#Empty Predawn Gaze

[feyhunter78]

John fic saving lives one day at a time!!! Can i be added to tag list :) Can’t wait for update

Of course you can!!! Also, here's that update for you <3

Chapter Eighteen - Battle is upon them, and lives will be lost on the battlefield and beyond.

CH 19

It is early, two hours past dawn, he stands beside Robb, and his father, the prisoners in shackles, lined up so that Lord Tywin can see his family as he approaches. The field is wide, the sun still low in the sky, a cool breeze drifting through. Jon and Robb are fitted with armor, breastplates bearing the Stark and Dayne sigils respectively, and he flexes and unflexes his fingers as they wait. Ghost and Grey Wind sit between them, waiting patiently.

The Lord of Casterly Rock arrives on a war horse, and despite his age he looks fearsome, the rising sun glinting off his golden armor, his sword hanging from his side, his men behind him, the crimson Lannister banners waving in the wind.

You stand behind Jon, Margaery’s hand in your own avoiding your grandfather’s searing gaze as it sweeps over those gathered, men of the North and Riverlands set even further back, weapons at the ready.

“Lord Lannister.” Robb calls, raising a hand in greeting, putting on an air of ease, as if Jon had not witnessed Robb’s nerves force him to empty his stomach behind a tree in the early hours of predawn.

“Young Lord Stark.” Lord Tywin says coolly, dismounting with a grace Jon did not think a man of his age could possess. “I have given your terms much thought.”

“They are fair terms considering what your family has done to King Stannis’, to the realm.” Robb says equality as cool, his tone even, his voice steady even as his hands trembled behind his back.

Jon saw Margaery shift forward, her free hand taking hold of Robb’s wrist, her thumb caressing the skin, and the trembling slowly came to a halt.

“My family has done nothing, Tommen is King Robert heir, as was Joffrey before him.” Lord Tywin says, his emerald eyes unflinching steel.

A snort comes from somewhere behind Jon, echoing in the quiet of the morn, and he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. All the realm knew the truth, the Tyrells had ensured that.

Robb keeps his face neutral. “Lord Lannister, the truth has spread throughout the seven kingdoms, it is best if you allow the rightful heir to take the throne, we do not wish for more bloodshed.”

“You would ask that I strip my grandson of his wife, his throne, and submit my house to the mercy of Stannis Baratheon over baseless rumors.”

“They are not baseless.” Ser Jaime’s voice strained and rough from his time exposed to the elements rises above the crowd.

Jon senses more than hears your sharp intake of breath, and he wishes he could turn and comfort you, but he cannot, he cannot risk betraying any sense of weakness to Lord Tywin.

“I guess you could say Prince Rhaegar made quite the impact on me Father.” Ser Jaime jests weakly.

Jon’s eyes dart between Lord Tywin and Ser Jaime, then he glances at Tommen who shakes where he stands, the color draining from his face as he clings to his mother’s skirts.

Tywin’s lips are set in a hard line, his men behind him shifting uncomfortably. “You need not lie to convince me to yield, my son.”

Robb glances at Jon, confusion in his Tully blue eyes, then he looks back at Lord Tywin. “You accuse your son of lying about incest, of lying about cuckholding his king?”

Tywin says nothing for a moment, then, “a son cares for his father, does he not?”

“We know the rumors are true, agree to the terms here and now, or declare yourselves traitors to the throne.” Robb says firmly, tired of Tywin’s games.

Tywin draws his sword. “The only traitors to the throne are those before me.”

It is as they feared, Tywin would not accept the terms, and he would launch an attack. Jon draws his sword, nodding to his father, who grabs you and Margaery by the arms, Smalljon corralling your remaining family. All of you rush off into the crowd as Robb's men surge forward, meeting the oncoming wave of Lannisters and whitecloaks.

The Lannisters are outnumbered, not expecting the Tyrell forces hiding behind the hills, and Jon feels a sense of pity as his sword slices clean through a man’s neck, his head flying in the opposite direction. Jon turns and plunges his sword into another man’s side, right between the chinks in his armor.

Arrows whiz by his head, and when they land true, Robb laughs, calling out congratulations to Theon before his sword bites into the flesh of a whitecloak.

Jon knew the man, he has spent most of his life in King’s Landing he knows every kingsguard, and he attempts to avoid facing them head on, not wanting their familiar faces to haunt his dreams. The sun rises and with it the temperature, sweat drips in his eyes, and he blinks them clear as he ducks, narrowly avoiding a sword swipe.

“Keep sharp, brother.” Robb calls, pulling his sword from a man’s stomach as Grey Wind lunges at the next one, his powerful jaws clamping down on the man’s throat.

Ghost has been his shadow, taking out any who come within his blind spot, growling at oncoming horses, making them rear up and throw their riders. It is chaos, but he knows it will soon end, and when Dacey Mormont brings her sword to Lord Tywin’s throat, her booted foot on his chest, he knows they have won.

A plume of smoke catches his eyes, blooming up into the sky from King’s Landing, growing wider and taller. They must have done it, must have breached the city, taken it as their own. Cheers and shouts ring out, and Dacey drags Tywin from the ground, smiling savagely. “Think I’ll get my own keep for this?”

Robb chuckles and claps her on the shoulder. “You can try.”

Jon buries his hand in Ghost’s fur, leaning on him as the adrenaline drains from his body leaving him thoroughly exhausted.

“Let us rest and regroup, then we will meet with our rightful king at the gates of the city.” Robb calls, waiting until he is sure all his men have heard him before he begins to make his way back to the camp.

Jon follows, Ghost trotting at his side, tail wagging, his pristine coat tinged with blood and gore. They will both need a bath before they return to you.

Standing beside his father while King Stannis hands down the sentencing of your family, Jon is reminded of the day his uncle was sentenced to die. How you held his arm, stood in front of him and pleaded with him not to do anything foolish.

“Cersei Lannister, for your crimes against the crown and the gods themselves, you shall lose your head.” King Stannis says, his eyes not necessarily cold, but steely, unflinching, unfeeling, his hands steady as he passes down the first verdict.

Tommen cries out clinging to his mother as she glares at King Stannis, even road weary and in tattered clothes, she looks a queen, no amount of dust, dirt, or shame can hide the regal air she possesses.

“Tywin Lannister, for your crimes against the crown, you shall join your daughter’s fate.”

Jon’s eyes flicker to you, but you are looking at your uncle, your hands buried in your skirts, eyes rimmed red. He wants to stand beside you, but he must remain at his father’s side. By order of the king, the two innocent Lannister must stand alone. Perhaps it is a warning to both you, your father and any others who might try and go against the king.

“Ser Jamie.” King Stannis says. “I have had many beg me to spare your life.”

Ser Jamie for his credit raises his head, and addresses King Stannis with respect. “My life is yours, My King, do with it what you will.”

King Stannis’ lips form a hard line, then he looks off towards his wife, Ser Davos. “You killed your king, helped cuckhold another, sullied your cloak with your sister, but…I am told you saved countless lives from the Mad King, saved the entire city if not realm from his madness. Your reward shall be not watching those you love die.”

A kingsguard approaches, sword drawn, and Tommen goes pale as he is yanked from his mother. Cersei cries out angrily, hissing that all shall pay for their crimes against her. But Jon cannot help but look at you and your father, at the way you stare at Ser Jaime, at the the way your father seems to be a moment away from cracking, dissolving into dust under the weight of his grief.

The king turns, addressing the final Lannister. “Tommen Lannister.” It feels as if the entire court holds their breath, Tommen’s large emerald eyes are wide and filled with tears. King Stannis’ voice softens a fraction for a moment. “I am a just man; you shall not watch your family die.”

Then Tommen is pulled to his feet and cast towards you and your father. You take him into your arms hurriedly, holding him with a death grip, keeping his head turned away from his mother and father.

The kingsguard raises his sword and Ser Jaime is pushed to his knees.

A sob escapes you, Jon can hear it, his sense so fine-tuned to your very being it is as if the small sound is as loud as thunder.

Ser Jamie looks to you and your father. “Tyrion, y/n, I must beg your forgiveness once more, for I have to leave you both far too soon, and can no longer watch over you.”

Jon feels his father’s hand on his arm, keeping him from going to you as press your hand to your heart, fingers gripping the rich fabric of your gown, with a weak heartbroken whimper of “Uncle Jaime…” 

Then all is silent until the blade sings, cutting through the air followed by the heavy thump of Ser Jaime’s head. A devastated cry leaves your lips, piercing him, and for a moment Jon is reminded of the tale of the death of Rhaenyra Targaryen. How her half-brother’s dragon burned her alive in front of her youngest son. How her screams and his echoed throughout the Keep, how one of Rhaenyra’s ladies clawed her own eyes out in her grief.

Then goes Cersei’s head, then Tywin’s until three golden heads lay in pools of crimson.

When King Stannis turns to Tommen again, you stiffen, a strangled sob escaping you, a torrent of tears.

Jon’s stomach drops, this is not right, Tommen was to be a ward of Winterfell, stripped of his name and titles, but alive, that is what he was told, what you were told.

“Please, he is just a boy.” You say, refusing to release your grip on Tommen, your face a portrait of anguish.

“He is, so I will not stain my rule by taking his life.” King Stannis jerks his head towards the gathering of Starks and Northmen. “Lord Stark will take the boy, he shall be no more than he truly is, a bastard, but he will live.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You say, curtsying best you can with Tommen stuck to you like a sticker burr and your vision blurred with tears.

The remaining sentencing of traitors is a blur, Jon cannot focus on anything but your anguished face, the tears that slide down your cheeks, the way your hands shake as they smooth down Tommen’s hair. It is not until his uncle nudges him, that Jon realizes court has been dismissed and everyone is filing out.

He goes to you instantly, mindful of the blood, and guides you out of the Great Hall, your father holding Tommen’s hand as the boy cries silently, the two of them trailing behind.

Jon tries to speak but you shake your head, weariness clear in your every movement. He will wait to speak, wait until you have slept and begun to grieve your family.

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo, @legolastheleafyelf, @faerie-film, @wifiatthetrainstation, @duskypinki, @tartine-de-pain, @rebeccawinters, @taylorsfemalerage, @rax-raxus, @certainwonderlandperfection, @nymeriiiia, @burkgolden, @drewsivy

[bookshelfinthebasment]

Age of Happiness

Marion stood in front of the mirror once more, bearing the hair shears towards her collarbone with a tense grimace. It was time, and there was no point in dwelling on the turmoil, the strife that had brought her to this moment yet again. She slipped a lock of hair between the blades, exhaling deeply and shutting her eyes tightly as she squeezed.

Snip.

Marion felt the soft fibers tumble down onto her bare feet. She pitched forward as intense vertigo gripped her, but she was ready, already bracing herself against the edge of the vanity. Her eyes popped open and she started snipping quickly, mechanically, fighting the sickness and the nausea that rolled through her body in waves. She started heaving as she cut, but she had prepared by fasting. Marion smiled weakly at the halfway point, near blacking out. The human body does not take kindly to being two ages at once, but the worst of it was now behind her.

As the hair kept falling, the war in her body slowly subsided. The crashing tidal waves of sickness settled down to a gentle lapping that pulled at her stomach only slightly. When Marion severed the last long lock of her hair, the symptoms of the sickness disappeared altogether.

A new girl, with hair that stopped just below her collarbone, looked out from the bathroom mirror. She shuffled her feet around a bit, enjoying the soft texture of another old life under her toes. Clapping her hands softly, she cautiously spun a circle on top of her little grave, grinning with pleasure. Marion bent over the sink and leaned into the mirror, gazing into the same eyes, framed by new opportunity. The Marion that looked back at her—the one with the sleek, short hair—was at least fifteen years younger than the Marion that picked up the scissors not five minutes before.

The transformation always mesmerized her. The change was not merely psychological or symbolic. Whenever Marion cut her hair, her body literally became younger.

Marion never got to observe the process closely as it happened—the age sickness made sure of that—but the end result was stunning. The small crow’s feet that had begun to form at the corners of her eyes were gone. Same with the fine lines around her mouth and across the center of her forehead. The skin on the backs of her hands was brighter and softer, and her vision was just a little sharper than before. Even the few gray hairs that had dropped down from her temples like spider silk were back to the same shade of dark brown as the rest of her hair. Previously forty-year-old Marion Jacobs was now legally, and to all appearances, 25-year-old Marion Foster.  

Marion breezed out from the little bathroom into the dim motel room where she’d been staying for the past week. Clothes were strewn about everywhere. Her mostly empty duffle bag was dumped over on the foot of the bed; she hadn’t even moved the items to go to sleep—she’d just crawled in under them. A collection of multicolored pill bottles stood on the bedside table. Marion crossed the room quickly and swept the bottles into her arms, dumping them on the bed with the rest of her jumbled belongings. She shoved everything into the duffle bag quickly, with no order, and then started scooping dirty clothes off the floor. When she was mostly packed, she realized she still needed to get dressed and annoyedly dumped the bag out all over again. Finally dressed and re-packed, she slipped on her shoes and headed out the door without a reminiscent thought.

The motel clerk seemed startled when she briskly entered the office and walked purposefully towards the desk. Marion imagined he didn’t have many people checking out at 4:00 AM. She’d interacted with him enough times to remember that “Dale” was stitched into the faded patch on his jacket. The overhead lights were off and Dale’s balding head was illuminated by the glow from his laptop. It shone much brighter than the predawn light filtering in through the front windows. She smiled as she approached and he half smiled back, looking at her in something between confusion and disgruntled suspicion.

“You checking out?” he asked, eyeing the duffel.

“Yes sir.”

“Awful early. Got a flight to catch?”

 “No.” Marion continued to smile. “Just thought I’d get an early start.”

 “Where’re you headed?”

 “Oh, somewhere new I hope.”

He didn’t respond. Marion tossed the room key onto the counter, hoping to move things along, but Dale didn’t react to the key. He studied her, looking up with his chin tilted down, squinting slightly. Just as he opened his mouth, she cut in.

“I got a haircut.”

“Oh. Thought there was something different.” He continued to look at her face, not quite satisfied, but reached forward regardless. With a metallic shhhhhhkk, he slid the key toward himself. Dale’s eyes flicked away. “Have a good one.”

 “You too.”

Thirty-five years later, Marion looked for the motel as she drove up the interstate on her way to see friends in Vermont. She couldn’t find it, but she suspected the shopping plazas clustered around each exit might have something to do with that. She wondered where her hair had ended up. Which landfill would the bags from the motel’s dumpsters have been delivered to? It was a shame, really, that something so sacred to her was scattered and lost. The loose hairs were like the memories, all of her failed attempts jumbled up, swirled together by the breeze of passing time.

Suddenly, Marion jumped with fear as she recognized the melancholy seeping into her mind; she scooped it up and tossed it away before it could leave behind a foul odor. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Had she taken all her pills this morning? Last night? Marion held her breath as she tried to recall, then breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, she had. She couldn’t afford to miss doses this weekend. Depression wouldn’t get a vote on her choice this time. It would be hard enough if she decided to say goodbye.

Marion wondered rather numbly if she was being ungrateful. How many people have wished they could have a fresh start? Some people tried, and she’d encountered many of these wanderers over her long lifetime. They changed their names, moved to a different country, got a new degree, or reinvented their personality. They were all searching for something; maybe a deeper sense of meaning, new friends, or an escape from a past mistake. Ultimately, it boiled down to one thing. People who crave a fresh start are just looking for happiness. That’s all Marion wanted. Happiness.

Her search had not come without steep costs, and it got harder for Marion to pay up whenever she renewed her life. Every time she cut her hair unprepared, she’d been attacked with questions and suspicion from every side. If people weren’t scared of her ability, they wanted it for themselves.

When Marion cut her hair, she lost everything. So much for happiness.

Marion glanced down at the braid that hung suspended from her shoulder to her waist. It was thick chocolate marbled through with silver. She had a hard imagining returning along this same road without the braid’s comforting weight. Cutting her hair could mean getting more time, another shot at finding her age of happiness. Or it could sentence her to another 30 years of extinguished hopes. Marion may be in the body of a 60-year-old now, but she was so much older and so tired. Do I have the strength to try one more time? She questioned herself.

Sixty years later, a 90-year-old Marion lay propped up in bed on her second day of hospice. A tight, simple bun was wound on top of her head. Despite the nurse’s attempts to secure the huge mass of hair, it still wobbled as she turned her head. Her first day here, they had let her leave her hair down, hanging to the back of her calves. After lying on it for so many hours though, it became wound around her legs and impossibly tangled. She’d nearly fallen trying to get out of bed. So Marion allowed the nurse to spend nearly three hours detangling the mane and securing it with a dozen large pins. Marion reached up weakly and fumbled the pins with gnarled fingers, gradually succeeding in removing them one by one. Finally, the hair tumbled down and enveloped her like a burial shroud. Moving like a bony sloth, she arranged the hair so that it completely covered her entire body. She hid there, breathing deeply, taking in her hair’s familiar scent. Marion fell into something like a meditative state, hibernating in her nest. Through no conscious train of thought, she arrived at a decision.

She was startled back to the present by the sound of a door opening.

“Oh my goodness!” The nurse shrieked. “Ms. Rivers, are you alright?”

Marion felt hands digging, clawing into her shell, light suddenly breaking through and falling harshly on her face.

 “There you are! Are you alright? Why did you take your hair down?”

The nurse’s kind and concerned face was a foot away from Marion’s own. Marion lifted her eyes and slowly parted her lips, not really seeing or understanding what she saw. Her mind was still filled with the warm, soft sea that sheltered her.

“Would you be kind enough to do something for me, Miss?”

 “Of course, Ms. Rivers, what can I do to help?”

 Marion paused for one weighted moment.

 “…”

 “Ms. Rivers?”

 “I would like a haircut.”

[ruiniel]

Prickly thorns, tender roses

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Rating: Mature🔞

Relationship: Alucard/Original Female Character

Characters: Alucard, Original Character(s)

Summary:

Set after the events of Castlevania (Netflix) Season III. After the betrayal of his young apprentices, Alucard feels barely alive in his lonesome castle. Days wear on, chipping away at his mind and sanity. And what is the son of Dracula to do with this unwanted visitor, suddenly come at his doorstep?

Often the prickly thorn produces tender roses - Ovid

Chapter tags & warnings: POV alternating, violence, character death, confessions, emotions and all that, close to the end

PART I

Also on AO3

XXII. Choice, Surrender

The man called Faur spoke little, as she came to find. But he led them through the dark with enviable skill, and having no choice Ravenna did her utmost in keeping to his lively pace. They couldn't linger and so they did not, and a predawn twilight draped the world by the time they reached a lonely murmuring stream in the woods, set in their way. 

Ravenna rushed by the bank and knelt, allowing her belongings to fall at her side. She cupped her hands and proceeded to wash her face.

The icy water was invigorating to her tired skin, and it was much needed after yet another sleepless night. All that happened left her drained, both of body and mind. Ravenna felt depleted, and aching in more ways than one: it was astonishing to find how many tints and shades of pain existed, from pangs of discomfort to downright misery. Until recently, she'd only known the physical kind. Even now, her head and feet complained the more she pushed herself, but she steeled her shaky resolve and walked on. 

And the stranger would not wait. He appeared to be in haste, which she attributed to his outspoken wish of reaching his home sooner than later. Yes, physical pain she could weather. But then there was the other shade, the one clouding the spirit, that turned the soul into a murky basin of regret and bitterness. That which came of need and remembrance. She missed him.

Just as Ravenna was foolishly dwelling on the memory of summer scents and skin, she felt Faur's presence beside her. Looking to her left, she saw his gaze cast ahead of them.

"You are weary," he stated. "We're not far off now."

He'd revealed that his hut was located near the main road she'd need to take to eventually reach the northern border of Wallachia. Ravenna recalled that path through the mountains, and decided that would be her goal. For better or worse, she was yet alive and in good strength, though the dent in her chest remained and the storm clouds over her mood persisted. She loathed how images flitted before her mind's eye and refused to disperse. Most involved  him,  in moments she both wanted to relive and forget. Ravenna wondered how he was faring, and ached all the more thinking of the emptiness he dwelt in and what brought him there.

"Here," she heard, then saw Faur's outstretched hand, presenting her something. "Dried bread husk. Not the most sought for delicacy, but it goes on the road. You must be famished, you look it."

Ravenna eyed the offering with unveiled suspicion, and Faur sighed tiredly. "Why would I spare you, only to poison you later?" His crooked smile revealed straight, even teeth.

She thought there was something wolfish about his appearance, as though he was ever on edge and scouring his surroundings for unseen foes. Still Ravenna conceded and reached for the piece of dried food. She was so weak her head had begun a light spin. "Thank you." As she revealed her palm to receive the food, her naked wrist was exposed, along with the two bite marks still marring her skin. 

His gaze lingered for mere moments before his eyes slowly trailed up to hers. Ravenna took the bread from him and hastily retrieved her wrist. "It is not what you think."

"And how would you know what I think?" Faur sat down, crossing his legs, unaffected by what he'd seen and apparently uncaring of her unease.

Ravenna lowered her eyes to the flowing waters. The growing variations of birdsong heralded an early dawn in the forest. "I was attacked."

"And your other wrist?" Faur asked then, his tone unchanged, and Ravenna felt compelled to tell him it was none of his business; then again, she did owe him civility for the essential aid he provided, if nothing else.

"That is too long a story to tell," Ravenna settled, and to her relief there was no prodding from his side. She saw him shrug from the corner of her eye as Faur rose to his feet.

"We must resume," he said shortly, and though her bones and muscles gave her the usual grief, Ravenna rose with a sigh and retrieved her satchel. His question had stirred memories she'd rather stayed buried, but there was no such luck. She still felt that desperate grip, remembered his lips, the way his tongue licked the blood off her wrist. And then he was holding her to him, his hand roaming over her hip, pressing her against—

Ravenna stumbled on a jagged rock she'd not seen during her daydreaming. She groaned in pain and cursed, for the first time in a long time.

Faur was smirking when she passed him by.

They carried for yet some time, their boots gaining the sheen of dew as it draped the land in a vaporous shimmer. In the light of day Ravenna took to studying her guide better. He wore leather garments of brown and black. His crossbow was slung across his back, and a number of short blades lined his belt. He was young, as she first surmised, with bright green eyes and dark brown hair. His square jaw boasted no facial hair though it was framed by messy locks, and Ravenna had the impression she'd seen those features before. She blinked the strange thought away. She did wonder at his occupation while at the same time considering it was perhaps not the brightest curiosity to have concerning an armed stranger one stumbled upon in perilous woods.

It was not long before Ravenna discerned a structure looming ahead of them, and saw the young man quicken his steps. The time may have been early in the morning.

"And you say the road is nearby, somewhere?" Ravenna called after him, inspecting the area and finding it quite wild and hidden.

"That it is," Faur offered as he walked, turning briefly to see if she followed.

The structure was clearly discernible now, and it certainly looked to be more than a hut. Its walls were well built and straight though in a deprecating state, and the house boasted a stone roof. It did not inspire too much trust, not in the least, but anything would do. Anywhere safe from beast and demon would do. To Ravenna, respite had never been as rare a commodity as it was now. She turned a bleary eye to Faur, who neared the wide darkwood door and produced a large key. The man unlocked the entrance and went inside, Ravenna following in his wake. 

There was a bothersome, prickling sensation at the back of her neck, surging down her spine, but she attributed it to her debilitating exhaustion.

"We have arrived, sister," Faur spoke as she entered.

She frowned. There was someone else here? A family?

As she passed inside upon the creaking wooden floors, Ravenna looked up curiously, to see a woman sitting with her legs crossed on a wooden table. She went livid.

"Well done, Faur," the words greeted her even as Ravenna whirled towards the door, in time to see the man locking it.

"Liar!" she cried, but Faur only crossed his arms, looking away.

Ravenna turned back to face the woman, who had risen in the meanwhile and was approaching her with a hunting gait. She narrowly avoided the gloved hand swiping at her even as another seized her roughly by her collar. Ravenna stared into glinting eyes of an inhuman shine. Eyes she had seen before.

Zsuzsa watched her with contempt, shaking Ravenna harshly for good measure. She leaned in and inhaled her as a wild beast would. Her face darkened. "Disgusting. You  reek  of vampire," she hissed, throwing Ravenna to the ground.

Ravenna turned to Faur, mind in shambles. "...I trusted you."

Faur seemed not to hear her, studying his fingernails with increasing interest. "I beg your forgiveness, but family comes first," he muttered.

A guttural sound that may have been laughter left Zsuzsa's throat. "You will find less mercy from my brother, believe it or not, than you would from me." The huntress knelt beside Ravenna, who'd hunched into a wall with her arms held protectively around herself, yet attempting to comprehend the enormity of it all.

"I must admit, it was a good day indeed, when I caught sight of you in Bran. There you were, straggling through the mud, wide eyed and looking so very grieved..." her face changed, and there was an unnatural glint in her gaze. "I had to take this chance you see," she reached for Ravenna, who drew away. Swifter than lightning Zsuzsa grabbed Ravenna by the neck, her eyes narrowing. "I remember you well, oh yes. It's because of you that a good part of my guild is gone. You threw that potion at me, wench. When I regained myself they were dead, and you were gone. You and that vampire, " she spat.

The grip of roughened hands grew tighter, and Ravenna was soon gasping for air under the huntress' unyielding fingers.

"Well, either way," Zsuzsa rose, hovering over the young woman. "Before I could act, those fucking tramps interfered. And so you see, I had to send Faur to retrieve you." She aimed a glance at him.

"What now?" Faur asked, still propped against the door.

"I always liked to think of myself as practical," Zsuzsa continued. A wolven smile lined her features. "But those were our brothers." Her messy hair waved about her face as she reached and dragged Ravenna up.

"You should have thought of that before leading them into a life of hunting things that feed on humans," Ravenna threw, cursing herself for her foolish trust; it would be the end of her. "He spared you," she seethed.

Zsuzsa struck her across the face so hard blood spilled from the corner of her lips. "You will lead me to the vampire." She gripped Ravenna's chin with bruising strength, and her eyes gained a murderous sheen. "And you will stand and watch as I spear him full of silver. Then I'll cut out his heart and severe his head from his shoulders." The huntress gripped her still healing wrist so powerfully Ravenna hissed in pain. "And once he is ashes, I will attempt to at least get my money's worth out of you.  I have friends you see ... and you seem to be out of an occupation."

"And what if I refuse?" Ravenna braved. Curse her, curse her.

The huntress laughed with the burgeoning intonation of one winning. "Then I kill you now, and track him down anyway. Of course," she waved dismissively, "it may take me longer, but in the end, girl, I always get what I want."

"You cannot, he'll kill you, you know he will," Ravenna spat, trying reason. "You'd be going straight to your deaths," she hoped to deter them.

Zsuzsa rolled her eyes. "And who said we'd be going alone?"

Those hard cut eyes were unwavering as the huntress spoke, and Ravenna shivered. She thought of the manuscript and of her goal. If she met her end here, the valuable aid may never reach master Ovidius, leaving his research barren and lacking an essential component. And she will have failed. Staying alive was the better option, staying alive meant chances of escape, however improbable. And despite her gut crying traitor and her chest caving in on itself at the thought, Ravenna hoped Adrian would somehow become aware of the intruders in time.

"Well, what will it be? Live or die? Choose before I lose what little patience is left to me," the huntress growled.

Ravenna lifted her head. Her hands balled into fists. "I choose to live."

Daylight flitted in narrow shafts through the greenery. The wolf followed his heightened senses, heart pounding relentlessly behind his ribs. When he reached and saw the scene strewn with bodies by the river edge, he had become nearly maddened with worry at first. He had her scent but there was no sign of her. Amid the stench of death, it lingered and was that of one living, and it flowed in the air like a beacon following a different direction. She was alive, she had to be. 

He sped through boundless wilderness, guided by his tracking abilities and the desperate urge of his spirit, encountering not a living soul in his way. Then, as he pondered on what he'd say or do if they did meet again, if he did find her, well and unharmed, Alucard heard movement ahead. 

He lessened his swift gait, taking shelter amid the underbrush and lowered himself to the ground close to a clearing in the forest.

It struck him like a bolt of lightning. It meandered through his mind, trickling into his chest and the wolf began to shake imperceptibly. It was her, it had to be, though he caught sight of no one but...

The wolf coiled in on himself, eyes widening.

Before him, seemingly taking a respite, was Ravenna. She was flanked by—

 It cannot be. The bounty hunter leader from that night in the forest, it was her no doubt, Alucard remembered her well enough. He snarled.

"We take the west route, the others will be waiting for us at the inn," the huntress was saying to another, a man Alucard didn't recognize. Then his eyes flickered to Ravenna again, and anger burned, mystifying and menacing at seeing her sorry state.

There were only two opponents, from what he could tell. Thoughts meshed and his mind burned from the strain of trying to make sense of it all, struggling to a conclusion as to why Ravenna was in  their  company. He was certain, that it was not of her own will. She looked morose and resigned, and his bearing fell into disarray with concern. But she was alive.

Just then, the two hunters rose, their limbs taut, their faces on alert.

"What is it?" Faur asked his sister, who already retrieved her crossbow and was loading.

"Inhuman presence, that way," and she pointed straight to the area where Alucard stood, yet hidden from sight.

Faur took a distressed Ravenna by the arm. "Try not to die yet," and he pushed her aside, turning to inspect their surroundings with the huntress.

 A dark veil shrouded her mind and Ravenna stepped back, looking frantically about herself. In a way, she welcomed any deterrent to their goal, though the chances of surviving a night creature mauling on her own were scarce. If it even was a night creature. She shook herself and with iron determination, Ravenna decided to do her utmost to live and use any chance for an escape.

She heard the harrowing sound of arrows hissing through the air, turning to see the hunters follow something.

"Faur, down!" Zsuzsa bellowed, her weapon aiming at the flash of red shearing through the air around them. She missed.

Ravenna's clothes billowed with the rush whirling about her, and though her sight was not fast enough to catch glimpses of the disturbance, her heart began a wild cadence.

Just then amid the mayhem she heard a pained groan and a tumble and whirled around to see—

"Adrian!" she cried despite herself, seeing him attempting to rise, an arrow embedded in his calf. Their eyes locked briefly before a triumphant huff had her turn to Zsuzsa.

"Well, well, well..." the huntress gritted, incensed with the fire of battle. She turned to Ravenna. "It appears your beast misses his pet," she met the fierce gaze of Alucard. "You made my task all the easier." She loaded a large silver-tipped arrow, pointing it to Alucard's chest. "The end of your ilk," she smiled as Alucard struggled to one knee to remove the silver from his leg, unable to resume his attack.

She could not think. She did not think. All Ravenna saw was black engulfing her vision, and all she could feel was a deep and vicious pounding in her ears. And then she was slamming into something with all the strength her body could muster.

The huntress fell to the floor in angry astonishment, grappling with a now desperate Ravenna. Faur briefly tore his attention from Alucard; one mistake, and all it took.

Alucard hissed as he tore the arrow out of his leg, then flung his arm forward.

A beam of silver cut the air; Faur fell to his knees. His hands reached to stop the gurgling at his neck, red pooling in rivulets down his chest from a gash so deep it had nearly beheaded him.

The huntress struck Ravenna so hard her arms and legs went slack, and hastily rose to aim her crossbow anew, growling in bestial anger at the sight of her fallen sibling.

Her wild gaze caught a glimpse of angry red rushing towards her. It was the last memory burnt into her eyes.

Ravenna tried to rise, a part of her face already bruising black and blue. Finger marks lined her jaw. Her gaze fell upon a lifeless Zsuzsa, her eyes rolled back, the anger frozen on her features even in death.

She gained her feet and then dared to lift her gaze. A shiver coursed along her spine when Ravenna was met with the feral appearance of the one facing her.

They gaped at each other, both panting. The red flames of his eyes were receding as Alucard tried to regain himself. Though he was free from the pull now he could still feel her, all of her, from her flaring disillusion to the irreverent beating of her life. 

Before he could open his mouth to speak, Ravenna closed her eyes and shook her head. The words died on his lips as the woman rushed over without warning, all but tackling him when they collided and Alucard embraced her with a sigh of relief. Ravenna threw her arms around his neck, and they stood so for a long while, still amid the silence. 

Leaves fell in idle swirling motions from the trees above them, this sudden peaceful aura coming in strange and bitter contrast to the bodies and seeping life staining the forest bed.

Ravenna softened in his arms. He had... come for her? All this way? There was no doubt, what would he be doing here otherwise? She held him tighter though the hurt caused by his words and actions that day stung deeply, and though all she wanted was to melt into him, Ravenna could not shed it.

What now? She decided upon a return to Styria after all, determined to reach her homeland in one piece even with her research unfinished. Ravenna wordlessly tore herself away and began walking ahead, leaving him staring at her turned back. With measured steps, Alucard followed.

"Why are you here?" she tried to keep her voice level. She was shaking with him so near, it all felt so unreal.  

Ravenna heard nothing for a long time. 

"Do you not know?" Alucard asked, at last, daring one step closer. His eyes had regained their usual amber hue.

"Should I?" Ravenna threw, wrapping her arms around her middle. As soon as her spite left her mouth she regretted it. "They wanted to hunt you down."

"I know. I surmised as much."

There was a long silence, more than she could bear. "I never thought... I did not think I'd see you again," Ravenna said with a shaky breath.

Alucard clenched and unclenched his fists along his sides. "I wanted to find you."

"Why?" Ravenna turned her head. 

Despite considering it all before, his thoughts appeared stifled and choked, and it was an arduous task to offer a worthy answer. "I thought being on my own was the best course. I thought..." he looked to the side. "Well, I did not think too much past my fear, if I'm to be honest." Alucard paused, the revelation unexpected even to him. "I thought, that once the blood you offered faded I would be free of this, free of you. And now it has, and nothing changed, and I still want..." he sighed. "I wanted to see you again. I had to know you were safe."

Her shoulders tensed. "You called me a schemer." Ravenna failed to keep the hurt out of her voice. "You actually believed I would harm you," she huffed. 

"I will make no excuses as to that," Alucard looked down pensively. "I did think so at the time."

Well, he was certainly not helping. "And you preferred I flee from you in fear, rather than share what ailed you." Ravenna whirled to face him. "How could you?"

Her words caught in her throat when she met his eyes. They were so full of stifled longing, and he looked so forlorn Ravenna could barely hold his gaze. She turned her back on him again.

"You don't know everything," Alucard pressed his eyes shut on the words. "I will... I would like to tell you of it all, should you wish to hear it." He lowered his head, listlessly staring at the space between them. "I was wrong to act as I did. Ravenna," he drew closer. "The truth is, I fretted finding you were like the others, and—," he decided to out with it. "And that would have destroyed me."

Her shoulders stiffened as Ravenna bent her head into her chest.

Out of all else he may have said, this gave her pause. And should she hold him fully responsible for the fears keeping him nailed to past hurts? Better yet, could she? Ravenna froze when she felt him, so distracting and near; she did nothing as he placed his gloved hands on her shoulders, trailing down her arms, uncertain, leading her to fall into him. "It was the safer path to take, frightening you away."

Wild joy mingled with anticipation was keeping her rooted to the spot. Ravenna had never felt so very torn—she wanted to chide him and to understand, for once to truly understand him, but all she could do was lean back as Adrian brought his arms around her. There was a novel drowsiness, but also renewed hope with the feel of his chest pressing into her back, his life thrum so erratic. Ravenna heaved a ragged breath, and her head fell back against him.

That was all he needed. Ravenna felt the side of his face pressing against her temple. "It was cowardly of me."

Everything was skewed. Her entire purpose of coming here, his confusion, their feelings, the need to feel him again despite his savage rejection, the height of his loneliness she had fallen from—

Ravenna brought her hands in her hair, inhaling shakily. "What do you want, Adrian?" She needed him to say it. If she were to throw all her decisions to the wind, she needed to hear it from him.

"I do not know," his grip on her tightened. "But I know your friendship and your company, are..." His chest seized, and Alucard faltered as he considered the very real possibility of losing her. "You are important to me. And I know that what is left of me I would now gladly lay at your feet."

"So you are lonely," she wanted to hear him admit that, too.

"Ravenna," Alucard began with a sad smile, "before you came along I was considering staking myself. But then, you irked me, you drew me out of a cycle of misery and self-pity with your honesty, your humanity, and your care; and as I was searching for you I realized there was more to it all, more to life, if I allowed it." The last words were muffled into her hair. "Yes, Styrian, I am lonely. It has been that way for a long time. I renounced fighting it. But then you came and left, and now it is unbearable."

No surrender had ever sounded so sweet and goodness she was weak, from the great relief taking over to the buckling of her knees, to the painful tightness in her center at his nearness. Ravenna felt herself become unfettered, any ill feelings she may have harbored turned to ash. The pyre in her chest burned too bright.

"But I... I'm not yet well, I know that, too. If... if my actions have led you to... to want nothing to do with me—" Adrian went on, yet oblivious of her melting into nothingness against him.

Slowly Ravenna turned to face him, placing the tips of her fingers to his lips. His lashes fluttered closed, and Ravenna became fiercely aware of every warm wisp of breath ghosting her skin. This was a nightmare and a dream.

As she regarded him in silence Alucard was close to crumbling right there, to offer her all and anything, if only she would stay. When he opened his eyes there was a smile blooming on her face.

Blue met radiant gold as Ravenna was drawn into him. Her lips parted in a sigh, saying more than words ever could. She felt his presence tangling with every fiber of her being; the ribbons of his burning irises were drowned in black.

Caught in her rapture she still somehow managed to speak. "No more secrets," she said firmly after a long silence.

The gleam in his eyes changed from broken to hopeful as Alucard took another moment to study her features. He felt her small fingers curling into the material of his coat at his chest. 

He cupped her face in his palms. "No more secrets."

[therealrpalmas]

Ghost Figures

The assistant hurried over, murmured words Mercutio couldn't quite catch, soothing words by the sound of it. A cool hand touched her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. The assistant fed her some of the fluid from the bottle, which she sucked down eagerly, despite the cloyingly sweet taste. More than a few sips she couldn't manage. The assistant gazed down upon her from behind their goggles and protective outfit, then turned around and left.

Cool, cool, everything felt cool, the clammy sheet which covered her, the air, the crystal lying on her chest. And that was wrong, she knew that in a distant corner of her mind. It should be blazing with light, burning hot trying to save her life but instead it was cool, cool, like everything else.

But here was bright light, again, overhead and lighting the room, not red but white and white, and here was the woman, her protective clothes hurriedly donned, which showed in the details: knots sloppily tied, a few wrinkles which would've been smoothed under other circumstances. The assistant followed in her wake.

She strode over to Mercutio, looked down on her, the steel mind regarded her dispassionately. "You called me in for this?" she snapped, not looking at the assistant but clearly addressing them. "A fever. Of course a fever. The body needs to heal itself and that energy needs to come from somewhere. In that the alien is not much different from ourselves. You should've known better than to call me for this."

The assistant murmured again, neither words nor dim mind gave her any indication what they said. But the woman burst out: "Preposterous!"

More murmurs. The woman shook her head. "That is something I cannot believe. They've never been seen this far in. A sortie such as that would raise an alarm that we could hear even from here. Never mind that. But well, I'm here now anyway. Might as well do it now, eh?"

She looked down on Mercutio again, steel mind once again a mirror, mirror tinged red, and she smiled from under those protective layers a predatory smile and she ordered the assistant to bring in the tools and the assistant left, returned a few moments later with a cart. The woman set to work, attaching cables to Mercutio's hand, chest, arm, head, she felt their pressure faintly, but again it felt like it happened to someone else.

"Red again, eh, oh yes red, embrace the red, make it easy for yourself as well as for us," the woman murmured again, and she took the bottle and this time she didn't just fed Mercutio some sips of the viscose liquid it contained, but forced her to drink it all. She gagged as the cloying taste filled her, but she had no choice, swallow or choke, so she swallowed again and again and again until the red enveloped her like a cloud, embraced her, filled her…

Red and red and red.

The door slammed open, that was the next thing she knew, and ghost figures entered figures with no minds at all dressed in shades of grey and pointed and down went the woman and down went the assistant and they lifted the body in the red which was Mercutio and she trailed behind cradled enveloped in the warm red embrace through long still corridors up and up and out and through empty streets in predawn light and through rubble and through the no-mans-land and more rubble, a group of people like ghosts who carried her easily on a makeshift stretcher.

Cold air, and the red receded just enough to let her rejoin her body and she stared up at the steel-coloured sky and the empty people and moaned a question.

"Hold on. We're nearly there. Just hold on. You're with us. We tried – we couldn't get in sooner. But we have you now. Just hold on."

(To be continued)

[cratlord]

Prince of the Seas - Chapter 12

Pairing: Bucky x Ruby / Some Bucky x Killian

Summary: Things did not get better for Bucky Barnes after he and Sam had their adventure. They got worse. After years of living only through stolen moments of his own life, he is given a chance to build a life in a whole new world. The catch? That life is going to be a very, very long one. This is the tale of the life built in the Realm that will one day be known as Misthaven, or the Enchanted Forest.

Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, suicidal thoughts, violence, Sexual content

The horizon was just beginning to see the first tinges of predawn as he made his way back into camp.  There was a moderately large clearing travelers often used to camp in on the road.  It was the first of three such clearings on the five day journey home.

Already, Alana was awake and giving soft orders to organize a small group of women who were stoking the fires to get a good breakfast going.  They wouldn’t be stopping much that day since the next clearing was a good distance and they would be pushing to get there before dusk to make their next camp.  That meant they would have a walking lunch, and likely a light one at that.  

Bucky approached the ladies, already hard at work getting the pots settled into the embers, already filled with water from the well which the Duke’s people maintained for the use of travelers on the road.  

Alana gave him a huge grin when he rounded the wagon silently, finally putting himself into view of her.  “Lord Eldar,” she exclaimed softly.  “I had wondered where you’d gone off to.  What’s all that, then?” she said, gesturing to the sacks currently over his shoulder.  

He closed the rest of the distance to where the ladies were working and set the bags down.  The first he held out to a woman currently holding a deep cast iron pan with a lid which wasn’t full of water and porridge yet.  “I caught some fish.  The children were looking a bit pale still yesterday.  Some fresh meat will help them, I think.”

She took the bag, lurching at how much heavier it was than he made it look.  “Bless you, Eldar.  I’ll get to cleaning these right away,” she said before turning to another of the woman and enlisting her help.  

From there he turned to the women at the fires tending the pots which would eventually hold enough porridge for everyone.  Bland and boring porridge.  It was good for travel, but it left a lot to be desired.  He pulled the other sack off his back and opened it.  He pulled out a couple of large jars which had been empty when he left, but now contained freshly gathered honeycomb and honey.  He handed them and the bag to the women.  “I could hear some hives nearby, so I figured I’d grab some honey for the kid’s breakfast.  I also got some blossoms for the porridge for us.  No sense in bland food in the spring.”

“Well that’s just lovely of you, Lord Eldar,” Alana said quietly.

“Though when you had time to do that is beyond me,” came Lisbeth’s voice as she came to her feet and rounded one of the other wagons.  “Especially since it’s been even longer since you’ve rested than any of us.  And don’t think I missed how you handed off your plate to Timothy last night.”  

She took a moment to eye him critically as she crossed her arms and tapped her foot.  He could feel the judgment rolling off her in waves, making him cringe back from her gaze.  

“You look like shit,” she stated baldly.  “You’re pale, you have rings under your eyes, and you really do need a shave.”  She squinted at him.  “And a haircut.”

“Uh…” he said, dying a little inside at his inability to talk to this gorgeous woman.  His cheeks darkened.  Again.

The entire previous afternoon and evening had been the same.  He and Lisbeth had been walking right next to each other, and he had been a tongue tied idiot the entire time.  He knew she noticed.  Fuck, he knew everyone noticed.  It was the whispered talk of the entire caravan, much to his mortification.  And these women knew he heard them saying it too, which made it even worse.  

Alana looked like she was trying to keep from laughing as she shook her head and walked off towards the lead wagon.  It was the one with the weird cages on it, still full of animals.  The kids had been put in charge of taking care of the animals there.  That was also the wagon that had the few items the marauders had taken with them.  

He rubbed the back of his neck under his ponytail while she stared him down.  He hadn’t been scolded in centuries.  It was odd.  The last person to scold him had to have been Aggie.  He cleared his throat and did his best to meet Lisbeth’s eyes without any shame.  

“What I was doing was more important,” he said simply, though his Brooklyn accent somehow managed to slip through, a sure sign that he was stressed.

Lisbeth narrowed her eyes.  “Did you get any sleep at all?”

He licked his lip, using his tongue to draw it into his mouth to bite it.

“And when was the last time you slept?” she asked incredulously, her own cheeks starting to pinken in her ire.  

At that point Alana strolled back over, huge grin on her face.  “Little Sammy found this on the wagon last night while they were feeding the wee birds.”  

She held out a rolled up leather kit of some sort to Lisbeth with a roguish wink.  “Looks like the only mirror got shattered in the fight though.  You’ll have to help him.”

With that she strutted off to get back to the business of making breakfast.  

Lisbeth snorted as she eyed the kit in her hands then shook her head in amusement.  “Well, that’s decided then.  I’ll go get a warm towel and you get this razor sharpened,” she ordered, closing the distance between them and handing him the shave kit.  “Get settled right over there,” she said, pointing to a large log near one of the fires over by the well.  

He stood there stunned as the Lady walked away towards the wagons.  He was feeling pretty railroaded and he wasn’t sure he liked it all that much.  His face was itchy though, even if he could have gone without being chastised for keeping a night watch.  

He wasn’t stupid.  There were dangerous things in these woods.  Magical and dangerous things.  Things that tended to have a taste for virgins, of which he was traveling with a caravan full of. This part of the road swung a little too close to some enclaves of rather nefarious and evil beings.  There was a Sorcerer lord which ruled the mountain pass to the East of this region, and the edge of his domain was within twenty miles of this specific stretch of road.  He really should take care of that asshole at some point, but he was half hoping the ogres next swing through the region would end up taking care of it for him.  Maybe the evil bastard would actually be of some use in thinning the tribe.

He sighed as he turned and made his way to the log and sat down on it.  He unrolled the shave kit and grabbed the razor as he’d been ordered.  Luckily, it had been kept in good condition.  He only really needed a few swipes on the strap to hone it to a fine edge perfectly adequate for the task at hand.  He was just finishing and getting the tin for the soap open when Lisbeth approached with a towel over her shoulder and a large bowl of lightly steaming water.  She set the bowl down on his other side then draped the large towel around his shoulders.

“You don’t have to do this,” he mumbled as she leaned over to grab the washcloth in the bowl.  She squeezed out a bit in the soap tin and sprinkled the powder in it, then used the rest of the warm water to prep his face.

She met his gaze for a brief moment as her hand gently tilted his chin so she could wet his neck as well.  To his amazement, her cheeks burned bright red and she looked away.  She put a hand on his shoulder to balance herself as she leaned to the side to grab the soap and brush.  As she started to lather his face, she met his eyes again, this time holding his gaze despite her own blush.  

“I’ve only ever done this for my father,” she said softly as she lightly brushed the lather over the entire bottom half of his face.  “He broke his dominate hand and realized he couldn’t shave without cutting himself with the other.”  

“Were you any good at it?” he asked, his brow furrowed.  “I’m normally a bit uncomfortable with people having razor blades to my throat.”

She dropped the brush into the little tin and set it back down, finally braking eye contact.  “He survived the experience, and he wasn’t a literal immortal god, so I think your odds are good.”

Her blush only darkened when she had to reach down and grab the straight razor from his thigh.  She tapped his knee with the closed razor, prompting him to spread his knees even further apart than he normally did.  She stepped right into his personal space and knelt down between his legs so that she was right at eye level with his chin.

The tension that thrummed through him as she finally set the blade to his chin was both nerve wracking and oddly pleasurable.  He’d never let anyone do this for him before, and it was erotic in a way.  Either that or just having a gorgeous woman touch him at all was enough to get him excited considering how long it had been.  Her fingers were gentle as they nudged his face where it needed to go.  Her hand on the razor was steady, and swipe by swipe he felt his beard getting sliced off.  When she finally got to his neck he had to focus on ogres to keep from getting an erection.  He was mostly successful, but it didn’t stop him from very briefly imagining a life where she did this for him multiple times a week.  The intimacy of having this woman cut hair off his neck, right over his jugular, was titillating in a way he had no idea he liked.

He felt her gusty sigh tickle his face when she finally finished.  She wiped the razor off one last time on the towel on his shoulder and then grabbed the warm washcloth again to wipe off any remaining soap.  He let his chin fall as the warm cloth cleaned off his neck.  His eyes sought out hers.

Her hand froze when her eyes finally lifted to meet his.  Her heart fluttered as she gasped a breath softly, like she only just realized exactly how close she was.  How she could feel the heat from his thighs warming her sides.  How the air she inhaled smelled entirely of the man she was almost completely folded in to.  Her pupils dilated and a shiver went down her spine.  

He wanted more than anything, in that moment, for this beautiful woman to trust him as much as he had just trusted her.  He was tired of going to bed alone.  Tired of the cold.  He knew she would die.  It was the curse of his living, that he should watch everyone die, but she was young still.  Of all the lifetimes he had lived, maybe this once… maybe just this one he could live with someone else.  Maybe for a little while, he could be happy.  Then he could spend the rest of his long existence remembering the beautiful girl who gave her life to him.

“I was standing watch,” he muttered quietly, holding her gaze intensely.  “There’s an evil sorcerer who’s built a castle in the pass east of here.  I didn’t want to alarm the children, but he likes to experiment with chimeras.  There have been some abominations that have come out of the mountains in recent years.”

He lifted a hand to delicately trace her jaw while he spoke.  

“This part of the road swerves closest to his castle.  It’s the most dangerous stretch until I have time to kill the sorcerer.  I couldn’t risk you and the kids.”

His fingers delicately traced the edge of her jaw before sliding down to cup her face so his thumb could trace her cheekbone.  Her eyelashes fluttered and her heart sped up.  He allowed himself to get lost in the moment, taking in her beauty and completely ignoring the increasing bustle around him.  

“I know I’m not very good at this,” he whispered, leaning slightly closer to her.  “For lifetimes I have watched over my people.  I’ve built them homes, helped with the harvest, hunted for them, and kept them safe.  They help provide for me too, but I never ask them for anything.  I don’t even charge them for my work.  But you…” he trailed off.

Her eyes fluttered open again.  He could see the question in them.  He reached out with his metal hand and wrapped it delicately around her waist.

“I would ask you for the most valuable thing you have to give.  The only thing truly yours to sacrifice in a place like this.”  His words were spoken gently as he pulled her in closer.

“And what sacrifice is that, that my god would ask of me?” she asked in a breathless voice.  Her hands were gripping his shoulders.

Her breathless whisper sent a shiver down his spine and he pulled her the rest of the way in so that she was pressed against his chest and he had to look almost straight down to meet her gaze.  

“I would ask for everything from you,” he muttered in awe at her wide eyed expression.  “That you would give me your life, every single moment of it.  That you would share with me my home, my table,” he swallowed thickly as his eyes darted down to her lips for a brief spell before flicking back to her eyes, “my bed.”  His breath was heavy as he met her shocked gaze.  “Give me every moment you have left, and I will take care of you.  I will keep you safe, and make sure you never need for anything again.”

Her eyes somehow seemed to grow even bigger for a moment before her brows furrowed.  He held her very close, but as impressive and attractive as his warmth and firmness was, it wasn’t enough to distract her from the words he had uttered.  “You say you will make sure I never need for anything, but what of my wants?  What sort of life would it be, to be yours?  Would I be the only one?”  She bit her lip and broke eye contact, turning her face to the side away from his hand.  “What of love?”

He let go of her waist and lowered his hand.  His stomach felt heavy and his chest tight, but he forced his face to smooth out until it was expressionless.  He leaned back away from her.  “My apologies Lady Lisbeth, if I misread the situation, or made you uncomfortable.”  He forced a breath into his lungs and swallowed to wet his dry throat.  “Just know, I would never take anything which wasn’t freely given.”

He carefully pulled back so he could stand without jostling her.  She stayed exactly where he released her, still on her knees, as he turned away from her and made his way back to the campfires closer to the road.  He didn’t look back. 

Next Chapter

Chapter List

[musicmakesyousmart]

Michael Ridge - Empty Predawn Gaze

Quagga Curious Sounds

2021

[paperjunk]

For Me?

I just need a sleepy Rooster, a plate of pancakes and bacon, and the predawn hours.

Warnings: None.

Genre: Soft, warm and fluffy

A/N: on my tumblr (not the dash) the perfect alignment of Rooster and a plate of pancakes came up and I’ve been craving them ever since and some Rooster fluff involving them…sort of, lol.

For me?

He felt you roll out of the bed the two of you had only started to share in the recent months. Tired eyes watching as you disappeared into the bathroom for a shower as a hand ran over his face, feeling the start of stubble along his jawline.

Glancing over at the clock on your side of the bed, he read: 5:00 AM and groaned as he threw his legs over the edge. Feet hitting cold, hard, wooden floors making a chill running up his spine. He hadn’t gotten around to getting a rug quite yet and was regretting the decision.

You had just finished getting dressed when the smell of the bacon you had bought last week wafted in, teasing your stomach. Eyes darted over to the empty bed briefly, before you made your way out to see Rooster leaned over the counter, his head in hand, eyes closed and very rumpled looking. A royal blue plate of pancakes and bacon sat on the counter, under his pale shadow. You couldn’t help but give a soft smile and watch him for a moment as the predawn light played across his face. 

Slim lines of pale gold crept over his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose while light slipped over and through his messy hair as if playing with the thick strands, throwing light brown highlights into contrasting colors. Whiskey-colored eyes opened suddenly, catching you staring, and a one-sided smile curved his lips, a knowing look held within his gaze.

“For me?” You ask, reaching out, fingers brushing hair from his forehead—unable to stop yourself from following the blazing trail of light across his cheekbones.

His eyes slid shut, and a soft hum escaped deep within his chest. “Hmmm.”

Picking up the plate with a smile, Rooster took a seat across from you and pulled up the blinds partially, the predawn light sinking into the world around you.

“You can go back to bed,” you said, watching him. His head in his hand again, eyes scanning the water outside the glass pane.

“I’m good,” he replied, looking over at you, eyes full of a sleepiness and a contentment you hadn’t seen in a while. “Your first mission briefing since being back. Gotta at least do something, even if it’s just pancakes.”

Holding out a strip of bacon to him, he took a bite from your offering with a soft smile of his own, his hand running down your arm in the action. And just as abruptly, a warmth spread through you at his touch. A chuckle left you and your body bent over; a plan to press your lips in a kiss to his cheek—or at least that’s what you were headed for until he turned his face in the millisecond it took for him to make the decision, and soon all you could taste was him and the bacon doused in maple syrup.

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

A/N: Thanks for reading! Just a soft, sweet moment caught in my mind.

[modern-vellichor]

Daddy, Please

Chapter One

Summary: Tony’s daughter shows up suddenly, after years of being unheard of, and something is most definitely wrong. Warnings: absent father, age gap relationship, Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader

Bucky and Steve weren’t expecting their next mission to be a young woman at the airport.

“Dad really couldn’t pick me up himself?” You said, staring at the two men in front of you. “Fine.” Steve smiled at you and you smiled back, he had missed you.

You hopped in the car without any protest. And you didn’t complain when neither man spoke to you on the ride home. They laughed when the first thing you did with your father was get into an argument. Tony looked wildly shocked, he hadn’t been called out in a long time. While Steve respected untold boundaries and left, Bucky stayed and watched. 

Hell, you could fight. Bucky couldn’t help but wonder what you were like in the field, if you had ever even been in the field. He was dying to know why he had never heard of you. He knew Morgan. Steve took Morgan out on Saturdays, old uncle Steve. Bucky felt a fraction of your power when you shoved past him and out of the compound.

Bucky wandered out of his room, his usual three am wakeup call. Nowadays he could just shake off then nightmares, shrug it off, roll over, ignore it. But tonight was different. No matter how he tossed and turned, curling up and spreading out, he couldn’t just shake it off. So he stalked the halls of the compound, expecting to be the only one awake.

Sleeping in a new place was always slightly unnerving. Especially since you were so far from what you called home. You tossed and turned under sheets that weren’t yours and begged sleep to take you. No matter how still you lay, or how hard you shut your eyes, you couldn’t sleep. And so you tiptoed through the compound, which was scarily eerie when it was dark and empty. This didn’t feel like a home, and you longed for the comfort of your apartment.

You walked slow laps around your father’s office, before settling in his chair. You hacked you way into his computer, although it wasn’t hard; what with a password like ‘morgan1′. You nonchalantly browsed through useless files, pictures of Morgan, old mission reports, you even found some of your baby pictures. 

Bucky noticed the warm light spilling out from underneath Tony’s office door. Tony didn’t even live in the compound, so it was far past suspicious. He crept towards the door. The door creaked open and you stared up in fear. You let out a sigh of relief when you saw the familiar broad build of Bucky.

“Barnes,” you sighed out, smiling in relief. “You scared me. What are you doing up?”

Bucky gazed at you for a moment. It was the first time he had ever taken the time to really look at you. The white light glowed against your skin in the dimly lit office. 

“Nightmare,” he stated blankly. Clearly, his blunt nature threw you off. “Are you okay? You shouldn’t be up either.” He said softly, and you smiled at him.

“Couldn’t sleep. I miss my own bed.”

“I know how that feels.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a little while. You checked the time on the computer. You looked over your shoulder and watched the trees sway in a gentle breeze. You looked back to Bucky with a hopeful smile.

“Wanna go for a drive?”

Bucky insisted on driving. The roads were empty and the moon was high. The world was asleep but the two of you were wide awake. Music hummed quietly over the radio. You were enjoying each other’s company. You drove aimlessly for a while before retiring back to the compound. Together you sat shivering on the roof, watching the moon set. 

In the pale predawn light, Bucky opened his arms and you scooted into his grasp. You rest your head in his lap and gazed up at the godly man in awe. Bucky pulled his attention away from the skyline and down to you. He met your tired eyes with a gentle smile.

“Your dad wouldn’t be happy if he found out you were with me,” Bucky chuckled dryly, there was a sharp pang of sadness in his voice.

“Darlin’ I know. Who cares?” You stared back out into the sky. “I stopped caring a long time ago.”

“Good,” he muttered. He gripped your chin and turned your head to face him before crashing his lips against yours. The kiss took you by surprise but you eagerly kissed him back. There was something about defying your parents that always gets you so love drunk, but Bucky wasn’t helping.

Your morning was cut short by the sunrise and the sound of Steve’s voice echoing through the compound. You rushed down the stairs and stood beside one another while Steve looked you up and down. 

“Buck, training?”

Bucky excuses himself and makes his wat towards his room.

“Defying the parents?” Steve says with a grin. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“He’s not much of a parent to defy.”

“Don’t get caught,” Steve grinned knowingly.

You stood on your toes to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Captain.”

Steve watched you walk off with a smile, and a new agenda.

[roman-writing]

bring home a haunting (9/12)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 19,386

Summary: Dani almost has her life together, when a familiar face arrives back in town after ten years. A childhood friends AU written with @youngbloodbuzz

read it below or read it on AO3 here

IX: 1987

-

It wasn't Jamie at Thanksgiving.

Jamie bringing Mikey. Jamie being charming. Jamie seated at the table with the whole family as though she’d never left. It wasn’t the way Dani had sat two seats down from her, wishing she could be close enough that their legs pressed together beneath the table, and in turn resenting herself for desiring such a thing in the first place. Here. Where Dani was surrounded by her fiancé and her future in-laws. Burying her nose in her wine glass against her better judgement until by the end of the night she had felt off-kilter, until she had needed to retreat to the bathroom to splash her face with cold water and sit atop the toilet seat with her head buried in her hands just to be alone for two minutes.

It wasn't Eddie's announcement that he'd booked the botanical gardens as their wedding venue for the next year.

Eddie telling her proudly after work one evening. Eddie listing off all the ways the venue suited their requirements. Eddie expecting her to be relieved that he’d taken such initiative to lift this burden from her shoulders, to allow her to focus on things like flower arrangements, and bridesmaids, and card stock for invitations. Dani had taken the news in stride. Her smile had been broad enough to pull at the seams until she felt like she might split open. She had let him kiss her on the cheek and take her out to dinner. She had let him place his coat around her shoulders, let him place his hand at the small of her back, let him place his hand on her knee the whole ride home.

It wasn’t even her mother dragging her off to Davenport on the weekend to try on wedding dresses.

The long car ride. Her mother in the driver’s seat, while Dani had tried to avoid conversation by staring at scenery through the window. Karen picking at every detail of the dresses that Dani had lingered over – this was too long, this was too ivory, this revealed too much of her back. Dani had let Karen speak with the store attendant instead, walking along a row of sumptuous dresses – innumerable yards of lustrous silk and satin, of muslin, velvet and lace – and unable to imagine herself in a single one. And after lunch, Dani had walked along the riverbank, gazing out across the sun-glinted water, and had thought faintly to herself that this was as close as she’d ever been to the state border. Wondered if she tried to sprint across the bridge, if she would be flung back, pulled by some greater gravity.

It was her car dying. That was what finally did it.

She'd had to call a tow, and Roger Simmons had let her hop into the passenger's seat with a kind smile as he dragged her car behind his truck all the way to the shop. The mechanic spoke like a coroner, coldly addressing what had done the old girl in, while Dani listened, hearing only a high whine in her ears, rising in pitch. In the end, Eddie had to come and pick her up to drive her home. She went in a daze, Jamie's coat draped over her shoulders, a wad of bills clenched in her fist – cash exchanged for scrap metal — and the box of precious things tucked beneath her crossed elbows.

It was the sleepless nights that followed. 

It was waking up to sounds of drumming against the walls, a hollow noise, a hollow bang, as though from a fury with an iron glove. And it was waking up again with a jerk, a cold sweat, clutching at her throat and struggling to breathe through the fading nightmare of a rope coiled and snapping taut. Outside, a car in the predawn dark would pace the restless streets, headlamps like eyes lighting up the blue dimity curtains of their bedroom window in passing. 

And Eddie slept through it all. Shivering with cold, Dani would curl up against his broad back, wrap an arm around him and lie awake until her body slowly warmed against his, until the rising sun began to tint the world a pallid ghostly grey. By the next morning, she would remember nothing of the terror. Only the cold. The deep and gripping cold. 

“Not to be rude or anything,” said Jamie, “but you look like absolute dog shit.”

Now, standing in the doorway to Jamie’s house, Dani laughed. An honest slightly maddened laugh. It was Sunday morning, and Dani could not remember a time when she had felt more tired. She held a bag of food from Owen's that she barely recalled picking up earlier. There was the impression of wandering all that way, as though sleep walking, drifting down the familiar streets and hardly registering the fact that her feet were carrying her to a predetermined destination. As though an internal compass had an arm fixed firmly and pointing towards Jamie.

"Thanks," Dani said when she finally managed to stop laughing — just on this side of hysterics — wiping at the corners of her eyes and smiling weakly.

Jamie stepped aside to let her in and shut the door behind her. "Have you not been sleeping? And where's your car?"

Dani had to swallow back a tightness in her throat. "I sold it," she said, taking off her shoes and setting them to one side. "It died and I sold it."

"Sorry to hear that,” said Jamie and she sounded genuine. “But, hey. If you ever want advice buying a new one and don't know what to look for, I can help."

Dani didn't want a new car. She didn't want any car that wasn't purely her own and nobody else's. A car bought with a joint account. A car chosen on someone else's recommendation — no matter how sensible. None of it was sensible; she didn't want sensible. She wanted to go back to 1981 and purchase a car that let her feel — for the first time in too long a time — free.

There was a gentle touch at her elbow, and Dani tensed. She turned to find Jamie watching her with a kindly expression. "You want a cup of tea?" Jamie asked. "Only — it looks like you need one."

Dani's mouth opened, then shut again. She nodded, drawing in a deep breath. Her morning cup of coffee — Eddie had made it, insisting it was his turn — was a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. The only effect it seemed to have had was increasing her heart rate and leaving her bereft of the ability to sit still without feeling like she was going to self-destruct.

She followed Jamie into the kitchen, answering Jamie's questions with half-phrases and murmurs, distracted by the glance of light through the windows, by the way it seemed to cast Jamie all in bronze. A statue breathed into with life as though by an artist’s hands. Somewhere along the way, Dani had dropped her purse to the floor and sat at one of the bar stools, resting her cheek heavily in one hand.

Jamie set the kettle on a back coil and frowned over at her. "It's only nine, you know. You sure you don't want to have a quick nap before our usual torture via sci fi?"

Dani tried to imagine sleeping on the couch while Jamie puttered around the kitchen, and knew it would be impossible. She shook her head. "Thanks, but your couch is very sunny."

Indeed, the couch was sun-bathed and bright, just visible in the other room. The idea of sleeping there, waking up sweltering where anyone could walk by the house and see her, made her stomach turn. 

"Doesn't have to be the couch," Jamie said. "I've a perfectly good bed upstairs."

Dani’s head jerked back. She pointed towards the stairs and said, “You mean — yours?” 

"Yeah, unless you want the kid's room," Jamie opened up a cupboard and took out a tin full of tea bags. "Trust me. You don't."

“If - If that’s okay,” Dani said, voice rising in inflection like a question. 

Jamie set down the tin. “Said it was, didn’t I? C’mon. Up you get.” She started towards the stairs and gestured for Dani to follow her. 

For a moment Dani stayed seated at the counter. She could say no, and Jamie would let her. Jamie wouldn’t insist. Jamie would go back to making tea and small talk until Mikey wandered down for breakfast and television. 

Scraping back the stool, Dani stood and trailed after her. Jamie didn’t glance back as they climbed the stairs together. Dani kept a hand on the wood-painted railing all the way up as though the earth might pitch beneath her feet. When they reached the landing, Jamie held up a finger to her lips and pointed at Mikey’s shut door, the two of them slipping past, and then Jamie was pushing open the door to her room.

With a sense of unreality, Dani stepped inside. Her memories of Jamie’s personal space always involved mess, a sort of organized chaos. The years had dampened that only somewhat. A few of Jamie’s clothes were still strewn across the floor and clutter accumulated on the dresser, but the bed was made and the air had that recently vacuumed smell. The curtains were drawn, admitting only a faint sliver of light from the far wall so that the room was pleasantly warm and dark. 

Giving Jamie a furtive and apologetic shrug, Dani stepped towards the bed.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Jamie said from the doorway as Dani sat on the edge of the mattress, nearest the window. 

“Don’t,” said Dani, “let me sleep too long.”

Jamie smiled at her. “Go on. Get some kip,” she said, and pulled the door quietly shut behind her. 

Dani listened to Jamie’s footsteps retreating back down the hall. She didn’t realize she was gripping a corner of the sheets in a fist until she felt a dull ache in her hand. Clasping her hands together in her lap, she sat there and stared at the drawn curtains. 

This side of the bed had no side table. Then again, Jamie had always preferred the right side of the bed. Somehow that simple knowledge was like a thrilling secret. Dani glanced over at that side, at the half empty glass of water and the faded novel and the pocket knife. Sitting up slightly, Dani tugged out the sheets and slipped beneath them, not bothering to get undressed. 

Somehow this was worse than the couch. She was a voyeur in her own skin. Every motion seemed performed outside of herself, viewed by a camera lens through a keyhole. Dani sprawling across the mattress. Dani twisting up in the sheets. Dani pressing her face into the pillows and inhaling deeply. Dani pulling the covers up until her head was all but covered, until she was wrapped up in the familiar warmth and smell, until the sleepless nights came rushing over her, dragging her down, down into the vasty deep. 

She awoke to the sounds of voices, distant through the door and down the stairs. Blearily she blinked and squinted around the room. The first thing she registered was that the bed was oriented incorrectly; it should have been up against the other wall. And the voices weren’t quite right either. There was the distinct lack of a Scottish burr. 

Because it wasn’t 1978, and she wasn’t at the railway cottage, and Ruth Heron had been dead for over a decade.

Five more minutes, she thought muzzily to herself. Just five more minutes and she would wake up. 

Five minutes came and went. Head still buried in a pillow, Dani lifted her arm to check her wristwatch. Thirty-five minutes, in fact. She couldn’t remember falling asleep again. Only that she couldn’t think of a time when she wanted to wake up less. Only that Jamie’s bed was far more comfortable than her own, and that even after all these years she could with confidence say she much preferred it. 

Pushing herself upright, Dani fumbled with the skin-warm covers. She was swinging her legs over the side of the bed and running a hand through her sleep-mussed hair when she heard a gentle tap on the door.

“You decent?” Jamie’s voice asked from the other side. 

Dani’s fingers curled at the hem of her skirt. She said, “Come in.”

The doorknob turned slowly and Jamie poked her head in before the rest of her followed. “Feeling better?” she asked, shutting the door behind her.

Dani lifted her head slightly, remaining perched on the edge of the mattress, angled away from the door. “A little.”

Jamie’s footsteps padded closer and behind her Dani could feel the bed sink down slightly beneath a new weight. She stared down at her own bare ankles. A slit of light through the curtains lapped against the carpet, so that it seemed her feet were underwater. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

A precarious lock of hair fell into Dani’s eyes, and she raked it back with both hands. Her fingers remained tangled there, slumping down so that her wrists rested against her shoulders and she held onto the back of her neck. 

“It wasn’t half mine,” she said finally after a long pause. “The car, I mean. It wasn’t half my car. It was just - just mine. Nobody had to lend it to me, or share it with me, or withhold it from me, or - It’s silly, I know. I’m being silly.” 

“You’re not.”

Hesitantly, Dani twisted round. Jamie had moved up the bed so that she was leaning easily against the headboard, propped against a pillow. One leg hung over the side of the mattress, and the other was bent at the knee. Ten years ago, Dani would have sank down beside her, would have rested her head in Jamie’s lap or on the perch of Jamie’s shoulder. Now the spread of sheets between them might as well have been the breadth of the Atlantic. 

“It’s not silly,” Jamie continued, “wanting something that’s just yours. Not at all.” 

“I have this.” 

The words spilled out of her before she could properly think over their implications, and Dani rushed to clarify. 

“Sundays,” Dani said. “I have - I have my Sundays back, I guess.”

“Not really just yours though, are they?”

“What do you mean?”

Jamie smiled softly and gestured to herself. “Well, I’m here. Taking up your precious Sunday time.”

Dani’s mouth felt dry. “Yeah,” she murmured. “But that’s -” 

She didn’t say: ‘different.’ She didn’t say: ‘what I want.’ She meant it, though, and the words hung unspoken between them. 

Dangerous, Dani thought. Being here — in Jamie’s bed, still tired, still muddled from sleep, the truth on the tip of her tongue — was dangerous. 

Jamie looked away and Dani found she could breathe properly again. She cleared her throat as Jamie moved to stand up without doing so. Gesturing to the bed, Jamie said, “You can keep sleeping, if you want. I can tell the kid to keep it down and do homework, and you can sleep.”

“No,” said Dani faintly, then with more strength, “No, I want to wake up.”

 --

It was far too early in the morning to be teaching children songs to a nativity play. Dani stood at the front of the otherwise empty auditorium with her class, clutching a cup of coffee that she had smuggled out of the teacher’s lounge. It was ten days until Christmas, and not a single one of these kids was ready to perform at the school play. Bless them.

Dani winced when the tune slid distinctly south of the intended key. With a fortifying sip of coffee on her tongue, she shook her head and raised one hand. “Okay, stop! Please! Let’s start from the top again, all right?”

She shot a plaintive look towards Ms. Reeves, who was by this time an institution in and of herself. Ms. Reeves was also the only competent pianist at the school and could sight-read sheet music. With a nod, Ms. Reeves pushed up her thick tortoise shell glasses and struck a chord to orient the kids back to the beginning of the song.

It did not go any better than last time. Not even with Dani slowing them all down and singing various sections by herself, so they could hear the difference. That didn’t seem to help much. If anything, the kids were adamant that she could keep singing so they could just listen and whittle down the clock until freedom. And she couldn’t blame them. She herself kept checking her wristwatch, wondering how many minutes until she was free from the purgatory of work so close to the holidays. 

“You know,” she told them once they’d finished, “I’m not the one that’s going to be singing in front of all your parents.”

“But you’re much better at singing, Miss Clayton.”

“Yeah, you should just do the performance for us. We’ll be back up dancers.”

Dani gave a snort of laughter and rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s very flattering, but ultimately unhelpful. And it’s definitely not happening. So, we’re going to practise again tomorrow. All right?”

A chorus of whines answered. Dani held up a hand and began shooing them off the stage, “I don’t want to hear it. This is your only homework this week. So, you’re welcome. Go. Go on.”

It did not take much urging. They went with talk amongst themselves, shared excitement and laughter at being let free. One or two of them gave her a wave in passing. 

“Bye, Miss Clayton.”

Dani smiled. “Bye, Mikey. See you later.”

Mikey trotted after a small group of his friends, shouldering his star-splashed backpack. At the piano, Ms. Reeves was shuffling together the sheet music and stashing it in the compartment hidden in the seat before she too shuffled towards the exit, trailing after the children.

Still on stage, Dani called out after her, “Thank you, Ms. Reeves! I’ll see you tomorrow!” 

No sooner had the door shut behind her however, than it opened again. Dani, who had begun cleaning up after the kids — the last thing the janitor needed was to sweep this whole place when it would just take a few minutes of her time to pick up the bits of litter that seemed to accumulate wherever a pack of children roamed — glanced up, expecting to see that perhaps one of her students had left something behind. Instead, Hannah walked into the auditorium, her heels clicking against the polished floors. 

“Oh, hi!” Dani greeted with an absentminded smile, even as she ducked down and tucked a few crumpled wrappers into her pocket for disposal later. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“Just doing the rounds,” said Hannah. “Finished some paperwork early.”

“Lucky you,” Dani drawled. She dropped down to one knee and reached under a stand to fish out a piece of paper that had been left behind. Someone’s old homework, no doubt. “I still have to -” she pushed herself upright, careful not to spill what remained of her coffee “- enter last week’s tests into the system. Good grief, how do they always leave so much trash everywhere? They were only here for forty minutes.”

Hannah climbed the stairs to join her on stage, the two of them arrayed like actors before an absent audience. “So, how many ear plugs should I bring this year?” she asked.

“At least two pairs for you and me,” Dani answered, sharing a small smile with her.

“Nothing for your beau? I didn’t think you the type to let him suffer alone.”

Dani laughed. She folded up the page of old homework and slipped it into her pocket. “This isn’t one of the events he’ll want to come to. Trust me.”

Hannah cocked her head to one side. “And what of Miss Taylor?”

Taken aback, Dani blinked and fumbled for a response. “Jamie? Well, she’s not - I mean - We’re just friends.”

Hannah gave her an odd look. “Of course. I was only asking if she would be attending to see her brother.” 

“Right,” said Dani. “Yeah. Yeah, she’ll be here.” 

When Hannah simply watched her curiously, Dani tucked a lock of hair behind one ear and sipped at her near empty cup of coffee. It had gone completely cold and bitter, despite the copious amounts of sugar and creamer she had added earlier. 

“Have you worked out the catering yet?” Dani asked. Anything to fill the dead space, to divert Hannah’s too clever, too perceptive, too gentle gaze. 

The corner of Hannah’s mouth quirked in a knowing smile, but all she said was, “Yes. I thought I’d take your advice, actually.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been in touch with the owner of that cafe in town,” Hannah said. “And Owen has gladly agreed to be the school’s supplier for the after show event.” 

“Owen , huh?” Dani repeated, grinning. “Not Mr. Sharma?” 

“Shall we play that game, Miss Clayton?” Hannah said, and though her tone was light the look she shot Dani was warning. 

Clearing her throat, Dani turned the empty cup between her hands and glanced away. “Point taken,” she said weakly.

For a moment she feared that Hannah would press. A shiver of utter dread wormed its way up Dani’s throat, locking her jaw in place like a coroner’s wire sewn through the gaps in her teeth. Hannah knew. If not the specifics, Hannah knew something. She had seen the flowers. She had seen Dani and Jamie interacting at school events and camping trips. She had seen Dani spiraling at the Halloween fair, had calmed her down in the shadow of the old brick building, and sat with her until Dani could gather the pieces of herself together again. It’s all right , she had said. It’s all right. 

And even though Hannah said nothing now, the words hung between them. They were alone in the school auditorium, on stage before an empty crowd, and Dani could not shake the feeling that if she looked up, there would be a bucket teetering in the rafters over her head. 

“Do you have any plans for the holidays, dear?”

The question was so casual it took Dani a moment to register that Hannah had once again allowed her to slip away, unscathed and unnoticed. 

“Just the usual,” Dani said. “Home with my mother and the future in-laws.”

“Well, that’s something, isn’t it?”

Dani smiled. Something. Yeah. It sure was. Another year at Judy’s house. The last year until she was another Mrs. O’Mara in a family full of Mrs. O’Maras. 

“And you?” Dani asked. 

With a sigh and a one-shouldered shrug, Hannah said, “The holidays are always quiet for me. I left my life back in England, when I came to America.” 

“Why not,” Dani gestured with the cup towards the auditorium at large, “go back? Don’t you ever travel anymore?” 

“Oh,” said Hannah, sounding surprised. “Not really, no. Apart from coming here. But that was a bit of a spur of the moment decision to follow -” she cleared her throat and whatever she had been about to say was replaced instead by, “Well, to follow a job opportunity, I suppose.”

“Do you miss it?” Dani asked. “Home, I mean?”

Hannah smiled gently. “Is it home, I wonder? I cannot say. I miss people. But — well. I have people here now, don’t I?” And she grasped Dani’s arm with a brief warm touch. 

Dani blinked in surprise. “Of course. Yeah. You know, you could - you could come over. If you wanted.”

“That’s very kind of you, but not this year, I think.”

“Hey,” said Dani softly, and she reached out as if to grasp Hannah by the elbow, to return the gesture, only to let her hand fall back to her side instead. “I know I call you ‘Mrs. Grose’ and all that, but that’s not — I think of you as a friend.”

“Does that mean I can expect to receive a wedding invitation?” Hannah asked slyly, avoiding Dani’s well-meaning American earnestness with all the finesse of an Englishwoman incapable of stomaching such bald sincerity. 

Dani laughed. “I’ll make sure to sign the invitation myself.” 

“Very good.”

“So,” Dani nudged Hannah’s foot with her own, “Next year? Christmas? You’ll come over?”

Hannah chuckled warmly. “Next year.”

 --

There was a blanket of snow across the ground and Dani had elected to wear heels. Simple navy dress shoes. Just enough to give her an extra two inches of height and match her outfit. The moment she opened the car door and was met with a bank of snow along the curb side, she scrunched up her nose and weighed up her chances at being able to step over it. Her skirt probably wouldn’t give her the range of movement.

She was still pushing at the quirks of her gloves, when Eddie said from the driver’s seat, “I got it.”

He stepped out of the car, door slamming behind him, and rounded the car so that he could kick a path through the snow for her. Then, holding out his hand, he grinned. “Think Mark will hire me as the new plough driver?”

“You missed your calling,” Dani replied. She took his hand, giving it a grateful squeeze and allowing herself to be pulled up and out of the car.

“Well, if this council role fails, at least I have that.”

He didn’t bother locking the car as they made their way up the street towards his parent’s house. Dani kept her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, shoulders hunched up and huddled beneath her jacket. The pavement had been salted and was bare of snow or ice. Great plumes of white feathered the night air with every breath. Dani shivered.

“God, I can’t wait for spring,” she muttered under her breath.

He chuckled, then took her hand and pressed it into his pocket, wrapped up in his hand for warmth. “You could’ve just worn boots, you know,” Eddie said. “I hear ski jumpsuits are very chic nowadays.”

“I think my mother would kill me.”

“We could write Dior across the back with a bedazzler. That way she couldn’t complain.”

Dani snorted with laughter before she could stop herself, biting back a wide grin. She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “You’re almost as bad as Jamie.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

By some miracle, Dani didn’t slip even once on the short walk to the front door. She ran a quick hand across her hair to ensure it was still coiffed to perfection while Eddie knocked. They didn’t actually wait for anyone to answer. Knocking was more of a courtesy. The moment after Eddie knocked, he turned the handle and pushed the door inwards to admit them, calling out, “We made it!”

“Merry Christmas!” a few voices said in jumbled unison, while Judy called from the kitchen, “Come in! Come in!”

“Shut the door while you’re at it!” Tommy added. “You’re letting out the heat!”  

The two of them shuffled inside, shutting the door and pushing off their coats and gloves. Eddie held out his hand to take hers and she gave them to him with a grateful kiss on the cheek, which he ducked down to receive before striding away to hang up their things in a closet around the corner. The house was pleasantly warm and bright. A fire flickered and popped in the hearth. A few of Tommy and David’s kids were playing cards on the rug in front of it. Tommy and David themselves were seated on the couch, chatting with their dad and nursing beers. Their wives were sipping wine; the two had cordoned themselves off by the chairs near the Christmas tree, which was already piled high with presents for tomorrow. Taking off her heels and setting them by the front door, Dani gave the two other women – both sleek, polished, and brunette – a nervous little wave and a smile. They returned it, looking as plasticky as Dani felt.

Already Dani felt herself tense up with quiet dread at the thought of making small talk all night. The section of hard floor by the front door was slightly wet from the residue of snow left when people first stepped inside, and with a grimace she stepped further into the house and onto warm dry carpet. Before she could go any further however, there was another knock at the front door. And this time, it didn’t immediately open after.

Looking around, nobody else seemed to be moving. So, Dani walked back a few steps and opened the door to find her mother standing on the other side, a bottle of red wine under one arm.

“Oh,” said Dani, smiling weakly. “Hi, mom.”

Karen cast an appraising glance across Dani’s appearance – navy skirt, navy jacket, cream-colored blouse, bare-stockinged feet – and her eyebrow rose.

“What? Did you leave your snow boots at home?” Karen asked, moving inside so that Dani had to step out of the way.

Dani sighed. “Merry Christmas, mother.”

Normally that kind of tone would have earned her a sharp-tongued rebuke, but from the couch Mike said jovially, “Karen! Nice to see you!”

Her mother removed her shoes and strode towards the couch to talk. Tommy and David exchanged their pleasantries. Meanwhile, Dani caught Mike’s eye over her mother’s shoulder. He winked at her, but the action was so fast and subtle she might have imagined it.

Making her way past the living room, carefully not catching the attention of Tommy and David’s wives, Dani slipped into the kitchen. There, Carson and Judy were adding the finishing touches to a feast’s worth of food already spread out across the center island, while Eddie rummaged around in the fridge.

“Oh, honey, don’t you look nice,” Judy greeted her with a smile. She gestured Dani closer with a spatula so she could give her a brief one-armed hug and a peck on the cheek before returning to task.

“Hey,” Carson said, flicking a towel at his brother’s backside. “If you’re not going to help, get lost.”

Eddie straightened with a scowl, clutching a can of beer in one hand. “Knock it off, Carson.”

“Mom, tell him to get out of the kitchen.”

“Get out of the kitchen, Eddie,” said Judy in an absentminded tone, busy carving an enormous glazed ham and plating the slices. 

Eddie shut the fridge door and said, exasperated, “Why do you always side with him?”

“Because she likes me more than she likes you,” Carson whisper shouted, dodging out of the way when Eddie took a swipe at the back of his head. 

Which was, of course, exactly when Judy chose to look up from her carving, her face a fixed scowl of displeasure. “Edmund! On Christmas? Really?”

“Wha -?” Eddie pointed at Carson, but whatever excuse he’d been about to say died on the tip of his tongue as his mother returned to what she’d been doing. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath.

Carson flapped the towel towards the exit to shoo his brother away, and Eddie went, sipping sullenly at his beer. “Not going to save me?” he asked Dani as he passed her in the doorway.

Dani shrugged apologetically but she was grinning when she replied. “Your mom’s house. Your mom’s rules.”

“Smart girl,” Judy murmured.

Eddie left, grumbling all the while. Carson waved cheerily after him and only stopped when Dani gave him a look.

“What?” Carson asked. 

“You know what.”

“He was being in the way,” said Carson as though that justified everything. “He’s always being in the way. I thought you of all people would understand that.”

Even Judy shot her an amused glance at that. Dani crossed the room and snatched the dish towel from Carson so she could get started on the pile of pots and pans that had already accumulated in the sink before anyone had eaten a single bite. 

Of course she knew that. Better than anyone. Better than any of them could begin to understand. 

Instead, all Dani said was, “And we love him anyway. Because that’s what good siblings do. Especially during the holidays.” 

Carson rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Fine.”

Running the tap to fill up the sink, Dani flicked him with water, and he ducked away from the splash with a whine of complaint. 

“Judy!” called out Mike’s voice from the living room. “Can you bring out a towel and some soap! We’ve had a spill!” 

With a sigh, Judy held out her hand for the towel, which Dani was already passing over to her along with a spare bar of soap from the windowsill over the sink. “Thanks, honey. Carson, can you take out the pie for me, please?”

Carson saluted sharply and moved towards the oven. “I’m on it, boss.” 

In a bustle, Judy went out into the living room, leaving Dani and Carson alone in the kitchen. From the open door, Dani could hear her say, “Already, Tommy? I told you to be careful.”

“Sorry, mom. Here. I can do it.”

“It was David’s fault, actually.”

“Hey, Ed? Buddy? You want to test the ‘no fight’ rule of Christmas?”

“Boys, please.” 

Dani hid a grin. She twisted off the tap and scrounged around in the cupboard beneath the sink for a pair of pink gloves to start the washing up. Beside her, Carson grabbed an oven mitt and a spare towel, and pulled out a pie, resting it atop the stove and switching off the remaining dials. 

“Smells great,” Dani said idly as she reached for a scrubbing brush and soap. “You two must’ve been working all afternoon.”

“It was mostly mom, to be honest. Though I was charged with some last minute grocery shopping. The store was a nightmare.”

Dani gave him a sympathetic grimace. With a smile, Carson set down the oven mitt and moved around her so that she could hand off a pan to him for drying. 

“Feel like we should leave this for Eddie and the twins to clean up,” said Carson. “Seems only fair.”

Dani shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, but that’s because you’re too nice.” He nudged her shoulder with his own. “Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

“What? Of being nice? No.”

“No?” 

She pushed another clean saucepan, still dripping with suds, into his hands and repeated, “No.” 

“Your loss,” he sighed dramatically. 

They fell into a companionable silence. From the other room they could still hear the goings on of the rest of the family. Dani listened fondly, while beside her Carson began humming a familiar tune under his breath. They worked in tandem, but as Dani placed the song — one of the many she’d heard at his concert in Des Moines — her movements slowed. His humming was but an echo of that night. Of bright neon lights, and a sweat-crowded underground bar, and thrumming noise vibrating the very floor beneath her feet. 

“You know I -” Dani started to say, then stopped, not knowing exactly how to continue. “I went looking for you that night. After the performance, I mean.” 

“Hmm?” Carson said, idle and wordless, setting aside one pan and reaching for a clean pot that Dani had just finished washing. 

The water was murky and soap-riddled in the sink. A few knives were barely visible at the bottom, and there was still more than one pan handle cresting up through the surface like a sunken bowsprit. Eyes glued to the water, Dani set down the scrubber and steadied herself, hands braced against the edge of the sink.

“I found you. I saw you with your - your friend,” she said softly, slowly, picking up pace when he stiffened at her side, realising the implication of her words. “And I know it’s not my business, but I just - I wanted to tell you -”

She glanced up at him. Carson was frozen and wide-eyed, his hands gripping the damp drying towel as though it were a life line, the only thing keeping him tethered. Dani slipped her hands free of the gloves and reached out to grasp his wrist with fingers that were clammy yet gentle. 

“I think you’re wonderful,” Dani breathed, her voice low and her gaze far more steady than her heart beat. She could feel Carson’s leaping like a skittish animal’s beneath her thumb. “And I wish I were half as brave.” 

He blinked at her, his brow furrowing slightly, and Dani felt her throat close up around her tongue. She could tell him. It could be their little secret. Something they shared, a flame shielded from the wind by two cupped hands, flickering red-hot against their palms. She could tell him that he wasn’t alone, that she understood, that he didn’t need to hide from her. She could tell him, but the words were strangled at the root, piling up against the roof of her mouth. She could tell him, but he would always be Eddie’s brother before he was hers. 

Footsteps behind them. Someone entering the kitchen. Dani snatched her hand away as though scalded, and both she and Carson stepped back from one another. Putting the pink gloves back on to finish the dishes, Dani cast a furtive look over her shoulder.

Karen had paused in the doorway, gripping the neck of the wine bottle in one hand. "I hope I'm not interrupting something," she said with a pointed flicker of her eyes between Dani and Carson. 

The idea was so ridiculous — her and Carson — that Dani couldn't help but laugh. That her mother cared to know her so little she could even think they were anything but friends. It was laughable. And so Dani laughed. Beside her, Carson’s expression was pinched, as though it took everything in his power to not join in. 

"Is something funny?" Karen asked coolly.

Stifling a giggle behind her teeth, Dani shook her head. "No," she managed. Then she cleared her throat and continued more seriously, "No. Nothing at all. What can I get for you, mom?"

“Well, unless the wine glasses and corkscrew have taken up a new residence, I can get what I need myself.”

Dani handed off one of the last knives to Carson for drying and frowned at where her mother had crossed the kitchen to open one of the drawers. "At least wait for dinner," Dani said, and tensed as though for an incoming blow when her mother sent her a warning glare.

"Not tonight, Danielle," Karen said. "You know how hard Christmas is for me."

Except it wasn't just Christmas. And it wasn't just tonight. It was every night and all the nights that had come before.

Mouth pursed, shoulders tense, Dani stripped off the gloves. Carson must have noticed the hard expression on her face, for he said suddenly, “Hey, Dani, can you go tell everyone that dinner’s ready and that they’ll need to come serve themselves? We’re doing it more buffet style this year, since there are so many of us.” 

Exasperated, Dani nodded. Carson nudged her lightly with his elbow and gave her a smile.

“Thanks,” Dani said under her breath. 

“Yeah, you too,” he murmured. Then, straightening, he said, “Mrs. Clayton, do you mind pouring me a glass as well?”

Karen reached for two glasses instead of just one, and Dani was able to slip from the kitchen without further incident. 

The hallway provided a brief reprieve, caught in between the living room where Christmas music played and the family chattered, the tree glowing with lights fading from one color to another and reflecting off hanging tinsel, and the kitchen where she could still feel the presence of her mother, a shadow at her back. Leaning against the wall beside the kitchen entrance, lingering there for a moment, she went stiff when her mother passed her by to retreat back into the living room. Expelling a slow breath, she startled slightly when the doorbell rang, and felt her shoulders slump with relief. 

“I’ll get it,” Dani called out, and made for the door, pulling it open and smiling at the sight of Jamie and Mikey wearing identical grins with curly hair dusted in a cluster of snow. “You’re late.”

“It was Jamie’s fault,” Mikey said, “She forgot to dig out the truck from the snow.”

Jamie rolled her eyes and gently shoved Mikey inside. “You’re one to talk,” she said, shutting the door behind her with her boot, arms laden with presents, “You’re the one who took bloody forever to wrap the rest of those presents.”

“Because you kept complaining it wasn’t neat enough,” Mikey countered with a scowl. 

“Are you two going to bicker all night, or are you going to give me your coats?” Dani asked, biting back a laugh when Mikey gave her a sheepish grin and Jamie snorted, setting aside the presents on a nearby side table. 

Dani waited patiently as they slipped off their boots to rest against the towel already damp from snow, but as they began to pull off their coats, Jamie wacked Mikey on the arm. “Oi, you forgetting something?”

“Oh,” Mikey said sheepishly, handing Dani his coat and scarf with a small grin, “Merry Christmas, Dani.”

“Merry Christmas, Mikey,” Dani said, chuckling, “Don’t worry. You can tell me again tomorrow morning. You two are coming, right?”

Jamie shrugged, handing over her own baggy coat and old scarf. “‘Course. Wouldn’t miss it,” she said, and jerked her chin towards Mikey with a smirk, “Think this one would have my head if we did.”

But Dani wasn’t particularly listening, her eyes flickering across Jamie’s outfit of black slacks, a slim fitting black button up, and brown suspenders. The top button of her shirt was open, exposing an expanse of pale skin and the long silver link chain that disappeared in the collar of her shirt. Dark-haired and gray-eyed, she looked unfairly attractive. 

Swallowing thickly, feeling slightly unmoored, Dani gestured towards the outfit in question. “How very monochromatic of you.”

“Well, I do have a reputation to upkeep,” Jamie said, the corner of her mouth curling into an roguish grin, “The ugly jumpers are for tomorrow, remember?”

“Yeah,” Dani said, chuckling faintly, “I remember.”

Sufficiently breathless over the bright glint in Jamie’s eyes, Dani ducked away around the corner to hang the pair's coats in the closet and settle her heart rate. 

“Is that who I think it is?” Judy’s voice rang through the hallway. “There you two are! Come here! Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. O’Mara,” Jamie replied. 

Dani grinned fondly, shoving aside thick winter coats in the closet to make room for Jamie’s and Mikey’s, overhearing the warm welcomes around the corner, easily picturing Judy crushing Jamie and Mikey into affectionate hugs. 

“Oh, finally, ” came Eddie’s voice next in a teasing tone, “Thought I was gonna have to rally the troops to start dinner without you.”

“Would’ve rung your neck if you did,” Jamie grumbled. 

“Now, you two,” Judy admonished, “You remember my house rules, don’t you?”

Dani returned just in time to find Jamie shrugging with an impish grin, hands tucked into her pockets, and Eddie rolling his eyes. Judy in question had her arm wrapped around Mikey’s shoulders, and huffed out a soft laugh. 

“You two haven’t changed a bit,” she said, and lightly jostled Mikey’s shoulders, “Come on, handsome. Let’s leave these silly goons to sort themselves out and go greet the others, huh?”

“Okay,” Mikey said quietly, wearing a shy pleased smile, cheeks dusted pink under the attention, letting himself be guided towards the living room where Dani could hear Tommy and David’s kids exclaim excitedly over Mikey’s appearance. 

“Look at that, Ed. She called him handsome,” Jamie said with a smirk and some measure of pride, “Don’t recall her ever calling you handsome growing up.”

Eddie glowered, but Dani could see it lacked any real heat behind it. “Don’t recall her calling you pretty either.”

”That’s ‘cause I was the one she was calling handsome instead.”

When Eddie’s expression twisted in mild bewilderment, Dani breathed out a soft laugh and approached the pair. At her appearance, they both turned and grinned broadly at her. Dani blinked, feeling her breath catch in her chest lightly under the attention, her eyes darting between them. She quickly smothered the feeling, pulling her mouth into a small smile. 

“You’re just gonna let her talk to me like that?” Eddie said, pointing reproachfully at Jamie.

Dani chuckled and folded her arms. “I refuse to get into the middle of one of these again.”

“Never gonna take a side, huh?” Eddie said, a teasing glint in his eyes, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in close, “I see how it is.”

“That’s ‘cause I’m secretly her favorite,” Jamie said, smirking. 

Eddie narrowed his eyes at her. “Okay, I’m going to let that pass once , since you helped us.”

Dani’s brows knitted together. “Helped with what?”

“Jamie helped us get the venue at the gardens,” Eddie said in triumph. “Turns out there was a long waiting list for a fall wedding, but Jamie managed to convince them to get us a slot.”

Dani went still. Feeling her stomach coil uncomfortably and her shoulders going stiff, Dani looked to Jamie and said, “You did?”

“Sure did,” Jamie said, her smirk outright devilish, “Hard to say no to this prat when he came crawling on his hands and knees, begging me to get you lot a spot.”

“That’s - I didn’t do that,” he said to Dani, “I just think she secretly likes me.”

“You and I both know I didn’t do it for you,” Jamie said with a wink in Dani’s direction. 

Not knowing what else to say or do, feeling a swell of unease building between her ribs, Dani chuckled weakly and ducked her head. 

Eddie laughed softly. “That’s fair,” he said, his hand rubbing her shoulder, “Gonna have to get you a gift basket as thanks.”

Snorting derisively, Jamie said, “I’ll settle for an open bar tab at the reception, thank you very much. But for now, you can start with taking those presents under the tree for me.” 

Jamie gestured with an impish grin towards the small stack of presents that still sat on the side table beside them. Rolling his eyes and sighing exasperatedly, Eddie nodded and did as he was told, leaving them in the foyer with one last kiss to Dani’s head and a pointed look towards Jamie. Sending him off with a cheeky salute, Jamie turned back to Dani, her expression softening. 

“All right, Poppins?”

“Yeah. Of course,” Dani said, blinking, “Why?”

Jamie shrugged, sinking her hands back in her pockets. “Had that look about you, I suppose,” she said, watching her carefully, “The gardens are what you wanted, yeah? If it isn’t, I’m perfectly happy and willing to go ring his neck.”

“No - it’s fine. It’s perfect,” Dani said, taking a small step closer, “The gardens are perfect.”

Arching an eyebrow, Jamie slowly said, “But?”

Shaking her head lightly, willing away the tight cincture in her chest, Dani said, “No buts. I couldn’t have pictured a more perfect place, to be honest.”

It wasn’t a lie for the most part. In another life, the botanical gardens blooming under the care of Jamie’s hands would have been more than she could have hoped for. In another universe, she would have been happy, she would have been relieved. Autumnal blooms and golden trees and a hand in her own that was smaller but no less calloused. But this was here and now, and Jamie’s discerning eyes were flickering over her quietly, studying Dani as though she could see right through her, and just as Dani felt her pulse quicken, Jamie’s expression softened. 

“All right then,” Jamie said, “S’long as you're happy.”

Feeling her breath catch in her chest, her hands twitching to wrap around Jamie’s, one of the twins called out, “Danielle! Are you just gonna hog her yourself all night?”

Chuckling lightly, wrapping her arms loosely around her stomach, Dani felt her cheeks warm. Rolling her eyes, the corner of Jamie’s mouth curled into a smile and nudged her towards the living room. “Fair bit of warning, the kid has something for you,” Jamie murmured. 

“Oh?”

“Mhmm. Wants to give it to you tonight instead of tomorrow,” Jamie said, “Been a wee bit shy about it.”

“You two didn’t have to get me anything.”

“He insisted.” Jamie shrugged. “Kid’s a bit mad about the holidays, you saw what he was like on Sunday.”

Dani would be hard pressed to forget. Arriving at the Taylor household that afternoon with hot chocolate and pastries in hand to a house strewn about in wrapping paper and decorations and a bare Christmas tree tucked into the corner waiting to be accessorized. The day had been spent helping the pair decorate the tree and living room with Christmas music to keep them company at Mikey’s insistence. And afterwards they had settled on the couch to watch White Christmas as the blinking tree lights illuminated the room while Dani desperately tried not to drown in the nostalgia with Jamie pressed beside her. By the end, Jamie and Mikey had ended up chasing each other around the house with wrapping paper rolls after a well aimed thwack to Jamie’s head while Dani watched with exasperated fondness while waiting for the tea kettle’s whistle. 

“I saw you, too,” Dani said with a teasing smirk, “I see you still have White Christmas memorized.”

Jamie shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “Dunno what you mean.”

“I also happened to see that you and Mikey seem to be matching tonight,” Dani said, taking a peak in the living room where indeed Mikey was also wearing dark slacks, a button up shirt, and suspenders. The only minor difference happened to be that his shirt was dark green and he was wearing a black bow tie that he was currently anxiously pulling at as he sat on the couch between Judy and Mike. Turning back to Jamie, she grinned. “Cute.”

Huffing out a soft laugh, Jamie shook her head. “Wasn’t my idea. He liked my suspenders and wanted one of his own,” she said, “Put my foot down on the bow tie though. Never would’ve heard the end of it.”

Letting her eyes stray briefly to the brown leather strung over Jamie’s shoulders and pressing into her torso, Dani swallowed thickly and said, “It’s sweet that you indulge him like that. With the outfits and just - all of Sunday.”

“Makes him happy," said Jamie simply.

Before Dani could say anything more, faintly aware that she was looking at Jamie with an expression that was too soft, too fond, there was another yell. 

“Hey! Don’t make us come over there!”

Twisting around to frown at the source of the sound, she was greeted with the twins looking at her and holding up their hands in an impatient ‘come on’ gesture. 

“Okay, why are you two baffoons yelling and why has no one come to get food yet?” Carson said, appearing from the kitchen with a towel slung over his shoulder and a look of exasperation that resembled Judy’s so much that Dani snickered.

At the sound, he turned towards the pair still lingering in the foyer and sighed, shaking his head. “I see what happened now.”

Jamie laughed and let Carson engulf her in a hug. “Not my fault I’m so irresistible,” Jamie said, shooting Dani another wink over Carson’s shoulder. Feeling her cheeks warm, Dani chuckled weakly as Jamie reached up to ruin Carson’s styled hair, but he was quick on his feet and batted her hand away. 

“Think your head is getting way too big to pull out your ass,” he grumbled, playfully shoving her away, and then addressed the living room, “Dinner’s ready!”

They were promptly surrounded by O’Mara’s, finally greeting Jamie with hugs and handshakes. Dani watched with a faint smile, her arms still loosely wrapped around her torso, on the cusp of too enamored. Something nudged her arm and she startled slightly, turning to find Carson grinning at her. 

“Some help you were,” he teased.��

Her heart in her throat, she fumbled for a response but Carson was already stepping away, helping Judy herd the family into the kitchen to get food. Dani lingered near the back, waiting until the kitchen cleared enough for her turn, letting Eddie sweep a hand over her back as he slipped by in a bid to beat his brothers on getting the best pieces of turkey and ham, and shared a commiserating smile and eye roll with Jamie at the bickering and laughter within the kitchen. 

At the dining table, by some miraculous chance, Dani managed to find a seat directly across from Jamie and Mikey, sandwiched between Eddie and Carson. With Christmas music still playing from the stereo and everyone digging into their dinner after a short prayer of thanks led by Judy, she fell back into patterns she’d like to think she’d mastered over the past month and a half. To smile at the right time and comment with the appropriate reply whenever addressed. To laugh under her breath at Carson’s murmured commentary and jokes. To drink her wine and eat her dinner, and not let her eyes linger on Jamie across from her. Jamie with strands of unruly dark hair raked across her bright eyes, Jamie with her infectious laugh, Jamie with those suspenders. 

Partway through dinner, Dani came to the realization she was failing miserably when beside her Carson downed a whole glass of wine on one go on a dare by Tommy. 

“Where on earth did you learn to drink like that?” Judy asked, eyes wide, slightly aghast but unable to hide her own amusement. 

“God,” Carson replied with a broad grin when the table laughed.

And like a gravitational pull, Dani’s eyes immediately darted to Jamie’s to find her already looking back. Feeling her stomach twist not unpleasantly at the amused glint in Jamie’s eyes, they shared slow furtive smirks and a fond roll of their eyes. And just like that, Dani had to twist her hands around the napkin in her lap to ground herself. 

In between conversations and bites of food, it was getting harder to not let her eyes stray back, to not linger at Jamie’s comfortable, slouched posture. To not watch Jamie laugh again from some comment by Carson gone unheard by Dani, feeling as though she were underwater, feeling something constrict in her chest. Her teeth clenched, Dani promptly drained the rest of her wine. 

Beside her, Eddie leaned close and said, “Do you want another?” When she blinked up at him in confusion, he pointed and added, “A glass of wine.”

“Oh, yes. Please,” she said. Eddie smiled and stood to retrieve another bottle of wine from the kitchen. 

Across from her, Jamie was pouring more gravy over her plate, and said with a teasing grin, "Looking to let loose tonight for once?”

Dani laughed breathlessly, feeling her cheeks warm. “Don’t get too excited,” she said, “I don’t plan on having a hangover on Christmas morning.”

“Shame,” Jamie said, still grinning at her, and without warning, before Dani could look away, Jamie brought up a finger between her lips to lick at a stray bit of gravy. Sucking in a quiet breath, Dani swallowed thickly and fixed her eyes down to her plate, shoveling in another forkful of food. 

When Eddie returned to the dining room with two new bottles of wine in tow, a few seats down on the other side of the table, her mother perked up and said, “Oh, I’ll have another one of those too, if you don’t mind.”

Dani paused, carefully watching as Eddie smiled weakly and popped open a bottle, filling her mother’s glass until Karen was happy with the amount. When her mother waved him off with a murmured comment Dani couldn’t hear from this distance, Eddie muttered something back with another weak smile as Karen took a long swig from her glass. Knuckles white around her fork, Dani only managed to blink her gaze away from her mother when Eddie returned to her side, filling her glass before setting the bottles on the table and returning to his seat without a word, clearing his throat. 

It took her longer than she hoped, to let her shoulders and the grip on her fork relax, to reach for her glass and take a long sip. It was a dark peppery red that settled heavily on her tongue. The kind her mother favored. She rested her glass back atop the table, all the while feeling a stare piercing straight into her. Her eyes darting up, Jamie was watching her with a carefully neutral expression. Slowly, Jamie’s eyebrow arched with a faint look of concern and quiet question. Feeling something unspool in her chest, Dani gave her a slow reassuring smile. Staring at her for a moment longer, Jamie’s eyes darted across her face as though searching for something, and then finally she shrugged before returning to her food. 

Dinner seemed to pass quicker after that, leading to conversation over empty plates and letting the kids run around the table, dodging teasing hands with bright laughter. Dani’s hands fidgeted under the table, pulling at her fingers and scratching at a hangnail. In an effort to burn off her restless energy and feel useful, she stood and began gathering the nearest plates to take into the kitchen, but as she reached for Carson’s plate, he batted her hands away. He took the plates from her and set them back down on the table. 

“No. Nope. Not happening.” 

“What do you -?” Dani started to say but she didn’t get far.

“Tommy. David. Eddie,” Carson pointed at his brothers in turn as he called their names. “You’re up.”

The three of them blinked at him in bemusement.

“I mean it!” Carson snapped. “You’re really gonna make Dani and mom do dishes? Or Ash and Liz? Come on. Don’t be assholes.”

“Why does he get to swear in the house?” Eddie asked his mom, when there was no rebuke forthcoming for language.

“Because I like his message,” Judy replied dryly. 

With an arm stretched over the back of Mikey’s chair, Jamie snickered and held up her glass of wine. “Cheers,” she said, and took a long swig. 

“Why aren’t you making Jamie help, then?” David grumbled, already standing to gather the dishes. 

“With all those elbows being thrown around?” Jamie said, “I’d rather not have a black eye for Christmas, thanks.”

“Never took you as a coward.”

“You wanna go there, mate?” Jamie said with a sharp grin. “I have plenty of arsenal to make you regret it.”

With his mouth thinned and eyes narrowed, David thwacked Tommy on the arm to get him to stand. The pair of them grumbled under their breath to the sound of the table chuckling. Eddie quickly followed suit with a roll of his eyes when Carson gave him a pointed glare. Dani watched with a fond grin and when her eyes met Jamie’s again, they shared a snort of laughter. 

“Hey, Mikey,” Carson said, “Wanna come help me choose the next tape to play?”

Fiddling anxiously again at his bowtie now that dinner was over, Mikey’s eyes brightened at the offer and he was nodding, already pushing out his seat before Carson could stand. And just like that, the table began to disperse back around the house with happy chatter and glasses of alcohol in hand. 

Dani took the opportunity to dart into the downstairs bathroom and draw in a deep, relieved breath with the door finally shut behind her. Her reflection was waiting for her in the mirror, wan and frazzled. Scowling, Dani reached up to fix her hair, to try and make herself feel more grounded at least superficially. In the time it took her to do her business and return to the chaos, Mike had already brought out his camcorder for the night, and The Beach Boys’ Christmas Album was blaring on the stereo. Casting her eyes around the house, not seeing Mikey or Jamie anywhere, Dani exhaled a slow, fortifying breath, and waded out for small talk. 

She managed for the most part, discussing work with Ash and Liz and trying her best to remember the plot of the last book she read. Smiling shyly with a small wave whenever Mike panned his camcorder in her direction. Letting Eddie wrap an arm around her shoulders when the boys were done cleaning in the kitchen. Sharing furtive eye rolls with Carson across the room where he stood by the stereo when the three eldest O'Mara boys smiled proudly, as though cleaning was their idea in the first place. Letting her eyes snap towards Jamie when she finally entered the room, following her closely as she made a beeline towards Carson with two bottles of beer in hand.

Suddenly, Eddie’s arm around her felt like an anvil, sinking her into the carpet floor. She felt too exposed under Mike’s camera, and her mother lingering nearby on the couch, flushed and glassy-eyed and far too familiar. 

Swallowing thickly, Dani said to Eddie, “I’ll be right back.”

Mid-conversation with Tommy and his wife Liz, Eddie nodded absently and let her slip away quietly. Delving back into the kitchen, she drained her wine and rested the empty glass on the counter. For a long moment, she stared into the glass, seeing her warped reflection, and with a tight jaw, she pulled open the fridge to retrieve a bottle to refill her glass. 

Wandering back out into the hallway, she found herself leaning against the wall once more, mustering up the courage to delve back into the living room. Taking a slow sip of her wine, feeling her cheeks warm from the alcohol, she didn’t notice Mikey wandering up to her from down the hallway until he was leaning beside her, scowling down at his bow tie as he pulled and fiddled with it. 

She tilted her head to the side and asked gently, “Having trouble?”

His eyes briefly met hers and he shrugged, ducking his head again. “It keeps getting worse,” he grumbled.

Dani chuckled and nudged him in the arm. “Maybe because you keep messing with it.”

With a huff he rolled his eyes and tugged at the fabric again. “Mr. O’Mara showed us how to do it, but it’s not working.”

When he tugged on it again roughly and sagged heavily against the wall, Dani bit back a laugh. “Okay, come on,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder and guiding him back down the hall, “We’re going to fix this.”

His shoulders slumped, Mikey didn’t complain as she led him towards the bathroom, flickering the lights on and grinning fondly at the lines of frustration and disappointment in his face through his reflection, an uncanny mirror image to Jamie. 

“Now, I’m more practised in regular ties and doing it backwards, but we’re gonna give it a shot, okay?”

At his quiet nod, Dani squeezed his shoulders and gestured for him to undo his bow tie as she rested her glass on the counter. With his back to her, she reached over his shoulder to adjust the length of the fabric, and asked, “Is this okay?”

He nodded again. She smiled and began to slowly show him the steps with his back to her. Just as he was in class when challenged beyond his level, Mikey was eager to learn, watching the steps through their reflection. It was a little uneven when she was done, but with some adjusting and pulling, she was pleased with it. Leaning closer to get a better look, Mikey grinned broadly at their reflections. 

“Thanks, Dani,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” she said, “Now it’s your turn.”

With a heavy sigh, Mikey acquiesced and undid his bow tie. She took it slow, murmuring encouragements in between her instructions as Mikey’s brow furrowed in concentration while following her directions. Just as they were mid-way through, Dani’s voice faltered when through the mirror, a familiar figure appeared and leaned against the open door frame. 

“Was wondering where you two went,” Jamie said. 

“Mikey was having trouble with his bow tie,” Dani explained. 

“I see that.” Jamie smirked at Mikey. “My services weren’t good enough for you, huh?”

Through his faint blush, Mikey scowled. “Not my fault your memory sucks.”

Jamie snorted. “Yet, you’re the one who thought I was cool enough to want to copy and match.”

If anything, Mikey’s cheeks went redder and he crossed his arms, his shoulders bunching. Dani gave Jamie a reproachful look through the mirror, and in response Jamie rolled her eyes with a good natured grin. 

“All right, all right,” Jamie said, flapping her hand towards them. “Carry on. I’m not even here.”

Shaking her head, Dani coaxed Mikey out from his hunched form to return to his bowtie, and in no time he was tugging it in place, squared up and neat. 

“There you go,” Dani said, patting his shoulder with a proud smile, “Now you look especially handsome.”

Ducking his head, Mikey murmured, “Thanks, Dani.” And then after a long moment, briefly darting his eyes between Dani and Jamie through the mirror, he said, “Can I go now?”

Huffing out a soft breath, Dani nodded. “Yes. Go on, I’m sure Mrs. O’Mara has snacks hidden for you somewhere.”

His eyes brightening, Mikey grinned and made to exit the bathroom, but was pulled to a stop by Jamie slinging an arm around his neck and pulling him close with a smile. “Aw, mate. She called you handsome.”

“Ugh, get off me,” Mikey grumbled, but made no real effort to pull out of her grasp. 

Laughing, Jamie lightly ruffled his hair, and said, “How about we do what we had planned first, and then you can go?”

Mikey’s look was dubious. “Now? Here?”

Jamie shrugged. “Why not? No one’s here to see. That was the point, remember?”

Hesitating briefly, his brow knitting where he remained pressed against Jamie’s side, he finally nodded. Dani watched with a patient, soft smile as Jamie let him go and pulled something unseen out of her pocket, hidden behind Mikey’s thin frame. Covertly passing the object in hand to Mikey, Jamie shot Dani a quick wink over his head with a crooked grin. 

Mikey’s cheeks were pink as he turned and held out a small navy box towards Dani, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. “Merry Christmas, Dani,” he murmured.

“Thank you, honey,” Dani said, charmed, taking the box. When she opened it, she smiled broadly to find that inside, nestled in foam padding was a Star Trek insignia silver pendant attached to a simple chain necklace. “Oh, it’s perfect,” she breathed. 

“I have one too,” Mikey said, visibly pleased over her reaction, “Mine’s a pin, but I left it at home.”

“You should’ve worn it,” Dani said, “Then we’d be matching.”

Mikey’s smile brightened, and he eagerly said, “I’ll wear it tomorrow.” 

“You better,” Dani said, pulling the necklace from it’s box, “We’re going to have to one-up Jamie somehow.”

Laughing, Mikey nodded and turned to Jamie, “Now can I go?”

It took Jamie a moment to answer, leaning against the doorframe with her hands in her pockets, expression soft as she watched them. She grinned and nodded, jerking her head towards the hallway. “Yeah, all right. Out of my sight.”

When Mikey disappeared down the hallway after one last pleased grin, Dani held up the necklace pinched between her fingers and said, “Help me?”

Without a word Jamie pushed herself upright and stepped closer. Heart a sudden claxon in her chest, Dani handed her the necklace and turned on the spot, pulling her hair to the side. Through the mirror, she watched as Jamie reached around and placed the chain around her neck, sucking in a quiet breath at the feeling of Jamie’s warm fingers grazing against her skin as she clasped the lock with an expression that was hard to read. An involuntary shiver traveled down Dani’s spine, her jaw aching from how hard she clenched her teeth. 

“There you are,” Jamie murmured, and stepped away, digging her hands back in her pockets. 

“Thank you,” Dani murmured, adjusting her hair back over her shoulders and setting the pendant straight so that it hung right over the dip of her clavicle. 

“No problem,” Jamie said, nodding towards her with her chin, “Won’t believe how popular their merch is. It’s bloody everywhere. Apparently some Captain Clark bloke is from Iowa.”

“Captain Kirk,” Dani corrected and laughed when Jamie shrugged dismissively. 

Then Jamie grinned and said, “Fancy keeping me company outside for a smoke? Came to find you to ask.”

“Yeah,” Dani said, nodding, “I’d love to.”

It was not until Jamie sneaked over their coats to the backdoor did Dani realize what she had agreed to. Carson was nowhere in sight to accompany them like she had expected, to act as a buffer to the nerves straining beneath Dani’s skin. But his boots were already set on a nearby mat, and Jamie was shoving them over towards her after handing Dani her coat.

“His boots are too big, I can’t - “ 

“Don’t think I didn’t see those heels of yours by the front door,” Jamie said, shrugging into her coat with an exasperated grin, “Honestly. You know how to color match, but you still haven’t learned your lesson on weather appropriate clothing?” A slow grin grew on Dani’s face. Seeing this, Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Raising a preteen really rubbed off on you, huh?”

Jamie stared at her for a moment, and then scowled, her cheeks pink. Dani snickered. “Just put the bloody boots on,” Jamie grumbled, and pulled open the back door, letting in a waft of freezing air.

Huffing at the cold air against her legs, she gave Jamie a mild glare who smirked in response. Without any more preamble, Dani shoved her feet in Carson’s oversized boots and slipped on her jacket and scarf before following Jamie outside on the porch. The temperature seemed to have dropped over the course of the night, the air still but bitingly cold. Dani shivered, wrapping her coat closer around herself as she followed Jamie to the railing, but instead of lingering in the overwashed porch light, Jamie grasped her hand and carefully guided her down the icy porch steps. 

“Where are we going?” Dani asked, the boots clunky and loose on her feet, but blissfully warm against the solid foot of snow as they trudged through the untouched expanse of white.

“Over here,” Jamie said, her breath a white mist, leading her towards the old shed near the back of the yard with furtive glances behind them to the backdoor, “Promised the kid I’d quit smoking for the New Year. He’s been on my ass about it. I’m going to have to milk the next few days for all they're worth.”

Dani snorted. “Quitting cold turkey, are you?”

“Is there any other way?”

“Gradually? Like a normal person?”

Pulling them around the corner of the shed, hidden away from view of the house where they could still hear the stereo blasting Christmas tunes at an unreasonable volume level through a crack of a window, Jamie leaned against the shed and grinned. 

“You know me,” Jamie said, releasing Dani’s hand to pull out a rumpled pack of cigarettes from her pocket, “I’m an all or nothing kinda woman.”

Dani snorted, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the cold. “You’re in a good mood tonight.”

“Good food and free booze, what’s not to love,” Jamie said with a shrug. 

“You mean besides hiding behind a shed in case Mikey sees you smoking?”

Rolling her eyes, Jamie didn’t deign to respond. She plucked out a cigarette and placed it between her lips, flicking a flame to life with a plastic lighter. Dani watched, entranced at the glow of orange illuminating her skin in the dark shadows encompassing them. Jamie’s eyes glinting in the light of flame and embers, cheeks sinking inward until she lifted the cigarette away to blow a thin stream of smoke above them with pursed lips. Dani’s heart was still pounding from the bathroom, crashing steadily against her ribs, the burn of Jamie’s hands lingering against the skin of her neck like an ink blot. She darted her eyes away in an effort to not look at Jamie’s lips when she took another drag. 

“You know,” Dani started slowly, “I still have your old lighter.” At Jamie’s questioning frown, she added, “The Zippo.” 

Jamie blinked at her for a moment, and huffed out a breath of laughter. “Figured you would’ve pawned that.” Jamie said with a shrug, taking another drag, the embers burning bright. 

Dani frowned. “Why would I do that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” 

“Because I missed you.”

Jamie stared at her, the air between them abruptly thick. Her stomach whorling uncomfortably, Dani cleared her throat and ducked her head, but then Jamie laughed softly. 

“Missed you too, Poppins,” Jamie murmured. When Dani dared to look up again, Jamie's expression was fond as she smiled at her. “Don’t think I told you that before, when you first said so.”

Easily, Dani could recall that day in the alley beside the pharmacy, when things had still felt so fragile between them like a house of cards stacked in her palms. And then the Sunday after that, and the Sunday after that. Smiling faintly, Dani murmured, “You didn’t have to.”

“Well, now you know at least,” Jamie said, taking another pull at the cigarette, and nodded towards Dani with her chin. “Don’t think I mentioned before either,” she continued through a plume of smoke she directed away from Dani, motioning her hands towards her, “Your outfit. Looks nice tonight.”

Dani’s cheeks warmed and she bit back a broad smile. “Thank you,” she said, and stumbled for a reply. “You - um. You look nice too.”

“Thanks.” Jamie slouched against the shed, her smile veering into a smirk as though she already knew this for a fact. “It’s the suspenders, yeah?”

“Um - “ Dani fumbled. “I suppose.”

“Gonna have to wear it more often, then.”

Dani nodded in lieu of a verbal reply, not trusting whatever she might say, praying that the shed shrouded them in enough darkness from porch light to not display the heat spreading across her cheeks. 

At that moment, the music from the house blared louder than before, Wham!’s Last Christmas booming through the open window. They both listened with amusement as complaints immediately followed.

“Carson, turn it down!” bellowed Eddie just as David complained, “I can’t hear myself think!”

“With what brain?” Carson rebuked. 

“Do you want us to break mom’s rule, because we will!”

“Suck it up!”

Dani met Jamie’s eyes and they both snickered with laughter. The volume in the end did not turn down, forgotten in the midst of continued bickering. Grinning broadly, Jamie lifted the cigarette to her mouth and Dani’s eyes drifted down to watch. When she expelled the smoke to the side, Dani held out her hand. 

Huffing lightly with a small shake of her head, Jamie gamely handed Dani the cigarette. “Y’know,” Jamie said as Dani eyed the red stained filter for a moment and took a slow, careful drag, “Could always just have one of your own.”

Coughing lightly, Dani blew out a plume of smoke. “Then that would make me a smoker.”

Jamie rolled her eyes, but when Dani made to hand it back, she shook her head. “Keep it,” she said, “Might be the last you ever have once I quit.”

“Feeling confident, huh?”

“When there’s a promise on the line, sure.”

Smiling warmly, Dani flicked off the ash into the snow, running a thumb over the filter. A thrill ran through her, a shiver coursing down her spine so that she huddled further into herself, feeling the cold bite at her ears and nose and exposed legs.

Chuckling lightly, Jamie said, “Christ, look at the state of you.” She pushed off the shed and held out a hand. “C’mere.”

Dani froze. “What?”

“Put that out and come here,” Jamie said, “You’re freezing.”

“I’m fine.”

Jamie gave her a long dubious look. Clenching her jaw, Dani shifted her weight anxiously on her feet. “Are you sure?”

“Dani.”

“Okay,” Dani said, taking another long, fortifying pull of the cigarette before flicking it in the snow, expelling the smoke through her nose. 

Her stomach coiling with nerves, Dani took Jamie’s proffered hand and let herself be pulled closer until they were pressed together in a hug. “That’s better,” Jamie murmured, running her hand up and down Dani’s back, “Warm yourself up.”

Slowly wrapping her arms around Jamie’s waist as though any sudden movement might break the spell, Dani nodded, her heart feeling as though it threatened to burst through her sternum. It was no different than any of their hugs, no different than the long lingering embraces at Jamie’s front door. But the wine had her skin straining and her head buzzing, and worse, she was surrounded by the scent of sandalwood and smoke. Her breath a plume of white in a soft sigh, Dani’s eyes slowly slipped shut and she burrowed further in Jamie’s warmth, pressing her nose into her worn scarf and inadvertently grazed the skin of Jamie’s neck. 

Jamie’s arms stilled, her breath catching lightly. “Cold,” she murmured.

A thrill going down her spine at the heat of Jamie’s skin against her nose, Dani said, “Sorry.”

Jamie didn’t reply, unmoving as she held Dani. Frowning lightly, Dani opened her mouth to say something, to say anything, when a familiar jazzy tune drifted from the house. 

Huffing a soft laugh, Jamie murmured, “Figures.”

And before Dani could react, Jamie was rearranging their arms. Dani’s breath caught quietly as Jamie rested one of Dani’s hands on her shoulder and took the other to clasp their palms, and then slowly, as though waiting for Dani to stop her, to push her away, she slipped her hand around Dani’s waist. And with Ella Fitzergerald’s rendition of White Christmas accompanying them, Jamie began to sway with her on the spot. 

“There we go,” Jamie murmured, their temples pressed together, her breath a hot wisp against Dani’s ear and neck. 

Swallowing thickly, her heart threatening to burst through her chest, there was a feeling washing over Dani like a haze, as though the world had narrowed down to just them, in this dark corner in the snow with only the distant porch light and the moon to illuminate them. She pressed her eyes closed and drew in a soft breath, the air bitingly cold as she inhaled, feeling dizzy and enchanted all at once. 

“This is nice,” Dani murmured, broaching the long quiet as they swayed. 

Jamie hummed softly. “Yeah,” she said. “Was thinking. You could come over again before the New Years. Could watch White Christmas again and pretend we’ve never seen it before. Give Mikey a taste of his own medicine.”

Dani chuckled, and bit her lip at the near imperceptible feeling of Jamie pulling her closer by the waist. “I’d love to,” Dani said.

And before she knew what she was doing, Dani was pressing closer. Wrapping her hand further around Jamie’s shoulders, fingers tangling in strands of curly hair, grazing the back of Jamie’s neck. Ducking her head to bury into the crook of Jamie’s shoulder, nose and mouth pressed against the skin of her throat, making a small sound of contentment. 

Jamie sucked in a sharp breath, their swaying faltering for half a heartbeat, and she audibly swallowed hard. Dani’s eyes slowly drifted open, lost in the darkness of the crook of Jamie's neck, straining her ears, feeling Jamie’s hand on her waist dig into the fabric of her coat. They were swaying again, but with Jamie’s pulse a sudden rapid flutter beneath Dani’s nose and lips, she felt as though she was veering over a vast precipice, her stomach dropping at the sensation. Trying to remember how to breathe, Dani slowly lifted her head, smoothing her hand over Jamie’s rigid shoulders and back, gripping Jamie’s hand tight.

Dani opened her mouth to speak, to broach the lingering silence, but the air was still around them, particles of snow drifting so slowly they might as well be fixed motionless where they hovered, and with one word spoken, one wrong movement, the spell between them would be broken. The world moving again, expanding beyond the single point where they clung to each other, pushing them apart. 

Exhaling a soft trembling breath, Dani gradually pulled further back until she could finally see Jamie’s face. Gray eyes dark and stormy, expression carefully blank, Jamie met her gaze and the corner of her mouth lifted into a faint, barely there curve. Dani lingered on it, on the scar there painted red and outlined in faint light. It would be so easy to push back in, and press her lips there. To taste Jamie’s mouth of wine and cigarettes, and feel that scar beneath her own mouth and tongue. Dani bit her own lip and watched Jamie’s jaw go taut, the muscle leaping beneath her skin. 

Her eyes darted up and met Jamie’s, darker than before, unblinking as they were piercing, and then Dani sucked in a quiet breath when gray eyes slowly traced down over Dani to where they were pressed together before traveling back up, lingering on Dani’s mouth for a long moment before catching Dani’s gaze again.

Dani swallowed hard, her breath caught in her throat, not daring to believe, not daring to hope. A flash of something unreadable crossed over Jamie’s expression like a red flare in the dark, the scratch of a matchstick, a flicker in the strained lines of her face. And in a moment it was gone, in its wake something unreachable and blank. 

She couldn’t have been imagining it. The same heat that flared between her ribs and thighs reflected back at her through Jamie’s eyes. The same adoration she’d come to know like the back of her hand since they were children. 

The song was ending, transitioning easily to some other tune Dani couldn’t be bothered to name, when it was abruptly cut off to the immediate sound of muffled complaints and bickering. The silence that followed between them was suddenly and unbearably thick. 

“Jamie - “

“We should head inside,” Jamie murmured, “They’ll be wondering where we are.”

They still stood so close that Dani could see the shadow of her eyelashes and the flecks in her eyes. The music returned to a chorus of cheers, the volume at a more reasonable level. Slowly, Dani braved another smile and eased closer, knocking their foreheads together. “One more song?”

Stiffening for a moment, Jamie huffed and said. “You’ll be the death of yourself. Your hand is freezing.”

“I can handle it,” Dani said, keeping the ‘with you,’ locked away behind her teeth. 

Jamie seemed to have heard it anyway, for she sighed slowly and muttered, “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Dance with me?”

Choking out a thin laugh, Jamie pulled away. “Not when you’re bloody shaking like a leaf,” she said, “C’mon. Back inside with you.”

Disappointment gripping at her chest, Dani felt her face fall as Jamie took a full step back that seemed to feel like a vast canyon for how close they were pressed together before. Dani missed the warmth of her arms immediately, but then Jamie was arching an eyebrow at her. 

“Unless you want Judy to come bursting out here wondering what we’re doing,” she said, a teasing curve tucked into the corner of her grin. “Or worse: Ed.”

Stones sunk in the pit of Dani’s stomach, and suddenly reality pressed on her eardrums like a rush of wind. “Right,” Dani choked out, smiling weakly. 

She followed Jamie back inside, breathing in relief in the warmth of the house, shedding her jacket and Carson’s boots. Beside her, Jamie exhaled softly and handed over her jacket when Dani held her hand out, a sharp line to her jaw, not meeting Dani’s eyes. 

“Just gonna head to the loo,” she muttered. She glanced towards Dani, who nodded, mildly bewildered at the sudden change in disposition. Jamie jerked her head in a short nod and spun on her heel out the kitchen.

A furrow to her brow, Dani followed a few paces behind through the hallway, the front door closet in the same direction, but when she turned the corner, she bumped directly into a broad frame. 

“Oh -!” 

She almost teetered off balance, but hands immediately grasped her waist to steady her and she looked up to find Eddie grinning broadly at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Suddenly behind her there was a cacophonous noise of cheering and laughter. Twisting around, her eyes went wide in surprise to find Mike’s camcorder pointed in their direction and half of the family watching them with enthusiasm from the living room.

“I cannot believe that worked,” said Tommy, laughing as he spoke. 

“Huh?” Dani said dumbly.

“Look up, honey,” Judy said, holding up a point-and-shoot camera at the ready, her eyes bright with fond amusement. Beside her, Carson chuckled, but couldn’t hide his wince of sympathy.

Dread pooling in her stomach, Dani slowly looked up as though awaiting some hungry creature to jump out from the shadows and bite her, but instead she found a mistletoe dangling from the light fixture above her. 

“Oh,” Dani said, a small anxious laugh bursting out of her. 

And before she could stop herself, she slowly turned and immediately met Jamie’s eyes, watching her with an eerily neutral expression, frozen as though mid step. Rooted to the floor, her heart crashing against her ribs, Dani watched with bated breath as Jamie blinked, and then without a word, disappeared around the corner. 

Her throat feeling thick, her stomach churning, Dani turned back to meet Eddie’s grin with a weak one of her own. His hands affectionately squeezed her waist lightly, and all it once it felt utterly wrong. But there was goading and teasing coming from the living room, muffled as though Dani’s ears needed to be popped. With another awkward chuckle, feeling something crushing her chest, her throat thick, she stood on her toes and kissed Eddie’s bashful smile. She ignored the good-natured wolf whistles and cheering and the audible click and flash of a camera. 

“I want a copy of that,” Dani heard her mother say in a happy slur when she pulled back, ducking her head away to hide the guilt and indignation gnawing at her, hoping it’d come across as demure. Eddie laughed and hugged her. 

It felt increasingly harder to breathe, afterwards. Clutching at a fresh glass of wine after downing her last in one go after finally escaping the clamor to return hers and Jamie’s jackets in the closet. Struggling to push down the thought of how much she had wanted to bury her nose back into Jamie’s jacket, just to breathe her in one last time. Struggling to not grit her teeth at the Christmas music that was beginning to grate on her ears. Struggling to not let her eyes wander when Jamie finally returned to the festivities, her shirt sleeves folded up neatly, exposing the lean lines of her forearms. 

She had almost expected the world to settle back on its axis, since returning from outside. With the way Jamie didn’t approach her again throughout the rest of the night, with every corner Dani turned, Jamie would be five steps ahead as though she was just as unwilling as Dani to broach whatever had happened outside. Even still, Dani felt eyes on her. And as though sucked in by a gravity well, Dani kept glancing back, meeting gray eyes that seemed warm and dark in equal measure. And every time their eyes would meet, Jamie would hold her stare until Dani felt rooted to the spot, her feet melding to the floor like just another fixture. 

Dani was leaning against the wall, nursing her broad-bowled glass while in the middle of a group conversation with a small cluster of the family when it happened again. The dark form of Jamie slipping by to hover near Carson by the stereo, leaning against a bookcase with a beer in hand and catching her eyes once again. And instead of another faint grin or an arch of an eyebrow, Jamie’s eyes slowly scanned her up and down, lingering on the hem of her skirt before meeting her gaze again and turning away. 

Swallowing hard, Dani brought the lip of her glass to her mouth and drifted her eyes down again to those suspenders, lingering there for a long moment before settling back on Jamie’s forearms. She wondered faintly, what Jamie’s forearm would look like if her hand were to slip beneath Dani’s skirt and between her thighs, how the leather of her suspenders would feel in her hands if Dani were to grip them for leverage. Feeling an ache between her legs in response and her breath catching at just the thought alone, Dani clenched her teeth and stood upright to make her excuses to the bathroom when there was the sound of glass shattering from the kitchen. 

Dani started slightly, blinking in surprise. On the other side of the room, Carson groaned. “All right, which one of you idiots was it,” he said, but when he turned around to find all three of his older brothers in the living room, he paused. “Oh.”

“Gosh, I’m so sorry, Judy,” came Karen’s voice. 

“It’s all right, honey,” said Judy gently, “Watch your feet, there’s glass everywhere.”

The air in the living room abruptly went thick and quiet and suffocating. Feeling her stomach drop, Dani exhaled quietly and started towards the kitchen. She slowed when she was greeted with a pool of wine on the linoleum floor, red as blood, fresh-spilt, shattered pieces of glass everywhere. Jaw taut, Dani looked up to find her mother hunched over in one of the kitchen table chairs, rubbing at her forehead. Just as Dani felt another presence at her side, Judy looked up from where she was gathering the larger pieces of glass and offered Dani a reassuring grin.

“Just an accident, honey. Not our first spill of the night,” Judy said, and then added, “Boys, could you get the mop and broom, please?”

There was movement behind her, but Dani couldn’t be bothered to check, feeling a strain pressing at her shoulders. She slowly edged her way further into the kitchen, carefully skirting around the mess and Judy’s warnings. 

“Danielle, be careful.”

She nodded faintly, easing closer to her mom, her throat feeling thick. There was movement again behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder to find Mike and Carson helping Judy with cleaning supplies in hand. Lingering by the entranceway, Dani found both Eddie and Jamie. Eddie with his hands tucked inside his pockets, an apprehensive hunch to his shoulders as he took in the scene. And Jamie with a concerned frown. Swallowing down the swell of acidic shame building in her throat, Dani turned away and moved closer to Karen.

Her eyes were closed, hidden beneath her hand, glasses abandoned on the table where she rested heavily on her elbow. “Mom?” Dani murmured, carefully reaching out a hand to rest on her shoulder.

“I’m fine,” Karen said sharply, “Just an accident.” She then looked up, her eyes glassy, her jaw clenched. “Judy, it’s fine. Let me help. I can fix it."

She made to stand, but Judy firmly shook her head. “You stay right there,” she said, emptying a dustpan full of glass in the garbage, and gestured where Carson and Mike were near finishing cleaning up, “See? We’re almost done. No harm, no foul.”

Karen exhaled and shook her head with a grimace. “I’m sorry. I - “

“Now, none of that,” Judy said sternly, “It’s Christmas. Accidents happen.”

Her expression darkening into a scowl, Karen shook her head again and mumbled something under her breath. Jaw aching from how hard she was clenching her teeth, Dani gently squeezed her shoulder. “Let me walk you home.”

“I’m fine,” Karen repeated. 

Dani stared at her for a long moment, scanning over the exhausted and weary lines of her mothers face. The phases of her mother’s inebriation were as constant as the moon; Dani knew them all by heart. “You need some sleep,” Dani murmured, “Let me take you home.”

Karen scoffed, and said darkly, “Why? So you can lord it over me?” She shrugged off Dani’s hand. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need you, Danielle.”

“Karen,” Judy said behind her.

The Christmas music was a ringing in Dani’s ears, the sound feeling utterly like one big joke as her head swam from her own indulgence of wine. Dani pushed it down — the indignation and resentment — pushed it all away and leaned closer to murmur, “I just want you to feel better. That’s all.” Her mother remained quiet, not meeting her eyes. A thick lump appeared in Dani’s throat. “Please let me take care of you?”

There was a long moment of quiet as her mother rubbed at her forehead, and finally sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Fine,” she breathed, exhausted. 

Dani nodded and made to help her mother stand, grasping her arm. Eddie finally stepped closer, eyes darting between them. “She can have my old room,” he started carefully, almost hesitant, “If she’d like.”

Shaking her head, Dani murmured, “It’s fine.”

“You sure?” Eddie said softly.

“Yes, can you just - “ She stopped short, irritation bleeding in her tone. She drew in a deep breath, and repeated more calmly, “It’s fine. I’ve got her.”

Eddie hesitated, opening his mouth as though he wanted to say something more, but to Dani’s relief, he just nodded and stepped aside. 

Her mother clung to her arm in a painful grip as Dani led them towards the foyer. She tried not to wince, tried to ignore the various gazes of the O’Mara clan in the shape of concern and morbid curiosity, tried to duck her head enough to hide the red in her cheeks as her mother staggered beside her. But when she reached the foyer, she looked up and blinked in surprise to find Jamie there in her coat and boots with two jackets slung over her arms, that old scarf wrapped around her neck.

“What are you - ?”

Jamie shrugged. “Figured you’d need the help,” she said simply.

“Are you sure?” Eddie said from beside her. Dani tensed at the sound of his voice. “I’d be happy to come along.”

Quietly, Jamie looked at Dani with a questioning arched eyebrow and patiently waited. Swallowing hard past the thickness in her throat, Dani murmured, “I've got it, Eddie.”

With a thin, conceding smile, Eddie nodded. Though there was a thin veneer of relief in his expression, Eddie still gamely assisted with letting Karen grip his arm for balance while she slipped on her shoes after muttering darkly, “Get up from the floor, Danielle,” when Dani had crouched to assist her.

Head ducked, running a trembling hand through her hair, Dani slipped on her own heels, only vaguely paying attention to Eddie awkwardly holding her mother’s jacket out. “Uh - “ he started “ - is it okay, Mrs. Clayton, if I, uh -?”

Remarkably, Karen breathed out a quiet laugh that grated on Dani’s ears. “Always were a polite boy,” was all she said. 

When Dani looked up again, she found Jamie watching her with a shadow of worry in her expression. Without a word, Jamie held up Dani’s jacket. Forcing out a thin smile, Dani turned and let Jamie help her slip into it, pulling it close around her. 

“All good?” Jamie murmured quietly behind her. 

Dani nodded, exhaling slowly. Just as she was about to turn around, Carson approached them.

“Hey,” he said quietly, “Anything I can do to help?”

Pulling her lips between her teeth in careful consideration, Dani’s eyes darted over his shoulder towards the living room that was still marginally quieter than it had been all night. Following her gaze, Carson glanced in that direction and then gave her an understanding smile. 

“I got it,” he said, pulling her in his arms for a firm hug, “I’ll take care of it.”

Dani nodded, holding him tight and feeling him reciprocate until she could almost feel her bones creak and her throat grow thick. When she slowly pulled away, she felt him give her a warm kiss to her forehead. “Love you,” he murmured. 

“Love you too,” Dani said faintly, unable to meet his eyes. 

Desperate to leave, desperate to feel the cold against her cheeks again to fight off the humiliation and the burn in her eyes, luck was not in her favor, for Judy was the next to approach her with a look of quiet affection Dani wasn’t sure she deserved.

Dani said, “I’m-I’m sorry, Judy, I’m - “

Judy cupped her cheeks and gave her a look that brooked no room for argument. “You head on home, and get the both of you to bed, all right?” she said, “I want you both bright eyed and ready for another day.” At a loss for words, Dani nodded and let Judy pull her into a hug. “Goodnight, sweet heart.”

“Goodnight,” Dani murmured, her shoulders stiff under Judy’s arms. 

Dani was unable to meet her eyes when she was finally let go, turning on the spot where the others were waiting for her. “Let’s go,” Dani mumbled to Jamie, who jerked her head in a single nod, and swung open the door. Offering Eddie a frail smile when he handed her Karen’s glasses, she slipped it in her pocket and let him kiss her head before she wrapped an arm around her mother’s shoulders to guide her outside. “Come on, mom. Let’s go.”

The cold against Dani’s skin was welcomed, biting at her ears and nose in a distracting way. Jamie was already waiting by the porch steps, a hand held out in case Dani or Karen lost their balance. She remained close by as they carefully stepped down the walkway that was now covered in a thin layer of snow, but when they reached the sidewalk, Jamie trudged ahead, kicking at the snowbank separating them from the street to make a path. 

Her mother shivered and grumbled under her breath as they carefully stepped through. Dani absently rubbed at her mother’s shoulder to ward away the cold, keeping a close grip on her. When they finally made it across the street up the walkway towards her childhood house, Dani dug her free hand in her jacket pocket and pulled out a set of keys.

“Get the door?” Dani said to Jamie. 

With a nod, Jamie took the keys but remained close until they reached the porch with a faint furrow to her brow. It was by some miracle that they hadn’t slipped once during the entire journey.  

As Jamie unlocked the front door, keys jingling, the lock clicking open, Karen huffed. “Is she coming inside?”

“Yes,” Dani said firmly, not bothering to check for Jamie’s reaction as she guided her mother through the doorway. 

With the door shut behind them, Dani sighed quietly in the darkness of the house and listened as Jamie shoved her boots off, already stumbling around to flick on the lights. The house was cold and quiet and void of any decorations to speak of. Lying in wait for the return of its ghosts. Not in the least bit surprised, Dani shed her coat and shoes, and kept a close hand on her mother as she did the same, swaying off balance as she did so. 

“Need help with the stairs?” Jamie asked softly, broaching the quiet. 

Karen scoffed wordlessly. Not meeting Jamie’s eyes, Dani shook her head. “No." 

Jamie didn’t reply, and Dani didn’t look to see her expression. Instead she took her mom’s waist and led her towards the stairs. It was tricky, as it always was. But Dani was an old hand by now, climbing the stairs, bearing most of her mother’s weight, her labored breath in Dani’s ears. But for the first time, Jamie was a constant presence at her back, and when they stumbled halfway up, Dani felt the press of a warm hand at her lower back, burning through her blouse and keeping her balanced upright. Just the feeling alone cast another shadow of shame over her, burning her cheeks. 

Her mother’s bedroom, as it always did, smelled of cigarettes and cheap floral perfume as though that would mask the smell. Karen let out a long sigh when they shuffled inside and pushed out of Dani’s grasp as soon as they neared the bed to sit heavily on the edge of it. The light from the bedside lamps, even as warm as they were, cast her mother’s face in an eerie glow. Her head tilted slightly, Dani could almost see wrinkles there that she had never seen before.

Behind her, Jamie softly cleared her throat. Startlingly slightly, Dani turned and blinked at her, finding her standing at the threshold of her mother’s room with her hands in the pockets of her bulky jacket, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

“You need anything?” Jamie said with a faint frown towards Karen before meeting Dani’s eyes. 

It took Dani a moment to answer, but she finally cleared her throat and nodded. “Just um - ” she fumbled “ - uh.”

Smiling gently, a reassuring look that briefly unspooled something in Dani’s chest. “Don’t worry,” Jamie murmured, “Be right back.”

Disappearing down the hall, audibly retreating downstairs, Dani was left to the realization that she was now alone with her mother. The stone that had sunk to the pit of her stomach seemed to painfully twist and deform. 

Pushing it down and away, Dani set to work. Retrieving a damp washcloth for her mother to wipe the night’s grime from face. Setting up the bed behind her. Removing jewelry as though on autopilot. Gold rings. A fake pearl necklace. Small stud earrings. 

She was setting them away at her mother’s vanity when at that moment, Dani heard footsteps in the hall. Clearing her throat, she stood upright and started towards the door where Jamie met her, a tall glass of water and a small bottle of painkillers in her hands. Instead of handing it over to Dani, she seemed to freeze on the spot, her eyes darting over Dani’s face with a discerning frown. Desperately, Dani gave her a reassuring smile, feeling her cheeks strain. 

When Jamie merely arched an eyebrow, Dani murmured, “I’ve got it.”

She looked at her for another moment longer, and then finally exhaled, handing over the supplies. “I’ll wait outside,” Jamie said softly, and when Dani nodded, she grasped Dani’s free hand before she could step away.

Jamie’s hand was warm, as they always were. Her eyes were soft and understanding, her mouth curving into a faint smile. Dani slowly exhaled, allowing the comfort for only a moment, before squeezing Jamie’s hand and letting go. Throat bobbing, sending Karen one last cursory glance, Jamie nodded and retreated downstairs. 

“That man of yours,” Karen said behind her, and Dani's spine immediately went taut, “you have a good one, you know?”

A strain was starting to travel up the back of Dani’s neck, a throbbing twinge verging on a headache. She gritted her teeth and turned to attend to her mother who had remained hunched over on the bed. Dani handed her the water in a silent order to drink, setting the painkillers aside to return to work. And all the while, Karen mumbled in between sips.

“You don’t find those very often anymore. Your grandfather wasn’t one,” Karen said, chuckling darkly, a lost look in her eyes, “But your father. He was a good man. Better than I could have ever hoped for. He insisted - he insisted we marry. All because of you. And God I hated him for it.” 

Dani froze, feeling something cold wash over her, but she was quick to continue, biting against the tremble of her chin, the ache in her chest, as she pulled bobby pins from her mother’s hair, smoothing out the blonde waves with trembling fingers. 

Karen laughed again. “If I have one advice to give you, Danielle,” she started as Dani robotically took the empty glass to set aside and coaxed her mother under the covers, “Don’t hate him for loving you. Otherwise you’ll end up like me. Alone and with a daughter who can barely stand to look at you.”

“Okay, mom,” Dani choked out weakly, a crack in her voice, pulling the covers over her mother’s shoulder as she curled on her side with her eyes closed. 

And before she could move away, Karen reached out and grasped her wrist, pulling her close to sit beside her. “You’re happy, aren’t you?” Karen asked, looking up at her through heavy-lidded eyes, both exhausted and piercing all at once. “Are you happy?”

Feeling a burning in her eyes, Dani sucked in a trembling breath and nodded. “Yeah,” she breathed, hastily wiping at her cheeks, “Yeah, mom. I’m happy.”

Her mother blinked up at her for another long moment, and then without another word, twisted away. An unbearable ache in her chest, Dani stood on wobbly legs and made a swift exit, her fists clenched at her side. She turned off the lights and shut the door behind her, leaning against the wood to press her hands to her eyes. Rubbing away the burning and the unfallen tears until she could see stars behind her eyelids, until she could breathe properly again. 

It took a long time to feel normal again. Splashing cold water against her cheeks to wash away the sting of her mother’s words. Downing a glass of water of her own in the kitchen, as if she could drown in it. A long time to feel like she could face Jamie again and pretend the last half hour never happened. Tucking it all away until all that was left was this shiny, hollow veneer. Sucking in a deep breath, she pushed her feet into a pair of reasonable boots, and pulled open the front door. 

Outside Jamie was fiddling with the keys to her truck. They jangled with a metallic clatter. The scarf was hanging around her neck like a stole nearly down to her knees. Her cheeks were bright and pink with cold, as was the tip of her nose. 

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” Dani said, shutting the door behind her so that they stood alone on the illuminated front stoop of her childhood house. 

“Yeah, but I wanted to.” Jamie shot her a grin, which quickly faded. “Your mum all right?” 

With a sigh, Dani raked her hair away from her face with one hand, the other tucked beneath her opposite arm in an attempt to ward off the chill. “Probably not,” she said. “But there’s nothing I can do about that.” 

“Not your responsibility.”

“Then whose is it?” 

“Don’t care. Fuck her.” 

Dani gave a huff of laughter. Less because it was funny, and more because it was surprising. Jamie’s crass candor never failed to hit its mark. Arms wrapped around herself and shivering slightly, Dani shook her head.

“Don’t shake your head like I’m wrong,” Jamie said. “Because I’m not. Fuck her. You deserve better. Always have.” 

It felt too much like a scene from ten years ago. Jamie, here. Jamie, looking at her like this. Jamie, fiddling with her keys for want of movement. Jamie, all square-jawed and imploring gray eyes. They might as well have been sixteen again.

Dani made an abortive motion, wanting to reach out, to grasp Jamie’s arm, to ground herself in the present, but she stopped before she could get halfway, clenching her fist back to her side and frowning down at their shoes angled in the snow. “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head and laughing softly.

Jamie stared at her. “What for?”

“I don’t know. I don’t – Everything. I’m sorry that you had to help me drag her over here on Christmas. You have enough going on. You didn’t need to do this.”

“Well, if it wasn’t me,” said Jamie. “Then it would’ve been Ed.”

Dani did not reply.

“Right?” Jamie asked, incredulous. “Please, tell me he helps you with this shit.”

“He –“ Dani cleared her throat and glanced over her shoulder as though afraid the door might have opened, as though afraid her mother had been faking the whole thing and would be standing there, listening. “He does. More often than I’d like, to be honest.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Scuffing her heeled shoe against the snow on the front step, Dani said, “I don’t like letting her ruin everything. I don’t want her making things harder.”

“Harder than what?”

Dani shook her head, her arms tightening around her middle and her eyes squeezing shut. She couldn’t say that being with Eddie was an exercise in precarious balance, in the breathtaking knife’s edge upon which every aspect of her life was hung. She couldn’t say that every day she woke up awash in the fear that today would be the day it all fell apart, one thing too many, one little piece out of place. She couldn’t say that because saying it aloud would make it real, because saying it aloud would mean no going back, because all she had was forward. One step after another. Always forward.

Clink of the keys, and Jamie’s voice was a careful thing. “Way I see it,” she said. “Things can’t be any harder than they are. Only different.”

Dani laughed weakly and looked up. “If only that were true.”

Jamie was watching her with a steady gaze. “You can tell me, you know. Whatever it is. You can tell me. I won’t care.”

Dani’s mouth was dry. Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip, and she whispered, “You will.”

Jamie’s eyes dropped to Dani’s mouth, following the movement, and Dani felt a warm tug low in her stomach. A thin thread of something unseen and electric tethered them in place, and then the rhythmic twirl of the keys around Jamie’s fingers went off kilter for just a moment, sending them spinning off over the railing and into the snow bank.

“Shit,” Jamie muttered. She turned and descended the few steps to trample around in the snow, calf-deep, looking for her keys.

Blinking away the coil of heat in her gut, Dani shook her head slightly and went to join her. “Did you see where they went?”

“No,” Jamie said, leaning on her knees and sweeping through the snow with her bare hands, half-crouched so that her scarf dangled and dragged across the bank. “Fuck. Do you have that spare set I gave you?”

“You only gave me a spare house key. Not one for your truck.”

“Shit.”

“Don’t worry. Eddie and I can drive you home, if it comes down to it.”

The snow melted and clung to the skin-toned nylon stockings against Dani’s legs. She scrunched up her nose and shivered, the two of them alternatively sweeping their ankles or wrists through the drift, hoping to hear the tell-tale clink of metal. After a minute or two of them being out of view of the front door, the outdoor light automatically switched off, plunging them into the shadow of the house, which leaned over them like a spectre through the night, blotting out the stars in a jagged silhouette. 

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Jamie muttered. 

She was still crouched over. A length of silvery chain glinted as it slipped free from her shirt and a familiar necklace swung from her neck. Dani went very still, gaze fixed upon it. 

It was a silver half-dollar piece. Dani could remember piercing it in Judy’s garage, Mike guiding her hand around the drill bit. Except the chain was different now. Longer than she remembered, and a more expensive material than whatever she could have afforded at the age of twelve. 

As if watching herself in a dream, Dani reached out. Jamie froze as Dani’s fingers curled around the chain and gently tugged her upright. Jamie followed slowly, eyes unmoving from Dani. Rubbing the coin between thumb and forefinger, Dani traced the effaced imagery, faded as though from years of being worried in just this fashion.

“You kept this?” she asked, her voice sounding too loud in the quiet darkness of this moment, this brief chamber of the world.

Jamie nodded. Her eyes were dark and indistinguishable, her expression veiled, but there was no mistaking the catch of breath in her throat when Dani’s grip made the chain tug softly at the back of Jamie’s neck. Dani stared, afraid to exhale, afraid to blink, afraid to somehow break this scene, as though they were tethered together by a string of brittle moonlit glass caught in her fist. 

There was the gentle drift of snow through the air, grayed flecks falling from the night sky and catching in Jamie’s wild curls like a net of stars. Dani only meant to let the necklace go, but they stood so close together that the furl of her fingers brushed against the corner of Jamie’s collarbone through the unbuttoned gap in her shirt. Jamie’s mouth dropped open to suck in a sharp breath, but she said nothing. Swallowing thickly, Dani dared to let her fingertips trace the hollow of Jamie’s throat, slipping between warm skin and cold chain. The trembling ghost of a touch.

The pulse at Jamie’s throat leapt beneath her thumb. Dani wanted to replace her thumb with her mouth, test Jamie’s heartbeat with her tongue. She wanted to slide her hand to the back of Jamie’s neck and tug her back against the brick cladding, hidden from sight. She wanted — and wanted —

Dani let her hand splay out against Jamie’s sternum. She pushed gently, a steady pressure, maintaining contact, so that she could feel the thud of Jamie’s chest beneath her palm. 

“You should -” Dani rasped, “You should take Mikey home. It’s late.”

Jamie nodded. “Yeah,” she breathed. Before Dani could drop her hand however, Jamie covered it with her own, holding it in place. The circle of silver warmed beneath Dani’s hand, and Jamie said, “Wait.”  

“What is it?” Her eyes had begun to adjust to the darkness, and Dani could just make out the curve of Jamie’s smile. 

“I still need to find my keys,” Jamie said. 

Dani blinked and then snorted with sudden laughter. Jamie squeezed her fingers, grinning, still keeping Dani’s hand against her chest in a loose grip. 

“Right,” Dani said. “Right. Yeah. I’ll get the light.”

Jamie hummed in agreement. Then she lifted Dani’s hand and bowed her head. Dani watched in abject fascination, not trusting herself to breathe, as Jamie pressed a warm chaste kiss to the peak of Dani’s knuckles before — finally — letting her go. 

Dani stumbled up the steps and through the front door. She had to pause in the open doorway leading into the ink-darkened house. There were the shadows of furniture throughout, vague shapes like owl-eyed creatures through the treeline. Dani leaned back against the wall just inside, holding the door slightly shut, trying to give herself space to breathe. Her hand was clenched into a fist. She swore she could still feel the press of Jamie’s mouth against her fingers. Or perhaps that was the shiver of the cold night air. 

Flexing her hand, Dani let her head tilt back against the wall. Then, straightening herself with a deep breath, she flicked on the outdoor light and — braced against the chill — stepped out into the cold once more. 

[magicofsimplestories]

Supernatural 2.0: #9 A Deal

[Back to Foreword and #1 Meet Kira or #8 From Snow into Dust]

“What do you know about the Crater Lab?”

Her blue eyes narrowed, the corners of her lips jumped up in a short understanding smirk.

“Why do you ask, Dean Winchester?”

Responding to a question with a question. Smart. Are you an agent, Kira Fletcher?

He felt her tentative blue gaze drilling him while sipping the whiskey from his glass. He was purposefully delaying his answer, evading her eyes, warming her curiosity further up. 

“Cause I believe in the same thing as you do”

Another smirk slipped from her lips. This time it was clearly flirty. 

“And what do you think I believe in?”

Smart ass.

“There’s something strange going on in the Lab. The Mayor died and it wasn’t epilepsy that took him to the grave”

“Did you come to Strangerville to investigate Ted’s death?”

You are a … ginger witch, Kira. 

“Ted? Who’s Ted? Never heard about him. I came to Strangerville, ‘cause I fell in love with your inspiring Strangetown stories. Couldn’t help my desire to meet you”

He has never heard a laughter more beautiful than hers. She bit her lip wittily before speaking again and the thing that she said next caught him off-guard. 

“Are you a hunter, Dean?” 

How the hell did she learn about hunting? And how the hell did she cracked me this fast?!

She read it all on his face and smiled, this time - warmly, friendly even. She took a sip of wine from her glass and leaned closer to him in a “let-me-tell-you-something” move. 

“Look, Dean, you found a right person to get information from. I’ve collected a pretty big dossier on the Lab and I’m sure there’s something creepy going on in it. Something that I tried to figure out but couldn’t. ‘Cause I was alone. You don’t need to answer my last question, I know the answer. And I will share with you everything I know so far about the Lab”

“I hear a “but” coming, Kira”

“Certainly. In return you will take me to the Lab with you to hunt whatever it is in there. Do we have a deal?”

Is she for real? Asking to join a hunt?

“It will be dangerous there, Kira”

“Do I look like I don’t know that, Dean?”

She didn’t. She knew exactly how much danger she would be in if she joined the hunt. But her blue eyes were firmly advocating her intentions. 

“Do we have a deal, Dean?”

He exhaled and finished his whiskey. 

“Fine. We will work on this case together”

She smiled in satisfaction, put her empty glass on the bar stand and stood up. 

“All right. Shall we start then? It’s about time we bother the witnesses of the Lab incident again”

“It’s 2 in the morning”

“Exactly - it’s about time”

???

“Follow me, you will see everything in a minute”

An hour later...

“Since when do you have these abilities?”

They were sitting at the table outside her trailer watching the starts go pale on the predawn sky. 

“Since my birth”

“Who told you about … everything?”

“Everything?”

“Well, the supernatural, the hunting, your abilities”

He saw she weighted her answer carefully before responding out loud. 

“The abilities I figured out on my own. The rest comes from my father”

He smirked.

“Just like with me”

“Tell me about yourself, Dean”

Simple, direct, honest. Why did it feel so good telling her about his childhood? Maybe because for once he could speak openly to someone, without imagining yet another story of his life? 

[Read next: #10 The Fog]

[rohad93]

Moonlit Masquerade: Read All About It! Pt 2

Luz sleeps only because she cried herself to complete exhaustion the night before.

She wakes up slowly. Her whole body is tired. She manages to push herself up, blinking away the remnants Knowing of sleep, and looks around. She's still wearing her school clothes. Eda probably carried her up here after she passed out. She'd cried in Eda's arm till she fell asleep, never making it out of the living room.

She looks at the window, the sun hasn't risen yet, casting her room in a cool gray-blue of predawn. She needs to get ready for school, but she knows that she has to talk to Eda first. Everyone is probably wondering just what all that was last night.

She climbs out of bed sluggishly and straightens out her uniform, and brushes her hair into some form of compliance before leaving her room and walking quietly down the stairs.

The living room is empty, but there are sounds coming from the kitchen, the clatter of plates, and silverware, and she can smell something delicious being cooked. Pancakes?

She walks in to find Lilith and King sitting at the table, the former sipping on her customary cup of breakfast tea, and the latter, gnawing hungrily on a fork.

King notices her first.

"Luz!" He drops the fork and jumps down from his chair, and scampers up to her, wrapping his arms around one of her legs and looking up at her worried. “Are you okay?”

Luz looks down at him and picks him up, kissing his furry cheek.

"I… don't really know how to answer that…," she says and King lets out a whine, nuzzling closer to her, which makes her smile a little.

"How ya feeling, kid?" She looks up at Eda as she walks over, and she shrugs.

"I… don't know," she admits.

"You wanna tell us what happened now?" she asks softly.

Luz sighs, but nods and Eda leads her to her customary spot at the table and they sit. Luz tells them about the events of yesterday. A variety of emotions filter across both Clawthorne sister’s faces as she recounts the day before Eda’s finally settles on rage.

"That rotten little bit-"

"Edalyn!" Lilith scolds before turning back to Luz. "I'm sorry you both had to go through that, Luz." Lilith frowned.

"So now you're just… waiting?" Eda asks and Luz nods. The older witch sighs. "I'm sorry, Luz." Eda laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

"Thanks…," she mumbles.

"Chin up, kiddo. We'll deal with it as it comes. For now, how bout pancakes?" She smiles and Luz realizes that she's absolutely starving. She hasn't eaten since breakfast this time yesterday.

"Please," she moans. Eda grins and stands to grab Luz a tall stack of pancakes.

She wolfs it down in record time to fill her empty belly that’s eating itself and when all that remains on her plate is a puddle of syrup, she sighs contently, satisfied.

"Thanks, mom," she says as she stands to leave.

"Have a good day, Luz," Lilith says as she grabs her bag and makes for the door.

"Thanks, and you're right." She turns to Eda, who cocks a brow at her. "Boscha is a bitch," she says and runs for the door. "I love you guys, bye!" She bolts out the front door and heads for school leaving Eda cackling behind her. Lilith rolls her eyes at them. In another universe, Luz was definitely Eda's.

When her laughter fades away Eda's face grows more somber and she sits in Luz's empty seat across from Lilith, looking at her seriously. Lilith looks back at her, waiting, as she takes a sip from her cup.

"Theoretically…," she starts, tapping her long nails on the table. "We could just... kill this girl and dump her body in a river, right?" she asks nonchalantly.

Lilith looks at her over the rim of her cup for a long minute before she takes another long sip.

"Theoretically…" she agrees and sets her cup on the back on the table with a quiet clink. “But it would be easily discoverable in the river… burning on the other hand…”

~

Luz isn't surprised when she arrives at school and more people than usual look her way when she passes them.

She doesn't care about them though. Her only worry is about Amity and her parents. In the human world, she was used to people whispering behind her back or looking at her strangely. It's gotten easy for her to ignore.

Her friends and Amity are waiting out front, near the stairs.

Luz runs up to them.

"Hey, guys," she greets and it's noticeably more subdued than most mornings.

"Hey, Luz." They smile at her and if it's a little sad, she doesn't say anything. They too have noticed the looks their group is getting from other students. Amity is the only one who seems a little shaken up by it, shoulders tensing every time other students walk by into the building past them and their gaze lingers before they start whispering to themselves. It stabs at Luz’s chest, as well as the exhausted look on her girlfriend’s face.

She grabs Amity's hand and squeezes.

Amity blinks at her, surprised, but then she squeezes back. Everyone already knows, they have no reason to hide it anymore.

"Anything happen last night?" she asks quietly and Amity shakes her head, leaning her shoulder against hers.

"I don't think they've heard yet…" she frowns. Luz hums.

“There’s no point in worrying about it till something actually happens.” Willow reasons. It hurts her to see the two so solemn.

“Yeah, try not to worry about it for now,” Gus agrees.

“They're right.” Luz looks at Amity and she nods tiredly.

“Right…,” she mumbles, leaning her head on her shoulder, but their friends' words don’t bring her any comfort and Luz knows it, they don’t help her much either, but she appreciates the effort. She presses a kiss to green hair.

“Try not to worry, mi amor,” she says and Amity nods.

The bell screams soon enough and they have to all make their way to class.

They meet up again at lunch and it feels like everyone’s eyes are on her as Amity walks into the cafeteria with her lunch. She sees the table in the back where Luz and their friends are sitting and quickly makes her way over, she doesn’t look at anyone and tries to block out all the quiet whispering that she knows, without even having to hear, is about her.

She quickly sits down next to Luz. They try to just have a normal lunch, but Amity feels like she’s crawling in her skin with all the attention centered on her. She glances at Luz, who doesn’t seem at all bothered by it. She wishes she could do that, but between the gossiping and the looks in her so far today in class and just passing in the halls, not to mention the threat of when, not if her parents are going to find out, looming over her head, she just feels like tightly wound spring, looking to release all the tight energy spiraled up inside her.  

Luz looks up at Amity to see her staring intently down at her uneaten food with a pensive face and frowns.

"When was the last time you ate?" Luz whispers, jolting her out of her thoughts as she turns to look at her. It takes her long enough to answer that Luz knows that the answer is probably sometime yesterday.

"I'm not hungry," she finally mumbles, still picking at her food.

"I know… but please, eat something. For me?" Luz tries. Amity looks at her and the meaning is clear.

'that's not fair'

Luz smiles at that and Amity sighs and finally takes a bite.

It tastes like sawdust in her mouth but she eats it all anyway, for Luz, and maybe she does feel a little better with her belly full, but she's not going to say so. Luz looks happy about it though, and that's good enough for her.

What does lift her spirits are when a surprised shriek fills the cafeteria, and from where they're sitting they can see Boscha, jump up from her table, covered in her own lunch.

As she does, more food flies from several more directions, pelting her in the back and the face.

The whole cafeteria erupts into laughter as she wipes the green goo out of her eyes, especially as yet more food flies through the air to hit her from several directions and she runs out with her group of cronies behind her and screaming with rage.

Gus snickers to himself and they look at him.

"What was that about?" Willow blinks, and he grins.

"The illusion track," is the answer.

"Whaddaya mean?" Luz asks.

"Ed and Em rallied the illusion track students this morning to play pranks on Boscha. They've actually become really popular since they stopped all the mean jokes, not that it was hard to convince anyone, no one really likes Boscha," he explains. "Oh, you guys missed it this morning, but someone magiced her locker to explode trash slug slime on her when she opened it!" he laughs.

Luz and Willow grin at that and Amity smiled.

Her brother and sister are too much sometimes, and she loves them.

With the distraction of Boscha's drive-thru lunch, no one seems to be looking at them anymore and Luz throws her arm over Amity's shoulders, tugging her close. The human grins at her and Amity feels herself relax some.

Maybe the threat of her parents is still looming over her, but for now, here with her friends, knowing her siblings have her back and saddled up close to the girl she loves, she's happy.

The rest of the day goes by quickly. Thursday and Friday are easier, after  Wednesday the luster of their secret has already worn off and people are more distracted by the constant pranks being played on Boscha by the illusion track. Her locker has been filled with all sorts of gross and disturbing things between every passing period and something always goes awry at lunch.

Ed and Em deny ever doing a single thing to the girl when Luz asks them, but the devious looks on their face tell another story altogether.

It seems being one of the top students in the beast keeping track gives Viney some pull too if the griffin excrement in Boscha's locker or the baby chupacabra she finds in her bag during potions Friday morning are anything to go by.

Not to mention that Luz is well-liked by most of her classmates in all her tracks, and it doesn't take long for word to spread to the other tracks about what's going on and they soon join and collaborate with each other. There are a few people at Hexside Boscha hasn't bullied or demeaned, so no one blinks an eye at the potions slipped into her lunch that have… less than favorable effects or the sound effects the bard track adds whenever something bad happens to her. The members of the healing track are always curiously absent as well from the medical wing whenever Boscha has to go see them, for chupacabra bites or the like.

After school Friday they tell Eda and Lilith about the potion someone must have slipped her that made her break out in a full-body rash. Eda, as the chaotic witch she is, is delighted by it and even Lilith grins, though she tries to hide it behind her teacup.

They go upstairs Luz jumps on her bed with a tired sigh, Amity makes an agreeing noise as she plops down next to her, letting Luz curl up around her tiredly. She smiles to herself and runs her fingers through her girlfriend's soft, dark locks, they hang down the back of her neck now and her bangs droop around her eyebrows. Amity thinks it's a cute look, and while she of course isn't forbidding Luz from cutting her hair if she wants, when asked her opinion, she simply says she likes it how it is, which is enough to keep Luz from cutting it. She needs to cut her own soon, her roots are showing again, much to Luz's delight.

Luz hums contently in her grip and they just lay there.

"Hey," Luz starts after a while.

"Hmm?" Amity's eyes are closed, face buried in the warm girl's neck.

"I've been thinking… about switching to all potions track…," she finally says.

Amity's eyes snap open at that and she leans back to look at Luz. The surprise is clear in her wide eyes.

"What, really?" Is all she can ask and Luz nods.

"My potions teacher thinks I could go really far if I took potions more than once a week," she says.

"I'm sure you could, you're already the top student after all… but you love taking all the tracks." She frowns, brows furrowing between her eyes.

"Yeah, I do, but focusing on the thing I'm really good at seems like the more… responsible thing to do…," she says and now Amity knows something is up, and she has a pretty good idea of what it might be.

"Luz, does this have anything to do with my parents?" she asks and Luz frowns, eyes glancing away and Amity knows for certain now.

"I mean… they don't really like the multitrack thing right? Besides, I'm good at potions, maybe they wouldn't mind us being together if I was just the top student in the potions track only," she reasons, looking back at her again and Amity frowns. "I just don't want to lose you…," she mumbles under her breath. There's a pain In her heart at those words, that strikes Amity like a hot coal, her burns, hot in her chest

"Luz… no," she starts, pulling her hands away from the back of Luz's neck to cup her face, thumbs running across her warm cheeks. "I don't want to lose you either, but I also want you just as you are, I don't want you to change to try and please my parents, I do enough of that for the both of us already…" she says quietly. "If you want to take all potions, then do it because that's what you want to do, not for me, and especially not because of my parents. I love you just the way you are, querida." She presses her forehead against Luz's, who smiles, reaching up to hold the hands pressed to her face.

"I love you too," she says, leaning in to close the small distance between them with a firm kiss.

"You two are gross…" they both jump at the voice and turn to see King standing in the doorway, with his arms crossed.

"Probably," Luz grins, tightening her grip on Amity. "Did you want to come snuggle with us, King?" She asks in that baby tone.

"No!" he squeals.

"Good, more for me." Amity huffs, wrapping her arms back around Luz's neck, but is smirking to herself, face hidden in her girlfriend's neck. Luz grins, knowing what she's doing, and cuddles closer.

King lasts all of thirty seconds before he screeches and runs over, scrambling up the side of the bed to wedge his way between them.

"King demands cuddles!" He shouts as they laugh and squeeze him between them. Once he's settled down, they share a look over the top of his head, smiling at each other.

~

When Amity gets home she heads straight for her room and sets her bag down.

She's just sitting down at her desk when her siblings burst in unannounced, as they usually do.

"Hey, Mittens." Edric grins at her, as they make themselves comfortable on her bed.

"Soooo, how"s school been?" Emira drawls with a sly, knowing grin that completely betrays her.

Amity smirks at them.

"Rather uneventful on my part actually, though Boscha seems to be having an unusually hard time, but I'm sure you two don't know anything about that, do you?" she asks.

The twins glanced at each other, both wearing equally shit-eating grins.

"I can't say that we do," Edric says, kicking his feet as he lays on his stomach across her bed, head in his hands.

"Doesn't ring any bells." Emira flips her hair over her shoulder and leans back on her hands.

Amity just shakes her head at them, she's grinning.

A knock on the door makes them all freeze, smiles falling away.

"Yes?" Amity calls, trying to keep the sudden nervousness out of her voice.

The door opens and her mother appears.

Odalia Blight looks as prim and proper as ever. Her dark chartreuse hair pulled into a perfect bun atop her head and her lavender dress perfectly pressed and tidy. Her face is stiff and serious, though it's hardly anything other. Her sharp, olive eyes land on Amity.

"Amity, dear, your father and I would like to speak to you in his study," she says.

Those words send ice coursing through Amity's veins. This has to be it, the moment she has been dreading for two days.

"Yes, mother." The response is automatic, she doesn't even realize she's saying it. Her mother nods and disappears down the hall toward her father's study.

Amity takes a shaky breath as she stands.

The twins scramble off the bed to lay a hand on each of her shoulders.

"It's gonna be okay," Emira says and Edric nods.

"Relax, take a breath."

She nods and takes a slow steadying breath. The twins pat her and she walks out of her room and down the stairs toward her father's study. The large wooden door is indistinguishable from the rest of the house, unassuming, but it is one the Blight children never enter unless they've been summoned.

She knocks and a deep voice calls for her to enter.

She takes the handle with a shaking hand and pushes it open.

The room is large and spacious, lined with bookshelves fit to bursting with thick, leather-bound tomes. A large, violet rug lays over the dark wood floor and one large window fills the opposite wall from the door, in front of which an old, sturdy desk sits.

Behind that desk, sits her father, looking down at something in front of him. Her mother stands next to him, hands folded in front of her.

Alador Blight is a tall, thin man, with auburn hair that extends in a well-groomed beard that follows his jawline and grows long on his chin. He is never seen in less than long, black dress pants and dark gray, and white pinstriped dress shirt under a black vest, a gold chain hanging from one of the buttons to the pocket where his pocket watch rests against his chest.

He looks up and gold eyes the same shade as her own land on her.

"Come here a moment, Amity, we'd like to discuss something with you," he calls.

"Yes?" she asks quietly, folding her hands in front of her tightly as she stops in front of the desk.

"We were hoping you could explain this," her mother says, picking a piece of paper off her father's desk and holding it up to her.

She can't help but wince as the poster of her and Luz is held up in front of her face.

She swallows thickly.

"It's… a poster, Boscha posted at school," she says simply. Her mother makes a sour face at that.

"Clearly it is a poster." There's a sharpness in her voice that cuts at Amity. "What we are referring to, is what you are doing in this… scandalous photo," she says. Her father watches silently.

Amity doesn't see any way to mitigate this other than the truth, after all, it's right there, in full color. She mumbles something and winces when her mother sighs sharply.

"Blight's do not mumble, Amity. Speak clearly," she scolds.

"Kissing my girlfriend." She says louder, cheeks turning pink as she says it out loud to her parents.

"Girlfriend?" Her mother looks appalled. "The human?" She's aghast. "How long has this been going on?" she demands.

"Almost six months…"

"Six months?!" Her mother's olive eyes are wide and her father's brows tick upward at that.

"You've been gallivanting around with that human for six months?" Odalia is beside herself at that news, and Amity's shoulders hug her neck. Her mother presses a hand to her temple and shakes her head, but every time the word 'human' slips past her mother's lips makes Amity's stomach roil with anger. Like that's all Luz is and that's all they need to know about her, that she's human, not that she's the kindest, most thoughtful, loving person Amity has ever known

"The human…," her mother starts again.

"Luz" Amity finally speaks, cutting off her mother who looks at her, startled. Her father is also looking at her surprised now. Amity swallows, but plows on.

"Her name is Luz. Luz Noceda."

Her mother only frowns at that.

"Of all the witchlings on the Boiling Isles, you choose that girl of all people…, why?" her mother makes a face and throws up a hand, begging to understand why their most level-headed child has done this.

"I…" she glances between her parents. She has nowhere else to go with this. "I love her,"  is her simple, honest answer.

Her mother scoffs, rolling her eyes as she sets the offensive paper on her father's desk.

"You couldn't possibly know what love is," Odalia says imperiously. Amity clenches her fists.

She might be young, but she's not five. she's read enough books and seen enough people in love to know what it's supposed to look and sound like.

She's learned over the last six months exactly what it feels like to.

It's an all-encompassing desire to be with someone, wanting nothing but to make them happy, and being happy just because they are. Taking care of each other, knowing they're there for you no matter what, even when no one else is.

Luz has literally shed blood for her and kept on fighting, and if all that isn't love, then Amity is sure no such thing exists in this world.

She's been head over heels in love with Luz for long enough to know this, and maybe she's never bled for her, but she can at least make this stand for her.

"Yes I do, and I love her!" Her voice raises as she slaps a hand to her chest, leaning forward, gold eyes narrowed and mouth pulled back in a snarl, and her mother looks at her like she's lost her mind.

Auburn brows shoot upward into his hairline as Alador regards his youngest daughter from across his desk. He can't remember the last time Amity argued with them, and he doesn't think she's ever raised her voice at them, much less the look directed at her mother now, whole body rigid. He's intrigued by this, by this human girl that elicits such a strong reaction in his youngest, and usually, most well behaved child.

He speaks before his wife gets the chance to open her mouth, and he can tell she's about to harshly scold Amity but cuts her off at the pass.

"Tell me, Amity," he finally speaks since this conversation started, steepling his fingers in front of him."...Tell me about this, Luz Noceda," he says, leaning back in his chair. Odalia's head whips to look at him, but his gold eyes are trained on Amity, who is looking back at him with the same eyes.

That catches her off guard, and she blinks back in surprise. She never expected that from her dad, who is looking at her curiously, waiting.

Normally, on any other day of the week she could confidently sing her girlfriend's praises to anyone, but at the moment, put on the spot in front of both of her parents, she struggles to speak for a minute.

"She's kind…," she finally starts. "She's always kind to everyone, but especially to me…," she says, unsure. Tons of things come to mind, but she knows well enough that some of them are things that most people would not find as endearing as she does, especially not her parents.

Her father doesn't say anything, only continues to look at her expectantly, she does her best to ignore her mother, looking at her with narrowed eyes. She knows the kinds of things her mother wants to hear.

"She's very intelligent, and studies all nine tracks at school..."

"Yes, we saw her… interesting uniform, in the photo," her mother says distastefully. Whether that distaste is aimed at Luz's education choices or the content of the photo, Amity is unsure, and her cheeks pink a little, the fact that her parents saw that photo… but she doesn't have time for that right now, she can sense that this is her make or break moment by the simple virtue that they're having this conversation at all.

"She's one of the top students in beast keeping, and is the top student in potions," she says, standing straighter, shoulders pushed back proudly at Luz's achievements. Her mother blinks surprised at that. Being the top student in any of the tracks is nothing to sneeze at. "Humans don't have bile sacs, so she can't do magic the same way we do, but she works hard to work around that, harder than anyone, we spend a lot of time studying for abominations," she tells them.

"Interesting, how does she perform magic?" Her father tilts his head.

All three Blight children know exactly how best to appeal to their parents. Anything that makes them look good is the quickest way to get their mother to agree to something.

Her father, however, has a natural, insatiable curiosity, anything that grabs his interest is the best way to garner his attention. Amity inherited her curious and studious nature from the man, after all.

"With glyphs, usually on paper, but anything she can draw on. She's taught me some."

"Show me," he commands, sliding his desk notepad and pen across to her.

Amity steps forward and takes the pen, she hesitates a moment before deciding on which glyph she wants to use, and carefully drawing it out on the paper and tapping it gently. The paper crumpled up, forming a floating orb of light, it's gentle glow casts shadows across both father and daughter's faces.

"Fascinating…" Alador pulls at his beard thoughtfully as he observes the light spell floating above his desk. He's done his share of research about ancient magics and this reminds him of what he's read, to see it, is another matter entirely, even if it is only a simple light spell.

"Wild magic…" his wife frowns.

"She's the Owl Lady's apprentice," Amity says, and her mother's olive gaze turns to her.

"Edalyn Clawthorne…," her mother sneers. "A brazen criminal…"

"A former criminal," Alador says, drawing both their attention. "The Emperor himself pardoned her and her sister by the will of the Titan," he reminds. "It is thus, not our place to question that… even if her character remains… questionable," he says. "There is no denying that the Clawthorne sisters' are both formidably powerful."

Odalia frowns but doesn't argue either point.

He hums and glances at the poster still sitting on his desk, and the photo of his daughter wrapped in a rather passionate embrace with the human he had heard rumors off. He doesn't like this obvious power play by his colleague's daughter, trying to discredit Amity, but that is a concern for later.

"I'm intrigued, Amity," he finally addresses his daughter, and stands from his desk, cupping the light spell in his hand as he walks around to stand in front of her.

He towers over her, but he towers over everyone in the family, Edric aspires to be as tall as their father someday.

"Clearly this, Luz, is of importance to you, so I wish to meet her," he says and Amity balks.

"You do?" Is all she can say. Her mother looks just as shocked.

"Yes, I've heard the rumors of the human attending Hexside, and her magic is interesting. I'd like to separate the facts from the myths myself," he says and hums thoughtfully. "I believe we have no prior engagements Sunday? "he turns to his wife questioningly, who nods. "Invite your girlfriend to dinner Sunday night, Amity. I will gauge her character for myself," he says with finality.

Amity's tongue works soundlessly in her throat before she nods.

"Yes, father," she finally managed to say.

"Good, that will be all, Amity." He dismisses and she nods before quickly leaving the room.

When she's far enough away from her father's study, she books it back to her room.

Edric and Emira are standing inside, waiting for her.

"Mittens!" They practically jump on her.

"What did they say?!"

"Dad… wants to meet Luz," she says, still shocked by this.

"Really?" Emira blinks.

"Yeah… he wants me to invite her to dinner Sunday night." She looks between them.

"Well, that will be an interesting dinner…" Edric cocks a brow and Emira elbows him.

"I have to tell Luz!" Amity runs over to her desk and pulls open a drawer, sitting next to the little maroon box that her brooch rests in is a large, folded up piece of paper. She pulls it out and unfolds it on the floor. it's poster size, and has a large, intricate glyph is drawn on it.

She taps her hand to it and a portal blazed to life.

"Fold this up and put it back in my drawer, I'll be back soon." With that she hops into the portal and is gone, leaving the twins alone.

"Okay, we have got to get her to draw one of those for us," Emira says. Edric nods.

Amity appears, dropping onto the floor of Luz's bedroom.

Luz screams, falling out of her desk chair, where she'd been bent over some homework.

"Amity?! Don't do that!" She gasps, pressing a hand over her chest where her heart is beating rapidly against her ribs. "I coulda been changing or something…"

"Sorry!" Amity says, helping her stand. Carefully choosing not to mention that her changing is a moot point after her drugged dunking in the river and she had to help her change clothes. "I had to come to tell you right away." Luz's face turns concerned at that.

"What, what happened?" she asks quickly, grabbing hold of Amity's hands.

Before she can say anything the bedroom door slams open and Eda, Lilith, and King burst in, staves at the ready.

They take one look around the room and see the two teenagers standing there holding hands. Eda scowls, lowering her staff.

"What part of 'door open' do you two not get?" Eda frowns as she stands in the doorway.

"I'm sorry, Eda, I just got here, my parents found out today," she says and Eda's annoyed look quickly melts into surprise as she steps into the room, the other two following.

"What happened, kid?"

"They want Luz to come to dinner Sunday. My dad wants to meet you," she says, turning back to Luz.

"Well, that's a good thing right?" she asks, looking confused. Amity looks very worried about a dinner invitation.

"I… don't know," she admits. "My mom certainly didn't seem happy about it…," she says.

"Okay, but this is our chance, they didn't outright forbid you from seeing me. We can do this!" Luz smiles and Amity can't help but return it. Luz always has that effect on her.

"You at a fancy-schmancy Blight dinner? I'm not sure you have the right breeding for that kid." Eda plants a hand on her hip.

"Hey, you don't know what kind of breeding I have!" Luz huffs.

"Eda's right… your usual table manners are fine… most of the time…" Amity gives her a sideways look, and Luz knows she's referring to the eating contest she and Gus had, where she shoved her whole face into her lunch tray a couple of weeks ago. "...but dinner at my house is a little more formal," Amity continues.

"Couldn't you teach me?" Luz asks.

"I don't have time tomorrow and I snuck out just now to tell you…" Amity bites her lip.

"I think I could be of assistance." Lilith steps forward.

"Hey, yeah, Lily is the queen of all that prissy, pompous stuff." Eda slaps her sister's back, making her jerk and she rolls her eyes.

"I often had to attend dinners and ceremonies during my time in the coven. I am quite up to date on the necessary etiquette that the Blights would employ at formal dinner." She agrees.

"Yeah, Lilith's a great teacher!" Luz says.

"So?" Lilith looks between the two teens. Luz turns back to Amity who nods.

"Perfect, we're about to have dinner, Luz, I can assess what you know and what areas we need to work on."

"You stayin' for dinner, Kid?" Eda asks Amity, who frowns.

"No, thank you. I need to get back before my parents realize I'm gone," she says. Eda nods and the sisters make their way back downstairs with King.

Luz squeezes Amity's hands and tugs her in for a quick kiss.

"Don't worry, mi amor, I will learn everything!" Luz promises with a determined nod that makes her smile.

"I know you will." She says before she steps away to the permanent portal glyph drawn on Luz's bedroom wall and taps it before disappearing inside.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

The Buy In

Chapter 8: Highs and Lows

By @dracusfyre

The drive back was a study in anticipation; feeling daring, Bucky trailed his fingers along the back of Tony’s hand and up his forearm as he shifted gears, light, teasing caresses that earned him hot looks that made his pulse pound. In return, at stoplights Tony would take his hand off the gear shift and rest it on Bucky’s thigh just above the knee; Bucky held his breath each time, wanting his hand to slide further up, but all Tony would do is rest it there, the warmth and weight of it a promise for later while the curl of his lips said he knew what Bucky was thinking. Bucky, for his part, couldn’t keep his eyes off Tony, able to look his fill while Tony had to watch the road. His gaze roamed from the beginning of crow’s feet at the corners of Tony’s eyes, down to the goatee that framed his wide, mobile mouth. Tony licked his lips, as if he could feel the weight of Bucky’s gaze, and Bucky had to swallow thickly. His eyes trailed down the line of Tony’s throat, to the shadowed divot at the base of Tony’s throat; Bucky wanted to put his tongue there and taste Tony’s skin.

He finally had to turn his head to face the window, exhaling shakily. It had been a long time since he’d wanted anyone this badly; he wondered if part of it was that it had the thrill of the forbidden and had to admit to himself that that was at least part of it. The other part of it was the smug way Tony smiled when he admitted to screwing over some rich asshole, and the way his eyes had lit up when he made one of his friends smile, and the fact that Tony was, objectively, a goddamn good looking man.

Before he knew it, they were back at his place, and Bucky had to direct Tony to a spot where he wouldn’t get ticketed or towed. Tony put the car in park and turned in his seat to face Bucky. “Are you sure about this?” he asked. He reached out and ran a finger over the curve of Bucky’s jaw, leaving heat in its wake. Bucky caught Tony’s hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of Tony’s wrist; he could feel Tony’s pulse pounding against his lips. “Yes,” he murmured against Tony’s skin and felt him shiver.

“Then let’s go inside,” Tony said roughly. “This car is too goddamn small for the things I want to do with you.”

They barely took the time to kick off their shoes before they were reaching for each other, Tony cupping Bucky’s face in his hands while Bucky curled his fingers in Tony’s belt to pull him close. Tony was taking no prisoners with his kiss; he slanted his mouth across Bucky’s once, as a question, and when Bucky parted his lips in invitation he delved inside, tongue thrusting against Bucky’s. Bucky made a sound in his chest, deep and hungry, and turned them so he could press Tony against the door. This close, it was impossible not to notice how much taller he was than Tony, and he used that ruthlessly, crowding into Tony’s space as he let Tony take him apart with his mouth.

“Oh my God,” Tony muttered, pulling back so his eyes could rove over Bucky’s face, pupils blown. Bucky took advantage of Tony’s distraction to shove Tony’s suit jacket off his shoulders, tossing it in the direction of the couch. Underneath the jacket Tony’s shirt was t-shirt soft, and Bucky ran his hands over it, enjoying the feeling of soft cotton over hard muscles, before he slid his hands underneath. He felt and heard Tony’s groan as his hands found warm skin, making him greedy for the other noises he could coax out of him. Tony's breath was warm pants across Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky pressed one more hard kiss to his lips before he was kissing along Tony’s jaw and pressing his teeth against Tony’s neck. He straightened just long enough to pull Tony’s shirt off. Tony’s hands, meanwhile, had been busy on the buttons of Bucky’s shirt, and he swept the plackets aside to put his hands on Bucky’s chest.

This time it was Bucky’s turn to moan. “Bedroom,” he said as Tony ran thumbs over his nipples, and put a hand inside the waistband of Tony’s slacks to pull him deeper into the apartment. On the one hand, he wanted to take his time, but on the other, he felt like he might shake apart if he didn’t feel Tony’s body against his right now. As Tony captured his mouth again, Bucky made short work of Tony’s belt, making another sound deep in his chest as his finger brushed over the hard line of Tony’s erection. Tony inhaled sharply and stilled as Bucky explored him through the soft fabric of his pants, cupping and squeezing.

“You’re going to drive me crazy,” Tony groaned, pulling Bucky down for another kiss with one hand while the other unbuttoned Bucky’s jeans, sliding his hand inside. Bucky felt his knees get week at the touch and wanted to thrust against the sweet, hot pressure. He felt the thrill at the base of his spine that said he was well on his way to coming and the surprise that he was already so far gone made him pull back with a huff of laughter. He rested his forehead against Tony’s and sucked in a few deep breaths, trying to calm down.

“I don’t want this over too quickly,” he said when Tony looked at him with a question in his eyes.

“No," Tony agreed. His eyes roved over Bucky's chest and down to where he was measuring Bucky’s length with his hand. As Bucky's hips flexed into his touch, he said, a little breathlessly, “We can go twice?”

“And that’s why you’re the genius,” Bucky said, and kicked off his pants as he let Tony push him onto the bed.

                                                       ***

As the early morning sunlight started to spill over the horizon, Tony fell into his own bed with a sigh; he could theoretically catch a few more hours of sleep, but he was too acutely aware of how cold his sheets were and how empty the bed was to sleep. He made the insanely risky move to stay as late as possible before leaving because it felt so good to be in Blue Eyes' bed, to have another warm body pressed against his own, relaxed and comfortable in the soft darkness of a shared night. Leaving had been difficult; he’d tried to extricate himself without waking Blue Eyes up, but the man slept too lightly and had reached for him when he felt the bed move. Even though he'd offered, Tony wouldn’t let Blue Eyes walk him to his car – it was already light enough that someone could see them together – so they’d said goodbye at the door with long, drugging kisses and lingering touches, as if they were both storing them up against a future famine. Leaving the apartment and facing the chill of predawn had been jarring and demoralizing, particularly when the knowledge that that night could never happen again was a lead weight in his stomach the whole ride home. 

Rolling over onto his back, Tony threw an arm over his eyes and made a disgruntled sound. If Rhodey found out where he’d been all night he’d curse up a blue streak, starting with “he’s technically your employee” to “he’s probably a cop” to “it might have been a setup” while hitting “you don’t even know who he really is” along the way. Tony couldn’t regret it, though, not when it had been the best night he'd had in years. 

He reached for his phone and pulled up the text he'd sent to Blue Eyes earlier; his thumb hovered over the keyboard as he fought the impulse to write something. What would he say though? Thanks for a great night, but we can't do it again? Surely Blue Eyes knew that as well as he did, he had a lot more to lose than Tony if they got caught. 

After a long minute he put the phone back down with a sigh and stared at the ceiling as the sky grew brighter. It was going to be a long day.

                                                         ***

The next day, even though he had been awake when Tony had left in the dim hours of the morning, Bucky was still sad to wake up alone. Tony had said goodbye like he’d known it was the last time they would see each other, and it had made Bucky’s heart wrench as he’d closed the door behind him.  He’d stood there for a long moment, head resting against the door, before he’d gone back to bed. The sheets still smelled of sex and Tony, and even though he had hours to go before he was supposed to work, the heaviness in his chest meant it took a long time for him to fall back asleep.

As the alarm on his phone trilled at him, Bucky hit snooze and rolled back over, planting his face in the pillow that still held traces of Tony's cologne. One night was apparently enough to instill a Pavlovian response and he spent a few moments daydreaming wistfully of what it would be like to have morning sex with Tony. Before he could really get into it, however, his phone trilled again, reminding him that all the problems he'd left for Future Bucky were rapidly becoming problems for Right Now Bucky.

“Fuck,” he groaned out loud, then he rolled over and grabbed his phone. As he started coffee and breakfast, he forced himself read through the notifications he’d been ignoring all night.  The highlight, of course, was from his handlers on Discord: Great party! Guest of honor never showed tho, bummer. Maybe next time. 

“Next time,” Bucky read out loud, and sighed. He banged his head against his kitchen cabinets. If he’d thought it through before he’d panicked yesterday, he would have realized that he couldn’t protect Tony forever; his handler would get suspicious that Tony was slipping through their hands every time. And Tony was far from stupid; once he found out his garage with all of the stolen cars had been the subject of a police raid, he’d be thinking of people who had known about the cars and had been acting suspiciously, and Bucky’s impulsive date night was a huge red flag. He knew Tony wouldn't hurt him if he found out that Bucky was a cop, but imagining the look of betrayal on Tony's face made him feel sick. He closed the app and opened up his text message from last night; it was stupid to think that Tony would have texted him, but he still stared at the phone with disappointment. After a few moments, he deleted the number and set his phone down with a sigh.

"It's going to be a long day," he said to his empty kitchen.  

---------

A/N: If you are enjoying this story, come find me over at @marveltrumpshate where I will be participating in auctioning off TWO fanfics! One auction is a fic with art (with @massivespacewren ) and the other is a solo fic. All the money goes to a good cause of your choosing! Hope to see you there!

[castielscarma]

Thunderstorm

Part 7 of the #SpnStayAtHome Challenge  (6.3k) @bend-me-shape-me @helianthus21 @pray4jensen Dean Winchester wakes up to blinding light piercing his eyes and turns his back on the window and the sunlight engulfing his room. He doesn't need to feel the side next to him being empty to know that Michael is gone. He probably sneaked away straight after Dean had dozed off, sated after the mind-blowing sex. Dean sighs and gets up slowly. Sated but not satisfied. If that wasn't the story of his life. He stumbles to the bathroom to relieve himself and almost slips on Michael's boxer. Great. He picks them up and tosses them in the trash. Sure, sex with Michael is freaking amazing, he is a beast in bed but it leaves a sour taste in Dean's mouth. It's a feeling that has been intangible but suddenly – in the early morning hours – and after a few months it seems crystal clear: the acrid taste of being owned (not the hot, sexy kind of owned either). Dean grabs an old worn Zeppelin shirt, pulling it over himself and scuffles out into the kitchen. Popping the fridge open, he grabs a jar of peanut butter and some jam. He pushes some bread in the toaster and makes coffee while waiting for the toast to get the right shade of burned. The scent of coffee permeating the kitchen air does some to wake him up, as does the blend of salt and sweet of the peanut butter and jam sandwich, but it isn't until he gets the black liquid of gods inside himself that he truly comes alive. “Fuck,” he mumbles as the coffee jolts his senses, forcing him to be truly aware since waking up this morning. The headache he sports tells him he was a tad heavy on the drinking, the slight ache further down tells him more than he wants to remember about Michael.

“Who needs him anyway?” Dean mumbles into his coffee.

He looks out the kitchen window. The clouds have scattered, already bending to the might of the sun. It looks like it's going to be a bright and sunny day, a notion that doesn't make Dean any happier. Fuck the sun and sun rays and chirpy tweety birds.

Dean gulps down the last of his coffee and heads out the door to grab the mail. He squints against the sun, the headache flaring up like someone tossed a match to gasoline-soaked rags. Donatello is already up, waving at Dean as he pushes his lawnmower in front of him.

Dean waves and shakes his head slightly in bewilderment. If Donatello keeps mowing the lawn, he'll soon hit the core of the Earth. Thankfully, Donatello is an old fashioned, traditional kind of old man – knitted vests, pipes, and dry crackers – and gets up predawn so hopefully, he'll be finished with the mowing before aggravating Dean's headache further. Maybe some more coffee will help he muses.

Mailbox is empty save the thick newspaper. It could have been worse – bills were never welcome.

As Dean picks up the newspapers he notices that the house next to him is finally occupied. The sold-sign had been up for months and but Dean had not seen a living soul near or on the premises until now.

It seems they came with the truck in the middle of the night. He can see new curtains in the windows, a soft light glowing in a room, and other clues that tell someone is inhabiting the house.

A pot with a tiny little tree sits on the porch, there's some kind of wind-chime moving gently in the slight breeze, and Dean is pretty sure he hears the distinct sound of goats coming from the house.

What the hell? No one seems to notice the bleating. Dean casts a glance at Donatello who seems lost in the magical world of landscaping – that or his allergy meds are keeping him sufficiently in the clouds – and hasn't even commented anything on these four-legged grass chompers intruding.

This has to be against HOA- regulations, Dean thinks. Who the fuck has goats as pets?

Dean can't help but indulge in his curiosity. He grabs the newspaper tightly, and walks to the side, the grass tickling his feet where the slippers don't cover them. Sure enough, at the side of the house, a pen has Harry Pottered itself, complete with two living, breathing goats. One is completely black and the other is all white with two little horns poking up. They both turn as Dean approaches and their bleats stop.

“Hi fellas. You do know that you're in breach of HOA-regulations?” The white goat bleats once and then continues to munch on grass. The black goat on the other hand just stares at Dean. Its eyes are a bit off-putting, a shade of blue that would have looked mesmerizing on a human. On a goat, it seems wrong. “What you looking at? It's not my ass the HOA is gonna haul and turn into kebab.” The black goat keeps it's gaze transfixed on Dean, so much so that it starts to freak Dean out.

He decides to get back inside before his new neighbor goes out to check the commotion.

As Dean rounds the corner, the door to the house opens. Dean has a sudden impulse to hide, and luck as it were, the tree is there. He scurries quickly and stands behind the tree, realizing too late that the spindly branches are not near enough to cover him.

He can't really see the man's face as he pokes up as some branches are in the way, but a halo of black hair and one arched eyebrow is enough for Dean to know he's been spotted. Well, that and that the guy says he can see him.

“I can see you, you know. You must be the Winchester.” His voice is gravelly, and it sends shivers down Dean's spine. Dean hasn't felt like this in forever, excited. It's something that's palpable, a force in the air, the guy's freaking aura, who knows what. Dean just knows that it's there and he needs to see it. Touch it. He steps out from behind the tree.

“Hiya, uh, yeah. I'm the Winchester – Uh, Dean. Your neighbor.” And holy hell and all the devils, is his new neighbor not the hottest thing since crispy bacon? He's almost the same height as Dean, he knows this cause he stares directly into the bluest eyes he's ever seen. His mind goes briefly to the goat's eyes – yeah, they were freakishly blue too – but the goat didn't hypnotize him with his gaze. Just stared at him as if he wanted him six feet under. Judging by the frown the guy is giving him, Dean suspects he feels the same as the goat.

“Hello, Dean. I'm Castiel. I'm well aware that we're neighbors. My house is neighboring yours, it's a given. So why are you near my house, and not yours?”

As Castiel speaks, Dean feels a chill coming on. He looks at the sky briefly, and a weird sense of relief washes over him like he's just escaped something huge and monumental. Grey clouds cover the sun, and while Dean is grateful that the sun is hidden, his headache decides to make itself known right then.

It's like someone swung at him with a hammer. Dean staggers and sways, grabbing the porch railing for purchase. He takes a moment to gather himself, and the neighbor reaches out to steady him, grabbing him by the elbow.

“Thanks.”

“You're welcome. Why are you skulking?” His voice is gravely and sends a shiver down Dean's spine.

“I'm not. I was out to grab my newspaper and I heard a sound. Thought I heard goats. Just checking it out. You're new here but I don't think goats are allowed. HOA are sticklers for us following the no goat rule. It's a no-go.” Dean chuckles slightly but gets nothing in return.

Dean hears a weak rumble in the distance and looks up at the sky again. It seems like a storm is building up. The sky is the color of new asphalt now; the shift from gray to black happening very suddenly.

The new guy just stares at him – kind of like the goat did.

After a beat of silence, he speaks. “HOA only specifies the domesticated animals of dog, cat, rabbit, and horse as being explicitly forbidden.”

“Alright, my bad.” He extends his hand. “I'm Dean.”

The man seems unfazed. “I'm aware.”

Dean stops himself from shaking his head and drops his hand. “Right, and you're...”

His pissed off but very hot neighbor hesitates briefly before answering. “I'm Castiel.”

Dean realizes that he's still standing behind the tree like an idiot. He takes a step forward, rocking on his heels. “So goats, eh?”

A small smile tugs at Castiel's lips. Dean takes that tiny gesture of acceptance. “Yes. Gnasher is the white one and Snarl is the black one. They've been with me for quite some time. I'm fond of them but they can bite your hands off. Don't touch them.”

Gnasher and Snarl? Jesus, who is this guy? Were Ramsey and Butt-Head taken? Dean worries for a second that some kind of psycho has moved into the neighborhood.

He looks at Castiel again but he seems normal enough. Jeans, a black sweater that hugs his body just right, full lips, very full lips that Dean's definitely not thinking of kissing, thick thighs, to have those wrapped around – he needs to rise up his mind from the gutter. Castiel's entire appearance, it all screams normal. Maybe even boring.

Yep, Castiel is definitely boring. “Right, Castiel. Don't worry, no touching. So, which one's the black one?”

Castiel hesitates before answering. “Snarl.” He takes a step back, retreating. “Now stay off my property.”

Dean clicks his tongue and nods. He knows this wasn't the smoothest welcome-to-the- neighborhood-visit but hopefully Castiel didn't think he was a total douche. “Sure. Sorry about – “

Castiel has already closed the door.

Dean sighs and heads over the lawn to his side. He's only taken two steps when the skies rumble. A deep crackle echoes as thunder sweeps over the neighborhood. Rain starts pouring out of nowhere, a strong gush that threatens to not only soak the lawn but flood it.

The newspaper in Dean's hand crumbles under the rain. Donatello has already abandoned his lawnmower. As Dean takes the final step inside and closes his door against the unpredictable weather gods, his newspaper is basically a paper smoothie.

Dean lets out a curse and throws the newspaper away. He grabs an Advil for the headache. It's not as severe as it was a few minutes ago but it's still there, an unwelcoming throb at the center of his forehead.

Forgoing the newspaper, Dean plops down on the couch. It's still morning but the weather is fucking terrible, it's probably gonna rain all day and his hot, totally doable next door neighbor thinks he's a stalking moron. He's earned an entire day in solitude. Besides, it's a Thursday, meaning it's his day off.

Dean puts on Netflix and is wiggling down into the favorite part on the couch when he feels something against the small of his back. He pauses the movie and digs out a pair of black lace panties.

Dean groans as he recognizes them. First Michael with his pump-him-and-dump-him attitude and now he gets a very unwelcome blast from the past. The thin intricate lace panties, probably with silk threads or platinum embroidery – who the fuck knows – belong to his ex-fiancee.

They broke it off almost a year ago – rather he broke it off – so the panties must have been wedged into the sofa during all that time. Dean shudders and drops them on the floor.

Amara had been a piece of work. There was never a dull moment when he'd lived with her. Dean was all for excitement, living on the edge but he was not the one to dive off a fucking cliff Thelma and Louise style. Yet you almost did.

Another crash of thunder startles him from his thoughts, and he's grateful for it, despite his throbbing headache. Everything is better than thinking about that hellcat. The rain patters against the rooftops and Dean decides he's done with thinking about exes and assholes. He presses play and loses himself in the rom-com world. There at least, he's not the only idiot that fails romantically.

And for a while, he can forget about his own sad endings and pretend that he has something, someone in his life that hasn't treated him like shit.

*

“You look like shit.” Charlie's voice is chirpy as she plays with the straw in her milkshake but Dean can see the worry behind her eyes. She's as fierce as the halo of fire kissed hair around her face. “You still working with that douche who refuses to change diapers?”

Dean scoffs. “Yeah but parents have been complaining about her chewing-nails attitude. Abaddon will be gone soon. Crowley is a weirdo but he's protective of his charges and his stature even more. He'll sacrifice her rather than parents losing an ounce of respect towardsLittle Darlings or him.”

“Put her in time-out.” Charlie slurps the last of the milkshake and eyes his.

Dean pushes it over to her. “Here. Glad they're feeding you over there.”

“They do. Wouldn't wanna mess with the cybersecurity expert, but do they bribe me with shakes? Nope.”

Dean grabs a napkin and starts tearing it into small pieces. “We don't put the kids in time-out. Doesn't work that way. And trust me, Abaddon deserves a helluva' lot more than time-out even if we did. She's a redheaded wench of a woman.”

Charlie slaps him on the shoulder. “Hello. Redheaded wench sitting right here.”

Dean grins. “Not you, Charlie, you're far from a wench. More a firecracker of a woman. You're honest, you kick a mean punch – “

“ – and I'll do it again to protect the glory of Moondoor.”

Dean grins at the memory. “Yeah, you did, remind me to never mess with the Queen again.” He clears his throat. “A good right-hand hook and you're smarter than I'll ever be. They'll be lucky to have you, Charlie.”

“Dean, if I didn't know better I'd think you're trying to butter me up. The milkshake is a start. Call me when you grow a pair of boobs and we're game.”

Dean barks out a laugh. “I'll do that.” His smile dies down.

“You can talk to me Dean, you know that.”

Nodding, Dean grabs the mangled pieces of the napkin and pushes them together into a small pile. “Got a new neighbor. Castiel.”

“Oh.” Charlie perks up. “Castiel, how exotic. Is he hot?”

Dean lets out a breath. “Exotic, yeah, you can say that. I mean, Charlie, he looks like he stepped out of a fucking model magazine or whatever. It's just that he thinks I'm a total douche.”

“Why you? How he'd get that idea?” Charlie smiles. “Really good shake by the way.”

“You're welcome, mooch.” But there's no real bite behind his words. “I was kinda um, skulking around his house. Dude's got goats, Charlie.”

Charlie perks up at that. “A hot dude with goats. Dean. He sounds like he's the full package. But you're totally doing it wrong. No skulking, just do it heads on. Offer him a cow. That'll moove him.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I'm serious. They were goats and I checked it out and now he thinks I'm a total creep. He told me to get off his property.”

Charlie makes a face. “How would you think if he was sneaking around your house looking for... I don't know, geese. You look like you could own geese.”

“Geese. I ain't going near any geese. Those long-necked flying death machines won't touch me. And imagine the poop, they're birds, they crap all over the place.”

“You wouldn't have them inside, you dummy.”

Dean laughs. “Oh, wow, sorry I'm not the goose expert here. I forget, you're the expert on all things bird.”

Charlie winks. “At least the birds on two legs.”

“Damn straight.”

Charlie laughs and extends a hand towards him. “Or not.” She pauses and squeezes his hand. “You're alright, Dean?”

He is tempted to say yes. He is really, the shake was kickass, Charlie is such a good friend – he doesn't deserve her – and he is fine. For now. But then she blinks and does that thing with her eyes. “Hey, don't go all Bambi on me.”

Charlie flutters exaggeratedly with her lashes. “What do you mean?”

Dean shakes his head and sighs. “So, Michael just left. Again. I mean, why am I even surprised? He's done it before and it's not like I'm amazing boyfriend material.”

“Dean. Stop. Don't let that anyone fool you into thinking that you're not an amazing guy, and you would be, you are a freaking amazing boyfriend. These muggles don't deserve the awesome wizardry that is you.”

“Yeah, I'm awesomely messed up. And then I found a piece of Amara's clothing and just – it really hit home you know...”

Charlie leans in. “Dean, listen. Amara was wrong. Any girl or guy would be lucky to have you. That Michael and Amara acted like a bunch of assholes, that's not on you. They were not right about you.”

“I don't know, I – “

“I do know. You're worth fancy dinners with the good kind of steak and Pad thai with chicken, meat, and shrimps. You're that level people grind for hours, weeks, and months to achieve. You're the green mushroom in Super Mario, people level up when they're around you.

Dean feels heat color his cheek, an odd mix of anger and shame coiling in his gut. “Yeah, you're my friend, you're supposed to say crap like that. I'm just – “ He rubs his eyes. “I dunno' guess my old age is catching up to me.”

“Your work is literally being surrounded by kids all day long. I saw you last week climbing a tree!”

Dean chuckles at the memory. “Yeah, I don't know how many times I've told Theo not to climb so high on that goddamn tree. He's already fallen once, but he was fine. Kids are soft as sponges at that age... they soak up stuff like sponges too.” Dean makes a face. He still remembers the call from Mr. Cauthon about his son Mat suddenly picking up new and unwanted vocabulary.

“Anyway, I'm just tired of... people. I just want something normal you know. Netflix and chill with actual chilling. Someone that wants to – I don't know... do couple stuff I guess. Not someone who feels the need to sneak away in the middle of the fucking night.”

Charlie nods in understanding. “How about your new neighbor, Castiel?”

“I doubt he'll want to date a weirdo goat stalker, remember?”

“Yeah, but if you were living in Farmland – Fresh Farmer Adventures, I can assure you, even as a goat stalker people would line up.”

Dean laughs and pulls at Charlie's hair. “Thanks, Charlie.”

“What for?”

“For talking goat and making me forget about my miserable love life.”

“Any time, Dean. There might be another way but it's... unconventional. “ Charlie hesitates to say more which piques his interest.

“I doubt it can get any more unconventional than Amara being all possessive and meeting two goats this morning, where I'm sure one was out to take me down.”

Charlie bites her lip briefly before her eyes shine with excitement. “It's a love spell... of sorts.”

*

Dean glares at the paper and then looks at his phone. Modern way or totally insane, incenses waving witchy way? With a sigh, he slides his phone back into his pocket. He'd already tried Tinder and Grindr (and Bee-Miner, what he thought was a dating app but quickly realized was an app for fans of bees, of all things). He didn't have anything left to lose.

“At least not my dignity, that's far gone,” Dean mutters for himself before pulling the curtains together in his bedroom.

He's been downstairs and collected all the ingredients for the love spell and ordered the more obscure ones online. He organizes them in the order they are to be put in the bowl. Charlie had explained that it wasn't that important, 'just chug them in there and say the words, pretend you're that druid when we LARPed a while back'.

Well, that had been fantasy and this was real life. The only thing he'll chug is beer. Dean checks that he has enough matches and then proceeds with the love spell.

First, he gathers the seven flowers. The spell had just said flowers and that they had to be seven different kinds, so Dean had gone to the nearest flower store and bought just one when he saw the prices. Seven dollars for one rose? Not even the big, fluffy kind, but the one that looked like the sad, long lost rose cousin of the Beast's flower.

Dean had decided that it had been much more affordable to pic the remaining six flowers from nature itself. Donatello's garden has flowers in the back, there is grass, so technically that counts as nature.

He rips them apart and tosses them into a bowl, grinding them to mush with a marble pestle. He rakes his fingers through his hair and finds a spot near his ear. He pinches some hair and pulls. Success! He drops the strands of hair in the bowl too.

Where in the seven hells did Charlie even find this spell? He's read every single line at least four times and tried really hard to see Charlie's handwriting in the slanted scribbles but if it's a fake, it's the most elaborate (and so far only) love spell hoax he's ever seen.

He's thought long and hard about the red item. That was the only specification and he'd even texted Charlie, asking her for clarification. Her response had been 'something red, Dean.'

Dean mutters a curse under his breath as he grabs the chili powder container. If he's gonna set this unholy stew on fire, he had decided that he should pick something that is flammable. He opens the container and shakes out a good generous helping of the chili powder straight into the bowl.

Now for the second to last ingredient. Dean fiddles with the paper in his hands. He's folded it three times but the words are burned into his retinas anyway, etched into his soul. It's words that he's ever uttered in silence to himself before– and that has only happened when he'd felt the most desperate, most in pain... most alone.

He paces back and forth in his bedroom, avoiding the spot near the middle of the room where the floorboard always creaks.

It's just words on paper, but it's Dean's hope and deepest desires. And sure, he's thought about it when he was lost, angry and hurt – both Amara and Michael had been a part of that whole mess – but this time it is just him and hope. He sets his jaw in grim determination, walks over to the bowl, and flicks the paper inside.

Alright, one more step to go. He pushes away the doubts and fears that rear their ugly heads. Instead, he grabs the bowl, and clears his mind, so that 'love will come to him'. He'll deal with the aftermath later. Beers are chilled, there's a pie in the fridge and he has Netflix.

He lights a match and tosses it inside the bowl. He's supposed to be closing his eyes right after but he peels one eye open just to make sure that something is burning. Satisfied when he sees the small flame, he closes his eyes and tries to breathe calmly.

Panic rushes through him, quickly followed by self-loathing and hopelessness. Dean exhales and starts humming AC/DC's Thunderstruck which calms him down. Clap, believe and save Tinkerbell. Dean stops humming and waits.

What feels like years pass as Dean stands in his bedroom, with a small fire burning in a bowl like a failed pyromaniac. Then, he just lets go and empties his mind.

He doesn't see shit, just a blackness which is no surprise since he's closing his eyes. Then he hears something, a weak rumble that fades into nothing. Great, now he's interpreting his stomach growls as hidden messages about his nonexistent love life.

The rumble grows louder and Dean's brain finally connects the auditory sensation to actual reality. It's thunder he hears. The soft showering of rain soon follow but the thunder is still present, crackling in the background. It grows wilder and the next explosion of sound causes the small hairs on Dean's arms to shot straight up.

He finds it strange that there's no lightning – but he figures that his mind is doing a half-assed work with his hallucinations as it does with everything else in his life. As if being summoned, something bright flashes in front of his eyes.

The sound of thunder is overwhelming – it reverberates inside of him and makes his heart beat faster – as it eclipses the rainfall. Dean's body is not convinced it's in his bedroom anymore but rather in the eye of an epic storm and his mind screams at him to run.

Another sharp flash of lightning and Dean opens his eyes. He scrambles backward in shock.

Castiel looks at him, mild annoyance on his face. “Isn't there an HOA regulation for trespassing inside someone's home, Dean?”

Dean should be the one being annoyed. It's his freaking hallucination and somehow he's being scolded. It sure sounds like the same gravelly voice that causes the good kind of tremors to coarse through his body and as Dean's eyes take in Castiel's thick thighs – he's built like a tree, his firm stomach, very nice face – ten out of ten, to finally land on his face, Dean knows the truth.

Without a shadow of a doubt, Dean stands in Castiel's bedroom as said guy stares at him, only a pair of boxers covering up him up. The shock of it all, that the spell actually works, that Castiel is in front of him, that he stands there almost naked, all of it makes Dean stumble out words that could have been more eloquent. “I-I – you're almost naked?”

Castiel looks down at himself before paying attention to Dean again, a half-smile playing at his lips. “Your observational skills are amazing, Dean.” Castiel takes another step towards him. Thunder crashes outside the house, still ongoing and the windows rattle with the sheer force of it.

As Castiel slowly walks towards Dean, the darkness follows him like a jealous lover, and soon not even the persistent lighting strikes outside make any difference.

“That's quite a storm outside, hm?” He keeps his tone light. He's a big guy but Castiel is jacked. And even discounting the goat incident, Dean is pretty sure Castiel has all the reasons to try and knock him out, if not kick him out.

“Yes. I've always found thunder to be soothing. There's a beauty to it don't you think?” Castiel quiets down. He narrows his eyes, and there's steel in them. “Now, tell me again, Dean Winchester, how you entered my home?”

Dean takes a step back as Castiel uses his body as some kind of hot, sexy shield. He bites back a laugh. What's wrong with him? He's about to get his ass kicked, Charlie's fucking love spell seemed to – well not work as intended, but something had certainly happened.

Dean raises his hands. “Look, Cas, you won't believe me if I told you. How about I just head back home and we forget all about this?” His eyes rake over Castiel's body before he finds himself. That's something he won't forget.

Castiel walks over to a closet, opens the door, and grabs a shirt. “Indulge me.”

Thunder crashes right above them and Dean jumps at the sound.

Castiel turns, an amused smile on his lips. “Skittish?” He slides into his shirt with ease.

As he closes the door, Dean notices a small piece of framed art hanging on the wall. It looks like a gilded toy hammer of all things.

“Dean. I'll only ask you one more time. My patience is wearing thin.”

Dean tears his eyes from the strange art piece. The hair at the back of his neck stands up. Dean is not the kind of guy that backs down from a fight, but there's a quality to Castiel's voice that not only demands, but expects attention. His eyes are hard, the blue now matching the tempestuous weather outside and Dean thinks of Snarl's goat eyes. They have the same shade of blue. Dean almost starts laughing hysterically at the absurdity of it all but swallows when a hard look from Cas sends shivers through him.

“I –“ He shakes his head. He's gonna sound like a fucking lunatic but here goes. “Long story, and trust me, it's too long even for my liking, my luck with love has been crap. Not just the divorced kind of crap but, yeah. I've tried fucking everything, so this was my last option.” Here comes the fool and isn't it always Dean. “It was a... love spell that someone... uh, gave me. It brought me to you.”

An odd mix of dread and relief war within him, none prevailing but now he's come clean at least.

Castiel starts laughing. “A love spell? That's wonderful.”

Dean looks at Castiel in confusion as his shoulders shake. That was not the reaction he was expecting. He takes a step forward, hand raised. Castiel is still doubled over. Dean briefly contemplates sneaking out while his neighbor is busy taking the train to crazy town but it's as if Castiel can read his mind because suddenly he straightens, a serious look coming over him.

“A love spell! And here I was thinking you were a seith. Haven't seen one for a very long time, but my brother is always up to mischief. I was really close to putting on my gloves.”

Dean licks his lips. Castiel has not only taken the train to crazy town, it appears he's also taken up residence there too and for quite some time. You usually take off the gloves for fighting, but Dean is not going to correct the guy's grammar. “Look, Cas. I don't know what's going on but I ain't no sith.”

Castiel shakes his head, and walks over to Dean, slapping him on the back. “You have humor. I like that.” He steps back, nodding to himself. “A love spell, that usually requires potent magic. Did you find the spell to be to your... satisfaction?” There's an amused gleam in his eyes.

The thunderstorm has calmed Dean notices but the pull of Cas' voice and his words has his body at attention. His words are pure honey, but Dean won't delude himself, magic or no magic. “Yeah, it worked like a charm.”

Castiel hums. “Good. So, do you want to take a ride?”

Dean licks his lips, his eyes momentarily flickering down to Castiel's stomach and going lower still. The guy sure looks nice, thighs still thick as fucking tree trunks, and Dean envies that shirt that gets to cling to all that hot skin. Castiel's hair is dark and disheveled, his eyes possess a magnetic lure, and if he's being honest he wants to plant his lips on Castiel's hot mouth.

He almost goes for it but then he remembers why he did the goddamn spell in the first place. “Um, I don't know. It's not that you're not good looking... actually you're way more than good looking, hot even – Dean clears his throat and stops himself before he lays his heart bare to Castiel. He barely knows him.

“I meant a ride in my car, Dean. We can grab a beer and talk, as a start.”

“B-beer sounds good but – Are you not surprised I just showed up like freaking Jack-in-the-box in your house?”

Castiel tilts his head slightly. “No, things rarely surprise me much these days. We have a lot to talk about. I prefer my love interests to be aware.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Uh, aware? Aware of what?” Castiel grins. “How it is to date a god.” Well, isn't this Castiel full of himself, Dean thinks briefly – Dean's a god too, thank you very much – but Castiel turns his back to Dean. He grabs a pair of pants and snakes a belt through the loops. The buckle is an intricate forging hammer and it definitely commands attention to the love area.

Dean is not sure what to make of Castiel's fashion choices. “You gonna wear that hammer?”

Castiel looks at the wall, at the tiny hammer hanging there. “Younger brothers, you know how they can be. Although I must confess, I do find the joke funny, now. Back then I called thunder on him for over a fortnight.”

“I was talking about your belt buckle.”

Castiel grabs it, giving it a shake. “Of course I am.” He puts on a pair of sneakers and is already out the door.

Dean follows Castiel as he leads them behind the house. The sun is heavy on his back and Dean looks up. The sky is clear, the clouds whiter than toothpaste and bluer than he remembers it to be – it's worse than the Teletubbies sky. All he needs is the sun mocking him with its shrill laugh.

“There was – what happened to the storm? Thunder, lightning, the whole shebang?”

“It stopped.” Castiel says it like it's the most natural thing in the world.

“No, listen. It was like freaking Thor had a birthday party. Loud thunder, lightning strikes that made the hair at the back of my neck stand up. The sky was black! Those things don't just stop.”

Castiel waits until Dean catches up with him. “We can't have a storm now, we're on a beer date. Nothing tastes better than a cold beer on a hot day. The gods must truly be with us.” Castiel chuckles at that.

Dean's been following Castiel but stops in his tracks when they round the corner and he sees Castiel's ride. “That's your ride?” It's almost a whisper.

“Yes, it's a 57'– ”

“ – 57' Thunderbird. Oh, fuck, she's perfect.” Dean tries to calm his stuttering heart. The red paint is flawless and shines in the sun. “Can I touch her? Wow, I never figured you'd be driving a car like this.”

“I moved in a day ago. You already had time to figure me out; after only twenty-four hours?”

“Uh-huh. I would've guessed Prius. Boy, was I wrong.” Dean slowly runs his finger over the paint, sighing. “Wow, we're going on a date in this car, Cas? Marry me, why won't you?”

He can hear Cas laugh softly. “I see you like the classics. I've seen your car, so I'm not surprised.”

“Hell yeah, Baby is my pride but this car... It looks brand new. Must be worth a fortune.”

“Get in. I know the perfect place for beer.” Castiel closes the door behind Dean. “I'll be right back.”

Dean barely pays attention to Cas. The car is in mint condition; it looks like it just left the factory line. He sinks down in the seat and inhales the scent of oiled leather. The seat was made for him. Dean is lost in the car and carefully examines everything.

A bleat interrupts his thoughts. Gnasher and Snarl are trotting behind Castiel. He opens up the passenger door. “It'll be a tad cramped but they're good goats. They will share.”

“Wait, what?” Dean closes his mouth but his brain is still reeling from the shock. “Now just hold on a minute. You're gonna – they're gonna ride in the car?”

Castiel looks at the car and then at Dean. He squints, silence reigning for a minute. “Yes. They're not big for being goats. Come here, Snarl. Gnasher, you've never let me down.”

His voice is calm and holds an unexpected warmth for addressing a pair of goats. Castiel picks up Snarl and puts her in Dean's lap. “Hold her and she should be fine.”

Snarl bleats, her blue eyes looking at Dean with unsettling intelligence. This is wrong on so many levels, car-levels, goat-levels, common sense -levels. “You better not fart or poop or whatever it is you goats do?” Snarl starts munching on Dean's hair but stops when he swats at her.

Castiel grabs Gnasher, the white goat, and puts her down next to Snarl. They balance precariously on Dean's knees. He's old, his knees won't be able to handle all this extra goat weight. “Is this even legal?”

“The legality of this will never be an issue.” Cas smiles at Dean and puts the car in reverse. “I'm looking forward to this beer date, Dean. You've piqued my interest.”

Dean clears his throat and moves Snarl so she's looking at the seat. Her gaze is creepy. “Yeah, same here, Cas. My interest is very piqued.”

Castiel puts the Thunderbird in reverse and off they go. It doesn't rain or storm for the entire day.

[frangipanidownunder]

Would you consider a prompt? I have been home from a unexpected and long hospital stay for just a couple of days. The news is all good, but I am tired and it's freezing and gray and rainy here. I am amazed at the level of loving support from my husband and I feel so loved. So I am thinking of Scully, home from the hospital after Tithonus or Redux II or FTF and wondering how that "coming home" goes for her - and Mulder of course. Fic is Medicine Anon

And prompt 39 from the cliché list for @edierone ‘Having a bad day and the other noticing’. Thank you to @chekcough for your excellent betaing.

Living Better: fic

There’s a newness about everything. A sheen of hope. The sun is bright, the sky open, the world seems wider. The furniture in her apartment gleams, her plants are healthier, lush. Her mother must have been in, cleaning and tidying as though hygiene and order could turn around the march of the cancer invading her daughter’s body. 

Scully is grateful. She is. Whatever quiet miracle took place over the last few days, she’s been given a second chance and this homecoming, however unremarkable (I’ll be fine, mom), is a new start. 

Before. After. 

Still, everything feels Herculean. Where there should be wings of freedom, she’s weighted down by invisible cargo. There’s a roiling mass of ingratitude inside her. A fist of anger or shame or bitterness. During her fight against the disease, her mind had accepted her fate and now it’s like her spirit is pissed that she’s having to live again. There’s a nagging voice in her head. You should be doing more, Dana. You should be out there living. Life rushed by once before, don’t let it disappear into the rearview mirror again.

She should be free. Free to feel. She knows she should feel more. People have revealed themselves, their true selves, to her these past months. And Mulder. There’s Mulder. A hero who went in to battle. Who won. And now? Happily ever after is a load too heavy to bear.

With late afternoon shadows playing over the floor of her living room, she’s sitting on her couch, knees tucked under her seat, robe pulled around her frame, still bony and paper-skinned, prone to the cold. Aromatic steam wafts from her cup. Peppermint tea helps with the lingering nausea. There’s a romantic comedy playing in the background and she’s trying to read the novel that Tara presented to her with a ‘I’m sure you’ll love it because I did and we’re related…’ smile. It’s not really her thing, but she has time, once a luxury, to read, to rest, to do nothing. 

After a while, the words blur together and the movie’s credit rolls. Her stomach is empty and she knows she should eat. Her mother insisted on leaving cooked meals in the freezer but she has little appetite and her sense of smell has all but disappeared anyway. Where is the joy of food when it’s been reduced to just a necessary fuel? 

As the plastic tub of pasta revolves on the plate in time with the drone of the microwave, she remembers the slop from her night in prison, and gags. Not just at the memory of the soggy grey mess of that stew, but at her resolve to be strong for Mulder, to protect him. She fears that resolve has disappeared, along with the cancer. Back then, when he walked into the senate hearing and smiled at her, she’d felt something more than relief. She could admit that now. At her bedside one night recently, he’d collapsed in tears, clinging to her hand like a child. She’d kept her eyes closed for fear of humiliating him further. He was hanging on to life by the same spidery thread she was. 

And now they have to move on with life as though nothing has happened.

She throws the dinner in the garbage bin.

Sleep evades her again that night, nightmares swirling around her mind, shadowy figures clawing at her as she tries to run, her feet mired in a squelching, sucking bog. The flash of a bullet. Mulder’s temple exploding. His hot blood splattering over her face.

She shoots up, the beating of her own pulse too loud in the predawn stillness.

Something outside of her control demands to hear his gravelled voice. Calling his number is an impulse. He answers, fear edging his voice. She remembers telling him she’s okay, but the rest of the conversation is lost to the void of her memory. A symptom she hopes is only temporary. Now, Scully pads from her bedroom, drawing her forefinger and thumb along the edges of her cheekbones. Hollow. She rests her hand over her stomach, concave. The points of her hips jutting out. Gaps and sharp edges everywhere.

There’s a hazy film of dawn across the kitchen. As she waits for the tea kettle to boil, she’s lost in the mist frosting the window, the ragged edges of it blooming out before receding to nothingness. Just a dot on the glass. She presses the pad of her finger to it and breathes, leaving a trace of herself on the pane. A sharp rap at the door makes her startle, her elbow knocking over the vase her mother gave her when she bought this place. She meant to put it back in the cupboard. She meant to keep it safe.

Mulder’s inside before she can move to find the dustpan, weapon in his hand, yelling her name. If she had the energy, she’d laugh. Instead, she sinks to her knees, feels the gritty shards of porcelain digging into her skin. Her sigh is ragged, the exhalation physically painful.

“Are you okay?” he says, kneeling next to her. She can sense his hand hovering over her shoulders and she wills him to lower it, to feel the warmth of his touch. Instead, he starts to pick up the broken vase.

She heaves herself up and takes a bag from the tidy under the sink to dispose of the pieces. As Mulder places the larger pieces carefully inside, he looks down at her but by now she’s unable to meet his gaze. His scrutiny will crack her open just like the vase and if she falls apart, she’ll never be put back together.

“You’re bleeding,” he says, without alarm, but he takes the bag and leaves it in the sink before bracing her shoulders, turning her into him and leading her to the couch. “Sit.”

It’s strangely comforting to be ordered about by him. She obeys, exhausted. It’s then that she sees the pearls of blood dotting her legs, collecting in the longer threads of her robe. A sharp diamond of porcelain is sticking out from the skin of her knee. 

“Where do you keep your Bandaids?” Mulder’s voice floats over her as she watches the blood ribbon down her shin. She’s no longer shocked by its crimson brightness, having seen it leach from her body so often. But for Mulder, she realises, it’s a cruel reminder of past months.

“In the bathroom,” she says, nodding in the direction. She tries to say ‘thank you’ as he walks away, but the words dry in her throat.

Mulder returns with a first aid kit, unwraps the scissors from their plastic shield and removes the offending shard. She watches his lips form a silent ‘sorry’ as he dabs antiseptic lotion on her, but the sting is refreshing. She can feel it. He holds a cotton pad against her knee and she looks at his strong fingers across her skin. She sees her unshaven legs, her blue veins, her crumpled socks.

“I’m such a mess.”

No response. He dabs at her knee, lifting the pad to see if the bleeding has stopped. He disappears to the kitchen and returns with a glass of water.

“Sorry about the vase,” he says, sinking into the seat next to her.

“It was a gift from my mother. She’ll probably buy two more. She’s…just so grateful, you know?”

He nods. “I am, too,” he says softly. “Very much so.”

Tears burn the corners of her eyes and she presses a finger under her nose to stop the flow but it’s impossible. He lets her weep until she’s wrung dry. Exhaustion leaves her body trembling. He finds a blanket, God knows from where, and covers her.

“You need to give yourself time, Scully. You’ve been through…”

“Don’t say ‘an ordeal’,” she says wearily. She’s heard it from her mother, brother, Father McCue, doctors, nurses. She survived. Life shouldn’t be a trial.

“I was going to say ‘a lot’. It’s not just the cancer, Scully. Your work with me…the abduction, your sister. It all adds up. This disease…how close it came to…” He stops, taking a shallow breath and rubbing at his stubbled chin. “In a funny way it made me reassess everything. That sounds selfish…it’s not what I mean. I…guess that you…not being here would change... everything. You mean more to me that you know, than even I knew.” He looks at her, eyes wet, and laughs in surprise at his own admission. 

“Mulder…”

“It’s true! It took your death sentence to stop me suffocating up my own ass.”

A giggle wells up in her throat, along with more tears. Her chest hurts. And she’s not sure if it’s pain or a coming back to life of sorts. His face lights up. 

“What I’m trying to say is that this is a second chance. For you, for us, for the work…if you still want it.” His voice lowers and he presses a hand over her arm. “Scully, your health is the most important thing to me. And you need to take some time, as much time as you need.”

The silence of the night is heavy in her head. There were times in the hospital where the midnight hours would stretch elastically until she felt she were forever walking towards an elusive dawn. Time really was a construct. The hours on the clock held no meaning, yet they marked her life in increments – for treatments, for food, for visits. 

“I do want to come back,” she says, finally. “I thought I would already be back. Recovery has been…more difficult than I expected.”

He chuckles. “Why does that not surprise me?” He taps her elbow with two fingers. “You are the strongest person I know but you’re also the worst at cutting yourself some slack.” His forehead crinkles, his voice barely above a whisper. “You have nothing to prove that you haven’t already, Scully. Especially not to me.”

“Mom keeps coming by and she’s so cheery and happy and it’s hard, you know? That sounds so selfish, but I keep thinking that I have a duty, some kind of moral obligation to live a better life now that I’ve…survived. It’s like the pressure of life has doubled, tripled, and I can’t even make myself dinner.” Her nails dig into her palms. How can she make him understand? She’s alive. She should be grateful, not bitching about her mom. She shrugs off the blanket, runs her hands down her frame. “I can’t even decide what clothes to wear so I just wear this. I brush my hair, put my earrings in, look at my make-up and all I think is ‘why?’. What’s the point? I’ve already beaten this disease. Isn’t that enough?” He pulls her into a hug and presses his lips to the top of her head. “Shouldn’t it be enough?”

His breath ruffles her hair. His chest moves up and down as he breathes and she listens to the solid, steady beat of his heart.

Releasing her, he takes both hands into his, holding them gently, bringing them to his mouth to press a soft kiss against her knuckles. There’s such reverence in his action. A kind of benediction for them both. “I think...I think you’ve put yourself under this pressure, Dana. Nobody, least of all your mother, expects you to leap back into work or life straightaway. I...I don’t want that. We all want you strong and healthy. And your mother, she knows you. Knows you’ll cut her off, give her a hand wave and an ‘I’m fine’.” He smiles. Gets her smiling too. “How many of those have you given out over the last few months, hey, Miss Scully?” He bounces their clasped hands between them. “I’ve heard more ‘I’m fines’ than I’ve seen aliens.”

She laughs at that. Mulder and his ridiculous puns are like the sun finally rising after an eternity in the dark. 

He pulls the blanket over her lap and his, squashes a cushion behind his head, points the remote control at the television. “There’s a movie on that I know you’re going to love.”

Leaning against him as he chuckles at the scene playing on the screen, she looks around. There’s a newness about everything. A sheen of hope and the itch of wings forming on her back.

[spacexmagicxandxsheepxbleats]

Can you do drable about your ideas? A drable of her as the Speaker maybe? Please?

TW: Language

//: 1,984 words - enjoy :)

“I thought I’d find you out here...” Zavala’s words echoed softly in the wreckage around them. Standing just behind her and to her right the Titan waited until she acknowledged him to come any closer.

“...I remember, when all of this was nothing but tents and wooden palisades...people didn’t have a pot to piss in back then but, they made do...” Her helmet was in her lap, the scared and blackened bone looked almost soft in the predawn light. But the eyes...the sockets always radiated they're own bleak, nothingness...

With the same caution as before he came up next to her, kneeling down beside her to look over what remained of the district below the Tower’s ruin.

“You come for what,Vanguard...? To see what was wrought and ruined or to lecture me for leaving your sight..?” As she spoke, The Ram nudged her glasses up the bridge of her nose, a soft frost hanging in the cold morning air as she spoke. Her words seemed to lack any venom but the tinge of it in her expression wasn’t lost on the man.

“Ikora,” He began tentatively, “wanted to come for you,  but we both know that’s not a good idea...” Zavala trailed off, his own steam hovering briefly before dissipating, the crunch of broken glass and gravel gave him pause and in glancing over his shoulder he saw Cayde standing there, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“So you bring him instead...?” A hard edge entered her voice, the Hunter coming up on her left as if her words were an invitation to come closer and sit.

Cayde threw his arm over the Risen’s shoulders, leaning into her with a warm chuckle, “Wouldn’t be good to miss the sun rise...hate to waste it after everything we went through getting this place back.”

She drew a slow, steadying breath through her nose before letting it escape through the hole in her left cheek. The resulting plume of breath drew another chuckle from the Exo as he smartly retracted his arm stretching his arms above his head before resting his palms on the roof and leaning back comfortably.

Ezra didn’t bother looking at either of them, instead she pulled what remained of her lips back into a scowl as the sound of footsteps once again drifted up behind her, “I don’t recall inviting any of you to join me this morning...”

Unbothered by the scathing remark Ikora came up short, preferring to remain a safe distance from the woman the others flanked. “It’s for..”

“Security reasons...because you can not let the past die, even after the truly guilty party as been tried and executed per the judgement of Old and the Lords of Iron.”

“That’s not...”

“Then pray tell, Why?” Ezra had gotten to her feet then, easing up, quickly, to stand between the still knelt and sat Cayde and Zavala. Both knew it was only a matter of time before the Risen’s ire with Ikora boiled over and now it was simmering very close to the surface, so much so that when she stood her helm nearly tumbled from the blasted out building’s roof.

If it weren’t for Cayde’s quick reflexes the armor would have landed among the wreckage below... he shuddered slightly as he held the item, as if it gave him the physical creeps...

Ikora didn’t answer, didn’t back down, but rather brought her hand from her side. Extending her fingers, palm up, to allow her Ghost to materialize just above her skin’s surface in a shower of pale light.

Cayde and Zavala had gotten to their feet, the Hunter lifting his empty hand to bring his Ghost out, as did the Titan.

She frowned, staring at the three Ghosts as her own materialized from the ether.

/”Actually, we wanted to talk to you about something.”\ Ophiuchus, Ikora’s Ghost began carefully, while Sundance and Zavala’s silent machine made to hover near him. Rev, to, took his place near Ophiuchus.

Heaving a slow sigh, a sign to Revenant that she was on the verge of snapping, Ezra ground her teeth before motioning the Ghost to continue.

/”Revenant, says that you still hear a voice, even though Erabus has retreated from your mind. He, says you hear it most as a faint whisper and that you feel the words are important enough to write down.\”

The frown on the Risen’s face prompted Ophiuchus to pause a moment, /”He, hasn’t shared any of the writings with us, only their nature and, as Ghosts we have reason to believe it may be the Traveler speaking to you. We, think perhaps Erabus’ invasion of your mind for so long opened it up to actually hearing what the Speaker never could...”\

Scoffing, waving her hand as if to clear the air of such nonsense Ezra turned away from the small committee of Lights, only to scowl at Cayde and turn back to face the city.

“You know, they may be on to something..” The Exo raised his hand, making to settle it on her shoulder, which to the surprise of all she allowed.

“Or, it could be a ploy on your end to cage me...You couldn’t prior to all of this, nor could those who had your places before you...” Her rising ire had given way to tired exasperation, the rising sun peeking over the wreckage of the city, glinting at the edges of the thick lenses of her round glasses, setting her silver hair a glow in a halo of orange and yellow.

Ikora moved then, reaching out as Cayde did, her hand resting in the right side crux of the woman’s neck, “It, wouldn’t be to imprison you...you’ve done nothing wrong. The people of the city do not fear you, your actions before the Traveler’s awakening saw to that.”

“Help us rebuild, Ezra. No binds, no chains.” Zavala refrained from touching her, knowing that Ikora and Cayde already pushed the limit.

“Well, except the chains of office.” Cayde laughed, clapping his hand against the woman’s shoulder, his smile fading with Ikroa’s withering gaze. “What? Was just...” He sighed and closed his mouth.

“...What of my home? The forest, the Wilders...Erabus...my Eliksni...?” The latter portion of her question saw Ikora drawing her hand back, letting it fall to her side as Ezra turned to face her. “I’ll not suffer the chains of an office if it means they are left to the mercy of who ever stumbles upon them...”

“We can discuss all of those things later.” Now, Zavala reached for her, turning her carefully to look at him, his eyes meeting hers rather than staring at the gaping hole in her face, his hands squeezed her shoulders warmly. “We can discuss any number of things, but...we need to know what our next steps should be, we need to rebuild so the people have a home and security...”

“They will never have true security, Zavala...this Red War should have made that obvious...We can erect walls as high as we dare, delve into the Earth’s crust as deep as we can endure...but, it will never be absolute security...The people of this city have thrived, survived beyond all odds even now. But if it were up to me, I’d put a weapon in all their hands and teach them, truly, how to defend as their great ancestors once could.” The Risen gestured to all that was in their sight, reaching to knock on Zavala’s chest plate, and wave her hand at Ikora’s data pad on her hip. “For all the technology and advancements you make, it still boils down to who has the bigger stick...”

Finally, in the warm glow of dawn a smile tugged at the good corner of Ezra’s mouth, her expression softening just a bit, “...I’ll not suffer a name of the past marred by undue accusations..”

“Can we call you...?” “No.” Ikora was quick to cut the Hunter off before he could say something stupid.

“Mardöll. From now on, you will call me by my real name...No titles, no honorifics...just Mardöll...” The tired way she spoke was laced with tentative cooperation, coupled with the rise of her hands, the way she gripped Zavala’s biceps with her blackened fingers, brought a smile to the Titan’s face. Letting go and easing from under his hands she gave Ikora a leery, accepting nod before she turned to face Cayde, scrutinizing him with narrowed eyes, “And what, pray tell, were you going to call me...?”

He laughed nervously, fondling the chains and trinkets hanging from her helm before remembering just what he held, handing it quickly back to her, “Well...ah, just know it wasn’t gonna be Late for Dinner....” Adjusting his hood and rubbing the back of his head, his other hand dropping to his stomach he chuckled again, “Speaking of food, what’s good today? I’m starving...”

Rolling her eyes she turned again to gaze at the sun. Sighing she pushed her fingers up under her glasses, rubbing her eyes a few seconds before gesturing for Rev to leave after stowing her helm. “...I’ll, come find you later...”

Again, before Cayde could say something to ruin the mood, Ikora grabbed his arm and dragged him with her, Zavala watched them leave, opting to linger a few more moments over the scene before him and Mardöll.

Silence spanned between them, nether saying anything for a long while before the Titan spoke, “You know the people will call you Speaker...as we may need to for official purposes...The Consensus won’t be pleased as a whole with you if you decide to accept...”

The Risen made no show of hiding the fact she spit on the ground at her feet, “Damn the Consensus and Damn New Monarchy. Ejecting Lysander* and the Concordat after Twilight Gap was folly at its finest and, from what I can recall, Future War Cult is on thin ice as far as fanaticism... If you really wish me to hold the position of Speaker, be prepared for me to challenge a lot of things and a lot of people for their views and stand points. I’ll not stand by and gaze from afar with gentle involvement ...not as the previous Speaker did...”

She didn’t speak her last words with disgust but rather with silent reverence for the man’s memory and the good things he did accomplish to ensure the longevity of humanity and those who sought refuge here. Zavala seemed to smile, nodding as he considered what she said, seeming pleased that the Risen appeared to be on board. “There, is quite a lot that has changed since you’ve been gone...I’d be happy to catch you up, when you’ve made up your mind on the whole thing, in the mean time, why not just enjoy the dawn of a new day..?”

“You, can stay if you wish...” He’d just started to turn away from the rising sun, her muttering giving him pause enough to appraise the meaning of what she said. Mardöll wasn’t looking at him, instead she’d removed her glasses to clean them, her fingers working a worn cloth over the glass carefully. “I, think I will...with your permission, Mardöll.” Zavala knew this was her first step on the path to healing from the past. By telling him he could remain gave him hope for the future, told him that while it may be slow going, the prospects and possibilities before them and the City had grown ten fold...

And so he stood, at the elbow of The Ram, watching the rays of sunlight illuminate the work ahead of them in the quiet dawning of the next Golden Age.

*Lysander in this case doesn’t refer to @smallladysavage (sorry, you know I <3 him though!) but rather refers to this one ~ https://www.destinypedia.com/Lysander

[presumenothing]

〜the guiding star〜

the promised neverland official short story serialised in shounen jump giga 2019 summer vol.1–3 written by nanao // translated by presume (@angerylab)

emma’s part | ray’s part | norman’s part

Right after the escape from Grace Field House. Moving onwards in the forest at night, Ray recalls a certain memory —

As he ran through the unknown night-time forest, Ray called out to the girl ahead of him.

“Emma, let’s rest for a bit. Even if we keep running like this, we can’t keep up the pace.”

In the darkness, he could see his siblings carrying rucksacks on their backs.

A gloom, illuminated only around their feet by starlight from the gaps between trees. Their little siblings had already run quite a distance amidst this dimness. All of them were out of breath, shoulders shaking.

“Yeah. Got it.”

Emma, who’d been leading the way, turned around and stopped running at Ray’s words. As she turned, she checked on the condition of each younger sibling. Everyone’s faces were tense with nervousness and excitement.

“Everyone, are you all okay? Let’s take a short rest, then do our best and run again!”

“Emma, will anyone come chasing us from behind…?”

“I’ll keep watch, so it’s okay. Just rest, even for a bit.”

Ray looked over at his siblings as they talked to each other, then lifted his gaze above them and looked up at the night sky.

The sight of the twinkling stars slowly but steadily brought home the reality that the escape had been achieved. This was the outside. It wasn’t even the forest within the walls, that they were accustomed to playing in.

(We’re out of the house…)

Ray let out an exhale. From the beginning on 12th October until now – no, a time even longer than that, all spent for the sake of this escape today.

Spotting a constellation in the night sky he’d just happened to look up at, Ray muttered despite himself.

"…haha, that’s nostalgic."

It hadn’t even been a year since that night, but the once-peaceful days at the house almost felt like something from ages ago. Ray lifted one hand, and slowly moved his fingers. What shone at the end of the path he traced was the North Star.

From the morning of that day, too, Emma suggested something all of a sudden.

“Hey, let’s go look for constellations tonight!"

This girl that’d been raised in Grace Field House together with him had always been bringing up the craziest ideas since they were young. As he turned towards the dining hall, Ray sighed in apparent exasperation.

“Going outside in the middle of the night, there’s no way Mama would allow something like that, is there.”

The house had a lights-out time, and going outside was not permitted except in daytime. So it went without saying that something like astronomical observations should’ve been of the question.

But on that night, they’d ended up going out onto the house’s roof through a damaged window in the attic.

Originally, all of the house’s windows had lattices installed in them. But Norman had noticed that one of the windows in the often-unused attic was damaged.

Until now, Ray still thought that he should’ve stopped it. If the vigilance against them had strengthened for doing such a thing, his plan of many years would have been all for nothing. But they couldn’t have gotten the chance for a proper look at the real stars at any other time.

Even he was the same as Emma, after all. He’d wanted to admire them, the real constellations.

Clutching a book that wrote about the constellations and celestial bodies, while holding a hand lantern, Ray climbed the roof.

The starry sky that stretched out above him took his breath away.

“Woah!”

Emma cheered, and Norman reached his fingers out towards the sky.

In the clear and moonless night, every last star was plainly visible. The W-shaped Cassiopeia, Ursa Major with the Big Dipper at its tail, and by connecting them, at the end of that path was –

“The North Star!”

The star that the three of them pointed at wasn’t a star that shone particularly bright. But it was a star that you couldn’t lose sight of, as long as you connected the constellations.

“Hey, in the past, people relied on this star for things like travelling, right?”

Emma asked, sitting down on the roof.

“Yeah. It’s the star directly above the axis of the Earth’s rotation, so it absolutely must point north.”

At Norman’s explanation, Emma laughed, eyes wide. It was the expression she always had when she thought of some fun idea.

“Well, after we leave the house, one day when we’re all adventuring together, we just need to use this North Star as a landmark, then!”

“Haha, adventuring?”

Norman raised his voice in a laugh. Emma leaned forward as she talked.

“Yep! For a secret treasure, or someplace that no one’s ever been to before, stuff like that – we’ll all go searching for it together!”

Towards Emma, speaking with her hands grasped in fists, Norman answered calmly.

“Seems fun, huh.”

“So even if we lose sight of each other, or get lost, it’ll be fine as long as we head towards this star, won’t it? Right, Ray?”

That said, Emma looked over at Ray.

“Ah, yeah.”

Still looking up at the sky, Ray answered shortly. Neither Emma nor Norman were bothered by this, thinking it was just his usual curt replies.

Ray stared at that North Star, shining alone in the space between stars.

“………”

Adventuring through the outside world with everyone – such a day would never come. To adventure, even to look freely up at the night sky; those were mere empty dreams, for them.

At least, thought Ray.

If just these two, who were here now, could travel the outside world while relying on the North Star – he’d wanted to bring them to such a future.

“Ray?”

The one who’d called out to him was his younger brother Christy. At the tug on his cardigan sleeve, Ray was brought back to reality. Before he knew it, his younger siblings were all prepared to start running once again.

“We can run already!”

“Let’s go!”

Ray looked around at the faces of his family, bright against the predawn darkness.

That broken window had been fixed by Isabella the following day, so no one but them, the eldest children, had ever been up on the roof.

(Of course.)

Ray muttered in his heart. The one who’d snitched had been him, after all.

He’d forever robbed his siblings of the chance to see the constellations – or so it should have been.

“…one day when we’re all adventuring together, huh…”

He’d thought that such a day would definitely never come. That, if nothing else, having everyone was impossible.

But now, alongside the younger siblings that should’ve been left behind, they’d begun this, a journey harsh with freedom.

“Ray?”

Towards Emma, who’d turned around, Ray shook his head gently.

“It’s nothing. Let’s go.”

Above them, at the end of the path connecting one star to the next, an unshakeable star shone, small yet bright.

That star was a hope, was an ideal, was their other sibling who should’ve survived.

(I swear to you, Norman…)

– I’ll live, and on your behalf, too, guide everyone.

Under the starlight, together with his family, Ray began to run.

fin.