gildengirl

[gildengirl]

Genuinely screamed when I saw this

Hey. Here’s a totally random short. I love Townsend/Abby. Hopefully I got the vibes somewhat close to cannon hah! @gildengirl I hope I do some justice to your fav pairing!

“Please, Edward.” Abby was not the begging type, but the man in front of her stood stoically, gazing out the window at the dark landscape.

“Abigail. You cannot possibly be asking me to do what I think you’re asking of me. I simply cannot risk my reputation on this.” He sighed in frustration. He clearly was still refusing to face her. He hadn’t faced her all day, all week, for that matter. Agent Edward Townsend was a coward.

“I’m not asking you for the sun and the moon. I’m asking you for time. Can you please, at least, give me time?” She tried to step closer, but he edged backwards. For the first time, his eyes flicked to meet hers.

“Abigail, don’t.”

“Don’t what?!?” She couldn’t help herself from snapping at him. She was beyond frayed and tired. “Ready to snap” was a phrase Abby was living her life by this past week. Even Rachel’s plans were falling to pieces under the Circle’s pressure. Blackthorne had not gone to plan. According to Cam, who was plenty banged up, the journal they were looking for had already been in their possession. They hadn’t been betting on Joe. They were about to lose Joe.

“Don’t beg. It isn’t becoming. It’s not you, and I won’t hear it. I have given you time. More time than I should have. I already have MI6 breathing down my neck. What would you have me do? Hmm? You can’t possibly be asking me to trust him.” He sounded so skeptical. She couldn’t really blame him.

She looked out the dark window down at the campus she knew so well. She had never felt less at home here. Something about that made her want to break something. She had to get him to understand.

“If you do this to my family, Townsend, I swear to you I will never forgive you. I will never talk to you. Whatever this is? You and me? Done. I won’t be able to forgive you for this.”

She meant it. She had stood on the sidelines of her sister and nieces’ lives for too many years after Matt’s disappearance. She swore to herself that she’d never let something get in the way of them again, even him. Even if it would kill her inside to let him go.

Rachel had to let go of Matt because of her: Matt, Joe. She refused to let herself relive those moments after the blast all week. Catherine was gone, her goons with her. She, Rachel, and the Baxters were navigating around the blown-up spots of the tomb. Of course, it had to have been Rachel who found Joe. He looked dead. Pale, thin from being on the run, and absolutely covered in ash from the explosion. Abby never wanted to relive her sister’s silent crying, panicking to find a pulse on Joseph Solomon. If it weren’t for Rachel’s being a mess, Abby would have done the same. Joe really looked gone in that moment.

He huffed and rolled his eyes. “So now that you’re upset with me, it’s Townsend? I seem to remember the beginning of this week when you were knocking at my door. Not so formal then, were you?”

Despite herself, she gave a small smile. “You didn’t seem to mind at the time.”

He grumbled. “You weren’t using our connection to manipulate me into letting Joseph Solomon off the hook for literal treason. He’s a double agent. I know that you all like him, but this is my job.”

“We don’t just like him. You don’t understand. He’s one of my best friends. He’s my sister’s only friend; she really relies on him. He’s my niece’s only male role model after Matt. We love him. I love him.”

Townsend recoiled slightly, and Abby knew that she might have to explain that one further. Townsend threw her for an absolute loop when he asked, “What about Solomon’s little shadow? Zachary? Her son just happens to follow this man around, and you don’t all see that as a potential conflict of interest? He very clearly cares for the boy.”

Abby had considered that too when she’d first heard about Joe’s past. After knowing Joe, reading the journals, and talking with Zach, she knew that the only conflict of interest belonged to Zach. Poor kid’s only parent was part of a terrorist organization. “Joe is helping him to see that there’s a life outside of the Circle of Cavan. He’s a good kid. He’s trying to the right thing.”

Townsend heaved a sigh, dragging his hand down his face. “You love him? Do you have a history with him? Is that why you’re asking me to let him die?” He used his hands to emphasize the question.

Abby stepped towards him again. This time, he didn’t back away. She brushed a curl off his forehead. Looked him in the eyes. “I do love him, as a friend. I think… I think my sister might be in love with him. We have no history worth mentioning, I promise. Just friends. I’m not asking you to trust him. I’m asking you to trust me. Do you trust me?”

He leaned forward. His hand caressing the side of her cheek. She melted a little, even though she shouldn’t have. She had a point to prove. She lost her train of thought when he kissed her softly. She looked into his eyes and said as sincerely as she could manage, “I would never ask you to do something I wouldn’t or couldn’t do. I trust him. I trust this. I’m sure that Joe isn’t the circle member you think he is.”

He listened, playing a string frayed off the neck of her sweatshirt. “How are you so confident? Might I ask?”

“Can you keep a secret?” He rolled his eyes and smirked. “No, Abby. I can’t. I’m a secret agent who cannot keep a secret.” She grabbed his hand, dragging him down the halls.

She walked down the hall of history to her sister’s office. She knew that Rachel always kept it locked, which is why Abby had the second key—just this week—so that Abby could help out while Rachel sat with Joe. She opened the door, flipped on the light, and pulled Townsend inside. She sat on the leather couch and pulled Matthew’s journal into her lap. He sat gingerly beside her.

“Is that?” Pointing at the book.

“Yes. You can read it, but I’m begging you to return it to me and not to tell anyone that I showed you this.”

“It’s Matthew’s, yes?”

“Mmhmm.” Was all that she could choke out. “Edward. I won’t beg you to not turn Joe in, I truly think you’ll look at him differently. I am begging you though that you don’t look at me differently?”

Townsend sighed, “If I do see things differently?”

“I”…Abby almost didn’t want to imagine it. “I don’t know. I would have a really hard time. My family is already a mess. They’ve gone through enough. I’ve….. I’ve done enough damage.”

Edwards blue eyes pierced through her soul. “What do you mean?”

“I’m the last person he was supposed to see.”

He started to tell her something, but she refused to hear it. She stood and ushered them out of the office. He went to take her hand, but she wouldn’t let him. She walked away before she could cry.

She found herself in the passageway leading to Joe’s room. She could hear the machines beeping, and as she rounded the corner, she saw her sister on a chair next to Joe. She was wide awake.

“You coming to visit him or me?” She asked quietly. As if it would wake him. Abby would love to get into a screaming match loud enough to wake Joe.

“Ummm. Him.”

“Were you with Agent Townsend earlier? I thought he’d left.” Rachel sounded cool, but Abby knew better. Her sister was holding a bit of a grudge over Joe’s arrest.

“Yes. He’s working on some paperwork for MI6.”

Rachel sighed, looking at Joe. “We are so lucky that this was off the books. He doesn’t strike me as the type to leave anything out if it were. Maybe he won’t have to include anything about Joe? Just looking for the journals?”

Abby sat momentarily stunned. This wasn’t off the books. Not in the least. Why did Rachel think that it was? “It was off the books?”

Rachel looked at her. “That’s what Agent Townsend reported to me. Is that not your understanding? Agent Townsend is certainly smart enough to know that we would hide him if Joe was going to be turned in.”

Abby hated lying to Rachel and very rarely did so, but this felt like the right thing to do. “No, I was under the impression it was off-book, and Edward wouldn’t do that.” She hoped she was correct with the last part. As principled as he was, maybe he would, if he considered it the “right thing”.

Abby would reconsider in the morning. She left Rachel with Joe, told her to get some sleep, and headed to bed herself.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was early. Too early for Abby to be awake. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She needed to talk with Townsend. She dressed and walked to the room he was in. She knocked on the door. Nothing. She knocked again. Nothing. She opened the door and found the room to be empty. He really was a coward. No sight of Matt’s journals. She would physically kill him if he took those to MI6.

She started towards Rachel’s office, ready to come clean when she spotted him. Crouched next to Rachel’s door, ever so carefully sliding Matt’s journals under it.

“I thought I told you that you could return those to me,” her patience all but gone.

He didn’t seem surprised to see her there. He rose slowly and walked towards her. Abby liked to consider herself the time of woman who was hard to surprise, but he seemed to be a frequent exception. He wrapped his big arms around her shoulders in what could only be described as a hug. Agent Edward Townsend was attempting a hug. He pressed his lips to her forehead and told her in a hushed tone, “Abby, I’m sure you won’t believe me, but in my professional and personal opinion, you have no responsibility in Matthew Morgan’s disappearance.” Abby felt the wind leave her. Every thought went quiet as she tried to restrain herself from crying. He clearly didn’t understand the full picture.

She distracted herself by landing on one singular thought: “You were leaving without saying goodbye again. Weren’t you?”

He released her from their hug, picking up his backpack and leaning against the wall under the Cavan’s sword. He gazed at it for so long that she started to wonder if she had spoken the words aloud.

“Edward?”

“I heard you. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me.” He was still looking at that stupid sword. “I always thought it was Solomon who killed your brother-in-law. They normally aren’t above that sort of thing.”

Abby felt a cold, hard sense of dread creeping up her spine. “Did you finish your report?”

“Yes. I did.” Were his only words in reply.

“Why did you tell Rachel this was off the books?” Abby had to know.

“To buy as much time as possible, to sort things out. MI6 I can handle. The wrath of your sister? No, thank you.”

Abby ventured, “You did sort things out? Are you going to turn Joe in?”

“No. Joe Solomon clearly enjoys the Circle of Cavan as much as I do. I had genuinely thought that if he were capable of killing Agent Morgan than he was a danger to anyone. Your brother-in-law however convinced me that Joseph Solomon is not a danger to anyone but himself.”

Abby breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness Matt wrote everything down then. Who knew it’d be Joe’s literal get out of jail free card. Thank you for hearing me out…I….Why would I not want to see you then?”

He laughed without much humor. “You know, love, you aren’t one for sticking around after any sense of emotional vulnerability.”

She decided to let the comment slide for the time being, considering it held some truth.

“So you’re leaving then?” she asked.

“Yes. Off to explain how I’m late on a report for the first time in 11 years. They aren’t too pleased with me at the moment.” He looked at his shoes.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want you to be in trouble. I seem to get you into trouble a lot. At least I’m worth it.” She said with a wink.

He smirked at her. “You do. It certainly livens up my jobs…. Admittedly, yes. That’s probably true.”

Maybe he wasn’t as big of a coward as she gave him credit for. He turned without another word, headed down the hall of history. He called over his shoulder, “Do be smart, love.

~~~~~~~~~~

Uhhhh. I feel deep in my soul that Townsend is jaded from Catherine and worried about how convincing Abigail Cameron can be…… maybe that’s part of the reason these two take forever??

[gildengirl]

1000%. Ain’t no way Zach’s love for M&M’s is a coincidence

You wanna know what's my roman empire?

My roman empire is that Matt knew about Zach.

Matthew Morgan knew about Zachary Goode and what that boy meant to Joseph Solomon.

In OSOT Joe says that Matt knew Joe was emotionally too attached to the circle and while he said that he glanced at Zach. Like what did Matt think of Zach? Did he view him as his best friend's son or his enemy's? Did he know that one day Joe would make Zach and Cam meet? Would he have trusted Zach to love his daughter?

[gildengirl]

Recently I've found myself wondering about Townsend. Like what was he thinking or how was he feeling?

Looking at the woman he hates, his son's mother. Looking at his son who looks like him but has the eyes of that terrible woman. Looking at his son whom he doesn't even know. Looking at his son who is already an adult. Standing inside the house where that horrible woman should've raised his son but where his son ended up raising himself. Standing inside the house where his son had been afraid and alone while he had been totally ignorant of his son's existence.

[gildengirl]

“Where did you go? When you were looking for me?”

CRAZY 🗣️ I WENT CRAZY 🗣️

[gildengirl]

December Prompts

23) Ursa Major - Abby x Townsend

Half a decade before the events of LYKY, Abby and Townsend are completing a mission in Dubai over Christmas with Abe Baxter in tow. (4,527)

———————————————————————

“Come on Townsend, truth or dare?”

“I don’t know how many times I can tell you Abigail, I’m not playing that childish game with you two.”

“Oh come on, lighten up! It’s Christmas!”

“I told you Abs, Stick-in-the-mud Bond over there will never give in, no matter how much you bat your eyelashes at him. He’s far too formal and stubborn for that.”

“Fine, Abe, truth or dare?”

“…Truth.”

“A couple of years ago you and Grace disappeared on an assignment with Rach in Casablanca. You told her you were held up by roadblocks and security checks.” Cautiously, the man nodded, an embarrassed flush already beginning to spread across his face as a wide smirk grew along hers. “Where were you really?”

“You’re evil.” Abby threw her head back in unbridled laughter as the man just shook his head and threw another shot back, grimacing as the second bottle of Russian vodka she had smuggled into the country with them trickled down his throat. “Speaking of Grace, I’m going to give her and Bex a call before you knock me out with this stuff. They should be up by now.”

“It’s just gone 19:00 back home, shouldn’t you have called them at lunch?”

“They’re not in London mate.” He shot Townsend a wink before clambering to his feet and stumbling towards the hotel room across the hall that the boys were staying in.

That just left Abby, warmed by one of her brother-in-law’s sweaters and sat cross-legged on the floor, in the company of Townsend, still adorned in his formal dress pants and shirt, perched stoically on one of the stiff kitchen chairs. Looking up at him, she let out a small laugh at the exasperated roll of his eyes, at the disapproving shake of his head, at the quiet huff of disapproval he gave as Abe tumbled out of the door.

“Don’t you two know how irresponsible it is for you to be drinking on the job?” Usually, his condescending tone would boil her blood and grate her teeth, but she was giddy with the flush of the holidays and the alcohol, could only grin at him. Besides, maybe he had a point.

Not that she’d ever tell him that.

“Save me the lecture Townsend, Abe’s your senior agent by over a decade and I started my training before you even packed your bags for university.” Another roll of his eyes and a scoff at the reminder of her school, her grin growing as his took on a slightly chastised look at the reminder of the pecking order in their little trio. “Anyway, we’re just hanging around until the banquet in a few days. We’ve already done all the recon and prep work. I’d hardly call it on the job.” She couldn’t resist the mocking English accent that slipped out, his bashful glance at the floor transforming into an irritated glare.

“We have covers to maintain, guards to keep up. If someone had come to the hotel-”

“No one is suspicious or looking for us-”

“We can’t know that for sure-”

“And if someone was, then that’s what we have you for. To save the day or whatever.”

Flattery clearly worked on him. The sharp glare on his face, the harshness of his eyes melted, leaving behind only a mildly disgruntled man. “I thought I was invited for my Arabic skills.”

Ugh. Egotistical ass.

“Your Arabic sucks. If anything blows our cover here, it’ll be you asking for a sandwich when the guards request our tickets, not Charlie Chaplin out there tumbling down the stairs after a few too many shots.”

She chuckled slightly at the mental image, trying to imagine him meekly trying to explain to Grace, no Sweetheart, the presidential guard didn’t break my arm, that was the fault of Abby trying to needle details of our personal life out of me. Honestly, Abby reckons she’d find it funny.

“Still-”

“Oh give it a rest Townsend. He just spent Christmas Day in your company rather than his wife and kid’s. He misses them and needed cheering up.” Abby prodded him with her foot, not quite sitting close enough to the man to read him with her hand, in an effort to get him to leave the topic alone. Abe had seemed miserable all day. The first time she saw him smile since the sun rose had been when he dared her to prank call Joe from their burner phone.

Of course, Abby had been missing her own family as well. Although she had spoken briefly with them a few hours ago, she still missed her niece laughing as Matt insisted on keeping up the pretence of Santa Claus despite her figuring out the truth three Christmases ago. She missed her brother-in-law’s gentle teasing when Rachel inevitably tried to help with dinner only to burn whatever she touched and injure herself in the process. She missed her sister’s stern insistence on watching It’s A Wonderful Life once Cam had gone to bed, the way she’d inevitably get upset and drag Abby in for a cuddle when George Bailey discovers his brother’s grave, not letting her go until the evening had long become the night. It was hardly the first Christmas Abby had spent without her family, nor would it be the last, but she missed them all the same.

Perhaps Townsend could see that on her face, or perhaps her words reminded him of whatever family he was apart from today, or perhaps he was just growing atypically obedient, because he did proceed to drop it. Grateful for the reprieve, Abby took a breath, tried to force the happy grin back on her face before her lamenting about working over Christmas brought the mood down.

“So, truth or dare?”

“Do you ever take no for an answer?”

The grin on her face became genuine, his incredulous tone pleasing her. “Rarely. Truth or dare?” She nudged him with her foot again, jabbing at his thigh over and over again the longer he refused to answer her question.

“You’re incorrigible.” She nodded and kept prodding his leg. “Stubborn.” Nodding again, she didn’t fail to notice the slight pulling of his cheek on his lips, a minuscule smile starting to form on his mouth. “The most annoying women I’ve ever met.”

“I’m amazing, I’m incredible, I’m like no one you’ve ever met before. Don’t worry Townsend I’ve heard it all before from men and women much dreamier than you.” Smile growing, he rolled his eyes at her again, hopefully too distracted to pick up on the way her tipsy muscles couldn’t hide the twitch in her face at the lie. She wasn’t ashamed to admit, in her head, that Edward Townsend was an unfairly attractive man. “Now, truth or dare?”

“What is it with you and this game?”

Nostalgia rippled through her bones, her body overtaken by the memory of high ceilings and stained glass windows, of limestone walls and giggling schoolgirls. A soft smile settled on her face, eyes focusing on something far away from their warm hotel room.

When she spoke, her words were whimsical, longing, carrying the kind of sentimentality an operative shouldn’t have. “My roommates and I used to play it at school all the time, from midway through seventh grade until the day we graduated. It started off as a good way to get to know one another, then a way to learn to trust one another, then a way to cheer one another up. Whenever one of us had a bad day, or if we argued, we’d play for half an hour before bed, even if we had assignments to do or finals the next day.”

She remembered playing after Emmy was told her father missed a call in, playing every night until she got the news that he was okay. She remembered playing when Felicia and Trix got in a fight over the boy who delivered the papers to the Academy gate every morning, a boy who didn’t even know they existed. They played endlessly that night, her two roommates giving one another more and more outlandish dares until the girls all fell to the floor in heaps of giggles. She remembers playing her first night back within the school’s walls after her mother died, the way she asked for a truth and fell into her best friend’s lap crying when Emmy asked her, are you okay?

Something in Townsend’s face had softened uncharacteristically at her wistful tone. It looked strange on him. He moved silently from his chair to the floor, looking unnatural as he settled himself opposite her, his knees brushing against hers. The smile on her face grew amused. His position looked outlandish for a man as formal as him, like an overgrown alien child visiting Earth for the first time. Muttering an almost fond, you and that bloody school, under his breath, he reached out for the bottle sat between her legs and took a swig, unfazed as the lukewarm liquor burnt down his throat.

Words soft now, he asked her another question, not knowing the reaction it would trigger. “Do you still play? You and your roommates?”

Heat burned behind her eyes at the memory of them, of the four girls she remembers burying some years ago. Felicia had become Mrs Truman, choosing to remove herself from the world of espionage and marry that kind paper boy from Roseville after an assignment her first year in the field left her with shaking hands and nights interrupted by screams. Abby has visited a few times, but she doesn't recognise the sister she knew. Trix had become Beatrice, moving her way up the ladder of politics to become one of the president’s youngest advisors. They talk occasionally, but there isn’t much they can share with one another, the need-to-know boundaries of their work getting in the way.

Emmy had become Emilia Young, beloved friend and daughter, whose decision to enrol in the secret service after graduation had doomed her.

She shook her head, sniffled slightly, all too aware of the single tear betraying her cool facade and trickling down her cheek. “No.” The whisper was unnecessary, but Abby had never been comfortable with silence.

Clearly uncomfortable with her sudden display of humanness, Townsend’s gaze looked away from her own, shuffling awkwardly on his spot on the floor as he took another swig from the bottle.

She collected herself. Took a deep, silent breath and cleared the haze from her eyes. Steeled her nerves and forced the happy, the fun, the careless, back onto her face. The quiver in her lips died, the heat spreading up her neck from her chest cooling to ice, the ache in her heart subsiding for now. Reaching forward, she joined him in forgoing the shot glasses, wrapping her fingers around the neck of the bottle as he pulled it from his mouth and took it from him, moving it to her own. The rim of the bottle was warm where his lips had been, and she watched him watch her as she tilted her head back.

She swallowed. Once. Twice. Smiled at him.

“Truth or dare?” He groaned, sounding one more probing attempt away from screaming. Remembering Abe’s words from earlier, she tried making her eyes wide, tilting her head, pouting her lip ever so slightly. It was a common face for her to pull when she wanted something, specifically whenever she wanted a man to do her bidding. Matt always caved, as did Joe more often than not, Abe typically giving in with a heavy sigh. “Come on, please.” Townsend just shook his head at her, sighing, a small wry grin starting to form on his face. “Please.”

“…Truth.”

Bingo.

Delighted, she threw her head back in laughter, face taken over by a broad smile. Something light and warm had built up in her chest, something that glowed as his grin grew slightly in response to hers.

Probably the vodka.

She pivoted where she sat, moving so she was perched beside Townsend on the cold floor with her knees tucked up to her chest, her arms wrapped tight around them. His eyes tracked her as she moved, causing something to flutter in her stomach. The heat from his body soothed her from her fingers to her toes, the skin where his knee brushed against her calf breaking out in goosebumps. Hazy as her mind was, she had to resist the sudden urge to drop her head on his shoulder, to collapse against his solid frame and just breathe. Instead, she angled her head towards him and caught his eyes, the light in her heart shining at the light she saw in them.

“Tell me something about yourself that I don’t already know. Anything.”

“I thought truth or dare required specific questions?”

“Fine, tell me something about your childhood. Rumour has it even you had one of those.”

“That’s still not a question. Do you know what questions are Abigail or do you always just command people?”

“Oh please, you like it when I command you.” She blinked at her own words, not quite knowing how they slipped out of her mouth. Shaking her head, she ignored the flush creeping up the man’s face and tried to move past it. “Um, I mean-” Unfortunately, the vast amount of shots she had taken with Abe earlier in the night had left her slightly tongue-tied. “-Oh just pick something and tell me!”

“Something?”

“Yup, whatever you want.”

“Well since you asked so nicely…”

“Shut up.” She drove an elbow lightly into his ribs, ignoring the skip of her heart when he let out a deep chuckle, trying to remember if she had ever heard him laugh as freely as that before.

He hummed quietly while she treated herself to another drink, eyes darting around the hotel room as he ruminated. Something outside caught his attention, teeth clenching in thought. Glancing from the window to her and back again, he took a deep breath and sighed, clearly resigning himself to whatever teasing he was about to subject himself to by sharing what was on his mind.

“When I was a kid, in secondary school I mean-”

“What the fuck is that? Like high school?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know, it’s school between the ages of 11 and 16, sometimes 18.”

“Sometimes?”

“Can I finish what I was saying now?” Waving a hand at him, the universal signal for go ahead, she grinned to herself at the flare of irritation that had built back up on his face. It overcame the brief discomfort that had settled upon him when he started opening up, the tension of his jaw and thickness of his throat being replaced by tired eyes and a disapproving stare. “When I was a teenager, I was a bit… intense in school-”

“You mean you were a nerd right? Because I’ll be honest, that’s not news to me, you kind of scream I was smarter than everyone else and I got bullied for it.”

“Are you going to interrupt me the entire time?”

“Probably.”

“Great.” Dry tone making her laugh breathily, he swiped the bottle from her hands and took a swig, the brush of his fingertips against hers sending tingles up her arm. “Yes, I was a bit of a nerd. But my answer to your non-question was that one of the things I got a bit nerdy about was astronomy.”

“…Like star signs and horoscopes? I didn’t think you were the type.”

“That’s astrology Abigail, and it’s a completely made up science designed for fraudsters to scam people out of their money.”

“Of course you would say that. God you’re such a Capricorn.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means tell me about astronomy before I start asking you your time and place of birth.”

Groaning in exhausted displeasure, he ran a hand across his face and through his hair, disrupting the neat lie of the dark waves until they scattered across his head in disarray, making him look disheveled. It looked unnatural on him. As he moved to take another gulp of the vodka, she couldn’t resist reaching out and fixing it, soothing the wayward flyaways and restyling the ebony locks.

She caught his eye. He gulped. The breath caught in her throat.

She didn’t recognise the soft look that passed over his face before he stood up, the crinkling around his eyes and the creasing of his lips. It made her heart flutter in her chest. Not nervous, Abby had never been nervous around him. In fact, she was never usually anything but aggravated in his presence. She just didn’t have another name for the feeling.

Towering over her as he rose to his feet, he held out a hand for her to take. When she did, his hand warm and firm around hers, triggering lightning to ripple down her spine, he pulled her upright, catching her with a sigh as she stumbled slightly on her feet. A giggle tumbled out of her mouth. The strange, soft look on his face intensified and he shook his head in, annoyance? Astonishment? Wonder? Abby couldn’t tell anymore.

“Come on Abigail, I’ll show you.”

He escorted her to the floor-to-ceiling windows that covered the hotel’s external wall. Perfect for surveillance, Abby had said. Perfect for counter-surveillance more like, Townsend had grumbled back. Abe had told them both to shut up, both men ignoring the childish way Abby had stuck her tongue out in victory when the senior agent had sided with her anyway. She was pulled to a stop in front of the glass, face nearly pressed up against it with his warm body hovering close to her back, hand still firm around hers. When he leaned down to whisper to her, she could feel his breath dancing across the shell of her ear and infecting her brain, making her dizzy.

“You see that star there, the brightest one?” The hand holding hers reached up towards the window, pointing her own finger in the general direction of the stars. All she could do was hum in acknowledgement, slightly distracted by the waft of a woody scent coming from him, by the scent of his cologne. “That’s the-”

She took a guess, just to annoy him. “North Star?” In the reflection of the window, she caught him grin down at her ever so slightly. Huh. Not quite the annoyance she was aiming for.

“Is that the only one you know?”

“That depends. Is there a South Star?”

“Not really. There’s technically a southern pole star called Polaris Australis, but that’s just the closest star to the southern axis. It’s not as bright as the North Star so it never had the religious, mythological, or navigational associations as-”

“You’re losing me Townsend. I’m starting to see why you got beat up in secondary school.”

“I never said anything about being beaten up.” Her head lolled backward, an incredulous look on her face as she stared up at him. Though his eyes rolled at her mocking of his accent, at the cock of her eyebrow, he shrugged slightly in resignation, her head bouncing where it had sat against his shoulder. Grumbling an embarrassed whatever, he refocused her hand and eyes on the night skyline. “It’s called Arcturus; it’s the brightest in the northern hemisphere.”

The Latin came to her in a flash. “Guardian of the Bear.”

“Hmm. One of the Greek myths states that Arcas, a hunter, was the son of Zeus and a nymph called Callisto. When he was born, Hera turned his mother into a bear out of jealousy while Zeus hid his son in Arcadia. One day when Arcas was hunting, his mother saw him and went to embrace him, momentarily forgetting about her transformation. He went to shoot her, so Zeus turned them into constellations to spare them both from that fate. Arcas was turned into Boötes, the constellation made of Arcturus and these stars here.” He moved her hand in a small sweeping motion, gesturing to the rest of the constellation that she couldn’t possibly focus on when he was talking like that, voice deep and quiet.

“So less Guardian of the Bear, more, Attempted Murderer of the Bear.”

“Maybe they thought… Arctoccisor Incassum didn’t have the same ring to it.” Abby chuckled slightly at his fabricated Latin, catching his smile in the reflection of the window and shaking her head at him.

“So what happened to his mother?”

Townsend pressed his body even closer to hers, his unoccupied hand settling lightly on her waist to re-angle her slightly. The scent of him choked her, the heat of him burning through her clothes. She felt breathless all of a sudden, like he had spiked the drink they shared or planted a napotine patch on her while she was distracted by his story.

“She was turned into the constellation Ursa Major, just there, also known as The Great Bear.” Joined hands drifting to the left, he pointed at a new collection of stars near his original target, fingers shifting slightly each time he pointed out a new aspect of the constellation. “See the bright little scoop attached to the quadrangle? That’s The Plough, or Big Dipper as you Americans would call it. It makes up part of Ursa Major. The rest of the constellation is the two trails of stars leading upwards, and the pentagon to the left formed by these stars here.”

She cocked her head at it slightly. “Is it supposed to look like a bear? Cause it really doesn’t.”

“Well it’s upside down here- Don’t do that.” He grabbed both her shoulders from behind, spinning her slightly to face him head-on as she started to tilt her body in order to get a better angle. “You don’t have the stability right now to keep yourself upright should you start throwing yourself around.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” The protest was weak, her batting hands weaker, as the excessive abnormal movement really had made her feel a bit off balance.

“So, are you satisfied?” Abby could only give him a blank look, lost on what he could mean. The movement of his thumbs up and down her arms was very distracting. “My truth?”

“Oh!” The game they were playing suddenly came rushing back to her. “I suppose it’ll do, although I think I learned more about how Zeus and Hera needed marriage counselling than I did about you.” Although she couldn’t resist the teasing, shooting him a wink as she tilted her head to the side, a mischievous smirk breaking out across her face as his own settled into exacerbation, she wasn’t being completely honest. She had learned the way he smelt, the way his hands felt around hers. The heat of his body and the way her own quivered when his voice was lost in thought. She had learnt the softness of his eyes and the silk of his smile, the pounding of his heart against her back and the unsteady thumping of her own in her chest.

It wasn’t what she had asked after, but it was a lot more than she bargained for.

“Truth or dare Abigail?” She blinked at him, suddenly very aware of how close they were, of the breaths that left his lungs only to dance along her own lips. It made her dizzy. The smirk on his face, the raise of his eyebrows, the smugness in his eyes, made her furious. “It’s my turn right? Truth or dare?”

Cocking her hip out and tilting her head to the side, she assessed him. His broad frame and towering height, the deepness of his eyes and the effortlessness of his hair. Not one to back down from a challenge, Abby raised her own eyebrows, painted a smirk onto her own face. Eyes locked on one another, she shifted backwards slightly, his hands dropping to her wrists as she moved, searching for the oxygen he was depriving her of so she could think clearly again.

All so she could say something stupid.

“Dare.”

Initially giggling at the way his face went blank, Abby had to take a deep breath when his face went from stunned to uncertain, wide eyes darkening in the gloom of the starlight. He nodded to himself, lingered in the silence, taking his own deep breath to brace himself. For a moment, she saw his gaze flicker downwards, lingering somewhere around her nose, or maybe her chin, or maybe-

Her lips. He was looking at her lips.

She almost let him.

But in spite of their bickering, the way he grated on her nerves and never listened to a word she said, the was he way stubborn and egotistical and condescending even with his superiors, they were something almost like friends. She trusted him, at the very least, and she couldn’t say the same about many people. If he kissed her, that would change. She would ruin it, them, him. She was sure of it. Unlike her sister, she wasn’t destined for a happy ending, wasn’t built for an easy love that falls in her lap and soothes her aching soul. Abby wasn’t good enough for that. If he kissed her now, it would just be another in a long line of mistakes that she made without thinking, with no thought spared towards who gets hurt in the process. He was a good man. She didn’t want to do that to him.

Muscles tense, Abby looked away from him, desperately hoping that he wouldn’t do it, that he wouldn’t ask.

She wasn’t ready.

Hands gentle on her wrists, he gave them a quick squeeze before letting go, her gaze flickering back to him just fast enough to catch the regret in his face, something like hurt flashing through his eyes before they steeled over and he stepped back.

“I dare you to get some sleep, Abigail. We need to go over the plan for the dinner tomorrow.”

They didn’t. Several days had already been spent devising their operation plan, months of research from their respective agencies and weeks of surveillance and recon on the ground going into it. Abe’s approximate position and timestamps had been plotted nearly to the minute. Abby’s profiles on the other guests in attendance, on how to keep all of them distracted while Abe bugged the various targets in the mansion were meticulous. Townsend had insisted on backup plans, on fallbacks, on backup plans for their fallbacks. Their plan was flawless. There was no need to go over it.

Still. She had toyed with him enough tonight; he more than deserved the reprieve.

Nodding, she shot him the biggest smile she could muster as he moved to make his way out of the room. It still felt weak on her cheeks. “Merry Christmas Edward.”

He blinked at her, expression a picture of surprise as she addressed him by his given name. The smile on his face was kinder, gentler, than she had ever seen from him. “Merry Christmas Abby,” and he made his way out of the room, leaving her alone with the constellations in the window.

———————————————————————

Authors note:

4,500 words of Abigail Cameron having a major crush on Townsend, instalment #3, tipsy edition.

I knew nothing about astronomy going into this so a lot of research had to be done. If anyone happens to know things that goes against what I’ve written feel free to let me know.

Also, I don’t know if anyone’s read Beartown by Fredrik Backman, but there’s a quote that goes “You never have the sort of friends you have when you’re fifteen ever again. Even if you keep them for the rest of your life, it’s never the same as it was then” and it kind of inspired the spiel about Abby and her roommates from Gallagher, and how she lost those dynamics when they left school. It’s a great book, very much recommended.

[gildengirl]

thinking about insanely perfect the speak now album is for the gallagher girls…

[gildengirl]

December Prompts

1) Warm Tequila - Abby x Townsend

Set about 5 years after the events of UWS, Abby and Townsend explore the Christmas markets in London.

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“What do you think?”

Edward’s gaze, previously locked fiercely on a group of young men armed with black puffer jackets and overpriced beer not-so-discretely leering at any and all women who happened to pass them by, jumped back to his wife at her inquisitive tone.

Blinded momentarily by her smile, he took a moment to simply state at her. Dark hair half-buried under her woolly hat fell in waves around her face made pale by the cold. The dusting of freckles that decorated her nose and cheeks, the pattern that was engrained in the memory of his lips, that he knew better than he knew the features of his own face, were buried under the redness of her nose, the pinking of her cheeks. Emerald eyes twinkled with mischief, alight with joy and the reflection of the Christmas lights lining the market stall they stood beneath. Her smile spread far beyond her mouth. From the whites of her teeth, ever so slightly crooked in the back of her mouth in a way that no one could see but Edward knew intimately, to the stretch of her lips, chapped from the cold but soft all the same. From the rounding of her cheeks and the scrunching of her eyes, to the giggle in her shoulders and the bounce in her toes. It spread beyond her even, reaching the tips of his tingling fingers and filling his chest with an adoring warmth. Slight lines cut through her face, a lifetime of her smiles carving brackets around her eyes, and more than a lifetime’s worth of pain slicing through the skin above her forehead. She wasn’t quite the 24 year old he met in Barcelona, nor the woman just beginning her 30’s he fell head over heels for in Buenos Aires, but here amongst the London gabble, browsing through tat in Leicester Square’s Christmas market, less than a year from entering her 40’s, he was still absolutely certain of what he first decided all those years ago.

Abigail Cameron was undoubtedly the most gorgeous woman in the world.

Remembering that she asked him a question, he kickstarted his brain back into motion and finally registered the monstrosity she was holding out in front of him. It somewhat resembled a winter hat, though it just as easily could’ve been an overfed cat for all the fur lining the inside. It was a sort of vomit-green colour, equipped with a red bobble on top and matching ear flaps on the sides. Adorning the face of it was the likeness of that thing from the Christmas film Abby loved so much, a similar vomit shade of green with a devilish grin and light-up yellow eyes. The Grinch, he remembered.

Fighting valiantly against the smirk that tugged against his lips, he quirked an eyebrow at her. “You already have a hat Abigail.”

Her grin grew, delighted in his indulgence of her antics. “Not for me silly!” She tapped her card against the reader held out to her by the man working the stand, flashing him a smile that seemed to stun him to the spot.

Edward could empathise.

Reaching upwards, she yanked the garish hat unceremoniously onto his head, adjusting it slightly so  he could still see, and giving his cheeks a patronising pat before her arms settled around his shoulders.

“Absolutely not.”

“C’mon Townsend you need a winter hat. You lose most of your heat through your head you know-

“Actually that study was debunked a few years ago.”

“-and this one suits you perfectly!” It was getting hard to focus on what she was saying. Her fingers were dancing across the back of his neck and playing with the curls of his hair slipping out the back of the hat. “Besides, what would your mother say if she knew you were wandering around in the freezing cold-

“-It’s only 5 degrees love.”

“-freezing, without a hat on?”

“Well she’s from Carlisle, so she’d probably be ashamed that I’m wearing a coat.”

“Yeah I don’t know what that means.”

And then she kissed him.

It was a short kiss - too short - but it made him go weak in the knees, the ankles, the heart, all the same. His hands latched onto her waist and pulled, grunting slightly as she let herself go weightless against him, feeling her smile into his mouth as he lost himself in her. When she moved to pull away, his entire body seemed to chase her. Tightening his arms around her back, arching his neck down towards her face, his nose brushing up against hers in a desperate attempt to keep their lips attached. Laughing, she pulled away anyhow, leaving only her fingers on his shoulders, the tip of her nose against his jaw, her breath sweeping across his neck.

Looking up at him through her eyelashes, she pouted, uttered a single “Please?” and he was gone.

“Fine.”

Anything to get her to kiss him like that one more time. All the time. For the rest of time.

Again, her lips were warm on his, a stark contrast to the state of her fingers now running down his spine from under the collar of his coat. One of his own hands crept upwards, cupping the back of her head and soothing through the silk that was her hair, the other migrating around her back, encircling her in his arms like he could keep her there forever. Cherry danced across his tongue, the scent of jasmine tickled his nose, symphonies of all the sonnets ever written cascaded through his ears. All his senses were engulfed by her. It was all he could do to contain his love, his elation, his-

Giggles broke them apart. Not his wife’s this time, but a trio of preteen girls hovering nearby. Abby turned and smiled kindly at them, no sign of the embarrassment that danced across his own cheeks, and he couldn’t help the bashful smile that broke across his face.

“Ah ha!” Quick as anything, she had pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of his love-stricken grin, ignoring the pained groan that crept out of his mouth. “What? Its just for Zach. And your parents. And maybe Rachel and the girls, they think you never smile you know?” Walking backwards, perfectly navigating the crowds of tourists despite never breaking eye-contact with him, her hands travelled down his arms until they intertwined with his own, pulling him along with her through the market stalls once more.

“As long as Solomon never sees it.”

“Eh, no promises.” Another groan. “C’mon grumpy, you can buy me a drink to cheer yourself up.”

“How will that cheer me up?”

“Because maybe I’ll find a way to pay you back.” With a wink that made his heart stutter and all the blood and heat in his body rush somewhere very not appropriate for their current circumstances, she spun on her heel and tugged him more urgently towards the pop-up bar. “We’re trying the Poppins special.”

Once he regained control of his wits, he glanced up at the menu boards. The usual festive drinks were on offer, mulled wine and cider, Irish coffee and hot chocolates, even Prosecco for those willing to fork out £15 a glass. There were tamer options as well for those less in the Christmas spirit, beer and larger on tap, plus every spirit and mixer known to man, but of course Abby had opted for one of the themed cocktail specials. Cleverly, they had devised a different drink for each of the famous statues dotted around the market, including a kid-friendly option named after Paddington the bear, and Edward quickly focussed his vision on the one named after the illustrious nanny.

“Tequila? Who drinks hot tequila?”

“You in about 5 minutes.” She gave him a gentle push to the middle of his back, tone growing impatient, “Large please.”

“I don’t know why I have to have it as well.” Protesting even as he held out his card to the bartender, nodding in polite acknowledgement of his sympathetic smile. “I’d be much happier with a whiskey.”

“Well that wouldn’t be very Christmassy-“

“Not a word.”

“-yes it is! would it? Besides, you’ll like this.” Abby near-always spoke with confidence, even when she was blatantly wrong and knew it, but her absolute assuredness gave him pause.

He turned to face her, eyebrows furrowing, “How do you know?”

“Uhh because I know you dummy?”

“No, how do you know I’ll like it if you don’t know what it tastes like?” Eyes flickering downward, she bit her lip slightly, humming in thought. Edward huffed in disbelief. Of course she managed to sneak off and treat herself. “When? We’ve been together the entire time?”

“You were very distracted staring at the jewellery over there,” she jutted her head towards the adjacent stall and he followed her gaze. The table was adorned with floral rings and earrings, bracelets and hairpieces, the necklaces displayed behind the woman manning the station. It wasn’t extravagant stuff, though the advertisement claimed they were made of real flowers, and nothing that Abby would ever wear, but while he had already bought gifts for his side of the family, he had little planned for those back home. He had been eyeing a charm bracelet for Cammie, after all these years still uncertain if it was the kind of gift a man bought his niece-in-law-slash-almost-daughter-in-law, and he must’ve been debating it for longer than he thought. Abby’s voice broke through his musings once more. “She’s very pretty isn't she?”

What?

“What- No!” He spun back around to face her, a sliver of panic gripping him as he realised he was staring at the stand, lost in thought, and the woman attending it was smiling back at him. Abby only laughed at him though, throwing her head back and quelling the brief dread of a fight that had started building in him.

Taking her drink from the bartender in one hand, her smile of thanks igniting a flush across the young mans face, her other reached up and threaded through the hair on the back of his neck in apology for her teasing. Retrieving his own drink, he huffed in forgiveness, removing the aforementioned icicles from his neck and placing a small kiss to her fingers as he led them away from the bar.

“How come I get bullied into wearing this hat-“

“I would call it gentle encouragement.”

“—but you’re allowed to lose your fingers to frostbite by not wearing gloves?”

“Because how am I supposed to show this off if I’m wearing gloves?”

Taking a generous drink of the warmed tequila through her smirk, she released his hand to hold her own out in front of them, wiggling her fingers until her ring caught the twinkling of the lights around them. Reluctantly, he conceded the point to her, recalling the number of times today that she had caught the attention of onlookers, their eyes drifting from her face to her left hand in resigned disappointment. Edward could feel his own ring, his most prized possession, cool around his own finger, and smiled. He hadn’t taken it off since he officially stepped out of the field and into a desk position at Langley, his bad knee from all those years ago finally getting the upper hand on him, but the novelty of being married to this woman had yet to wear off.

“Right, bottoms up or whatever.” He rolled his eyes at her attempt at an English accent. “Seriously, just try it.”

In a mirror image of her, he raised the plastic glass to his lips, taking a slow, deliberate gulp.

Bloody hell, he hated it when she was right.

The burn from the tequila was tempered by the warmth of the drink itself, and challenged by the zap  of orange and lemon dancing down his throat. It was thick and had a hint of sweetness, no doubt containing an unholy amount of honey, but the bitterness of aniseed balanced it out well. Hints of cinnamon and nutmeg danced on his tongue, and he was suddenly struck by the question of whether he could taste the spices on hers.

“See, you love it.” Another laugh bubbled out her mouth at his reluctant affirmation, mirth streaking across her face as she shook her head in astonishment. “When are you gonna learn that I’m always right hey?”

Sending another gulp down his throat, he set his drink to the side, grabbing hers while he was at it. Ignoring her protests, he pulled her in by the waist, desperate to learn the answer to his own question. But first…

“I love you.”

He kissed the smirk straight off her face.

———————————————————————

Authors note:

There you go, there’s roughly 2000 words of Tabby fluff and Townsend being a major simp.

Apologies for British nonsense, but unfortunately, much like Edward Townsend, I too am English. For those not cursed with the insider knowledge, Carlisle is a city pretty far north in England, hence being used to the cold, the wind, and the rain. Leicester Square is a square in London near the West End where they have a popular Christmas market every year. It’s next to the cinemas where they hold movie premieres so theres loads of statues of famous British entertainment figures like Paddington, Mary Poppins, and Mr Bean.

[gildengirl]

Matthew Morgan

[gildengirl]

the ally carter literary universe should be a bigger deal

[gildengirl]

My favourite ship dynamic is weirdass ginger x guy whos so English hes practically made of tea

[gildengirl]

Everyone likes to talk about enemies to lovers this, enemies to lovers that, which, valid, but like, the emotional turmoil of lovers to enemies? The pain of facing off against someone you once trusted turning into resentment, the intimate understanding you had becoming a lethal weapon – especially when it would just be so easy to fall back on these lingering feelings? Chef’s kiss.

[gildengirl]

The Gallagher Academy in the fall ༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･

[gildengirl]

Do you think Zach was with Cammie the whole night watching her after she almost jumped off the roof in OSOT?

I really don't know.

I think the events of that night were probably very traumatic for anyone who knew Cammie, not to mention Cammie herself. And while Zach is definitely one of those people, and he was probably shaken from what almost happened and worried about Cam, I think if there's anyone who wouldn't let their eyes off Cam for the rest of the night, it'd be Rachel. That's her baby, and you best believe Rachel Morgan would use her combined super-mom and super-spy powers to make sure Cammie was safe.

I also think a close second would be Joe. He came way too close to losing another Morgan that night.

Edit: Also. While I think Zach loves Cammie and always wants to keep her safe, he's not one to pull an Edward Cullen and just stare at her while she sleeps lol.

[gildengirl]

Matthew Morgan aka Nebraska

Joe Solomon aka Wise Guy

Abigail Cameron aka Bombshell

Rachel Cameron aka Ace

Character mood boards inspired by Full Circle by @averagejoesolomon

[gildengirl]

we never got a gallagher girls tv adaptation because they knew the zammie edits would be too powerful

[gildengirl]

If Abby and Townsend didn't first get together with the cliche "Shut up." "Make me." then I don't know what to tell you, because they most certainly did.

[gildengirl]

Full Circle "1978" (Joe)

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “Your name is Ezekiel, but everyone else has a cool nickname, so I don’t see what the big deal is—”

“No,” he says, quieter this time. Matt’s at the very top of the rope, and Zeke is at the very bottom. They couldn’t be farther away from one another, and yet Matt still feels like they’re whispering from mere inches away. “My name is Joe.”

@averagejoesolomon