there so Harry parked up beside them and turned the car off. Before getting out of the car Molly pulled her coat around herself a little more. As they approached evening any warmth the sun had offered in the middle of the day was dwindling, and Molly felt cold for it before even getting out of the car. She crunched across the gravel, and it was a minute later, when she was about to step up onto the front doorstep that she heard Harry’s car door slam. It shocked her out of her thoughts and she glared over her shoulder at Harry.

“That was aggressive," Molly scalded as Harry steamed towards her.

“Door slipped out my hand, didn’t mean to, sorry," Harry grumbled, though it was clearly a lie. At his sides Harry’s hands were curled into fists and his nostrils were flared wide as he joined Molly on the doorstep so she could let them in. Thankfully the house was warm, and Molly could tell the fire was lit by the smell that greeted them, it started to thaw Molly but not so much the icy atmosphere she thought she felt.

“We’re home," Molly called loudly, kicking her boots of and treading through the house with her coat still on. Harry followed suit though he carried his coat over his arms, the warmth hitting him immediately and not taking a second to heat him through.

“Oh hello, how was it?” Penny asked, fussing in the kitchen with a cloth in her hand and a bottle of antibacterial spray in the other.

“Tonsillitis," Molly told her dully.

“Ah well, good job you went then," Penny winked, looking past Molly to Harry stood behind her who smiled and nodded, hoping he was hiding the frustration underneath better externally than he was internally.

“Yeah,” Molly said, “We’re thinking we’re gonna stay here the weekend if that’s ok?” Molly asked leaning against the worktop, which Penny only batted her off from quickly.

“Yes that’s fine darling," Penny told her distractedly as she wiped over the counter where Molly had put her hands once more. “There’s plenty of food in the fridge, may as well tell Tanya not to bother picking Moseby up later then,"

“Yeah that’s fine, we’ll be here, til…” Molly hesitated, looking back at Harry.

“Sunday lunch time ish?” Harry guessed with a shrug and Molly looked back to Penny.

“Of course, not a problem at all," Penny smiled before getting back to the task at hand - making the house look spotless before they got in the car and drove away for a few days.

“Ok, we’re going upstairs, shout when you’re leaving," Molly told Penny, before turning again and smiling up at Harry nodding towards the hallway.

And shout they did. Jeanie hollered up the staircase letting the house, and probably the whole street thanks to the volume, know that they were off. Harry and Molly left her room where they were looking up cookie recipes to bake later, the conversation in the car, and the mood they’d both been in when they got out, seemingly forgotten entirely. Neither of them had mentioned it, neither planned on mentioning it, it wasn’t worth it, and honestly neither knew what to say because neither knew what exactly had happened.

At the bottom of the stairs Molly said goodbye to her family with hugs and kisses, whilst Harry thanked them for having him, and told them how nice it was to meet them. Penny and Jeanie leant forward to give him a polite kiss on the cheek, which he returned, whilst Terry offered his hand for Harry to shake. Molly just smiled on, the look on her father’s face told her he approved, he liked Harry, he would welcome Harry happily.

“So cookies?” Molly grinned excitedly, turning to look at Harry once the front door was shut behind her family and it was just the two of them.

“Cookies," Harry beamed back in reply. Molly just grinned wider and trotted away from the stairs towards the kitchen. Harry’s footsteps were quick behind her, getting closer until he was on top of her, and next thing she knew his arms were wrapped around her middle, pulling her back into him with squeals of giggles, their pace slowing with clumsy feet as they tried not to trip into the kitchen. Once their feet were secure on the tiled floor Harry turned Molly in his arms and let her step back “Christ, you’re stunning," Harry breathed, eyes flicking over Molly’s face, the features of which had his mind spinning. The blush on Molly’s cheeks was instant and loud even through the makeup she was wearing as she dropped her eyes to her feet. “No, don’t do that," Harry virtually whispered letting one of his index fingers rest under her chin to tip her face back to his.

“Sorry," Molly truly whispered, her eyes soft and heart beating wildly in her chest, so loud and fast surely Harry could hear it over their breathing. Harry just chuckled and raised an eyebrow at Molly’s apology, it had become a running joke how much Molly apologised, normally unnecessarily, and Harry’s subtle pointing out of it had Molly rolling her eyes.

“I mean it though Lolly, you are beautiful, I don’t…” Harry lost his words in Molly’s eyes, and without really thinking, he tipped her head a little more and leant his head forward to press his lips on hers at long last. It wasn’t perfect, not even close, it took Molly a second to register what was happening and it was hard to pull her lips together to kiss Harry back when he already had his lips on her. But it felt perfect. It felt right, it felt like everything slotted together just the way it had been designed to do, and set off exactly the right stirring of emotions inside Molly. It was slightly overwhelming, and a familiar feeling of being about to cry crept up in her stomach, but she bit it down, refusing to cry over their first kiss when Harry was being so gentle about encouraging her closer, and holding her jaw just right.

It didn’t last a huge amount of time, just long enough for them to work out each others lips, feel each other just enough that there was still something left to discover. When Harry let go, their mouths mirrored each other in the soft smile that pulled at the corners. Even under Harry’s golden skin there was a little blush, and Molly knew there would be one twice as obvious on her own cheeks.

“You’ll end up getting sick now," Molly told Harry, breaking the easy silence that blanketed them like a summer’s day cloud.

“Will be worth it," Harry told her, one side of his mouth lifting a little more so his dimple cratered into his cheek. Molly just pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and held the smile behind it as she gazed up at Harry slightly through her lashes. “I’m gonna want to do that again at some point," Harry told her, and Molly just nodded. She wanted to do it again as well, in fact she wanted to do it again right then, before either said another word or Harry’s arms fell from her middle or her hands dropped from his chest were they resting as if for support. So she did, she moved onto her toes and pressed one, lingering, soft kiss against his lips that were still plump and cushiony from the first. Under hers they were soft and supple and made her sure his lips were made to be kissed, and maybe hers were made to kiss them too.

“So cookies?” Molly asked quietly with that same shy, yet playful smirk. Harry just nodded, eyes a little wider than before and jaw hanging open as Molly’s hands slid down from his chest catching his stomach a little before they were at his side and slipped out of his arms.

Together they moved around the kitchen, weighing ingredients and mixing them together, both a little dazed and high on what had happened. Harry didn’t need an excuse to touch Molly or get close, but he found every single excuse he could, reaching around her for the butter and making sure his arm grazed against hers, standing behind her as she stirred things together, and reaching to hold the bowl with her, hand over hers. It was like every single fence had fallen down with just the sweetest of kisses, like there was nothing to hide behind, or from, anymore, and it felt like a whole tonne of bricks had lifted from them and their company for it.

At the back of Molly’s mind was still the look on Harry’s face when she’d asked him about his childhood. It lingered, but she ignored it, put it into a drawer with all the things she kept suppressed in her mind, all the things that might ruin something good, or tear down her happiness. There was something in the way he kissed her, in the way he looked at her like he could lose himself in her just as easily as she was losing herself in him, that made her sure that he would let her in. It wouldn’t be on invitation, he’d just open the door and welcome her in, like she belonged there too. It might take time, but she was sure it would be worth it, and she was sure all the time in the world wouldn’t be too much when it came to Harry.

The cookies baked perfectly and they enjoyed one or two whilst, between them, they rustled something up for dinner. Molly followed Harry’s instruction, happy to admit he was the vastly better cook and knew what he was doing when it came to food. Molly’s appetite wasn’t back to full strength so they settled on pasta with a tomato sauce and plenty of veggies to get some vitamins into her. Considering it was put together with an amalgamation of what had been left in the fridge, it was delicious and Molly managed the whole bowl ful and a little extra taken from the pan of leftovers on the hob.

With bellies full they reclined back on the sofa with the TV on, fire roaring and candles lit. It was sickeningly romantic, but Molly didn’t care, as she curled into Harry’s side and he wrapped an arm around her without even questioning it. It felt natural, but more than that, it felt like it was designed to happen that way, Molly had never known something to feel like that, like all the little things added up to the moment they were in now, so the moment they were in was perfect.

“Shall we put a movie on?” Harry suggested as Molly flicked through channel after channel only to find nothing that interesting on any of them.

“Sure," Molly agreed, groaning a little as she swung her legs from the sofa and got to her feet to check out the DVD shelf. “What do you fancy?” Molly asked scanning the shelves quickly.

“Hm,” Harry thought, watching Molly from behind as she looked over the DVD collection. When he didn’t say anything, too caught up in looking at her, Molly turned to look back over her shoulder at Harry. He lifted his eyes from the tight jeans that looked like they were made for her legs, to her face and smiled innocently. Molly just shook her head with a chuckle and turned back to the shelves.

“Apart from me," She smirked to herself as it rolled off her tongue with ease, she wasn’t really taking the movie collection in anymore, just hanging her tongue from her canine tooth and listening for Harry’s dark chuckle that came as expected along with a bit of movement. A quick glance and Molly found him sat up, sunken into the sofa a little large hands resting over his thighs as his curls spilt down over his firm chest. It was quite the sight, and it wasn’t just Harry whose words got caught in his throat in favour of physical attraction.

“How about we get changed into something a little more comfortable, and then we can make a decision?” Harry suggested, sitting forward a little and his hands brushing down his thighs until they were on his knees, arms bent at the elbow as if he was about to push himself up.

“Ok," Molly agreed turning on her heel as Harry got up from the sofa and followed him out to the stairs, like he was the one who had lived in the house as a child, and he was the one leading her through it.

Once behind her bedroom door, the light on, and the door shut, Molly finally le tout the little squeal that had been bubbling in her stomach ever since Harry laid his lips on hers. From the outside looking in, she was well aware she looked like a foolish teenager who had never been kissed before, but it wasn’t that really. It was more that nothing had ever filled her with so much delight. It felt entirely different to any kiss she’d ever had before. There weren’t any she regretted (well, maybe one, but she wasn’t even sure regret was quite the right word for what had happened with Niall), but she was suddenly aware ofwhat she’d been missing.

The kiss had felt exciting but it had also felt comfortable, like coming home to the best surprise she could imagine, perhaps literally.

Molly found herself something comfortable to put on. A pair of well worn leggings, they were black once, but now they were more of a dark grey from too much washing. The ankles were baggy and the elastic around the waist was almost gone, but she pulled them on over her underwear nonetheless and reached for the plain long sleeved top that was folded over her dressing table chair. It was clean, she’d worn it at Christmas and left it behind, but it hadn’t been put away yet. Lastly, she grabbed the blanket from the end of her bed, the one that had been handknitted with thick wool by her aunt when she was a child, and wrapped it around herself before heading back out of her room.

The light in Harry’s room was off, the door just open, so Molly headed straight downstairs. Harry was back on the sofa when Molly trudged into the lounge, drowned by the blanket she was wearing like a cape. He had the same shorts and faded t-shirt he’d pulled on for bed the previous night, clearly he didn’t feel the cold quite like Molly.

“Cold love?” Harry asked at the sight of her and Molly just shrugged, scooting to the sofa and throwing the blanket over where she’d later sit.

“Just gonna take my medicine, did you want anything from the kitchen? Drink? Snack?” Molly offered, backing out of the room slowly waiting for an answer from Harry.

“Erm, just a glass of water ta," Harry smiled, settling back into the sofa.

“Sure? You can have a beer, or a whiskey-”

“No, no,” Harry grinned. “Just water is fine," Molly nodded and turned out of the room for the kitchen to get Harry’s water and take the prescription they’d picked up earlier for the first time.

Once back in the living room, Molly giggled as Harry wiggled under the blanket he’d pulled up over himself.

“Cold?” She asked with a smile, placing his glass of water down on the table.

“No, just wanna get cosy," He told her with a half smirk, half childish grin. Molly felt butterflies set off in her, and her whole body seemed to tingle with them, as if an electric pulse was making its way around her nervous system.

“Gotta choose a movie first," Molly pointed out, hoping Harry didn’t see how on fire he set her.

“Taken," Harry blurted quickly.

“Taken?” She asked again with a slight dip of her eyebrows.

“Yeah, not seen it and been meaning to watch it," Harry explained. Molly just shrugged and found the DVD on the shelf that Harry had obviously picked out from where he was laid.

With the DVD on Molly tiptoed back to the sofa, and lingered casually, not sure whether to sit at the end of the sofa next to Harry’s feet or make herself comfortable curled up against him the way she really wanted to. Harry put an end to her internally dilemma, lifting the blanket and reaching for her wrist to pull her down to him. They didn’t say a word as Molly lifted her legs and shuffled back against Harry. His arm wrapped around her and draped over her waist, his hand feather light over her stomach.

They laid that way throughout the movie, shuffling around a little every now and again to accommodate for limbs that started to get uncomfortable, but it only made them closer. Harry’s hand stopped hovering so much and laid flat across Molly’s tummy, his fingers tickling her skin through the fabric of her shirt. It was gentle, and barely there, almost subconscious it seemed, but his touch was warm and comforting as they cuddled under Molly’s blanket.

As the movie played through Molly’s mind began to whir. The over protectiveness, the need to know where someone was, bought her mind back to Harry and his continuous insistence that he know when she was home. It repeated through her head and she lost interest in the movie she’d already seen enough times. All she wanted to know was why, if there was a reason. She thought there might be, and she thought it might open a door she wanted the key to, but the fear that Harry would freeze up like he had earlier was louder and clearer. It felt partly selfish to ask when it was glaring that Harry didn’t open up so easily for people, or maybe just her, Molly couldn’t be sure, but when things were suddenly taking bounds forwards, it didn’t feel entirely self-centred to ask about what made Harry the way he was.

“Harry?” Molly asked quietly as Liam Neeson began to negotiate with the men who had stolen his daughter. The movie was one Molly knew well, it was one of her father’s favourites, and she’d seen it enough times to know exactly what was going to happen next. Even if she didn’t know it so well though, she didn’t think she’d be entirely occupied by it considering the motions her mind was through.

“Mmm," Harry hummed, completely enthralled by the movie he’d not seen. Suddenly Molly felt a little guilty for disturbing him, like she should have kept her thoughts entirely in her head until the movie was finished. For a moment she thought about shrugging it off, telling him she was just checking whether he’d fallen asleep or not. It was plausible with how they were laid, her back against his chest, that she wouldn’t be able to tell if he was sleeping. “What’s up love?” Harry asked, his arm sneaking around her middle a little more until his hand was firmly over her belly and pulling her back into him a little more. Molly realised there was no getting away from it now, the clue that something was playing on her mind had obviously been hidden in her voice.

“Just want to ask you something," Molly mumbled quietly, and behind her Harry shifted around a little, giving her room to roll over and face him, which she did. Harry didn’t say a word, just crooked his neck to look down at her a little until Molly shuffled up so they were face to face. His eyes never left hers, waiting patiently and quietly for her to ask whatever it was that was playing on her mind, the way he always did. Harry never pushed, never urged her on and forced her closer to whatever she was tiptoeing around. He always waited for her, always waited until she got there herself, and Molly doubted he quite realised how much that meant. “You know how you always have to know when I get home and stuff?” Molly started, nibbling on her lip once she’d done so.

“Yeah," Harry nodded, but it was clear he had an idea of where he was going, and Molly swore she saw the cogs begin to turn.

“I was just, it’s just, erm…” Molly hesitated, the look in Harry’s eyes, the way his breath slowed and his jaw stiffened made her double guess herself.

“You wanna know why?” Harry finished for her, seeing the way she began to question herself and wishing she wouldn’t. Molly nodded softly, still chewing against her bottom lip, eyes darting over Harry’s face to gauge his reaction. There was a fear in her stomach that she was pushing too far, asking for too much, and he’d shut down like he had when he was in the car and she’d only feel more confused than she had before. At first Harry stiffened and looked past Molly to the wall behind her. It seemed he was fighting some sort of internal battle, like he was trying to figure something out. Eventually he swallowed and cast his eyes back to Molly. “Ok," Harry started taking a deep breath.

It was silent for less than a second, but it felt like it took Molly forever to take in all the things on Harry’s face, drowning in his eyes, as he let out the breath he’d apparently been holding. There were ghosts in irises, they were always there, and Molly had noticed them lingering before, making themselves more obvious from time to time. As they laid on her parents couch, chest to chest, one of his arms gently over her, his hand against her lower back as in case she were to roll back and fall, the ghosts were the most prominent they’d ever been. Molly could almost see the whites of their eyes, but not quite.

“It’s a long story,” Harry started with a sigh, “but basically,” Harry carried on, clearing his throat, clearly nervous, clearly unsure. “After my dad died, I erm, I came down to live with my nan,” finally Harry found Molly’s eyes again, as he started to explain, swallowing on nothing as Molly stared back at him, waiting as patiently as he ever did for her. “I lost contact with my mum, she erm, well I, the last I heard was she was going home, and I’ve not heard from her since, I don’t know if she ever even got home," Harry rambled his last words, spilling from his lips like water out of a knocked glass. It was as if once he started he just wanted to get it out. Molly heard it and inhaled deeply, holding her breath at the top and biting her jaw tight together.

When Harry had told her his father had died when he was a child, there had been a sadness in his eyes that crippled her, but it was a sadness she sort of knew. Death wasn’t a stranger, and all though she felt blessed to not have had anyone close to her pass away, she knew others who weren’t so lucky. However, the sadness, the heartbreak in Harry’s eyes when he told her about his mother, wasn’t one she could even pretend to be vaguely familiar with. It was dark and destructive, like a fire that had come from his core. It was in the way he dropped his eyes, tensed his jaw and his breath shook. More than that, it was in the way his hand seemed to get heavier on Molly’s back, his fingers trying to grip her through her shirt, as if scared he might run away. More than that still, it was the way he looked at her like the child he was when his mother walked away.

“I’m sorry Harry," Molly hardly even whispered, rolling her lips together. Any words she could have said got lost as Harry’s face slowly began to change. First he just swallowed, hard, the lump in his throat bobbing as he did so. He pinched his lips together, the raspberry pink cushions turning into one thin line as the corners started to turn downwards. There was a glisten in the ducts of his eyes that he tried to blink away quickly, thought that only met the wet travel, dampening his bottom lashes. Molly could see he was trying not to cry

“Sorry I,” Harry coughed roughly. “It plays on my mind a lot,” He carried on, his voice forcibly strong as he tried to hold his ground. “Just wanna know the people I care about are safe, sorry, I guess, I mean, I get that it’s a lot-”

“No,” Molly jumped in quietly, shaking her head. “It’s not,” She told him honestly. “I understand,” Molly promised, her hand sliding up his arm until it was resting gently on his shoulder. There was silence as Harry started to steady himself again in the sweet caress of Molly’s reassurance. Slowly he let out a long shaky breath and fluttered his eyelashes to get rid of the tears lingering in his eyes. It didn’t make any difference though, the unspilled tears just hung around, and so Molly moved her hand from his shoulder to his eyes to wipe them out of his lashes gently. For a few moments she’d wondered if he simply didn’t want her to see him cry, but as he let her wipe his tears away it was evident that wasn't the case. Harry sniffed back on nothing and nuzzled his face into the curve of her hand.

There weren’t any words left to say really. Molly couldn’t think of anything more to add, and she was sure Harry didn’t want to talk about it anymore, there was no need. He’d answered her question, he’d let her in, maybe not all the way, but at least she had an idea of what was inside now. Instead of filling the silence with empty words, Molly just moved her head forward and kissed him. His lips were damp from where he’d had them rolled into his mouth as he tried not to cry, and they felt plumper than normal, suggesting he’d been biting on them too. None of that really mattered though, when she felt him unpeg himself from the anxiety that had him tense on edge. He relaxed and encouraged her closer, pulling the blanket up over them both as they got to know one another just a little better.

AT LAAAAAAAASSSSTT! Am I right?!! Or am I right!?! Told you it would be worth it, I hope it is!? Let me know your thoughts, hopefully you’re as excited about this development as I am and for where it’s not heading eeee!

Thanks for the love and thanks to bae @harrysmeadow for being the bestest best friend ever/proof reader/life coach/everything else!

I hope you enjoy <3

#dive #eee #talk to me #im excited #ask box open #ARE YOU HAPPY NOW!?#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry fic #1dff #harry fluff

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weirdponytail · 6 years

Text

Huntik Fanfic: Pneumonia, pt 1

(A/N: Ahh, the sickfic. A staple of fanfiction everywhere.

I think it’s fairly common in the Huntik fanfiction canon that many think that Zhalia wouldn’t let anyone know she was sick. It’s just something that I’ve seen in quite a few fanfics here. And I’ll be honest, I believe it. Certain traumas can make you incredibly averse to showing any sort of vulnerability. To add my own color to it, I personally think that it would be hard for Zhalia to actually get sick. Eating dirt and trashcan food builds that good ol’ immune system up, take my word for it.

But when you get dragged into taking care of two snot nosed kids that track in all sorts of nasty germs from school and you go on long, tropical locale missions, you can’t really stay healthy all the time.

PS– Yeah, I’ve never actually had pneumonia, only a brief and mostly annoying and mild bought with bronchitis. So I’m just going with what google says the symptoms are. And fuck it, it’ll act like viral but it’ll be bacterial, because I don’t feel like getting the entire team sick.)

Pneumonia, pt 1

Zhalia closed the door to her flat as softly as possible. Her flight had been delayed by five hours, but she had let the Fears boys come back to the flat instead of staying at Dante’s another night. She peeked into their room as she went past, satisfied that they were asleep.

It had been a hell of a mission chain. The former spy was starting to regret agreeing to take on some higher risk collection jobs around the Amazon Rainforest, centered on the famous raging river. She had been smashed in rapids, literally wrestled a caiman until she could get Kilthane Summoned, and spent five long nights camped at the edge of the water. Her whole body ached and her ribs felt cracked, her Nerveblock spell having worn off while at the airport, and her head felt like she had put it through a damn window.

To put it simply, Zhalia Moon would have felt better if she had jumped out of a plane with a punctured parachute.

The former spy slipped into her room and deposited her backpack next to the door. Unpacking its mostly sodden contents could wait until morning. She shed most of her clothes, tossed on an old pair of shorts and a loose tank top, and threw herself onto the bed with a wince.

‘Back. Sleep now talk later.’ Zhalia hit send on her message to Dante before plugging her phone in. The room felt unusually cold, and she made a mental note to remind Den and Harrison to ask before messing with the thermostat as she grabbed the edge of her comforter and rolled over.

Curled in her own little piece of warmth and solitude, Zhalia allowed herself to relax and drift off into sleep.

Den and Harrison were used to Zhalia sleeping in after long missions, especially after getting in so late. They didn’t give it a second thought after peeping into her room to see her buried under a wild pile of comforters and pillows, and happily pounced on the couch to play a few rounds of Left 4 Dead co-op with bowls of sugary cereal. It was Saturday after all.

Ten AM came and went. Then eleven. Noon rolled around and there was still no sign of their surrogate sister.

“Hey.” Harrison paused the game, ignoring his brother’s cry of protest. The elder twin was stuck in the menu at the exact moment a Boomer vomited on him. “You think Zhalia’s okay?”

Den looked over at the door to Zhalia’s room. To be honest, he was getting a little worried as well. “I mean…I think so. Dante’s text said she got in at like…three or something.”

The younger twin rubbed his thumb on the side of his controller, still unconvinced. “Yeah, I know, but…should we check on her?”

His question proved unnecessary, because at that moment Zhalia shuffled out of her room looking about as chipper, and about as pale, as the zombies frozen in the game’s pause menu.

“Well look who’s up!” Den cracked a wide grin and nudged Harrison’s bony side, shooting him an obvious ‘see, I told you’ with his hazel eyes. “Harrison thought you were in a coma, Zee.”

“I did not!” Harrison’s eyes narrowed into a glare at his elder twin before he looked back to the dark haired woman making her way to the kitchen. He couldn’t drop the nagging suspicion that something was wrong with her. She was grabbing whatever was nearby for support as she walked, and stumbled a bit when she coughed into a crooked elbow. “Hey, you okay, zus? You don’t look so good.”

Zhalia waved him off with a grumbled nonsensical reply and finally made it to the fridge. She fought with the door for a moment, swearing in garbled growls, before yanking it open and letting it smack hard into wall behind it.

“…Den, I really think something’s off.” Harrison whispered, turning his shoulder to block Zhalia’s sight of his face as she proceeded to down an entire bottle of the cold water they chilled for after training in one go. Her talent for lip reading had gotten him in trouble before.

Den glanced up and tucked his head lower. He had to admit, the brief exchange had him doubting his earlier confidence. “Dude, she didn’t even snark at you.” He dared another quick look, seeing Zhalia glaring at the empty bottle with what appeared to be seething rage.

And then she crumpled to the kitchen floor with a disturbing thud.

“I hate it when you’re right!” Den leapt from the couch, forgotten controller skittering across the coffee table and clattering to the ground. Harrison jerked, startled by the sound behind him, and went sheet white when he saw his sister shivering on the tile. “Call Dante!”

Dante shifted in his usual armchair, Holotome balanced on one hand as he dug around in his pocket for his buzzing cell phone. Lok, seated next to Sophie on the couch as they scrolled through recent reports from the various Casterwill compounds together, grinned slightly and gently took the precious machine off his mentor’s hands so it wouldn’t become acquainted with the ground.

Dante nodded his thanks and managed to pull the offending phone from his back pocket, taking a glance at the screen to identify the caller before hitting the ‘accept’ button.

“Hey, Harrison. Are you all coming over fo- Hey, wait, slow down.” Both teens on the couch looked up at Dante’s sudden change of tone. “Harrison. Harrison! I need you to start from the beginning, okay? Zhalia did what?”

Dante was silent as he listened to the boy on the other end of the call. Lok cast a troubled glance at Sophie as he heard faint yelling in the background, just barely audible from the phone in Dante’s hand.

Both younger Seekers jumped when their mentor suddenly bolted to his feet, phone trapped between his shoulder and ear as he began violently searching the trench coat draped over the back of his chair. “Okay, Harrison, listen to me. I’ll be right there, just put her in the recovery position and get something soft under her head, okay? I’ll be there in a few minutes; just keep an eye on her. I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and tossed the phone on the table, practically turning his coat inside out.

“What’s wrong?” Sophie was already up. She had never seen their usually calm and collected leader act so franticly.

“I need the keys!” The offending key ring clattered to the floor as Dante vigorously shook the trench coat upside-down at his words. He snatched them up and pointed to the Casterwill. “Sophie, call the Venice safehouse and tell them to send a doctor here. I’m taking the car. Zhalia passed out and isn’t waking up. I’m going to get her and the twins.”

Sophie didn’t argue, grabbing her Cypherdex from Lok’s lap and starting her call as her boyfriend got to his feet. “Do you need me to do anything?”

Dante was already halfway out the door. “See if you can find Cherit! We might need his help with an Energy Bath.”

(A/N: This part of the fic was written a good long time ago. It’s gone through several adaptations and changes, and it’s definitely not complete. I’ve held off on abandoning it, and I’m picking it back up again for what feels like the eleventh time. Don’t expect much in the way of another update with this one tonight, but it’ll be worked on I assure you!

~Cheers from North Carolina this time around! :D )

#huntik #huntik: secrets and seekers #huntik fanfiction #sickfic #huntik sickfic #zhalia moon #den fears #harrison fears #dante vale #lok lambert #sophie casterwill #cherit's always out and about playing talking gargoyle statue these days #sickfics used to be a staple of my diet #but i've lost my touch #ah well #was trying to be more realistic this time

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allyinthekeyofx · 7 years

Text

Snow 1/1

For @scully-loves-ruthie in response to the prompt ‘don’t kiss me’ and set in the latter part of the season four cancer arc. Sorry his took me so long to get to. Tagging @today-in-fic

The sound of Scully coughing wakes him up. Because even through the thin walls that separate them his ears immediately pick up on the sounds of her distress, attuned as he is these days to every and all indication no matter how insignificant to others, that something is wrong.

But this sound is in no way insignificant and he is out of bed and moving toward the connecting door before the horrible rasping breathless sounds have even fully died away.

She is half sat, half slumped in the bed before him, one hand palm down, flat against her chest, fingers splayed over her heart, the other loosely fisted and covering her mouth as she tries to draw adequate breath in the aftermath of the attack that has stolen the air from her lungs and sent the blood rushing to her usually pale face.

Her eyes are closed, deep furrows dug into her forehead between her brows and he knows that when she opens her eyes, they will be filmed with tears that she will attempt to hide from him just as she always tries to hide from him.

But this time there is no place to hide. Because as he gets closer to her, there is no denying that she is sick. Mentally he corrects himself; no denying she is sicker and his eyes drop almost involuntarily to the area right below her nose that is mercifully for now at least, devoid of the scarlet wash of blood he has come to know so well. But that is really the only positive he can draw upon right now, because as he gets closer he can quite literally feel the heat of fever radiating off her.

He is close enough now to reach out to her and press the back of his hand to her forehead, sweeping sweat dampened hair to one side gently as she finally becomes aware of him and opens bloodshot eyes to regard him warily.

“Christ, you’re burning up Scully.”

He knows his words are unnecessary because she has way more qualification than him to determine what ails her, but sometimes, stating the obvious in the absence of anything else to say is the safest and only way to keep her from retreating from him; that to show too much concern, too much reaction will just result in her slamming her walls back in place as she absolves him of his perceived burden of responsibility for the continuing state of her failing health. And yes, right now he feels that responsibility more acutely than he has since this whole nightmare began.

Her cancer, the punishing treatments that leave her a little weaker, a little more depleted each time. His continued assurances to Skinner that she is doing okay, that being in the field with him is currently no detriment to her and that actually, keeping her with him and involved in the work is giving her something to focus on, are frankly, beginning to sound hollow even to him; but to admit she shouldn’t be here is akin to admitting defeat and he knows she isn’t yet ready to do that – not to him and certainly not to herself.

More to the point maybe though is the fact that he isn’t ready to admit it either.

But if he’s honest he knew days ago that this trip was a bad idea for her, tried to persuade her that maybe just this once he should go it alone. To leave her behind to get some rest and throw off the slight cold that had been lingering for days; a cold that admittedly had not gotten any worse but which hadn’t gotten any better either.

She had refused of course. Blue eyes flashing at him as she dared him without speaking to push the issue with her, eloquently telling him to fuck right off without even having to open her mouth. Brushing him off with a steely determination he has come to know so well over the years that is as wondrous to him as it is frustrating.

Fine

She was fine.

Always fucking fine.

Until now that she patently isn’t.

He had wanted them to fly home when it became clear that she was struggling, when he looked at her just yesterday as she folded her body gingerly into the passenger seat of their rental and immediately leaned her head against the side window, her hair falling forwards and doing a fine job of covering the expression on her face that he had already known would clearly reflect just how miserable she was beginning to feel as the cold weather they had found themselves plunged into began to take its toll on her battered body.

Just a cold she had said.

Smiling weakly and reminding him of the winter storm that was forecast to hit the area hard and against his better judgement, fearful of being stranded at an airport full of grounded planes should the snowfall be as cripplingly severe as was expected, he had acquiesced and driven them back to the motel. They had arrived back just barely before the gun metal sky dropped oppressively and the snow started to fall. Fat, white flakes that once he would have found beautiful but which instead, had filled him with a sense of impending dread he was unable to adequately explain to himself, let alone articulate to her, watching her swaying on her feet as she tried to curb the shivering that had started the second she left the warm confines of the car and which had seen her try and fail to still the tremors enough to fit her key into the lock of her room door. Finally, when he could bear it no longer he had closed his larger hand over hers and succeeded where she had failed, his concern racketing upwards just by the fact that she had allowed him to take control over even such an insignificant act without objection.

She had promised to take a hot bath while he went in search of food for them both and later, when he returned bearing warm sandwiches and hot soup from the small deli situated a few blocks from the motel, he had knocked gently on the connecting door, shaking off the snow that still clung to his hair before entering uninvited when no response from her was forthcoming.

Finding her curled up on her side, burrowed snugly beneath the heavy woollen blankets, hair fanned across the stark whiteness of starched pillowcases, breathing harshly but evenly as she slept, he lingered for a few moments, scrutinising her carefully for signs of any hidden distress before placing her food atop the battered desk that took up a good chunk of space in the tiny room. He had wanted to touch her, to make contact in some small way to remind himself that she was still here with him, but fearful of disturbing her from the healing sleep she so desperately needed, he had turned instead and returned to his room.

And the weight of responsibility was back like a punch in the gut because if he had stayed, if he had reached out as was his way, smoothed the errant strands of hair from where they had fallen against the parting and put them back in place, he would have felt the feverishness that had clearly escalated rapidly and which now evidenced itself in her seemingly uncontrollable trembling.

“I’m cold. I’m so cold.”

“I know. I need a thermometer Scully, do you have one?”

He almost laughs when she rolls her eyes and gives him one of her patented looks, because he already knows she will have a whole plethora of medical supplies with her, brought on each case and necessitated from repeated experience of nursing him through more scrapes than he cares to remember. His Scully, always prepared for every eventuality although it’s rare even now, despite the cancer that is slowly taking her from him that she herself is ever in need of the contents of that small black holdall.

He finds what he needs almost immediately and she opens her mouth obediently, allowing him to place the thin glass instrument beneath her tongue as she leans her head back against the pillows and closes her eyes but as exhausted as she appears to be, he can’t let her go back to sleep. Placing his palm against her fevered skin he circles his thumb, barely touching her but the action enough for her to open her eyes.

“Hey, stay with me okay?”

He keeps his touch light against her cheek and is somewhat gratified when she leans into him like a kitten seeking comfort and he feels something inside him give just a little, loosening the knot of fear that has remained with him since that desperate day she stood before him and matter-of-factly informed him that she was dying, a fear that gnaws relentlessly at him and reminds him on a daily basis that there is absolutely nothing he can do to make any of this better for her.

But right now, in some small way he is giving her something she needs that for reasons known only to herself under the normal constraints of their daily partnership, she is unable to ask him for. And right now he will take it. Even if tomorrow she retreats back inside herself again to fight this battle in ways that make some kind of sense to her even if to no one else around her.

“102.1 Scully. Impressive.”

Not life threatening sure but still pretty bad.

He places the thermometer carefully on the nightstand and pops two Motrin from the blister pack he had found nestling right alongside it in Scully’s medical bag of tricks, reaching across her to snag the glass of water she had obviously placed there earlier. The pills are held out for her to take from him, but he keeps hold of the glass, sliding his now free hand around the back of her neck to support her head as he brings the glass to her lips, tilting it at just the right angle to allow her to sip at the liquid it holds.

Satisfied when she swallows both pills he lays her back, unable to stop himself from checking her forehead again, as though the effect of the pills will be instant, wincing slightly at the heat he feels there.

“I’m gonna get you a washcloth for your head Scully. I’ll be right back ok?”

But before he can rise fully from his perched position on the edge of the bed she catches his sleeve to prevent him leaving.

“Is it snowing still?”

He smiles.

“Yeah. Coming down hard.”

“Take me outside.”

“What? Scully I don’t think..”

“Please. Just for a minute. Please?”

He wants to refuse. He has no idea whether exposure to the cold will make her fever worse, but he isn’t sure he knows how to refuse her anymore, or that he has the desire to even try and so he cocks his head to one side, regarding her thoughtfully where she holds his gaze, all fever flushed fragile strength, this woman who holds the key to all the questions he has ever asked and has given so much of herself to him while receiving nothing but heartache in return and his decision is suddenly an easy one.

“Okay. But just for a minute and only if you let me carry you. No standing up for a little while until you feel better.”

And those eyes. Those beautiful eyes that continue to anchor him, to ground him when he feels like the whole world is falling out from beneath his feet suddenly brighten just a little as the merest ghost of a smile forms on her lips before just as quickly it is gone.

“Deal” she whispers.

*************

It is later now although he isn’t sure exactly how much time has passed as Scully sleeps warm against him and the snow continues to fall, blanketing the area around the motel in a pristine bluey whiteness that tomorrow will be dazzling but tonight is like a salve to his tired eyes.

He had wrapped her in blankets, lifting her easily into his arms as he tried to ignore how weightless she now seemed, how fragile her hands felt as she laced her fingers together and she rested them against his shoulder, anchoring herself to him as he used his foot to open the door, stepping outside and walking with her just a couple of steps until he reached the small wooden bench that sat flush against the outside wall and protected them from the falling snow by the two foot wide overhang of the sloping roof above. He had angled her so she sat sideways against him, head resting against his neck as she watched the snow fall and he had held her tightly to him breathing in the scent of her hair as it stirred gently in the slight breeze and tickled him in just the same way as the feather light flakes had earlier that afternoon.

They hadn’t spoken for long minutes until Scully had lifted her head and pressed her lips to his skin, velvety soft they had lingered for just a moment, her breath like gossamer strands in the frigid air.

“Thank you.”

He had known then that she had seen what she needed to see, to experience this exquisite force of nature and to know she was still able to appreciate such beauty even in the midst of so much uncertainty. And even more so that she still needed him to be with her, to share in these small moments of time when they could let go of the pain and the fear and the regret for just a single heartbeat.

And he understood.

Perhaps for the first time he truly understood how much he loved her, feeling the burn of barely suppressed tears behind his closed eyelids as he tracked small kisses across her forehead, the soft downy surface of her cheek and finally the corner of her mouth. Smiling despite himself as he heard her whispered admonishment in response.

“Mulder no, don’t kiss me. You’ll get sick.”

“Too late for that now Scully.”

Tightening his arms around her he kissed her just once more, knowing that whatever the future might bring he would hold onto this moment, storing it in his memory to bring comfort when things got bad.

This night when he held her close against him as they sat warm together.

Just watching the snow.

End

#my fic #prompts #snow #cancer arc #fluff #angst

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