#I said it earlier but I’ll say it again. domesticity and sharing simple moments are what makes life worth living

[ohitslen]

Sharing a meal

I wrote something for this below the cut if you’re interested :)

They never eat anything too tasty, surviving with packeted rations and canned food in their journey. Sometimes they would stop at a little restaurant and eat a nice meal; it really tasted like something gourmet after days of going with grain bars and dry jerky.

There were fleeting moments in between conversations in which one of them would remember some dish, from back in the day when things were easier and they didn’t worry about too many things. They never went deeper into the topic, just mentioning how they missed a good meal.

Staying at an inn or any motel was an expensive thing to pay for. However sometimes they had some extra money from an odd job Vash did or from Wolfwood’s undertaker services, and they would always rent a room as a treat for themselves.

It was a surprise when they entered the room and saw a small kitchen. The space was a little too cramped but it had everything they needed, it was like a deluxe room when they though about all the places they had been at. None of them had a kitchen at all, maybe they had a tiny stove or a mini fridge, perhaps a table sometimes but never the whole set together.

They both looked at each other to confirm they really were seeing the thing, smiling excitedly.

They could make a meal for themselves.

Vash knew how to cook, he had done some work on kitchens throughout his life. A few times he helped Rem when he was a child, he knows how to defend himself. Yet he didn’t know any recipes by heart, not any that would be inside their budget at least. He could get creative and probably whip up a thing or two if he was given enough time.

“I know what to do” Wolfwood said with a smile that irradiated a melancholic warmth interrupting his thoughts . A smile Vash had only seen when he talked about the things he loved.

Vash didn’t suggest anything in the end and just followed what the other man told him to do.

He went to buy all the things Wolfwood asked him for. Vegetables and some thoma meat. There seemed to be some spices in the room so he only bought garlic and onion as per Wolfwood’s request.

When Vash got back, he found Nick at the table arranging the ingredients the kitchen already had. He was already showered, hair messy and with droplets of water hanging on the tips. Getting closer, he could smell the soap, the cheap shampoo and the lingering scent of nicotine that never seemed to go away. He was changed into a black, long sleeved shirt and a pair of loose dark blue pants.

His overall appearance made Vash think how the edges of the man were less sharp, he seemed more relaxed and at ease, even if it wasn’t entirely the case. He just looked, soft.

“Hey welcome back, did you bring what I asked you for or will I have to use your meat for this?” Wolfwood greeted him without looking up from his task, the ingredients being the most interesting thing in the world it seemed.

Something warm pooled at the pit of Vash’s stomach, he didn’t know why that was and didn’t bother to think about it either, just enjoying the feeling.

Smiling, he placed the bags on the table in front of Wolfwood, taking out its contents. “I’m sure I brought everything yeah, I hope my life can be spared”.

The priest snorted at him and grabbed a potato that was rolling off the table. “Aight then, make yourself useful and start washing these and then chop ‘em to reasonable bitable sizes”. Losing no time, he took the meat and was cutting it while giving out the instructions.

While Vash was washing and chopping, the other was already preparing the meat putting it in a pot with boiling water. Once Vash was finished with all he was asked to do, Wolfwood ushered him to take a shower while the food was done, wanting to have more space in the narrow place. Vash did as told in that as well.

The shower felt great, all of the gross stickiness from the sweat and other things were finally washed off from his body. He felt light and a thousand times more content.

As he opened the door the smell hit him in the face, a delicious scent that surely tasted even better. Wolfwood was stirring the pot, poking some of the potatoes to make sure they were on the right term, and they seemed to be as he turned off the stove.

Vash got closer, mouth already watering just from the thought of how it’d taste “That smells so good! What did you make?” He asked with a big grin plastered all over his face.

Wolfwood pointed at the table with his hand, signaling him to sit down a little dismissively while he looked for the bowls on his own. It seemed like he was the kind that with less people on the kitchen when he was there, the better. “Just a broth, nothing too wow it’s something easy, and on budget”. Vash hummed with wonder and served two cups of water to busy himself with something.

Wolfwood poured the two servings of the broth, it was still hot and the bowl must surely be scalding. Yet Wolfwood’s calloused hands never flinched, placing their food on the table without much trouble along with a pair of long spoons.

“Be careful or you will murder your tongue” he warned and Vash chuckled.

“Thanks for the heads up chef, ‘preciate it” the other just scoffed at the title and sat down across him .

They both mixed the broth while blowing at it in hopes for it to cool down a little. However seeing how they were both starving and didn’t care too much about getting burnt or not, they just started to dig in.

Wolfwood was eating eagerly, having spoonful after spoonful of his food. He was beyond delighted. It had been a long time since he had the chance to prepare the broth he used to have back at the Orphanage.

“It’s…delicious” he heard Vash say in a low and calm tone. When he looked up to see the man, he was shocked to find him with reddish eyes that were glistening with tears. It didn’t seem like when was doing a show or anything of the sorts, he just seemed…at peace.

It wasn’t anything extravagant, quite possibly one of the most simple dishes Vash has ever eaten. It was made with the things that they could afford with the little money they could spare, the ingredients were definitely not of the best quality, the vegetables could have used a little more time on the pot. And it was delicious.

Vash felt incredibly warm inside, similar to how he felt when Wolfwood greeted him when he got back, just a thousand times stronger. The first sip he had of it tasted like the best thing ever cooked in his whole life, something he would have every day of the year for the rest of eternity. He didn’t know why that was at first, but after having a second spoon of it he could tell what it was.

It tasted like home.

The flavor of it, it was homely, the savor of melancholy. It tasted like their conversations about missing the past. The tang of the times they would have a peaceful night in the desert grilling worm meat around a campfire. It reminded him when he got sick and an old lady had given him a bowl of soup. It tasted like the first time Rem had given them a try of what meat and vegetables tasted like. It tasted like all the things he missed, and the things Nicholas most likely missed too.

The familiarity of it made him feel fuzzy and full on the inside, and he couldn’t stop eating. He was slow while doing it, wanting to savor every bit of what he could have while it lasted. It was rich, it was simple and it was perfect.

“…You want some more?” At some point, Nicholas had already finished his own bowl and brought the pot over to serve himself again. He looked at Vash with something soft in his eyes the other could not name, his voice was gentle and gravely, sweet and easy on his ears just adding more to the warmth inside of him.

“Yes…yes please” Vash answered, voice cracking a little. Nicholas served him, the sound of the liquid being poured soothing his soul.

Vash ate again, and Wolfwood was looking at him. The priest was taking small sips of water from his cup, always holding it against his mouth even if he wasn’t drinking anything. Vash didn’t really notice when he had started tearing up, thick streams of salty water running through his cheeks, a pool of them welling up at his chin and falling down the wooden table making a puddle of happy tears.

Vash enjoyed the heartfelt broth. He was happy, that bit of simplicity was enough to make him forget of everything else and just focus on that moment.

It was so mundane. Vash smiled with overflowing tears in his eyes while Wolfwood just watched with a fond smile of his own behind his empty cup of water.

At that moment, they were not in a random room at a random place. They were in a place where they had brought their home to, sharing a meal with each other.

[inknopewetrust]

smallest joys (Henry!Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader)

Summary: the tree in the Holmes’ backyard as a place of great peace and laughter of all, and a moment arises for it to be a place of forgiveness and love as well.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: none.

A/N: thanks so much for reading and always remember that authors love to hear any feedback on stories, so don’t be shy to share your opinions. Requests are still closed, but I’m working on getting them up and running hopefully soon! xoxo (gif not mine)

Enola was perched high above the ground in the great gray tree that sat far from the house she had grown to resent without her mother there. It was difficult, the constant want of adventure and thrill that was often smothered because of Mycroft’s inability to have a semblance of joy in his life.

Throwing the shading pencil in her sketchbook and closing it with a huff, Enola heard a set of angered footsteps make their way towards the tree in which she inhabited and she balled her fists against a branch. Half expecting it to be Mycroft yelling at her for leaving the study and half expecting it to be Sherlock doing their eldest brother’s bidding in a kinder manner, one they always hoped she’d fall for.

But it wasn’t. Y/n L/n, Sherlock’s feisty assistant from London was irate with her cheeks as red as apples storming toward the tree. Without noticing Enola above, Y/n leaned against its trunk and her head fell into her hands in embarrassment.

“Did you do something stupid?” Enola inquired and you jumped ever so slightly, looking up with great haste at Enola above. The young girl was smiling down on you kindly but also with such an inquisitive mind, you weren’t sure if she truly cared or just wanted manor gossip to share with the housemaid.

“And why would you ask such a thing, young lady?” You shoved your hands on your hips and narrowed fine eyes at Enola, trying to forget why you stormed out in the first place, though that was practically impossible because you knew he would follow after an argument.

“I asked you first, Y/n. And I’m not a young lady, you sound like Mycroft.” Enola swung her feet off a branch and rested her head in her intertwined hands that laid on top of another arm of the great tree.

“What happened? Did Sherlock finally recognize your talents for discovery or did you say something stupid that angered him?” Enola asked again, more in depth than before and her eyes narrowed now at the woman she had grown to admire very much.

Y/n was always someone who Enola could depend upon. Whether it be for new books from London or a simple lesson on dust particles, she knew Y/n had many of the answers. But as of late, with her mother gone and the tension in the home only growing, Sherlock appeared to be easily angered or upset by small comments, jokes or jabs at him that were not unusual from his assistant and Enola took notice. She saw the way Y/n’s eyes fell or how she would storm out of the room, angered at either herself or his reaction to her little joys and she couldn’t quite figure out why it was always her he was getting angry at. It had never happened before they had come to stay at his childhood home to help with Enola.

“Enola, I do not want to burden you with the petty arguments of adults. It is no concern of yours.”

“If it is my brother’s fault I consider it my concern.”

You pursed her lips at the girl before indulging in your frustrations.

“Every little comment I make he gets angry at. I am not use to being yelled at by him and I certainly do not understand why he is so uptight ever since we arrived. I try to help with his inquiries about your mother but even then, my input seems to go in one ear and sails out the other! Enola, I mean nothing by this, truly, I am simply frustrated by always being second fiddle to a man who appears to need no help at all.” You managed to mutter out in a moments time and Enola understood. Mycroft was the one treating Enola the same way at the moment and she wanted nothing more than to place a metal helmet on his head and bang a stick against it to set his mind straight. The men just do not appear to respect the intelligence of the women in the house.

“I am not meant for a life of domesticity, Enola. I am sure you can tell by the way I stir a pot or fold the laundry, I like adventure and I enjoy mystery very much. I simply want Sherlock to see that too. I don’t want to lose my dearest friend over one little spat.”

Enola smiled down at you and jumped down, meeting the grass with a thud and wiped off the shards that managed to catch themselves on her stockings.

“And that is why I admire you, very much, if I may add. And are you sure you don’t love him? If friends act the way you two do, I would have to choose my friends wisely.” You chuckled, reassured her you were simply just friends and embraced Enola in a some-what motherly manner, though Enola saw it as what she’d imagined would be a best friend, or sister.

“I would tell him how you feel. Make him understand you better and believe me when I say he will listen.” Enola retracted from the embrace and shot off towards the house, leaving you in state of bewilderment and confusion but when you turned around yourself intending to watch Enola run toward the house, you were met with the man you had no more than ten minutes ago stormed away from.

Sherlock stood with one hand in a pocket and the other clutching a book to his chest and a small pout on his face. The pout wasn’t one of sadness or disappointment, but of wonder and curiosity, already trying to decipher the situation before him.

“She was quick to run away.” Sherlock observed and moved toward the tree, leaning his back against it and looking over to you, just slightly to the side of him but facing him, not the land surrounding the tree.

“Well if she knew your temper as well as I do, I would run away too but obviously that has proven to not be an option.”

“I came here to apologize.” Your eyes, ears, and heart managed to perk up at the sound of Sherlock saying the word “apologize” because it wasn’t one he had ever said before, certainly not to you or anyone else he interacted with.

“An apology? From the great Sherlock Holmes? What ever shall I do with this honor?” You faked a gasp and held a hand to your forehead in a manner that only suggested a maiden swooning. Sherlock enrolled his eyes at the joke, seeming to understand that it was simply that, and as your hand made its way down from your forehead, he captured it softly in his empty one and held it gently, yet firm and your eyes flicked up to meet his.

“I would like to be serious about this, Y/n. My actions towards you the last few days have been unlike me and I am sorry for making you feel as if your opinion doesn’t matter, because it most certainly does.”

So he had heard you short conversation with Enola.

“Your opinion I value more than anyone in this world and I am frustrated I have gotten nowhere with my mother’s case in several days. I want her to return safely and with every passing day that outcome becomes less likely.”

“If you spoke to me about your concerns earlier we may have found a middle ground Sherlock. I accept your apology but I will not forgo my jokes in any situation so enjoy the humor while I still walk this earth.”

Sherlock couldn’t help but let the smallest smirk grace his face at the comment. He knew you always took your work seriously, but humor helped with the difficulties some cases can bring and he often failed to recognize the importance of laughter and enjoyment even in the darkest times. He still held your hand in his, in which he then brought it up to his lips and kissed the inside of your palm. It was personal, intimate, and apologetic.

“I am sorry you have to put up with me. I shouldn’t be so harsh when you’re trying to brighten the darkest days.”

“If I want to leave I can, but I seek thrill too much to let you or these cases disappear from my life.”

Sherlock actually smiled and sat down against the trunk, leading you to sit beside him and wrapped his free hand around your shoulders pulling you close. Ever since you arrived at his home, intimate interactions were seldom as Mycroft would have a million harsh words about how you were not a “proper lady to Sherlock”, but it wasn’t like Sherlock would have cared anyway.

“Shall we return to this story?” Sherlock said in a low, “fancy” voice in your ear and you couldn’t help but let out a snort at his attempt to be regal.

“I sincerely hope Elizabeth slaps Mr. Darcy across the face after what he said about her family. If that does not happen, the story dies there.”

“Would you slap every man who offends you? Because if so I’ll brace for one now.” Sherlock was actually joking for once but you slapped his chest lightly with your hand and let it fall, playing with a button on his waist coat. He looked down at you, a curl from the top of his head falling onto his forehead with a spring and you smiled at the handsome man you curled up against. 

“Perhaps.”

Sherlock laid a lingering kiss on your forehead and opened the book, removing the leaf that served at the bookmark and began reading in total comfort with you beside him. It was perfect until a rumble came from the bush and Enola shot up with sticks in her hair.

“So you ARE together!?”

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

✏, hotchreid, first kiss 🥺

You don’t just get a blurb honey, you get the whole damn night. I’ll eventually start writing blurbs and not full-length oneshots for these asks, but Cee (my love my family my favorite always) is who got me back into CM in the first place so yours was always going to be the long, fleshed out version. I love you so my dear. 

((P.S. Yes I’m still working on the 200follower asks xD I’m so sorry life got in the way and I discovered hcs but I’m being responsible and finishing all of these now I promise!!!))

Personal plot bunny: Hotch invites Reid over to help with a research paper/with Jack and Reid gets to see his boss all domestic and soft, and in turn Spencer just kind of fits in his home seamlessly and Hotch kisses him as he leaves.

Word Count: 3107

--

It’s a perfectly ordinary day in late November when Hotch opens his apartment door to Reid standing there in the clothes he’d worn to work earlier that day. Satchel over his shoulder, wrapped in jacket and scarf, and giving him a small quirk of a smile in greeting -- still very obviously thrown off kilter that Hotch had invited him over in the first place. 

When Reid said he’d lend him a hand on his most recent research paper, the younger agent had probably expected them to do it at the office. Interviews and research were all a big part of having a Behavioral Science subunit at the FBI, and published papers were a requirement from all BAU members to aid in this endeavor. Every team had to keep a steady output of resources and research studies going just to keep funding for the department afloat. He may be Unit Chief, but Hotch was no exception to these requirements, even with as much work as he has to put in on the regular. 

Usually, he can do his research and piece together papers in between his daily paperwork. But this week Jess is sick with a stomach flu, and Jack hadn’t gotten to spend time with Hotch in what feels like a month. So the easiest solution was obviously to invite Reid to have dinner with them at his home, entertain him while he read over the drafted paper and helped Hotch out. 

Obviously. 

The only reasonable option, really. 

“Thanks for coming, Reid,” Hotch greets back with a softened expression as he looks him up and down. “Did you even go home first?” The very first thing Hotch always does is change out of his suit when he gets home, shedding that armour as best he can to switch mindsets between Agent Hotchner of the FBI, and Aaron Hotchner the ever-stressed-out single dad. That evening donning worn jeans and a heather grey Henley to better accommodate himself within the space. 

“Oh -- no, I didn’t see much point,” Reid shrugs, then motioning to his satchel which is now filled with books that weren’t there when he’d left the bull pen a couple hours before. “I stopped by the law library in Georgetown and found a few more references, just in case you were using the Favero citations instead of Weston and I don’t have all of those read yet -- or I didn’t. I do now. But I still brought them--”

Hotch smiles, a real smile -- small as it is, but no less fond of Reid going out of his way to help him. But before he can thank him again Jack’s socked feet come thundering down the hall behind him. 

“Dr. Spencer! Dr. Spencer! Dr. Spencer!” And he’s slipping past Hotch, smooth and fluid as water, attaching himself to Reid’s legs and waist in a hug with a big smile that looks so much like Aaron’s own. When he’d been younger, only about three or four years old, Jack had been deathly scared of Doctor’s visits. It had been Reid’s idea to have Jack start calling him ‘Dr. Spencer’ to help alleviate some of that fear, associating the moniker with his non-threatening and familiar face. Reid had been much younger then, too, and that had helped the tactic work like a charm. Haley had been over the moon when his reverse psychology worked out so well. 

“Jack! Woah, you got taller!” Reid’s whole demeanor changes. A little more animated, more comfortable, even -- and Hotch could remember a time when Reid hadn’t even wanted to hold a child for fear of the interaction. Now, he was always the first to talk to one if JJ didn’t beat him to it. “How’ve you been?” “Good!” Jack says excitedly, barreling over the small talk in ways only children can. “Dad says you’re going to help him with his homework, can you help me with mine too?!”

Reid smiles even wider and chances a glance at Hotch that he feels in his chest. “You bet, I love helping with homework.”

Jack just scrunches his nose up at him. “Why?”

“Because it’s fun.”

“Homework isn’t fun.”

“Well, maybe you’ve been doing it wrong.” 

“Let’s let Dr. Reid in from the hallway,” Hotch interrupts with a laugh, herding his son and the younger agent inside. “Jack, go get your homework and you can do it at the table,” Hotch says as he takes Reid’s coat and watches him kick off his shoes by the door. Mismatched socks prominent against the hardwood floors. Making himself at home, shedding some of the layers and getting comfortable in the space much like Aaron does every day after work. “Hope you like spaghetti. It won’t be as good as Rossi’s.”

“Who doesn’t love spaghetti,” Spencer grins with a soft laugh. “Rossi’s is almost too fancy for me, anyway.”

“A man of simple tastes,” Hotch teases him.

“I’m easily impressed.”

“Lucky me.” 

It slips out, the low, comfortable banter, and Reid’s eyes are alight and Aaron feels himself smiling enough his dimples show, and he leads the way to the kitchen where dinner is already in the works on the stove. Filling the small condo with the smell of tomato sauce and garlic. 

-

Jack and Reid set up at the kitchen bartop where they can watch Hotch finish cooking and stay within reach of conversation. It doesn’t take long for Hotch to finish making dinner, or for Jack to finish his homework spurred on by Reid’s strange enthusiasm for math problems. With how much time they spend talking about psychology and sociology (and sometimes even philosophy) Hotch always forgets one of Reid’s Ph.D.’s is in mathematics. 

“Numbers just make sense,” he explains, when Hotch brings it up while drizzling olive oil on the drained pasta on the stove. “There’s always a right answer and the rest are wrong. It’s comforting, to an extent, but predictable -- that’s why I shifted focus from sciences to humanities. There’s no right or wrong answers in philosophy, it’s all argumentative. Always evolving. I prefer that, it’s no fun having all the answers.” 

And coming from someone who does always have all the right answers, that must mean something profound to the younger man. One conversation outside the walls of the BAU and Hotch already feels like he understands Reid more than he has in a long time.

--

Dinner runs so smoothly it’s as if Reid is always there for it. Jack even finishes all of his food and helps with the dishes before Hotch has to ask him to. Making the two men exchange a glance and Hotch ask, “You charge by the hour?” and Reid laughs into his water glass in reply. They end up talking a bit about the paper Hotch has been working on, along with about a dozen other things Reid launches into in side tangents -- from the books he’d read during his brief visit to Georgetown that afternoon, to his most recent philosophical debate he had with his doctoral advisor about his thesis paper he’ll have to submit at the end of next month. 

“Do you need time to piece it together? I didn’t know you were that close to your next Ph.D.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Reid waves him off. “I just need a weekend where we are actually in town and not on a case, and I’ll get it finished.” 

“I’ve been working on this paper for the past six months,” Hotch all but balks in disbelief. “How can you write a Ph.D. dissertation in a weekend?”

“Well, I’m not the Unit Chief or a single parent,” Reid points out with a gentle grin, and Hotch feels one pulling at his own lips as well. “But it’s mostly written anyway, just all up here.” He points to his head, and Hotch bets he could recite the paper verbatim with what he writes up when he has the time.

“You could always write it on the jet,” Hotch says. 

“I do,” Reid smirks, and Hotch can’t help but roll his eyes. “In my head, someone is usually taking up the table with a headstart on paperwork.”

“I think they can be talked into relinquishing some table top space,” Hotch says, until Reid gives him a look. “Oh, you mean me?”

“You spread out everything to keep it organized in piles.” 

“I’d share with you.”

“You told Rossi to use the couch last week when he wanted to answer emails,” Reid says with a barely contained laugh.

“Yeah, well, he’s not you,” Hotch admits before he can take it back, and Reid almost answers -- mouth open and everything -- when Jack comes back and is all but begging ‘Dr. Spencer’ to help him with his science fair project he hadn’t even decided on. 

--

The rest of the evening ends up with the three holed up in Hotch’s office, Reid surrounded by Law books and reading material he hasn’t gotten to sift through before, Hotch with his drafted paper printed out for Reid’s ease of access, and Jack with his science textbook and a notebook already talking Reid’s ear off about a science project for the spring. 

But once the time starts to tip into the later hours of the night, Hotch tells Jack to get ready for bed and say goodnight to Dr. Reid. 

“Goodnight, Dr. Spencer. Thanks for your help,” Jack says politely, ingrained in him by his father and Reid smiles a little too bright and soft at the same time at how sweet it is he tries to be good for company.

“You know, Jack, you can just call me Spencer if you’d like,” he says, knowing that the older boy has already outgrown his fear of the doctor and the reverse psychology is no longer needed.

Jack looks a little confused for a moment. “Dad doesn’t.” 

“Well, your dad can, too -- if he wants,” Reid says, looking to Hotch and they share a look he once again can feel in his chest. Watching the whole interaction with a carefully guarded expression, but it melts under Reid’s glance and he isn’t quite sure what is there anymore. But whatever it is, it makes Reid smile softly at him.

“Okay, goodnight Spencer,” Jack interrupts their moment, and hugs Reid around the neck from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. It jostles the younger man, and Hotch smiles wide and ducks his head down to hide it. But Reid hugs Hotch’s son back, and tells him goodnight, as well. “You’ll come back, right?”

“Of course, I’d love to,” Reid tells him, and -- satisfied -- Jack goes off to brush his teeth, leaving the two in a lull of heavy silence. “Sorry, I think I just invited myself over, some time.”

“You’re welcome anytime.” And he means that, knows Reid knows that as he looks at him a little more soundly than before. “Not just for work.” If that needed to be said. 

And if Reid’s face flushes a little darker in the low lighting, Hotch doesn’t mention. No matter how much he can’t seem to look away.

Reid looks over his entire paper while Hotch tucks Jack into bed, and is already making notes on it at his desk when the man returns. The next hour rolls into two, and Hotch drags another chair in from the kitchen so they can share his desk and work through bullet points on the paper but… it was pretty much done, from the start. Even Reid’s edits didn’t take them long. After a while they dissolve into just talking, discussions and anecdotes and sitting maybe a little too close and laughing so much and so loud sometimes they have to quiet themselves so they don’t wake Jack down the hall. 

It’s almost 10:30 by the time they resurface from each other, before Hotch realizes Reid probably needs to go home because they both have to be at work bright and early. But this was… this was the best night he’s had in a long, long time, and he wants to do it again. Soon. More than soon. More than once. He thinks about all of this as he follows Reid to the front door and helps him gather the rest of his things. 

“We should do this again, sometime,” Hotch mentions, hands in his pockets and trying to be more cool about this than he feels.

“I’d like that, I had a lot of fun tonight,” Reid answers, standing up from tying his shoes and giving him that bright, wide smile he doesn’t always feel comfortable enough to allow. It never fails to stall Hotch in his tracks, staring a little too long at his mouth than he should be. 

“What if, next time, it’s just us? And no Jack?” he continues, elaboration just in case Reid doesn’t grasp what he’s asking. Reid is watching him with this look as if he’s unsure he heard correctly, and Hotch is nothing if not patient.

“I’d… I’d be okay with that,” Reid answers, slowly as he weighs some unseen options and gauges Hotch’s facial expressions to the most minute detail.

“Good. How about Saturday?”

He can see the moment it all clicks into place.

“...Are you asking me on a date?” Reid asks, a little winded. 

“If that’s alright with you,” Hotch says with a half smile. Once again sounding more confident than he should in the face of how Reid’s eyes start to dart around and he licks his lips nervously.

“I don’t know how -- how good I am with dates.” There’s a story behind that, and Hotch wants to know it, but he does his best to press Reid gently. Because… he’s been holding off asking the younger man for a long time, now, but after tonight he gets the feeling that he might not have needed to be so hesitant, after all. 

“Oh?”

“Just -- the ritual of it all always throws me off. Dressing up and going out, and making conversation over dinner while trying to eat and maintain the other’s attention, and then keeping it all going if you manage to do that I just don’t always do so well one-on-one and --”

“Reid.” He pauses, then -- “Spencer.” And that stalls his stream of thought to words, catching Spencer’s attention and snagging it in the best way. “...we just did all of that. And it was great.” Hotch knows his own expression has softened around the edges over the course of the night, smiles easier to hold, eyes more expressive, and Spencer takes in every change and nuance with a well-practice eye and is… very obviously stunned by what he finds. “So -- I’d like to do it again. Saturday?” 

Shocked, eyes a little wide, breath lost to the wind, Spencer waits a beat too long to answer. Enough to make Hotch nervous, before he answers in a sound that could have been a whisper if it had been quieter. A slight crack to it that betrays his emotion.

“Okay.” 

Hotch gets a turn to be stunned, because he thought this had been about to take a very different turn. “Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“--Okay.”

Intelligent men that they were, that was the extent of the conversation, and then Reid is smiling that bright, sunshine laced smile and Hotch is trying to contain his own and -- Reid still needs to go home. So, biting his lip, Reid turns as if to leave -- is just about out the door when he stops and turns back so quick he almost runs into Hotch on the threshold. 

“So… technically, that means this was our first date, then. Right?” he looks so goddamn hopeful, and like he has something further to add, that Hotch smiles outright and this time doesn’t bother hiding it.

“Technically, yes.” He supposes it was. And it really had been… a great night. Not a bad first date, at all.

Reid takes far too long trying to string together words after that. Keeps looking to Hotch then away to gather his thoughts, then back again as if in search of something; and it’s after about the third time that Hotch realizes what he’s getting at. What he’s trying to find a way to ask. 

It hits him so silent and hard it about knocks the wind out of him.

Oh.

He can do that.

Hotch steps closer, about the same time Spencer opens his mouth like he’s finally figured out the right combination of words within the range of the English language to form a coherent sentence, and they all die on his tongue the moment Hotch guides him back with a hand on his hip. He’s done it before, gentle leading when Reid strays the wrong way or needs to be shifted in a crowded room on cases, and this time is just as easy and no different.

Except this time, Hotch isn’t maneuvering them to get past him. This time, he presses Spencer’s spine to the doorframe and leans in to capture his lips with his own. Right there, in the open doorway.

Hotch kisses him, and it’s perfect.

The gentle slide of lips is over before either know it, lasts longer than his racing heart can measure, and before Hotch can decide his next move Spencer tilts in closer and kisses him back, slow and methodical and Hotch feels that. Feels it the way he’s felt every moment they had and shared the whole night. His free hand finds that sharp jaw framed in messy curls getting longer all over again, and Spencer doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands beyond grasp at Hotch’s shirt at his sides and then -- 

Then Hotch pulls back enough that he can nudge his nose against Spencer’s carefully, a punctuation that ends the kiss soft and apologetic. Silently says that’s all they can do tonight. That there’s more, awaiting them, but that… 

That had been one hell of a good first kiss.

“See you in the morning, Spencer.” 

For once, Dr. Spencer Reid is speechless in an entirely new way, and he merely nods with lips still parted and a little darker from the kiss. From kissing him, and Hotch knows he stares more than he should, but that’s been a frequent occurrence lately. It’s just getting harder and harder to turn away, watch Reid -- Spencer -- smile at him in that quiet way only ever directed at him, and then walk away. But he lets it happen, feels every step even as he shuts the door behind him.

Because Hotch will see Spencer tomorrow.

And, one day, maybe he won’t have to watch him walk away at all. 

[xwing-baby]

Living The Dream (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

For #WriterWednesday hosted by @autumnleaves1991-blog​

Summary: A new house, dog and a baby on the way, Javier’s life couldn’t get any more perfect... its a dream come true.

Word count: 1.6k (good things come in small packages)

Warnings: Angst (cus duh), blood and injury description, mentions of pregnancy, dog death, hardly edited.

Masterlist

—

A tiny little house in the country, with a dog and a child on the way, was not how Javier thought his year would end but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

In the chaotic and dangerous life he led he never thought he would settle for more than two minutes let alone marry someone. You’d snuck up on him, coming out of nowhere to drag him into domesticity. Drag is the wrong word because he willingly went despite how much he pretended to drag his feet. He fell into it comfortably, he was even the one to suggest the house in the first place. You were happy in his apartment in Bogotá but Javier traded you a dog and you couldn’t say no.

A house, a girl, a dog. All he had ever wanted. Everything he swore he did not deserve but he could not imagine anything else now. Everything felt a little more manageable when he could come home to you. His own little oasis away from all the devils that haunted him in Bogotá or Medellín .

Javier planned to show Steve the new house on the drive back into Bogotá . You’d moved in a few weeks ago and everything was basically unpacked now, Javi was desperate to show off to his partner and could barely wipe the smile from his face as he pulled in.

The house was an old farmhouse, covered in iconic white plaster and red tile. The surrounding farm land had been sold off years ago, but left the house with a sizable garden around it to do whatever you wanted. There was enough for the baby to happily grow up and play in when the time came, for now the dog just chased rats through the long grass.

It was a mess when you bought it, but you were handy enough to get on with decorating and fixing up holes in walls while Javier was away working. He loved that part. Though he never admitted it, he always worried about you when you were working in the city. He never knew where you were until you came home. It was a lot easier to keep you safe, in his mind, with you at the house all day. You had done a fantastic job. For someone who claimed to have never even painted a wall before, the house was looking nice. It was becoming a home.

He called your name as he entered expecting to hear your music floating through the house. Instead he was met with silence.

“Must be asleep,” Javi said to Steve, “Pregnancies kicking her ass already,”

“Still can’t believe you’re gunna be a dad, man,” Steve clapped him on the shoulder, “I’ll get Connie to give y’all some baby books when she comes over,”

The two men chatted about the house, the baby, and everything else that had once seemed so out of the question for Javier but was now commonplace. He pulled beers from the fridge, cracking each open before sliding it across the patio table to sit and enjoy in the sunshine. They didn’t have anything to get back to urgently. The stop was justified and needed.

“Where’s that mutt of yours?” Steve asked looking around. In the weeks before the house was liveable, Javi had kept the dog at the apartment and used the Murphy’s as dog sitters whenever needed. Steve was excited to begin with but became a little more ambivalent when he ate his shoes one day. He was very happy when you moved him out to the house permanently.

“Must be with Y/n, they’re inseparable at the moment. In fact I will go check on her, she’ll be pissed if you leave without her seeing you,” Javier emptied his bottle and stood up. Steve chuckled and nodded.

Javier hadn’t been around the house as much as you had. Every time he had been you’d been close by making some kind of noise, a radio on somewhere in the house playing music with you singing along to it. He wasn’t used to it being quiet. It made the whole house seem so much bigger.

He walked upstairs to your bedroom, noticing the photos you had put up while he was gone. Simple wooden frames held photos from your wedding, photos of your family, and his favourite photo of you and him, taken by Steve candidly on the first day you had met. No one knew then just what would come from that one conversation but he was so happy it had led him here.

He pulled himself out of the fond memory and continued along the hall to your shared bedroom. The door was open, sunlight streaming in through half drawn curtains, the entire house was still. He smiled to himself, knowing that behind the door would be one of his favourite sights. He did not doubt that he would find Ringo, the dog, and you curled up on the bed. As much as Javi protested that the dog couldn’t sleep in your bed he knew you let him in as soon as he left in the morning.

Javier called your name again, listening carefully as he crept into the room. A full laundry basket sat on the floor, underwear and socks scattered the wooden floor boards. The drawers were open. You never left things untidy like that. Javier wasn’t the most untidy person in the world but you kept everything pristine. You wouldn’t just take a nap mid task. He frowned and touched the door to push it open.

“Peña!” Steve suddenly called urgently from downstairs. Javi knew that tone, instantly putting him on alert. You could wait for a moment. Javier stopped and turned back, leaving the door as it was and jogged back downstairs.

He came outside to see Steve, white as a sheet with grief written across his face.

“What is the-,” Javier started as he walked towards his partner. Steve brought him around the side of the house and Javi looked down and saw what was bothering him, “Oh fuck,” Javi swore the entire world stopped in that moment. Poor Ringo, shot in the head where he stood around the side of the house, just left without a care on the ground.

“I found him like that I swear! I am so sorry man,” Steve quickly explained. Javier wasn’t listening, couldn’t hear anything but alarm bells, his mind only thinking of one thing. You.

In a second Javier turned and ran back inside the house, picking up his gun from the kitchen counter where he’d left it. Steve followed quickly, keen on his heels. Javier knew exactly where to look, running up the stairs three at a time. He barrelled into your shared bedroom, praying that you were asleep and the dog was just an accident.

If his world had slowed at the sight of the dog the entire universe had stopped now. 

He couldn’t move his feet, mouth agape in total shock at the sight before him.

There was blood everywhere. On the bed, on the walls, even on the ceiling. Three bullets marked the walls behind the headboard. So much blood. He didn’t understand how he had not smelt it when he was outside a few moments earlier.

They had not been kind in your death, three shots to the stomach meant you did not die quickly. You were sprawled out on top of the sheets, still in your pyjamas. The white shirt you wore, Javi’s shirt, was now deep red, soaked through. There was a handprint dragged over the landline phone on your bedside table, glass and book knocked over in your effort to call for help. You hand still reached for it, so close yet so far.

Steve heard his cry of agony and ran in. He saw you, then Javi, and his heart sank. You were dead, there was nothing he could do now but he had to get Javier up. He pulled at his shirt trying to get him to move but was only met with violence as he ripped himself out of Steve’s grip away.

“Javi,”

“Javi,”

“Javier! Wake up!”

Javier’s eyes finally opened, his chest heaving and covered in sweat he was dazed for a moment before he finally looked at you. Your heart broke at the sight. He looked at you with such terror in his eyes, you didn’t have a chance to say anything before he grabbed you and pulled you in tight to his chest.

“It was just a dream,” You comforted him, “It’s okay,”

He took a deep but shaking breath, taking in the scent of your hair. He didn’t speak. Couldn’t. It felt so real.

Slowly, he let you go and sat up wiping his hands over his face to clear the tears on his cheeks. He looked around him. He was in his apartment, three am on the clock. There was no dog, no baby, no new house. No body. It was just a dream.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, sitting up with him and putting a hand on his shoulder, lightly rubbing his warm skin. He shook his head.

“It was just a dream,” He said softly.

The reality was he couldn’t afford to give you that vulnerability yet. He couldn’t let you know just how much he liked you for exactly the reason his dream had shown him. He was dangerous to be around. If you stayed, while it would be nice for a while, someone would pull the rug out from underneath you both eventually. It could only end in disaster. He would rather keep you at a distance, emotionally at least, so when that day came it would maybe hurt a little less.

He settled back down again, pulled you closer with your head on his chest. He could have you for now, like this, and let his imagination run wild with ideas of a picket fence future. But, to protect you that was all it could ever be. A dream.

—

A/n: I don’t know what is wrong with me... I am sorry Javi one day I will write something nice for you but today is not that day.

tagging: @autumnleaves1991-blog @hunters-heathen @beskarbabs @wille-zarr​ @all-hallows-evie

[woeisme-iamwoe]

an absolutely massive Haikyuu!! fic rec pt. 1

I went through my entire ao3 history because I’m insane, AND here’s my favorites. (There’s not a lot of aus because I’m not a huge fan of them, and there’s no sad endings. I’m a hopeless romantic leave me alone. There is angst though! Lots) 

Beginning with SakuAtsu (I’m a hoe for Atsumu): 

Hide and seek, by badreputation (10k. E. canonverse) 

It sure is a good thing Atsumu doesn't have a latex allergy 

It’s just a fleeting infatuation. As long as he pushes through it he’ll manage. So what if nowadays there isn’t a night where he doesn’t dream of Sakusa pinning him down on his own bed, in the shower or make Atsumu go down on his knees in the hallway? Those are just pesky details.

Some Memories, We May Keep, by mika60 (31k. T. canonverse) 

This is canon, fight me on it. 

The missing panels, the missing games, the missing moments.

The them we never saw.

*Now complete! :)*

 every action has an equal and opposite reaction, by akanemnida (10k. T. canonverse) 

Miya Atsumu gets a modeling contract with Calvin Klein, which sets Kiyoomi's heart in motion.

(Or: Sakusa Kiyoomi realizes that the rules governing the universe are absolute rubbish at explaining matters of the heart.)

 Ass-fingering as a prelude to relations of the emotional kind: a case study, by neverwere (2k. E. canonverse) 

Fucking hilarious, the imagery is absolutely hilarious. 

"Marry me, he thinks, as he comes around Sakusa's fingers and all over himself.

This. This is exactly why you don't let strangers or very attractive teammates finger you out of the blue.

Everyone knows that the ass is the shortest way to the heart."

Or

When it comes to sex, Atsumu has rules. Guidelines! SOPs! He swears they work, they've always worked.

Until they don't.

 parallax error: angle of inclination, by min_mintobe (10k. T. canonverse)

But now there's the one person Atsumu'd promised himself never to touch. His eyes leave Atsumu breathless with guilt at seventeen, and he spends the next six years safe in the satisfaction of making things right.

Feelings, of the physical kind, and one kiss.

ft. competitive spirit, childishness, and late night conversations.

Atsumu POV.

 autumn ends, but we remain, by wolfsbvne (5k. T. canonverse)

Author says in their ending notes that they're not an ‘author’, but methinks they should write more and pursue that career path because this was wonderful.  

atsumu stares at his ceiling at 2am. he stares until he can make out designs in his popcorn ceiling. a cat there, an onigiri here, and then something that suspiciously looks like a mop of hair, triangle eyebrows, and oh those two bumps are moles right above what atsumu just mapped out as an eye.

(or, atsumu is in kind of in love. sakusa is maybe in like.)

I left a taste in your mouth, by emso (26k. E. bodyguard au)

Because obviously 

Sakusa fixes him with a vague expression of something like distaste. There's a scathing edge to his tone when he speaks. "Contrary to what you seem to believe, not everyone who meets you is instantly dying to get into your pants, Miya."

"Lucky I don't really care right now what 'everyone' wants to do, then." Atsumu swivels his mug around on the tabletop a few times, and then brings it to his mouth to drain the last few dregs of his latte. Over the rim of his mug, he adds casually, "Just you."

Whoa hey Bodyguard Omi, I think Spoiled Rich Kid Tsumu might possibly have a teensy crush on you. 

 How do you know you're in love?, by spiritscript (12k. T. canonverse)

Pure art

“So, how did you know you were in love? How did it feel?” Atsumu felt nervous asking this, a slight wiggling in the pit of his stomach, unable to look at the man beside him who rolled his shoulders in an attempt to reset his posture. “I mean, you didn’t resonate with what I said, so, what is love to you Omi-kun?”

Atsumu thinks he must be in love with Hinata Shouyou and so asks the best person he knows to help him understand his feelings

 san'yo expressway, 6:17 pm, by yamabota (13k. T. canonverse)

Of violent forethoughts, and handheld car vacuums. 

Atsumu tilts his head to watch a slice of orange light bend over the impassive planes of Sakusa’s face. He is absolutely, ruthlessly beautiful. It makes Atsumu want to punch something—put his foot through the windshield—scream, maybe.

Kiss him again, maybe.

They have 344 kilometers to figure this one out. 

Different Kinds of Dysfunctional, by DeathBelle (Series, 5 works. T-E. Canonverse)

Honestly, I think this one is kind of famous amongst Sakuatsu readers but I can’t not include it. If I recall correctly, this is the fic that got me into Sakuastu, so thanks, DeathBelle. The characters are portrayed really well (i.e. Sakusa is disgusted and confused, and Atsumu is a little shit). You’ve got a good balance between conversations and descriptive thoughts and all-in-all it’s just a really good read. 

 Atsumu said into the heavy silence, “You can’t say you’ve never thought about it.”

"Thought about what?" said Sakusa.

Atsumu smiled to himself, smug. "You know."

"No, I don't."

"You know. Of course you’ve thought about it. There’s no reason to be ashamed, Omi-kun. I’m a real catch.”

Sakusa was appalled. "You're disgusting."

"You flatter me. I'm not judging you. I can't lie and say I haven't thought about it, too."

Sakusa shifted, slowly, to peer over his shoulder. He wasn’t scowling, but his expression was unreadable. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Atsumu wasn't joking, and he was about to get more than he bargained for.

i'll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands), by liliapocalypse (7k words. T. canonverse):

Oh, god. This one was so cute. Super fluffy. Loved the metaphors and symbolism. Sometimes you just can’t say things out loud. 

When a bad injury shocks the whole V. League, Sakusa finds himself paired with Atsumu for more rigorous assisted stretches before every training. Atsumu then finds himself writing random letters on Sakusa’s skin to soothe the spiker, forcing Sakusa to reevaluate how his touch aversion became an irresistible yearning for more, and how the boy with the annoying hair somehow brought that hunger to life.

Or, the fic where Atsumu mindlessly writes a confession on Sakusa’s back when he thought Sakusa wasn't paying attention. Sakusa always did.

 mortality is found is the flesh of your sins, by novrik (10k. M. canonverse)

This is literally my favorite fic of all time. Not just of Sakuatsu, not even of the Haikyuu fandom. Ever. Favorite fic ever. Listen, I’m an atheist, but this fic took me on a religious experience that I haven't come down from yet. The symbolism had me actually shivering, and I had to put my phone down quite a few times. Just, oh wow, just read it. I’d like to share my favorite line; ‘And if Sakusa is Eve, if he takes a bite, what then? Perhaps, he is a little afraid of the knowledge he will gain’. My god, author, if you ever see this, this is not only a plea for you to continue writing, but also an offer of marriage. Your hand, author?

 dickhead one, sakusa kiyoomi. dickhead two, miya atsumu. neither understand how to communicate.

Pray tell, why are you drawn to him?

Are you drawn to him in the way he looks beautiful even when crying?

When his eyes are red, shiny tears streaking down, lips quivering, is he beautiful?

 sakuatsu domesticity simulator, by pseudoanalytics (75 words. T. canonverse)

75 words because it's actually a digital art simulator. An interactive fic! How frickin’ cool is that? The art is so beautiful and I love the plotline and ugh, just everything. Please read, or watch, or click around, yes. Good. 

Update: artist created another interactive fic and of course it is wonderful. SunaOsa this time! https://newttxt.itch.io/cheesecake honestly just check out @newttxt their work is amazing and I love everything they do. 

a vaguely interactive mixture of fic, art, and html, where you too can experience the inherent romance of a big fat jerk and a too-blunt jerk attempting intimacy

***

(this is the result of letting the sakuatsu brainworms really get to you...)

 Pas De Deux, by hatsuna (19k words. T. Ballet/college au)

There's just something about prim, proper ballet Sakusa and human-benign-tumor Atsumu that makes my heart burst. Seriously gorgeous writing style, loved every second. By the same author who wrote ‘liminal spaces’ (which is also just perfect) so that should give you a good idea of the style. 

The mystery athlete gives Kiyoomi a once over in the mirror. “Yer pretty tall,” he observes. The twang of an accent rasps low in his throat. His brazen eyes drift to Kiyoomi’s legs, and something like exhilaration glints gold in his gaze. “Good quads, too. Ya ever played volleyball?”

 Ah. So it’s volleyball.

“I’m a dancer. Ballet and contemporary, mostly.”

 the affective presence of our black and white reruns, by kozumess (19k. E. canonverse)

Beautiful, classic misunderstandings, my heart actually physically ached at that one scene (you’ll know the scene when you come to it). Kiyoomi is so refreshingly relaxed(? Is that the right word to use? We all know Omi never truly relaxes). 

but the want, it's always there, constant like the static playing on every television channel, present even when the station disconnects.

 cut the conversation, just open your mouth, by meeksoo (E. 16k. canonverse)

Absolutely filthy...BUT WITH FEELINGS! Completely nails the Sakuatsu dynamic, and protective ‘Tsumu? Love it. 

Sakusa opens the door. He always does.

 They’re teammates first, barely even friends. But they hook up on the regular and it works. It’s simple, easy. But then a fan gets too close, Sakusa reacts, and Atsumu is swept up in how quickly things can get complicated.

__

As Atsumu palms himself over his briefs, still feeling off, he realizes it’s because he still wants it. Him. Sakusa. Even after already having him earlier.

He should probably feel self-conscious, mildly ashamed even, that he’s panting ‘Omi Omi’ into the dark beneath the steady thrum of the AC unit when Sakusa’s right down the hall, probably good for it if Atsumu ended up back at his door. Instead, he lays there, writhing and sweaty, alone in his hotel room bed thinking about Sakusa and touching himself.

Afterward, as cum begins to cool on his chest, Atsumu really can’t help but face the fact that things may be getting complicated.

 the hands that beckon me to come, by Ellieb3an (4k. E. canonverse)

So hot, what the fuck! 

The toss, the run, the spike-serve at the end of it all—Sakusa sees it happen in perfect clarity as if time has slowed and his vision narrows to the center where just Miya exists, all powerful muscle and extraordinary skill and that air of confidence.

Sakusa isn’t one of the best receivers in the league for no reason, so his body moves on muscle memory, forearms absorbing the sting of the hit. It’s not enough. But his eyes are still on Miya—on the way his shorts ride up his muscular thighs as he lands, on the bead of sweat dripping down his forehead, on the clench of his fist thrust into the air—when the ball ricochets out of bounds.

***

Atsumu stays late at practices to work on his new third serve, even when his frustration with it starts throwing off the rest of his game. Sakusa notices and starts hanging back to secretly watch him from the gym doors. He’s fascinated with Atsumu's determination... and more than a little turned on by it, too.

 you're the flame i use (when it gets dark), by starkartifices (55k. M. canonverse. Ongoing)

Everything is the same except the Sakusas are super rich. 

“Oh, if you want dear, you could bring a plus one. Though, I doubt you have a partner yet.”

“I do actually.”

“What was that, dear?”

"I do have a partner, I mean."

alt title: crazy rich sakusas 

 the inherent romance of classical conditioning (or; the fine art of emotional recognition), by pseudoanalytics (13k. E. canonverse)

Ah, yes. A Pavloved sex life. A Pavloved LOVE life?? 

It's stupid. Atsumu isn't a romantic, no matter how many times he's imagined laying Sakusa out and finally really touching him.

So there's no explanation for why Atsumu is constantly stuck thinking about brushing his fingertips against the meat of Sakusa's palms or the prominent tendons in his freaky wrists.

There's no explanation for why doing dishes sets off a warm burn in his ribcage, or why when he smells disinfectant he inhales like he's walking past a bakery.

Yer doin' this to me, he thinks furiously, as Sakusa derails his thoughts with kisses that come more and more frequently now. Yer conditionin' me, and I can't stop it.

 flutterbird (a collection of sakuatsu oneshots), by wordstruck (5 works. T-E. canonverse)

Works 1-3, I think follow a linear story, whereas the last two don't. 

All sakuatsu works are just the angstiest, most miscommunication filled pieces of absolute gold and this one is no exception. Wow. These men are assholes and they bring out the worst in each other, but I’ll be damned if they’re not soulmates. 

Collection of SakuAtsu fics. Several fics are loosely set in the same storyverse. Not necessarily directly connected and can all be read as standalones.

[brattyfics]

“I don’t love you anymore” | Part 2

Summary: After making it clear that he does not believe in divorce, Miguel’s wife is forced to take matters into her own hands. The previous installment can be found here. I used the following prompt lines: “How long are you going to keep this up?’ “Yeah, I remember the drill.” “Do you even know what you’ve done to me?” | Part Three |

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Dark-ish Miguel, domestic violence/abuse.

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: First of all, thank you to @my-little-wolfe​ for bouncing ideas back and forth with me, and convincing me to resolve this. A lot of you wanted the reader to have redemption. This is my idea of that. It’s not what many of you would have predicted, but it’s the most realistic version of events I saw happening. I’d love hear what you all think about how things shook out, let me know :)

In the backseat of a sleek, black Mercedes s550, you sat on cushy leather seats. Clay red passed by in a blur through the tinted windows. The desert reminded you of how you felt inside; desolate. Spotty patches of green freckled the dry dirt, small but persistent life signs despite the harsh conditions. 

Nestor sat in front of you, eyes glued to the road ahead with the driver to his left. Next to you in the backseat sat your husband, Miguel. None of you dared to speak, save for Miguel asking for the ETA. Everyone knew a few simple words had the potential to spark a flame between the two of you. Almost a month had passed since your marriage had been irreparably damaged. You confronted Miguel about his infidelity. He made his position on divorce clear. You were no longer under any delusions of a happy or at the very least amicable ending. 

Security around the house had doubled. Multiple guards were with you at almost all times, inside or outside of the house. The only time you got a semblance of privacy was when you locked yourself in one of the guest bedrooms. He always sent someone to return you to your shared bedroom at night, but you were grateful for any time away from him. You spent dark, lonely nights on opposite sides of your California King Bed. The distance between you was not only physical. Besides a simple 'yes' or 'no' when necessary, you didn't speak to Miguel. He had you temporarily trapped physically, that much was obvious, but you refused to let him have the satisfaction of capturing your spirit.

The only reason you sat next to him in the confined space was Santo Padre's annual charity event. Miguel was obligated to attend, and by extension, so were you. Like the good little wife you had been groomed to become, you dressed and accessorized to impress. You wore a designer cocktail dress, large diamond stud earrings, and a full face of makeup. All of it was to distract people from the real picture. Your reflection reminded you of how things used to be. The bells and whistles were expected of Mrs. Galindo. What you couldn't dress up were your eyes. Gone were the twinkles that once shone bright. They had been replaced by marble--hard and pretty but ornamental.

"How long are you going to keep this up?" You kept your eyes trained on the desert as your husband spoke. He should've already learned to respect you weren't talking to him. Out of your periphery, you saw Miguel make quick work of his sunglasses, stashing them in the case. "You're going to have to talk to me sometime." He used the same condescending tone that made you want to throw things at his head. Your fingernails dug into your palm as you resisted the urge to spew venom. Stop talking to me, asshole.

It was Miguel who struck first, strong fingers gripping your chin tightly. You jerked back at the invasion of personal space, swatting at his hand as if it were a pesky fly. He took your fiery reaction as a challenge, snatching you forward by your neck. You clawed at his hand, but his grip remained firm. Nestor eyed the two of you in the rearview mirror. He knew better than anyone how vicious Miguel could be when provoked. The driver's gaze didn't stray once from the road. They were trained to protect Miguel and if things got ugly, even Nestor would not step in to protect you.

"I know the drill…" His grip loosened when your eyes met. "Don't worry. I won't embarrass you in front of your colleagues, Mr. Galindo." Your shared last name was said with a sneer. Miguel didn't appreciate the sass, but he finally let you go, recoiling back into the seat. He shrugged his shoulders, adjusting his suit jacket while you rubbed your throat. You had been wheezing moments earlier, and his first priority was to preen.

If looks could kill, Miguel Galindo would be six feet under. 

"Do you even know what you've done to me?" You growled out. The accusatory tone had both men in the front seat on edge. With bated breath, Nestor watched Miguel casually pick up his phone. The cartel boss tapped at the touch screen as if you didn't even exist. 

It all happened in a blur. 

Your hands clenched into fists, and then they were flying, raining down blows everywhere. The car jerked, then swerved, and eventually pulled over. Angry red patches littered Miguel's skin where your fists made contact. At one point, he had you pinned down in the seat. The entire thing was like an out of body experience. As much as you wanted to stop, you couldn't control yourself. He was whisked off to another car by one of the guards, leaving behind a trail of buttons and blood on the nude interior. Nestor claimed the driver's seat, riding you around in circles while waiting for you to calm down. You were hysterical, batting the bulletproof glass repeatedly and yanking wildly on the childproof looks. It took hours. In the end, your knuckles were bloody and bruised, throat raw from yelling.

For the first time since you got married, you slept alone.

Several days passed without Miguel returning home. You didn't care if he was across the border or down the street at his mistresses' house. He could take an extended vacation to hell for all you cared. All you cared about was using the time alone to your advantage.

Miguel had carefully selected four guards to stay behind and watch over you. You didn't know any of them well, and that was on purpose. Since your first falling out, Miguel had gotten paranoid about you escaping. Anyone he thought had a soft spot for you was banned from the house. What Miguel didn't consider was that you could run circles around the new guys. You ran the household as normal, keeping them busy with errands and the occasional household chore. You were sure no one suspected anything. Plus, it allowed you the time and privacy you needed to execute your plan.

You received a call an hour earlier that let you know the plan could proceed as planned. Miguel could be home at any moment, and you had no more time to waste. Your purse was packed to the brim with essentials-- travel-sized toiletries, underwear, and wads of cash. You couldn't even fit a change of clothes, but you would have to make due.

With one last glance around what had been your shared bedroom, you made peace with never seeing it or him again. 

"I need you to take me to the mall." You instructed one of the guards as you made the trek down the stairs.

"Mrs. Galindo, I don't think—-" You paused at the bottom of the steps, cutting your eyes at him. The guard, Rick, was unsure of which order to follow. Miguel didn't want you out without pre-approval, but you were the one in front of him saying differently. 

"I wasn't asking." He didn't look convinced, looking over his shoulder nervously for back up from one of the other guards. "I have necessities to pick up. Do you want to be the one to explain why I don't have what I need to my husband?" 

"Mr. Galindo said—"

"I say." Your hands found your hips, preparing to dig in for an argument. Anxious energy bubbled up in your belly as another guard, Brian, approached. You could tell by the look on his face his answer would be no, so you spoke before he could. "I didn't want to get into details, but since you're determined to embarrass me, I'll just say it…" You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms for good measure, looking every bit the part of a spoiled brat. "I'm tired of fighting with my husband, okay? I want to pick up a gift for when he comes home, and I need it to be nice."

That did the trick. They all knew very well what gift was code for. What could a woman possibly get for a man that already had everything? Lingerie. 

Rick and Brian quickly discussed it with the others, and soon enough, you were in the car. The other two stayed behind to keep watch of the house, a decision they'd all regret soon enough. You spent the entirety of the car ride reviewing your plan from start to end, step by step. Any potential roadblocks that popped up, you had a tentative solution for.

Your heart beat intensely in your chest as the large building came into view. Each step brought you closer to your new life, to freedom. Slowing outside the store, you turned to face your guards with a sweet smile. "Do you really have to follow me everywhere?" Nods in the affirmative were your only response. You made a face.

"We'll wait for you inside, ma'am. You'll be able to shop privately." Brian gestured for you to step inside. You expected as much so it didn't bother you.

"Thank you." 

A saleswoman greeted you as soon as she saw you, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree. Like everyone else, she knew who your husband was and that your presence could mean a big commission. You declined politely, eyes scanning the store for the woman you had come to see.  

Ariana turned the corner at the perfect time, appearing as a beacon of light. She had been one of your best friends growing up, but over time you grew apart. She had her hand in the pot of illegal activities in and around Santo Padre, with Miguel's oversight, of course. You would never have thought the shoplifting pre-teen she had once been would climb the underworld ranks to be in a position to save your life.

Tears welled in your eyes as you hugged. "It's okay." She whispered in your ear, patting your back gently. "Smile." She instructed before pulling away. 

You shopped the store as if nothing was amiss, picking out different merchandise. Eventually, you separated, Ari sneaking off to the dressing rooms while you approached your guards. Your breath quickened at the scowl on Brian's face. 

"All the stress eating has finally caught up to me." You laughed, but he remained stone-faced. "I need to be measured." You gestured over your shoulder to the dressing room. "It'll only take a few minutes." You did your best not to overthink each step you took, feeling his intense glare on your back.

Once out of his eyesight, you bypassed the dressing rooms, choosing to step inside the door marked 'Employees Only.' Ariana waited for you there, shoving a full backpack into your arms. 

"Everything you will need is in there: a new ID and a passport. I even got a hold to a social security number for you. Memorize the information on your paperwork. You don't want to get caught up over something stupid."

You trembled as you processed the information, trying your hardest to breathe in and out deeply.

"Here's a set of keys. The silver Camry is parked directly across from the stairway on level three. The car's clean, registered with insurance and everything so you don't have to worry about being stopped. It has a full tank, and that should last you 600 miles if you're even going that far..." You adjusted the backpack on your back, squeezing the handles of your handbag extra tight. "...There's a cooler with a couple of waters and sandwiches so you won't have to stop." The large handbag hit the floor with a thud. You clasped her hands in your own to stop her rambling. 

"Thank you." She swallowed hard, and this time tears welled up in her eyes. "Don't worry, okay? No matter what happens, you did everything you could for me. I'll never be able to repay or thank you enough. I know you're risking a lot..." She shook her head, silencing you.

"You're worth it. Just do me a favor: live a happy life and never come back."

With one last hug, you were off, gaining a head start in the race against El Diablo.

You knew Miguel inside and out--how he would react to the news, and how he would respond. The Galindo Cartel had eyes and ears everywhere. Gas stations, airports, train stations, bus stations were all danger zones. All it would take is a single phone call for you to be caught. He would send men out to scour the city, figuring you couldn't have gotten far. While they wasted their time above ground, you'd be on the move underground.

Miguel would never expect you to use his tunnels to escape. When you had gotten married, he handed over a packet of papers. Among them were resources, numbers you could call, people you could trust if something ever happened to him, and you needed to get out. Also, among the papers were maps of the tunnels. They were hard to make sense of at first, but you studied them relentlessly. One wrong turn could spell disaster, send you in the wrong direction and right back into his arms but you had faith in your abilities. 

Besides human error, there was the issue of danger in the tunnels. People associated with him (and some not) used the tunnels to have meetings between shadowy figures or cross between California and Mexico. Smugglers used them to transport El Diablo's heroin. You could run into someone who knew you or worse someone who didn't. Without your husband's protection, you were just a lone woman making a long, perilous journey. It was entirely possible you'd meet your demise, and it'd have nothing to do with Miguel.

There was a very slim chance you'd make it out alive. If you were lucky, you'd eventually make it to the great state of Louisiana. You had friends there that would take you by boat to Mississippi. From there, you’d drive another car down to Florida. If you made it that far, you'd take the risk of getting on a plane. You’d fly to Europe where it would be easier for you to travel between countries. 

No matter where your journey ended, it would be well worth it. You wouldn’t live under Miguel's thumb any longer.

GENERAL TAGLIST

@WOAHITSLUCYYLU @BRIANNAB1234 @SHEESHGIVEMEABREAK @BREAKINGNEWSIN-NO-ONEASKED @ANGELREYESGIRL @BLESSEDBOO @GLIMMERGLITTERGIRL @APANTHERINMYPASTLIFE @BROWNSUGARCOFFY @MARVELMAREE @STARRYNITE7114 @SCUZMUNKIE

MIGUEL TAGLIST

@thesandbeneathmytoes

PART TWO REQUESTS

@blacvenus @myakai13 @losolvidad0s @my-little-wolfe @karensraisns @krysiewithak @langiinspirations @veryfastspeedz @stitchesbystults @itskiranbitch @fanficfavesofthephoenixfangirl @thisobssessionofmine

[soprano193]

Not a Couple

Chapter 9

Maura:

Waking in Paris without Jane was expected. A day earlier, Maura would have thought Jane would wake her, and they'd share a tearful goodbye as she took a taxi to the airport for her early flight. She hadn't expected the turn their last night would take, the way the light reflected off Jane's skin making her glow, her smile warm and inviting. If Maura could have stopped everything at that moment, she would have. Instead, she had kissed Jane, making her run away. Her closest friend ignored her pleas to come back, her hand covering her mouth as she backed away. In the hotel room she slept, her head under the blankets, so Maura couldn't see her face. And in the morning Maura awoke to a note on the pillow. I hope you can forget this someday. It was cryptic. Much with Jane was sometimes hard to understand at first. But now Maura didn't know if she could reach out and get the explanation. She was left feeling lost. She repeated those seven words like a mantra, trying to figure her friend out. In the taxi to the airport. I hope you can forget this someday. While sitting next to the snoring man in the window seat. I hope you can forget this someday. In the silent cab ride to her house. I hope you can forget this someday. And as she unpacked, finding Jane's worn Garciaparra t-shirt wrapped up in her laundry. I hope you can forget this someday. Sitting on her bed, Jane's Red Sox shirt in her hand, Maura let her tears fall. She didn't want to forget.

The next morning, after another fitful night of sleep, she made her way downstairs. Before she had time to process it, she was wrapped in the arms of her pseudo-mother, the Italian woman laughing as she tightened her grip. "Oh Maura, I missed you girls so much!" She pressed a loud kiss to Maura's cheek, making the Doctor smile.

Despite knowing the care behind the gesture, Maura couldn't help but stiffen. She wasn't quite upset enough for the touch to make her skin crawl, but the woman's embrace was enough to make Maura uncomfortable. When Angela let go, Maura felt like she could breathe again. "Hello, Angela! I've missed you, too." Her response was careful, just cheery enough to make Angela happy and not ask any questions.

The older woman beckoned her over to the island, where Maura saw a plate and steaming cup ready. "I made you breakfast and some tea." Sitting, Maura noticed Angela had made her famous bunny pancake, its face complete with a smile that was unnatural for the species, but adorable on a pancake. Angela leaned on the counter across from Maura, watching her with anticipation. Although Maura wasn't interested in eating, she took a bite off the ear, faking a smile in the other woman's direction. Angela seemed to take the bait, relaxing, and wiping the counter. "It's not a fresh croissant with jam, but I thought it was better than nothing."

"Thank you." Maura took another bite and sipped her tea. She tossed another smile at Angela, hoping she looked natural. "Did Jane text you? Did she make it home alright?"

"She didn't tell you?"

Maura's palms began to perspire. That was the wrong question to ask. Thinking on her feet, Maura began to talk. "Well, I was flying when she landed, so I'm sure she wasn't thinking about me."

It took a moment, but Angela began to nod at the explanation. "Makes sense." Maura breathed out as she spoke, thankful for the simple explanation, thankful that she didn't need to get into the longer explanation. Abandoning the towel, Angela leaned forward, the corners of her mouth pulled upward. "So tell me. How was Paris?"

It was the one question she knew was going to come up, but didn't want to answer. Her mind wandered back to Paris, catching Jane's face in the hall of mirrors, or the way her eyes shone in the lights of the Tower at night, laughing with her in the catacombs, and the little moments alone together in their room. Then she heard those words in the back of her mind. I hope you can forget this someday. Looking down at the pancake she didn't want to eat, she answered. "Paris was really fun. Jane told me she sent you pictures."

"Well she did, but she didn't say much."

Sighing, Maura took one last bite of her pancake before pushing her chair back. "Well, I can tell you more later tonight. Right now, I need to head to work. I have to check in with Dr. Drake, and catch up on some of my more official business."

"But you just got home. Can't you take a day to relax?" Maura could hear the dejection in the older woman's voice. As much as she wanted to talk about her vacation with Jane, the memories were so potent and too painful.

"I relaxed for a month. I need to get back to work." Feeling sorry, Maura offered Angela a short hug, trying not to make it feel stiff. "We'll talk later."

True to her word, Maura dressed for work, picking out a blue and white patterned skirt and a navy blouse with ruffles down the front. Saying a final goodbye to her tenant, Maura rushed out the door and headed to her car.

Kent had been efficient in her absence. Their caseload was manageable, the techs had done adequate work, and Maura found only a few instances of speculation. Even her office looked untouched, everything exactly as she remembered it before she left. It bothered her that it brought her comfort. She started by familiarizing herself with the cases she had missed. Listening to Kent's autopsy and going over the evidence presented by Detectives helped her feel like she had actually been there.

She had been listening for an hour when Dr. Drake made his appearance, knocking softly at her door. Waving, he came to stand in front of her desk. "You're back! I thought you'd take a day to reset your internal clock."

"Well, jet lag is easier to overcome when flying west, so I don't think it will be a big deal." She gestured to the couch, feeling more comfortable when both were sitting. "It looks like things went well here. There isn't much I need to address." At his nod, Maura continued. "Thank you for running things to my standards."

"Of course." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So, how was Paris?"

"I kissed Jane." She blurted it out before she could stop it, watching the look on his face as she spoke. Excitement, followed by confusion, the same emotions she felt by the whole event. Placing her hands in the middle on her forehead, she slowly moved them outward, slowing her thoughts and grounding her to the present. "I'm sorry for dumping this on you."

"No, it's fine. You don't need to apologize." His words made her sigh out in relief, her posture relaxing. "I'm guessing Jane didn't react well?"

"Jane ran away. I tried to give her space, but she was sleeping when I got back to the room." Or pretending to. Her breathing wasn't as deep as it was when she slept. Maura hadn't pushed it, wanting to give her time to process her thoughts. Pushing would have only made things worse.

"I have to admit, that's not the reaction I thought Jane would have." At Maura's puzzled look, he continued. "I didn't think your feelings were one-sided, just not realized by either party."

"For a few days, I thought the same thing." She remembered all the times she'd caught Jane looking at her over their trip. The hairs on her arm stood up as she remembered her friend calling her gorgeous before their outing to Notre Dame. "I saw the look on her face in the hall of mirrors, her eyes sad, but there was something else there. She didn't take her eyes off me either like she was afraid I was leaving. And I swear, while looking at the stained glass at Notre Dame, she was looking at me when she said it was beautiful." She could still feel Jane's gaze now, boring a hole into her cheek. "But I've never been good with social cues. I must have missed something."

Leaning back into the couch, Kent let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Maura."

She chuckled. "No need to apologize. It's not your fault." She traced the design in her skirt with her finger. "I was thinking. Whenever I don't know what to do in a social situation, I consult Jane. She doesn't judge me, and she explains things in a way I'll understand. This is the one situation where I couldn't consult her, so I'm not surprised that I've messed things up."

Kent's voice was soft, even, his attempt at keeping her calm. "Have you talked to her?" As Maura shook her head, he continued. "Well, you need to. The bond you two share is special. Even if I'm wrong and she doesn't feel the same, I believe you two can work past this."

Maura sat with his words, thinking about them as he stood. Thinking back to Paris, how domestic it had been, how normal their proximity felt, Maura wasn't sure she wanted to go back to just friendship. But considering the alternative led to the absence of Jane in her life, friendship was something she could settle on. Nodding, she addressed Kent as he left her office. "Thank you."

Back at home, she tried to return to some version of normalcy. With a plate of Angela's leftover risotto and a glass of wine, Maura settled at the table to read a medical journal. The only indication of the time changing was the steady emptying of her wine glass, and she was surprised when she heard the door open and close, signaling the end of Angela's shift. "Good! You're still awake!" She dropped her purse on the island and wrapped Maura in another tight embrace. Considering her chat earlier with Kent, Maura was feeling a bit better than she had been that morning and welcomed the contact with more ease.

"Would you like a glass? I've already had one." Maura pointed to the open bottle of wine still on the counter.

"No thanks. I'm meeting Ron for breakfast tomorrow." She did however get herself a glass of water, facing Maura from across the island. "So, tell me more about Paris. Did you two go to the Louvre?"

Maura swallowed, taking a moment to push her feelings for Jane to the side. She then smiled, remembering the artwork. "We did. I always seem to find something new that I like there each visit. This time I fell in love with the Lamassu."

Before she could start talking about the sheer age and condition of the statues, Angela interrupted, severing Maura's train of thought. "Did you see the Mona Lisa? Or the statue with no arms? I was so surprised that the Mona Lisa was so small."

Maura laughed. "We did. And Jane deduced that the Venus de Milo might have been dancing the hula."

This got Angela laughing. "Did she now?" So Maura decided to pull out her phone and look for the picture. She realized at once it was a bad idea. Scrolling through all those photos of Jane made compartmentalization much more difficult. When she found the picture, she passed the phone to Angela, who chuckled, her eyes tearing up. "I miss her." She began to flip through more pictures, and Maura was relieved that the last few they took were on Jane's phone and not hers. "It looks like you two had fun." She said it as she passed the phone back to Maura, her eyes searching the Doctor's face like she could see what Maura was hiding. It made her uncomfortable.

"We did." Standing with her plate and empty wine glass, she began to clean up her mess. "I hate to rush out on you again, but you have an early morning, and my body still doesn't know what time it is, so I'm finding myself tired."

Angela put her glass down, taking Maura's plate and shooing her away. "Don't worry, honey, I've got this. You go get some rest."

"Thank you. See you in the morning." Maura waited for the older woman's soft smile before leaving the room, walking up to her bedroom. Before changing, she sat on her bed and opened her phone, clicking on the familiar contact and typing out a quick message. Your Mom told me you arrived home safely. I hope things go well at Quantico. She placed her phone on the nightstand and changed into Jane's Red Sox shirt, climbing between the covers when done. Her phone chimed. Sorry I didn't let you know. I'm glad you're home safe. It was distant still, but it made Maura hopeful. Hopeful that they would again speak like they used to.

Maura was awoken early by a call to a crime scene. In a way, it was a relief that she wouldn't have to face Angela again in the morning. She also enjoyed the return to some sort of normalcy after a month away. The familiar hustle of a crime scene was oddly comforting. As she was let past the red tape, she took a cursory look as to what was inside. A woman, maybe thirty years of age, lying facedown on the living room floor, a large red puddle underneath her. About twenty feet away marked with a yellow placard, lay a handgun. Another young woman with dark hair cried in the corners near while talking to a uniformed officer. Nodding at them both, Maura knelt beside the victim. Brushing her dark hair aside, she saw bruising on the sides of her neck. Moving her shirt, she noticed the marks went down her back. Her heart fell as the story started to piece together.

"Detective Rizzoli." Someone said it in greeting, and Maura felt her breath hitch as she looked for the curly-haired woman. It shouldn't have surprised her to see Frankie instead, a redhead in plainclothes following right behind him. Pushing her disappointment to the side, Maura smiled and waved at the confidant man entering the crime scene.

"Maura! You're back!" He grinned, touching her shoulder as she remained crouched. "How was Paris?"

"Beautiful, as always." It was the answer she had rehearsed the whole way over, She stood, shedding her gloves and offering the man a hug. "How have things been here in Boston?"

"Business as usual." Turning, he waved his hand, urging the redhead closer. "Dr. Isles, this is my new partner, Detective Hyde."

She reached forward and grasped Maura's hand, her grip firm. "It's nice to meet you, Dr, Isles. Frank and Nina have told me all about you."

"Please, call me Maura. It's nice to meet you too, Detective Hyde."

The woman smiled, warmth shining through her bright blue eyes. "Linn. Short for Linnet."

Letting go of Linn's hand, Maura pulled out two new gloves from her pockets. "Pretty name, Welsh I believe?" The woman nodded, a knowing grin on her face. "It suits you." She bent down again, feeling the joints and examining the body. As she made her observations, she addressed the more senior detective. "Have you started wedding planning?"

Frankie chuckled at that, pulling out his phone. "Nina and her sisters have all that covered. They even made me a checklist, see?" He scrolled through an exhausting number of tasks to complete. "Nina wants to wait for Thanksgiving to go dress shopping. She wants to give Jane the chance to join."

"That's nice." Her answer was short. If Frankie realized, he didn't say anything or just thought she was busy with her observations.

"Don't tell her, but Nina wants her to be a bridesmaid."

For a moment, Maura pictured Jane standing next to Nina, a burgundy red dress hugging her curves, her hair in neat curls hanging by her shoulders. Maura had to fight to push the daydream away, reminding herself that she had a job to do. She looked up at Frankie, flashing him a reassuring look. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

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Work brought Maura a sense of relief. After a month off, she had a lot of managerial tasks and business to attend to, things Kent was not able to handle in his position. And it may have been wrong, but Maura began using work as a way to stay away from Angela. After a few days of dodging every question about Paris she asked, Maura found it was easier to work late on Angela's nights off or go to bed early when the older woman came home, citing an early day the next morning. This bought her a few more days avoiding questions. Now she only hoped that the interest would wear off.

After a week of being back, one day after work Maura fired up her fireplace and settled on the couch with a medical journal on her iPad and a cup of tea on the side table. Angela, who wasn't supposed to be home until late into the night, surprised her by plopping onto the couch next to her, holding out an envelope. "For you."

Her pseudo-mother looked serious, her face stoic, piquing the Doctor's interest. Inside she found two checks for nine-hundred dollars. She felt her eyebrows pull closer, and she studied the brunette sitting beside her. "Why are you giving me two months' worth of rent?"

"Ron's taking me on a road trip. I wanted to make sure you had next month's rent before I leave."

Shaking her head, Maura handed back one of the checks. "Angela, if you aren't going to be here, you don't need to pay."

"Nonsense." Angela was firm, placing the check back in Maura's lap. "Any other apartment would still charge me rent."

Maura held the check in her hand, her thumb spinning in circles at the top corner. Angela wanted to do this. She had almost left because she wanted to do this, to feel like she was self-sufficient. So swallowing her worry, Maura accepted the check, placing it back in the envelope with its twin. Looking back at the older woman, who was now beaming, Maura offered her a smile. "So, when do you leave?"

"In the morning. He won't tell me the destination, but he promised that we could spend time in DC so I could visit with Jane." If she noticed the stiffening of the Doctor at the mention of her best friend, she didn't say anything. "I actually can't chat for long, I have to finish packing." She gestured to the door behind her.

Nodding, Maura closed the cover of her iPad. "I should go to bed soon anyway. I have to drive to Worcester in the morning to interview candidates for Dr. Pike's position."

"You finally fired that guy?" Angela laughed, standing from the couch.

"Goodness, no. I can't stand him, but I had no reason to fire him." Maura stood, following her housemate to the door. "His wife got her dream job in Oklahoma, so they're moving."

"Well, I hope you find someone good."

"Me too." She opened the door. "Have a nice trip, Angela, I'll see you when you get back."

The woman surprised her again, wrapping her up in her arms, squeezing tight, her mouth right next to Maura's ear. "You know I love you, right?" At Maura's affirmative answer, her arms resting lightly around the woman's waist, she continued. "And you can talk to me about anything, even when I'm not here. Whenever you're ready."

At those words, Maura felt tears stinging in her eyes which she fought to keep from falling. Somehow she knew. This wasn't a surprise, but it helped to know that Angela didn't think any less of her. "I know. Thank you." Before pulling away, Angela pressed a kiss to Maura's cheek, the move maternal and completely natural to her. She offered a small smile before leaving through the door, allowing Maura to close it behind her.

Sitting on her bed, Maura sent another text. Your mother is leaving for a road trip tomorrow. She says she's going to visit you. As she changed into her own pajamas, Jane's shirt folded on top of her dresser, her phone chimed, alerting her to a response. Yeah. It will be nice to see a familiar face. Resting her head on her pillow, she typed, erased, and typed again until she figured out how to say best what she wanted to. I can always make time for a video chat if you need to see a familiar face. Satisfied, she sent it, putting her phone on her nightstand and rolling over, letting herself drift off to sleep.

The next morning she awoke, seeing a response from the previous night. I know, Maura. I'll keep that in mind.

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After another week of catching up, Maura's backed up work began to subside and she started seeing patients at MEND again. It was more work that she was grateful for, as it kept her out of her quiet apartment, and kept her mind occupied. More often, she was opting out of the nightly meet up at The Dirty Robber with the crew, and instead found herself examining increasingly difficult cases for the patients at MEND.

After a week of double duty, she was thrilled one day when they could wrap a case early and she could unwind at home. Saying goodbye to the Detectives, and forwarding her final report, she took a moment to enjoy the crisp air before making her way inside her home. Once inside, for the first time since returning from her trip, she found herself perusing her manuscript. Sitting at the island with a bottle of water, she refamiliarized herself with the story, and what she planned to do to improve it. Soon, Maura began to write, expanding her universe and trying to give her characters more depth.

It wasn't long before a knock at her front door interrupted her work. Maura glanced down at her phone, looking for a clue as to whom it could be. Closing the laptop, she went to answer the door. "Nina! What a lovely surprise." The Detective was still dressed for work, her badge hooked to her hip. She carried with her a pink box about the size of a shoebox. Moving aside, Maura allowed her friend to enter.

"Sorry for dropping by unannounced." She moved to lean against the island, depositing the box on the counter beside her. "I feel like I don't see you anymore."

With a guilty grimace, Maura clasped her hands in front of her. "I had a lot to catch up on after my trip. And MEND needs more help, especially with Hope overseeing the shortage of providers overseas, but when things calm down I'll…"

"Maura! It's okay, we understand." The younger woman's voice was forceful, stopping Maura's rambling. "I didn't mean to send you spiraling." She traced her fingers over the pink box. "I've just had this in my car for the last two weeks, waiting for the right time to give it to you."

Pointing, hesitant, Maura inched closer. "That's for me?"

Nina edged the box toward the Doctor. "Open it." Though confused, Maura closed the space between herself and the box and opened it. Pink tissue paper filled the empty space. Inside she found a small bottle of champagne, a silver necklace with a high-heeled shoe charm, and a glass candle jar, silver-grey lettering spelling out the word, 'bridesmaid'. Nina's smile was wide as Maura examined each item, unsure of what to say. The younger woman, thankfully, knew how to break the silence as Maura looked between her and the box. "So I'll take that as a yes?"

"Of course!" Maura leaned in at that moment, wrapping the shorter woman in her arms, delighted when she reciprocated. "I'm so honored you thought of me."

Pulling away, dark eyes met Maura's, their tone serious, but her face joyful. "Please, Maura. You welcomed me into your life with open arms. You made Boston feel like home." She giggled. "Plus, you're my karaoke buddy."

"Oh, I don't think I want to do that again. I'm not sure of the efficacy it had on my neural pathways."

Laughing, Nina pulled away from the counter, making Maura turn to face her. "You have to do it at least once!"

"I don't think I have to."

Nina pushed her lip out, pouting. "Not even for the bride?"

Maura hadn't been in a lot of weddings. In fact, she hadn't been in one. But she knew that historically, what the bride asked for, the bride got. With a shocked gasp, she cried out, "That's not fair!"

"I know!" Nina's laughter could only be described as maniacal, cackling as she walked toward the door. Maura moved with her, to see her out. Before Maura opened the door, Nina turned to look at her, face now serious, dark eyes kind. "You know, you need to maintain a healthy work/life balance. I understand needing to catch up, or fill in while Dr. Martin is away. But please, join us at the Dirty Robber at some point. We know that none of us are Jane, but we can still have fun."

Maura knew that her words intended to comfort her, but instead, they stung. Nina had seen through the charade. Hanging out with her friends meant acknowledging that things had changed. Maura didn't adapt well to change. With a reserved nod at the Detective, Maura opened the door to see her out. "I will try to make an appearance as soon as Hope is back in the states."

"I'd like that. Take care, Maura."

Maura waved before closing the door behind her friend. Checking the time, she took a moment to put the bottle of champagne away. Before leaving, she smelled the candle, an interesting mix of lavender and wild ginger, put her computer away, and attempted to push the image of both her and Jane standing up at the altar together out of her mind.

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It was a few days later during one of her rare days off that her birth mother's face flashed on her screen. "Hello?"

"Maura! How are you? How was your vacation?"

"I'm good. It was nice." Almost a month later, and the sting of the last few hours was still harsh. But it was easier to ignore as she thought back on happier memories. "How is Morocco?"

"Busy. I must admit, that is why I'm calling."

"Go on."

"Well, there's still a shortage of providers, and a nasty outbreak of influenza keeps us fully booked each day. It looks like I need to delay my trip home another two weeks."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Maura sat at her island, a notepad handy. "How can I help?"

"It's a bit of an odd request, I'm afraid." Maura could hear background noise decrease, as if Hope had stepped into an office. "Do you remember me mentioning opening another clinic in the United States in DC?" At Maura's hum of acknowledgment, she continued. "This great property just opened up. I planned to go see the site on Saturday when I returned. But now I'm stuck here, and I'm worried someone else will make an offer before I even get back to the States."

It took Maura a minute to register what she was asking. "So you want me to meet with the realtor?"

"Could you? Do you have the time? The only other person I trust is Cailin, and she's busy with class. I know you wouldn't steer me wrong. I can pay for your hotel, and get your ticket."

"I have miles. You don't need to buy my ticket."

Hope let out a sigh on the other end of the phone. "Maura, I can't thank you enough for doing this."

"It's no problem. I needed an excuse to go to DC anyway." Her mind drifted to Jane's t-shirt, still folded on top of her dresser.

"Thank you. I'll email you all the details, along with a list of questions to ask, feel free to ask your own if you think of any." Maura heard muffled voices in the background. "I need to go now, my next appointment is here."

"Okay. Stay safe, and I'll see you when you get home." When the call ended, Maura stopped what she was doing and went upstairs to pack. She wouldn't let a last-minute trip leave her unprepared. She planned on three days, pulling out outfits for each day. She grabbed her smaller suitcase, one suitable for the overhead bins, and placed it on the bed. The first thing she packed was Jane's Garciaparra shirt. It gave her a reason to visit, hopefully showing Jane that life was better off when they were on speaking terms.

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Her flight on Saturday left at eight in the morning, getting her in the Capital around 10. After waiting around for her rental car, she had only a few minutes to refresh in her hotel room before rushing out to meet the realtor.

The property was nice, a square building with plenty of parking surrounding it. Maura noticed several bus stops along the way that meant it would be accessible to people who relied on public transportation. She parked in a spot behind the two cars, figuring one was the realtor. The other car was idling. Upon exiting her vehicle, the voice she heard made her eyes go wide. "Ma, just get in the car! You can tell me all about the turtle or tortoise later!" Unable to believe what she was hearing, Maura walked in front of her vehicle to glance between the two that she was parked behind. Angela leaned against the white car, her eyes looking down at her phone. Jane, with her curls pulled back into a loose ponytail, stood at the door of the idling car, her hand on the handle.

"Angela? Jane? What are you guys doing here?" Maura could feel her eyebrows furrowing as she took in the sight before her.

Angela reacted fast, her mouth dropping open, as she moved to hug the Doctor. "Maura! What are you doing here?" She wrapped the blonde in a tight grip, her face now hidden from view. But Maura was more interested in Jane's reaction.

Jane watched her Mother, her eyes flickering with anger, her mouth slightly ajar. She thought something was up. But as she looked at Maura, her expression softened, anger was replaced with worry. She flashed a shy smile that made Maura's stomach flip. "Hi, Maur. Fancy meeting you here. In this random parking lot."

Maura stepped back, making Angela pull away. Gesturing toward the empty building, Maura addressed the older woman first. "Hope sent me here. She wants me to look at this office, and determine if it's a good spot for another MEND clinic." Turning to address Jane, she continued. "I was going to call you after my showing."

"You don't have to explain yourself."

"It's not an explanation, it's the truth." While others may have been surprised by Maura's blunt reply, Jane didn't blink, and answered with a nod. Encouraged by this, Maura continued. "My plane landed two hours ago. Hope called me just a few days ago. None of this was well planned, so I wanted to call you when I was settled."

The brunette nodded, shoulders relaxing. "I believe you. Sorry."

Next to her, Angela typed away at her phone, typing in an address to her phone's GPS. "Jane! Ron said he found a store with a new GPS. It's straight down this road, I can't miss it." She put her phone in her pocket and walked over to her daughter, wrapping her in a hug and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Jane pulled away from the contact, her face scrunched and her eyes narrowed as her mother made her escape. "I need to go get it, he said there's only one left and I don't want someone else to buy it first."

"Ma, I drove here to get you. You're just gonna leave me?" Jane held her hands open, waiting for an explanation.

"You're not alone! You have Maura!" She opened her door. "We can get dinner, and I can see your new apartment tomorrow."

Jane sighed, crossing her arms. "Okay. Drive safe, Ma."

As Angela began to pull out of the parking lot, a red SUV pulled in. Maura gestured to it. "That's probably my guy."

Jane hesitated for a moment as if deciding what to say. "Yeah. So you're busy. Maybe we can do something tomorrow." She reached for her handle again.

"Jane, wait." The last time Maura had said those words, Jane ran. This time, she stopped, turning once more to face the Doctor. "Why don't you come in with me. I can't see this taking long, and I would love to grab lunch after. You know the good places to eat around here."

"What makes you think that?" Her tone was hesitant, but she wore a faint smile on the corner of her lips. Maura longed to turn the faint smile into an overt one, even just for a moment.

"Please. It's been a month. Your fridge ratio is probably seventy-thirty take out containers to fresh food."

This made the Instructor laugh, and Maura could feel some of the tension between them release. "You still know me so well."

Maura laughed along with her, letting the tension clear and relishing in the sound. It had been too long. "Of course I do. We haven't changed." She hoped the message was clear. Nothing had to change.

Whether Jane found it comforting was unclear. The taller woman nodded, eyes downcast. "I guess we haven't." She reached for the car door again, this time opening it, leaning in, and turning the car off. She pocketed her keys and gave the Doctor a curt nod. With a wave of her arms, she gestured toward the building and the waiting man. "After you."

The man was shorter in stature, dark skin, and black hair, but he seemed friendly enough as they approached. "Dr. Isles?" At her nod, he continued, thrusting out his hand. "Dave Ganem, it's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too. This is my friend, Jane. She's going to join us for the viewing. Do you mind if I record this? It will make things easier when I have to send my recommendations to my M… To Dr. Martin." She wondered if he caught the label she almost dropped, one she still wasn't sure how she felt about Hope using. A glance in Jane's direction told her she had caught on, her eyes soft with a dimpled grin. It made Maura's stomach flip again, and she tried to remember if she'd had this reaction every time Jane had given her that same look.

Mr. Ganem's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Of course not. Feel free to take videos and photographs, too." Pulling a key from his pocket, he unlocked the doors and led them inside. "Let's get started."

The building must have been used once already for medical purposes. There were fifteen dedicated exam rooms, a few rooms large enough for some imaging equipment, and three dedicated office spaces. Maura discovered that they were a twenty-minute drive away from a hospital, that the previous owners had decided to retire, and that the area received a lot of foot traffic. She had Jane and Mr. Ganem have a conversation in one exam room while trying to listen from the other room, noting that she could not make it out. Considering how loud she knew her friend could be, this was a pro in her mind. Aside from the electrical issue with the fan in the bathroom, all the building needed was a fresh coat of paint.

"Thank you, Mr. Ganem. I will have Dr. Martin review all of this, but I'm sure she'll be in touch." She shook his hand and offered him a warm smile.

"I look forward to it. It was so nice to meet you both." While shaking hands with Jane, he gave her a knowing look. "The Yankees are going all the way this year."

Jane chuckled, and Maura imagined she squeezed his hand a little harder. "In your dreams, pal."

They both laughed as they pulled away from each other, Jane's head shaking as she turned to walk toward their cars. Her hand fell to the small of Maura's back as they walked, the touch sending shivers up Maura's spine. She longed to lean back into it, to reciprocate somehow, but words started flashing in her head. I hope you can forget this someday. Afraid to scare Jane as she was becoming more comfortable, Maura opted to continue as if she hadn't noticed. "Of course you two discussed sports."

"Well, you put me in a room with a guy I don't know and ask me to talk to him about something. What did you expect?"

"I guess you have a point." Maura giggled, shaking her head. As they walked, her stomach let out an audible growl. "I haven't eaten since I had that Danish at Logan."

Stopping at her car, Jane dropped her hand from Maura's back and started playing with her keys in her other hand. "Okay. We're right down the road from Black Market." Maura couldn't help but imagine a dark alley with people selling food dressed in trenchcoats. Jane must have registered the puzzled expression because she clarified with a snort. "It's a bar, Maur. It reminds me of home."

"Oh! That makes sense. Okay, I'll follow you."

They parked next to each other at the bar. Maura took a moment to shoot Hope a text, saying to jump on the place, and that more info would come later. Jane waited by the car until she was done, and then led the way up the walkway and into the building.

Maura understood why Black Market reminded Jane of home. The set up was very similar to the Dirty Robber. The lighting was dim, booths were set up along the windows, the bar itself was long. Instead of nautical decorations, the ones here seemed to be focused on police and FBI memorabilia. Jane picked the seat that would have been their booth back home. As Maura looked over the menu, Jane ordered their drinks. "It's a nice place."

"It's far enough away from campus that I don't usually see recruits here."

"It's more than that." She put down the menu, having decided what to eat, and took the opportunity to look Jane in the eye. "It's familiar. I mean, you chose our spot."

Jane's mouth perked up on one side at that comment. "You noticed."

"How could I miss it?" It seemed like Jane wasn't sure what to say, as she played with the napkin that wrapped up her silverware. So Maura decided to pull the conversation along. "How is Quantico?"

"I like it a lot more than I thought I would." They paused to order food, and for Maura to butter up a bread roll to calm her growling stomach. "Right now I'm mostly observing. Which I'm thankful for, considering I've never taught, but a few instructors have allowed me to teach some modules, and it's amazing."

"You have taught. You taught Frankie everything he knows."

Jane snorted, grabbing a roll and taking a bite before answering. "I taught Frankie a lot. But he was a group effort. How is he doing?"

"He seems to be doing well. His new partner, Hyde, is different."

"Different how?" Jane leaned forward with anticipation.

"She's soft. Her face is soft, her demeanor is warm, she's even soft-spoken." Thinking back to the squad room a few months ago, Linnet Hyde varied in every possible way from the people who had left. "It's not bad per se, but it is amusing to watch her try to play mean cop while Frankie is being nice cop."

"You mean good cop/bad cop?"

With a scoff, Maura took the correction. "Yes. You know what I mean." They continued their conversations through their meal, both skirting around any mention of Paris with apparent ease. Jane reminded Maura to work less and connect with people, showing that she had been in touch with people from back home, and they had talked about her. Maura asked about her new workout routine now that she wasn't chasing down criminals. And Jane filled her in on the few new friends she was making, some instructors and a neighbor. Jane picked up the tab, despite Maura's protestations, and they remained seated, neither ready to leave. "I've missed this." Maura began carefully, testing things out, wondering if Jane was ready for a bigger conversation. "Talking to you, I mean."

"Yeah." Jane's eyes went downward again, the Instructor avoiding the Doctor's gaze. "I think this is the longest we've gone without speaking."

"I think you're right." Their fight after the Doyle shooting had only lasted about ten days and had been agonizing. Things had been said on both sides then, things said in anger, that both were too stubborn to apologize for. Now things needed to be said. Watching as Jane played with the condensation on the outside of her cup, her refusal to meet Maura's eye, Maura backed off. "Let's not let it get like this again." She reached for her friend's hand, making her look up, and Maura flashed her a smile meant to reassure. "Can we agree to at least weekly Skype calls?"

Jane squeezed her hand back, making her stomach flip for the third time that day. "I think I can fit you into my schedule."

Walking back to their cars, Maura prepared herself to say goodbye. But a glimpse at Jane's Red Sox keychain reminded her of the Garciaparra shirt in her bag. "I have something that belongs to you!" She blurted, making Jane's eyes grow wide with amusement. "It's at my hotel."

Glancing at her watch, Jane played with her keys in her hand. "I have time. I'll follow you."

The ride to the hotel took longer, with it situated just outside the city. And Jane parked further away, so Maura had to wait at the door. She didn't seem like she was in a rush, typing on her phone as she walked. As she slipped her phone in her pocket, she followed Maura through the lobby and into the elevator. She was close, as close as they had been leaving the medical office, but this time her hand wasn't in the small of Maura's back. The Doctor began to wonder if it was normal to crave that contact.

Her hotel room was on the fourth floor, two doors down from the elevator, a real convenient spot. She opened the door with her room key and held the door open, inviting Jane in. "It's still in my bag. I think it got mixed in with my laundry in Paris." She began digging through her bag, knowing it was underneath the rest of her belongings. "I was going to return it at Thanksgiving. But this trip presented me with a different option." Grasping the cotton shirt, She turned with a triumphant grin to had it to the waiting Instructor.

Jane's eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped as she unfolded it and looked at the number on the back. "Nomah!"

"I don't think that's english."

Jane laughed, a grateful smile gracing her lips as she ran her fingers over the shirt. "No, it's Nomar. His first name, but you have to say it with your most obnoxious Boston accent. It's like a rule or something." Placing the shirt down on the table, she faced Maura and met her eyes, her smile soft and warm. "I've been looking for that shirt. Thank you, Maur." And then Jane pulled her into a hug.

Long arms wrapped around her, and Maura swore she stopped breathing. Jane's hair tickled the side of her face, and Maura had to stop picturing what it would be like to run her fingers through Jane's wild mane. The scent of lavender and honeysuckle brought a sense of warmth that she wasn't anticipating. And yet all she could think of were those words. I hope you can forget this someday. So instead of reciprocating, Maura stiffened.

Jane realized it after about four seconds, backing away, her head down. "Um. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." She allowed Maura to back up, Which she did until her calves met the back of an armchair. Sitting, she took deep breaths, trying to calm herself down, wondering when her cheeks had become wet. Jane looked at her when she heard the noise. Maura was nervous she'd run again, or that the progress they'd made earlier would be negated. Instead, Jane sighed, sitting at the foot of the bed. "Maura, I'm sorry. Please don't cry."

She didn't stop. Though she found it ironic that the one person who truly helped her feel better when she cried, was now the cause of it. Taking steadying breaths, she allowed herself to ask the question that had been plaguing her for a month. "What did you want me to forget?"

Brown eyes grew wide with recognition, the grimace in her face and the way she shrunk indicating that she was ashamed. "I didn't mean…"

"I mean, I've been saying those words over and over in my head all month trying to figure it out. Because I don't want to forget Paris. We had so much fun, and did so much laughing, and I felt like our relationship grew in response. And I can't forget you, Jane. You're in most of my happiest memories, you've been there during the worst parts of my life, and you're a person I picture still being around in my future. The thought of forgetting you is unbearable, Jane." That particular interpretation of the note was her biggest fear, the one her mind liked to tell her was most likely.

"I don't want that." Jane's voice sounded small, without it's usual gravitas, but she straightened her shoulders as she spoke. It showed some confidence in her words.

"Well, we went almost a month without communication, you can't blame me for thinking that."

"I know. But that's not what I meant." She looked away, her hands folded on her knees. Taking a deep breath in, and letting it out, she continued. "I wanted you to forget the kiss." The kiss. Maura didn't think she ever would. The lamplight that lit up her face in such a beautiful way, the river lapping in the background, the way they fit together perfectly, the feel of Jane's hands on her hips, how she felt like she was on fire, how suddenly everything made sense. Every moment of that kiss she wanted to remember forever. Jane's voice in the room pulled her back to the present. "I wanted you to forget being ashamed."

This made Maura's eyebrows knot together, her gaze focusing on the profile of Jane's face. "What makes you think I was ashamed?"

Jane's eyes rolled as she met Maura's gaze. "I'm a cop, Maura, I know what shame looks like. You looked down and away from me. You covered part of your face. You were ashamed."

Maura thought back to that night, remembering the immediate aftermath, the disappointed anguish flashing in Jane's eyes. "I wasn't ashamed of you." She met Jane's gaze for those words, hopeful that she would believe them. "I was ashamed of myself."

"Why in the world would you be ashamed of yourself?"

"For a number of reasons. First and foremost, you were romantically linked to someone else."

This made Jane scoff. "You were ashamed because of Davies?" Maura chuckled as she nodded, letting go of the tension in her body. "Let me clear that up for you. Davies texted me once before we left, and then I accidentally ignored him for a month. Toward the end of that month, I realized it wasn't gonna work between the two of us. Which only became more obvious once I locked lips with you."

Maura's stomach twisted in knots. "I didn't want to be the cause of that."

"It would have happened whether we kissed or not. I would have had the same problems with him that I had with Casey. Or Dean."

"Gabriel." Maura had to laugh as Jane cringed. The brunette joined in the laughter, and Maura could feel the unease begin to lift from the air between them. "Can I admit something to you?"

"At this point, I think you can tell me anything." She sat straighter on the edge of the bed, turning to face the blonde, giving her full attention.

Now it was Maura's turn to look away, afraid of how her words would be received. "It was a few months ago that I realized that my feelings for you went deeper than a normal friendship. Paris was harder on me than I thought it would be. Everything we did was so domestic, and it made me start thinking of how things could be all the time." She looked up briefly, finding the Instructor still looking at her, her eyes filled with adoration. Finding it too much, Maura looked away again. "I also realized a few months ago that if I acted on my feelings it would change everything. So that night, when I kissed you, I was ashamed at myself, for going back on my promise, and for working against my own self interests. I didn't want to change anything." She looked up to see Jane biting back her lips, like she was holding something in. Maura offered a shy smile, and began running her finger over the pattern on the armchair. She could hear her heart beating in her ears.

"So I guess it's my turn." The brunette was abrupt, crossing her legs and leaning forward. "At some point in Paris, I realized that things weren't going to work out between between me and Davies because I was falling for you." As Jane spoke, Maura looked at her, her peripheral vision going blank as she focused. "Like, really falling, Maura. I kept getting jealous of the husband you don't have." It was the laughter sob that revealed to Maura that she was crying again as she listened to her best friend speak, and she delighted in the smile that graced the brunette's face. "So when we kissed, I thought things between us were changing, and then when I saw your face, I was upset. And I reacted badly to that. It wasn't fair to you, and I'm sorry for that."

Maura nodded accepting the apology and taking it all in. After a long pause between the two of them, Maura asked the question at the forefront of her mind. "Do you still want things to change between us?"

Brown eyes blinked in disbelief. "Are you being serious?" At Maura's nod, a huge dimpled grin stretched wide across her face. "Yeah, I want things to change. Do you?"

Maura felt her breath hitch. "I would be amenable to that."

It wasn't even all the way out of her mouth before Jane was moving, closing the space between them. She cupped Maura's face in her hands and brought their lips crashing together, her fingers coming up to wipe tears from Maura's face. It was a move laced with such adoration and intimacy that Maura almost added more to her cheeks. Jane moved from her lips, peppering kisses down her jaw and along her cheek. She stopped briefly to whisper in Maura's ear, sending shivers down her spine. "All these years, and I still can't get a simple yes or no?"

Her hands on Jane's waist, she pulled down so she was sitting on her lap. "Yes." She husked into Jane's ear before peppering kisses down into her neck. She used her hands to pull out Jane's ponytail, finally allowing herself to run her fingers through her dark hair. Jane took advantage of her new position to run her fingers over Maura's back. Maura imagined this was what it felt like for every neuron in her body to fire at once. There wasn't an inch of her that wasn't electrified by Jane's touch, buy the brush of Jane's lips, by the sounds she was making as she gave in to her inhibitions.

Maura was upset she had to stop them, saying Jane's name a few times with some force. "I hate to bring this up right now of all times, but aren't you supposed to meet your mother for dinner?"

Jane chuckled, her grin seductive. "I rescheduled in the parking lot. Told her we were catching up." Her hands slid under Maura's blouse, touching bare skin and sending a new wave of pleasure through her body. "I did not tell her that we were catching up on eight years of missed opportunity."

"That's probably wise." Maura chuckled, launching back at Jane's lips.

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Maura woke to a languid kiss, a hand caressing her bare hip. Reaching for her lover, she was disappointed to find her clothed. "Where are you off to?"

"Breakfast with my Mother and Ron. And I have to bring her by the apartment."

Maura sat up, pushing her hair out of her face. "Give me a minute, I can get dressed."

But Jane sat on the bed, taking her hands and drawing all Maura's attention to her. "Not this time, Maura." She must have seen the hurt that she tried to hide, because a hand came up to her cheek, running down it in a soothing motion. "Not that I'm ashamed. I'm not. I just wanna keep this between us for a bit. It's special."

"It is." Maura agreed, yawning. "But I can keep it a secret."

Jane smiled, that big dopey smile that made Maura's heart melt. "It's not you I'm worried about. It's me." She leaned in, landing another slow yet hungry kiss. She pulled away, biting her lip. "I'm not sure I can keep my hands off you."

"That could be revealing." Maura laughed, the sound breathy as she allowed herself to wake, adjusting to her new reality. She pulled Jane in again, reveling in the pull in her gut as their lips met, Jane's moan setting her aflame. But she soon pulled away, muttering apologies, her hand lingering on Maura's face longer than necessary.

"I'll text you when I'm done. You can come over, we can order takeout, it will be like old times."

Maura grinned. "No. It'll be better."

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"Jane, is Thanksgiving really the best day to make this announcement?" They were lying in Maura's bed, naked, Jane typing away at her phone, seemingly oblivious to Maura's gaze.

"Thanksgiving is the day that we tell people what we're thankful for. What better day is there to say that I am thankful for my brilliant and incredibly gorgeous girlfriend?" She looked over then, her grin dimpled as she studied Maura's face.

"And you want to do it like this? A Facebook post to reveal the secret we've been keeping for the last five weeks?"

She thought about it for a moment, searching Maura's face like she was gauging her reaction. "I figured why not? Just rip off the Band-aid."

Looking her girlfriend over, she pulled away the covers, searching for something that had been unseen. "What Band-aid? Jane, what did you do?"

Instead of the answer she was looking for, the body in front of her began to shake with laughter. "Babe, it's an expression. I don't have a Band-aid." Maura couldn't help but laugh along with her, climbing back up to cuddle beside her. "It means that I think we should get it all done at once, instead of telling people sporadically."

"Oh." Her hands traced circles in Jane's toned stomach, her head rested on her shoulder.

"Is that okay with you?"

Maura went through the people in her life that needed to know. Most of them were connected to Jane in some way or another. The only ones who weren't were her parents. Her Mother was in Italy, working with someone on her next installation, and her Father was back in Africa, doing research on more indigenous tribes. It wasn't fair to put off the announcement so she could tell them in person. Grabbing her phone, She nodded. "Yes. As long as it's what you want."

Jane grinned, hitting the button to change their status, and Maura accepted the notification on her end. Jane took that time to change her profile picture. Maura had never seen it. The picture they took on the bridge, with Jane looking at the camera, but Maura looking adoringly at her face. "You were right, the lighting and everything that night made for a gorgeous photo."

"That wasn't the only reason I thought it would be gorgeous." Jane shot back, flashing that lopsided grin.

Their phones buzzed, the first comment from Frankie. Fucking finally! They shared a laugh at that, Jane shooting back with, Language, Francesco!

Dropping her phone on the nightstand, Jane rolled over, pulling the Doctor closer. Pressing a chaste kiss to her lips, she grinned. "Happy Thanksgiving."

"Happy Thanksgiving." Maura relished this, just being together. It was a long weekend, which meant Jane could visit longer, but she would still have her job to return to Monday morning. Maura was finding herself growing tired of the back and forth, but was hopeful that their plan would be put into action soon. With just a few loose ends to tie up today, she hoped the day when they could lie together like this every morning would come soon.

It wasn't long before their bliss was interrupted. She heard the door slam downstairs, Angela's hurried footsteps pounding on the floor. She stopped at the foot of the stairs. "Girls! Get down here, you have some explaining to do!"

Beside her, Jane giggled. "That took longer than I expected." She pulled herself from Maura's grip, rummaging in the suitcase she hadn't unpacked. While Maura found a pair of sensible silk pajamas to put on, Jane yanked on an FBI t-shirt and a pair of BPD sweatpants. Maura couldn't help but laugh at the pair of them. Yin and Yang, different as could be, but so perfect together. "You ready to face the music?"

She went up on her toes to press a kiss to the brunette's lips. "We can get through this."

"And if it gets bad, we have wine." This made them both laugh, holding hands as Jane turned toward the door.

It was then that Maura noticed the three words on the back of the shirt, the one purchased at the airport months ago. Female Boob Inspector. "Jane!" She hissed. "You can't wear that shirt downstairs!"

With a devilish grin, Jane shrugged her shoulders. "Well, it's kinda true now." Without waiting for a response, the brunette opened the door and rushed down the hall, shouting, "coming, Ma!"

Maura was definitely going to need wine.

[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 12

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Domestic moments, part 2

A/N: This chapter continues from where we were left of in the previous one! And sadly (or not sadly? I guess it depends on what you like) it's still not the last 'domestic moments' chapter; I had to cut this one in half because of time issues. But worry not, some drama is ahead in a few chapters. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope it shows! Let me know :)

Characters in this ch: Calypso, Leo

Words: 2189

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / next chapter / AO3

Once Leo had finished testing the fixed stereos and sent Jason a message to ask if he and Piper had time to visit that day, he joined Calypso in the kitchen. She had already gathered all the ingredients on the table and started chopping the vegetables, smiling as she worked. For a moment Leo thought that nothing was hotter than a woman who enjoyed what she was doing that much. He didn’t even realize he was staring.

“You can start by preheating the oven and preparing the baking sheet, I didn’t have time to do that yet,” she noted calmly when she noticed him looking at her questioningly.

“Aye aye, Captain,” Leo said, saluting her like a sailor would.

“I’m a captain now?” Calypso asked, her mouth twitching ever so slightly.

“Oh, you can be anything you want. Captain. Boss lady. The Queen of the flat number 7.”

“How about you just do what I said, peasant,” Calypso said, but Leo was happy that she had joined his game. It was a good sign.

“Not a peasant, Sunshine. You can call me Commander Tool Belt.” Leo smirked and earned a roll of eyes from Calypso.

“How do you come up with all these nicknames?” she asked while focusing on cutting the tomatoes.

“It’s a talent. Something I was born with,” Leo answered while finally turning the oven on and starting to search for the baking sheet.

“You know, really no offense but sometimes I can’t tell if you’re being serious or if you’re just fooling around.” Calypso had now stopped the chopping and she crossed her arms, looking at him seriously. “Want some honesty? Usually I joke the most when I’m nervous.” The grin had disappeared from Leo’s face and the sunlight that was coming through the window made his eyes look like flames again.

To his surprise, Calypso asked: “Are you… are you nervous around me?”

“What do you think?” Leo blurted without thinking. He noticed Calypso seemed kind of taken aback by his answer, so he added quickly: “I mean… girls in general make me nervous.” He had lost track of times he had felt his ears and face heat in this girl’s company.

“Really?” Calypso asked. “But I’ve seen you with Piper many times now and you act quite naturally with her.”

“I’ve known her for over a year now. She’s a good friend and easy to talk with when you get to know her.” Leo shrugged.

“I guess we two are not there yet,” Calypso said, and Leo thought he could detect a bit of disappointment in her voice. “Since you are still nervous around me.”

“I didn’t mean…” For once Leo decided to pick his words carefully. “Um, I think you’re a cool person. Sure, kinda withdrawn but so am I with new people. That means I haven’t gotten to know you as well as Piper yet. But I’d like to. You know. Get to know you better. If that’s cool with you.”

He noticed a hint of pink rise to her cheeks but didn’t say anything about that. She answered: “Oh. Sure. I mean, since we are sharing this flat and all…”

The atmosphere had gotten slightly awkward again so Leo decided to do what he did the best: be goofy. He dug a few long spaghetti noodles from his food storage, cut them in half and put them in his mouth, making them look like walrus tusks.

“Say ‘hola’ to your new friend, Commander Walrus.”

“Estás loco,” Calypso said in clear Spanish, and Leo’s mouth dropped. If he hadn’t thought she was attractive before…

“You… know Spanish? How come you only mention that now?!” He inquired.

“I don’t really know much of it,” Calypso said. “I studied it a couple of years at school as a kid but since I haven’t used it after that, I don’t remember much anymore. So don’t expect me to understand you.”

“Oh, OK. Well, if you ever want to revive your skills, you have a Spanish master right here!”

“Somehow I can’t imagine you explaining the conjugations of irregular verbs to me, but OK, I’ll consider it,” Calypso said, gently pulling one of the noodles from Leo’s mouth. Leo was awfully aware how close she was to him again. Then she broke his hopes and dreams by lightly poking him on the nose with the noodle half and saying: “But now, Commander Noodle, how about you stop distracting me, or otherwise Jason and Piper won’t have anything to eat when they arrive.”

“Spoilsport,” Leo pouted but did what he was told and put the other spaghetti noodle away, starting to pull out the ingredients he needed.

Calypso was already done with her salad by the time Leo put his tacos in the oven and he felt her eyes on him the whole time.

“What are you looking at?” he asked, feeling a bit uncomfortable about the attention all of a sudden.

“I…” Calypso seemed a bit hesitant. “... was just thinking you seem pretty handy with that stuff… Did your mothers teach you?”

“Jo and Emmie are wonderful people but they have a rule in their household that you don’t get to eat if you don’t work for it, so yes, I’ve done a lot of cooking since I moved there. But I already knew a lot before that. I kinda had to.”

“Right,” Calypso said, and Leo was glad she didn’t ask more. He wasn’t feeling like opening up about being forced to cook for the other kids of his earlier foster parents while they were too drunk to do that or having to search for food from trash cans while on the run. “So, will you teach me to make that sauce supreme?” she asked then.

Leo wagged his finger at her. “Listen, Sunshine, it’s a skill. You don’t teach it just like that. But I can see what I can do.”

“Alright,” Calypso said, smiling slightly.

“Now, first things first,” Leo started. “I like saving most of the seasoning for the sour cream instead of the meat. The hard part is of course knowing how much different spices you should put in. I say, the more, the better. If it doesn’t open your stuffy nose, then it’s not enough.”

“But what if you don’t like spicy food?” Calypso asked.

“Then what are you even eating tacos for?” Leo rolled his eyes. “Well, if you really don’t like it, then you can of course put less spices than I do, but honestly, what’s the point if you don’t feel at least a bit like a dragon that can breathe fire?”

“Sounds tough. To be honest, I don’t eat a lot of spicy food so I’m not sure what to expect,” Calypso confessed.

“In that case you’re lucky that you have a master to teach you, then.” Leo grinned.

“Sure,” Calypso looked at him with slight amusement. “Well, show me, Master. What do you use?”

“I like to begin with the most important one just so I don’t accidentally forget it: the chili powder.” Leo said, putting some chili into the sour cream while talking. “If you decide you don’t like spicy food, then in the future don’t use chili as much as I do. But I like putting almost a full teaspoon. If I’m feeling brave, I might put even more. Then some cumin and paprika, but not as much as the chili, and finish it with a bit of salt and black pepper. And voila, that’s all you need!”

“That’s all?” Calypso raised her eyebrows. “I thought it would be something very complicated based on your bragging.”

“Now, now, don’t underestimate simple things, woman!” Leo wagged his finger at her. “Sometimes simple is the best. That’s my motto with my inventions too. If you really wanted to, you could also add a bit of tomato sauce on top of the tacos, but since we are gonna use your fresh tomatoes, I don’t see the need for that.”

Calypso looked like she might have been about to protest, but then the oven clock informed them that the tacos would be ready to be served, and the conversation ended there.

Once Leo had put the toppings on the tacos, he took a spoonful of his sour cream sauce and put it in front of Calypso’s mouth. “Here. Taste this. Since you are a rookie, I was a bit more sparing with the chili, but just this one time.”

She did what he told her and tasted it. After swallowing and taking the flavor in, she finally said: “That’s not bad! You do surprise me, oh great sauce master Valdez.”

“You really shouldn’t be that surprised, but whatever,” Leo said. “It will be even better once the flavors have spread more but I didn’t have time to let the sauce sit in the fridge this time.”

“Okay. Hey, have you ever eaten olives?” Calypso asked, a funny expression spreading on her face.

“Maybe as a kid…” Leo shrugged, remembering the times he’d still been living with his mother. “They don’t look particularly appetizing to me.”

“Well, then I think it’s time for an equivalent exchange. Since I tasted your taco sauce, you’ll taste olives,” she said and took one that had remained left from her salad into her hand. Then she turned Leo’s head to face her and urged him to open his mouth.

“Seriously? You’re feeding them to me?” he asked, half annoyed, half amused, but took the olive into his mouth. He didn’t really like the bitter taste of it. “Uh, did you put a lot of these in the salad?” He looked at it suspiciously.

“I did. Any complaints?”

Leo tried to come up with something to avoid answering the question. When he spotted the red chili peppers on the kitchen counter, he got an idea. “I tell you what. I will consider not picking them from my salad if you manage to eat at least half of this.” He showed the peppers and was half expecting her to say a hearty ‘no way!’, but she surprised him.

“That’s a low blow, Valdez. Lucky for you, I’m up for the challenge.”

“Okay,” Leo said, cutting one pepper in half and offering it to her. “I have to warn you, though; this is the strongest pepper I have, so it is hot.”

Calypso took the pepper from him and cautiously took a bite from the tip. It took her a second to react. “Oh. My. Gods. Water, water, water!!!”

“You’re gonna want to drink milk with that, it helps much more than water,” Leo adviced and took out a clean glass from the cupboard and a milk carton from the fridge. He also cut a small slice of soft bread he had bought earlier and gave it to her.

“Here. Take this. And don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he smirked. Calypso glared at him, but took Leo’s offerings and seemed relieved to notice that it actually helped.

“I’m not going to eat more of that,” she announced, only making Leo grin wider.

“That’s fine,” he said. “But I won’t be eating olives either because you lost the bet.”

“Yes you will, after making me eat that.”Calypso glared at him.

“Nope!”

“Yes, it’s only fair!” Calypso kept insisting.

“But a deal is a deal!” Leo said back.

“But I didn’t realize the chili pepper would be that much worse than the olives!”

“You’re a sore loser, Sunshine!”

“And you’re a brat!”

“Fine, then I am. But I’m still not eating the olives!” Leo said and started sprinting away from her towards his room where he could lock the door from her.

“Oh, so this is the game you’re playing?” Calypso exclaimed and started chasing him. On her way she picked one olive from the plate to stuff into his mouth. Leo was fast but Calypso got surprisingly agile too when she wanted to and so she caught him right before he got into his room. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and before he could protest, put the olive into his mouth. Leo accepted his fate and ate it despite the urge to just spit it out.

“You won this round, woman, but don’t get too used to it!” he said, slightly out of breath. Suddenly the silliness of the situation sunk into both of them and they started laughing hard enough that they had to lean against each other.

“I never have a boring moment with you, Leo Valdez,” Calypso hiccuped against his shoulder.

“Well, likewise, Sunshine.”

Leo’s heart seemed to do extra rounds when he watched her laughing and he was very much aware that they were still in a half hug position. Calypso noticed that he had stopped laughing so she raised her gaze to look at his face and the color her cheeks got was the same that Leo’s ears sure were: similar to the red pepper.

“What…” he was about to ask but the moment was broken just as fast as it had started: the buzzer made a sound, informing them that Jason and Piper were there.

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

I’ve Got You

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Mentions of past domestic violence (possible triggers in this one), mentions of panic attacks, 

Author’s Note: I needed an outlet today. While I've had moments in the past that have caused panic attacks, this one was by far the worst. I should be strong enough to handle it. But unfortunately triggers are out there in the world and we can't always be prepared for them. I was in a safe environment. I was having the best day, but hearing a single name had caused a panic attack right in the middle of grabbing a few things I needed for my assignment at work. I didn't believe anyone would understand so I dealt with it by myself. The moment I got home, I broke down and let it all out. This is part of that outlet. Feel free to skip this one if you want. 

(Gif credit goes to rightful owner)

Your mind was elsewhere. No matter how many times you tried to get your mind to focus, it never failed that moments later it went back to the very thing you wanted to forget. With each thought that came rushing back, your vision would become blurry before you blinked back the tears to stop them from falling. Some managed to break a way before you quickly wiped them away.

After several years of believing you were fine, that every piece that was broken was now fixed, this was completely different kind of hurt. The years that you had spent building yourself up, and building a wall, from the details of a past that you wanted to forget were falling apart all within a moment that you had no control over.

The love, laughter and even strength you had built had been replaced in your mind. Words that wounded you in more ways than one, the actions that manipulated you, the broken promises flooded your mind. What started off as an amazing day had now been clouded because your mind couldn't handle hearing one single detail.

"Hey," The voice was soft. Almost a soft whisper but it had sounded loud in your ears causing you to jump and turn towards the voice. You found Elijah standing there. At first there was a look of humor on his face at seeing you jump. It was soon replaced with concern the moment he took in your eyes. "What is it?"

Even though there was something clearly wrong, you shook your head. "It's nothing."

"Y/N, this isn't nothing." He watched as you tried blinking back the tears that were threatening to let go.

Your bottom lip trembled as you the words registered in your head. He was right, this wasn't nothing. Your day had gone from the best to one of the worst. You couldn't even get your brain to form a way that would make sense except one phrase.

"I'm broken." The words had left your lips as a whisper and the tears came so easily with them. You didn't bother trying to stop them. You had been holding them back for a majority of the day. It had surprised you that you had even made it this long without breaking down.

"You're not." Elijah shook his head slightly. He may have not known what happened, but in his eyes you were far from broken.

"I am." A shuddered breath followed your words. The back of your hands came up to your cheeks to wipe the tears that had been falling down your cheeks. "I wasn't always this broken. But then my ex came along and broke me in ways that I wouldn’t even know where to begin to explain how."

The thoughts that played through your head weren't rainbows and sunshine of the time you had shared together. You could clearly see the fights, the way you were manipulated, the bruises that lingered on your body that you tried so hard to hide, all of it played on an endless loop.

"I have felt safe here." You said once the memories played through. "There hasn't been a moment of doubt that I have moved on and lived my life in the best way I could." You watched as Elijah just listened. It was what you needed in that moment. Just for someone to listen. "But someone called out their name at work and I became so scared. Even though I know they cant be there, I couldn't stop the panic attack from coming."

Elijah pulled you to him at that moment and wrapped his arms around you. Your arms quickly wrapped around him as you welcomed the hug. Elijah hadn't needed to hear anything else. He understood what you needed without you having to say it.

You needed to feel safe. You just needed to feel that even when your mind was giving you every reason to believe you were in danger, that you were safe right where you were. That at this very moment, there wasn't someone waiting to take their anger out on you. That there wasn't someone who was going to make you believe that you were worthless. That even though you currently had no idea where in the world they could be, you were as safe as you could ever be. The proof of that was being in the arms of Elijah Mikaelson.

He let you cry it out. He let you get everything out that you had been holding back since earlier. He didn't care that your tears would seep into his suit. He didn't care if it would take hours until you felt even the slightest bit better. He wasn't going to leave you any time soon.

"I've got you." He said loud enough for you to hear him over your own muffled crying. "I'm not going anywhere." His hand moved soothingly over your back. He felt your arms tighten slightly at the reassurance.

Elijah didn't leave your side even after you had stopped crying. He wasn't going to leave you until he was sure you had completely worked through the trigger. You both sat on your bed, you looking down at your hands while he watched you do so.

"It was just so unexpected." You said as you looked up at him for a moment. "I usually can handle them. I can work around them without needing to bother others. Work was meant to be my safe place besides here."

"Now you know about this other person that works there with the same name. It will make things easier if it were to happen again." He said with a reassuring smile.

You gave him a small smile back. "I also know that there is no way they'd ever be there. They couldn't tolerate some things, work would have made them crazy."

He chuckled as he shook his head. "I do recall that was one of the reasons you had accepted the job. It made you feel safe since it was the last place they'd look."

That made your smile grow a bit. "It amazes me that you remember that."

"How could I not?" He placed his hand on top of your knee. "You lit up in a way I hardly see you do just because you got the job. You come home and you look so happy with the work that you do."

"That's the difference between you and them." You said with a nod. "I wouldn't be able to talk to them about anything like I do with you. You've gotten me to open up when all I was used to was suffering in silence."

You shook your head at the thought of what you used to do. While there were a million times you wished you had known what would happen, you couldn't linger on the what ifs. You had got out of that situation and that was all that mattered to you.

"You'll never have to do that here." He promised. "I'll always be here to help you whenever you need. I would only ever encourage you to do what you'd want to. I'd never force anything on you."

"Even when I'm being stubborn?" While the matter was serious, there was a bit of humor behind your question.

Today was just a simple set back and you knew that. All the years of progress you had made wouldn't be destroyed because of today. You'd be able to build from it. You'd be able to reinforce those walls that kept the darker memories at bay.

"Especially when you are being stubborn." He gave a chuckle that caused you to grin.

Yeah, you'd definitely be okay.

Always and Forever: @taylordrunkonwhiskey​ @thewolf-and-thesheep​ @wayward-dan​ @neeadinghugs​ @fafulous​ @kenmen02​ @elizamonet​ @dora-the-grownup​ @mschellehitt​ @xanderling​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @buckysarm4​ @helenasingers​

Stag Tag:  @elejah-wonderland​ @cheers-my-dears-16​ @xxsoveriegnsarayaxx​

[unfolded73]

Every Night (1/1) - schitt’s creek ff

Reaction fic to 6x07. Basically it’s the last scene from Patrick’s POV. Rated Teen, 1500 words. (AO3)

Other Season 6 reaction fics: 6x01, 6x02, 6x04, 6x06

___________________________

Mom: Dad is asking if you watched the game earlier.

Patrick adjusted his back against the uncomfortable headboard of David’s twin bed as he looked at the text notification on his phone. His dad hated texting, but he wasn’t above asking his wife questions for Patrick, which she then relayed to him through text. His thumbs moved over the screen as he answered.

Yeah. Amazing rally!

After a few seconds during which he listened to Alexis’ slightly manic magazine page flipping, he added.

Watched it with David’s dad.

Mom: Oh, that’s nice! Is he a Jays fan?

Patrick: I don’t think he follows it closely. He wanted to give me a talking to, and watching the game with me was a means to that end.

Adjusting his back against the headboard again, Patrick looked down at his pillow options. Leaving the bed pillow on David’s side (as if this tiny bed could have ‘sides’), Patrick picked up the decorative pillow and braced it behind his neck.

Mom: Uh oh.

David shuffled out of the bathroom, drinking from the water bottle that Patrick had forced into his hands on the way home from the winery. David hadn’t spent nearly as long on his nighttime skincare routine as he usually did, which was as big a sign as any that he was still feeling the affects of his fruit wine odyssey, even if he had sobered up enough not to press any more enthusiastic, sloppy kisses against Patrick’s mouth like he was an untrained puppy.

“How was your class, Alexis?” David asked. He sounded almost genuinely curious, which Patrick found interesting given David’s terrible acting earlier during Mrs. Rose’s mission to extract him from having to watch baseball. Maybe he was more accustomed to playing these games with his sister.

“Um, it was a big success; thank you for asking!” Alexis said, sounding way too chipper. “Everyone had a great time, and the clients were like, super impressed.”

“Oh, that’s good,” David said as he climbed into bed. Patrick felt David’s bare toes drag against his shin as he tried to focus on responding to his mother’s text.

No, it wasn’t a bad thing. We sort of bonded, I guess.

“I wonder if that means they’ll give you priority boarding when you enter the Gateway,” David continued, calling Alexis’ bluff.

Looking at the three dots on his phone as his mother texted him back, Patrick didn’t watch Alexis’ reaction, but he heard the flapping of her magazine. “Oh my god — Stevie did this, didn’t she?”

Stevie had, in fact, given them the entire run down that evening over dinner while Patrick worked to get some food into his drunk fiancé.

Mom: I’m so glad! I could tell when we were there on your birthday how much the Roses love you. All of them, not just David.

“Now, do the step machines actually lift off the ground, or are they just there to help you practice for when you walk onto the spaceship?” David said as he settled in, his hip bumping against Patrick’s under the covers.

“Come on, David, she didn’t know,” Patrick said, feeling some sympathy for Alexis.

“Thank you,” Alexis said.

But not that much sympathy for Alexis. “But now that you do, does it make the journey to the Gateway just that much more meaningful?” he said with his best guileless voice, leaning over to look at his future sister-in-law.

“Okay, you know what? Honestly? This whole situation is starting to gross me out,” Alexis sniped, gesturing at the two of them in bed. “It’s like I’m sharing a room with my twin brothers who kiss.”

Patrick wasn’t sure if he just wanted to troll Alexis more or if hearing the word ‘kiss’ triggered him like some kind of tender sleeper agent, but before he even registered the decision to do so, he’d leaned over and pressed a kiss against David’s forehead, humming with affection as he did so. David’s head was lower on the bed and when he turned, the only part of Patrick that his lips could reach was Patrick’s arm. David pressed a kiss there, and the warmth of David’s lips through the thin material of his t-shirt made Patrick swoon just a little bit.

Mr. Rose came in then, and if he found the tableau of David and Patrick snuggled up in bed to be awkward, he didn’t show it. He just seemed happy to have everyone under the same roof, and that everyone seemed to include Patrick. Mr. Rose grinned, and Patrick could only grin back. Then Mrs. Rose came into the room too, still visibly suffering from her day-drinking binge, and soon she was snuggling up with Alexis, mumbling something about a sleepover. Alexis made a lot of annoyed protestations, even more so when her own father made fun of her for almost joining a cult. It was weird and yet completely domestic at the same time. Patrick felt a bit like he was getting a look at the inner sanctum, at the way the Roses behaved when it was only the four of them. Warm feelings for the family bloomed in his chest.

“So does this happen every night?” Patrick whispered to David.

David turned to him. “Um, no. No it doesn’t,” David responded, but the look on his face told Patrick that wasn’t entirely true. They smiled at each other, and David pressed his face up against Patrick’s arm, and in that moment Patrick loved David so much that he thought his heart was going to explode.

Mr. Rose managed to coax his wife back to bed, closing the door between their rooms. With another annoyed huff, Alexis turned off the lamp and plunged the room into darkness, although a significant amount of light still filtered through the curtains. The Rosebud Motel did not have the kind of blackout curtains that most hotels possessed. Patrick sent a final text to his mother.

Going to sleep now. I’ll call you Sunday.

Mom: Goodnight, sweetheart. And tell David goodnight too. 😉

Patrick squinted at the winking emoji, trying to process the fact that his mother was teasing him about his sleeping arrangements with his fiancé. At least she didn’t use eggplant emojis to do so, like Stevie. Putting his phone on the floor, Patrick scooted down the bed, trying to get comfortable on David’s decorative pillow. “Here, we can share,” David said, adjusting his own bed pillow until it was under both of their heads as the small pillow fell off the edge of the bed.

“Thanks,” Patrick whispered, putting an arm over David’s waist and kissing him gently, a simple press of their lips together.

“I’m sorry I abandoned you today,” David said, his voice equally quiet.

“It was fine. Your dad and I had a good time.” He kissed David again. He knew that if they were back in the bed they usually shared in Patrick’s apartment, he’d be deepening the kiss, pressing David into the mattress until they were both panting and desperate to get their clothes off. As it was, he’d have to settle for a few kisses and for holding David close.

David huffed. “You don’t have to say that.”

“It was.”

“Still,” David said, kissing him back with a matching gentleness. “I don’t want to take you for granted. I love you.”

Patrick moved his hand up to the back of David’s head, fingers combing through the short hair at the nape of his neck. He pulled him closer, mouth opening, because surely a little bit of tongue would be okay. David seemed to think it was okay too from the way he kissed him back.

“Can you two stop, please?” Alexis whispered harshly. “I can hear the smacking noises!”

“Sorry,” Patrick called to Alexis, and then said to David, “I love you, too.”

“Turn over; you can be the little spoon,” David said.

David loved being the little spoon, so much so that there was a mole on David’s shoulder blade where Patrick’s face usually was pressed that Patrick had come to think of as his, he was so well acquainted with it. “You sure?”

David pushed on his arm. “Turn over before I change my mind.”

Patrick did, carefully not to pitch either of them off the edge of the narrow bed. He settled down, his spine pressed against David’s chest, David’s knees against the back of his knees. David wrapped an arm around him, sliding his hand up under Patrick’s shirt to touch bare skin. He felt David kiss the back of his head.

Lying awake for a long time, Patrick imagined all the nights like this they would get to have in the future that stretched out ahead of them. Nights when they held each other to soothe each other’s worries. Nights when one or both of them had had a little too much to drink. Nights when they held each other as an apology after a fight. Nights when they drifted off in post-coital bliss. Nights when the cuddling was a balm to their sadness. Nights when there was too much joy for sleep to come easily.

“I can’t wait for you to be my husband, David,” Patrick whispered, unsure if David was still awake.

An answer came in the press of David’s hand against his chest, right over his heart. “Me neither.”

[rationalcashew]

The Fifth Night

Mulder’s feeling better after his stomach bug. Scully starts to panic about the relationship.

Mulder wasn’t quite sure when Scully left the night before; all he knew was that he was disappointed that she didn’t stay. Part of him wanted to look around for a note, but he knew there wouldn’t be one. They weren’t there, yet.

Everything was still new despite knowing each other for years. New and uncertain. One wrong move could send the entire thing spiraling and he couldn’t risk that. So, he played it safe.

Which bought him last night, he assumed. He was sick as all hell and she took care of him. It was very… domestic.

Not that he had any issues with domesticity. In fact, in the past, he’d pictured having a family and living a simple life. That picture, however, was meant to take place after he found Samantha.

Yet, the more he thought about last night, the more he wondered if this was his simple life. In some twisted way, that was. It was simple because he realized that he didn’t need much. Just her.

Mulder wasn’t sure when, exactly, he’d fallen in love with Scully. Literally, he woke up one day, faced himself in the mirror, and admitted it. He had to admit it. He watched his own face light up when he heard her voice on the other end of the phone as he tried to brush his teeth.

Since then, he couldn’t erase it. He couldn’t hide it nor pretend. And, some days, that was torture.

But, then, things started shifting. She indulged him a little more; flirted back. She started falling for him, too.

For awhile, Mulder was okay with how things had been going. Better that than nothing all, he’d often rationalized. He took it on her terms. Not because he was raised an eastern gentleman, but because the risk was too high.

Out of the blue, she’d invited him over for dinner and a Christmas movie. In that same conversation, it became a week-long event.

Until last night. Until he’d spent the day puking up, very literally, anything he put in his body. But, she was there.

Whether as his doctor, his partner, his friend, his girlfriend—.

Whoa.

His girlfriend.

Mulder liked the sound of that.

But, Scully wasn’t his girlfriend. Not in any official capacity, anyway. They hadn’t had that conversation.

He told himself that they would one of these days but he couldn’t honestly say that he believed it.

The past week, though… God, it felt like it. And, it felt good. It was nice knowing there was someone who genuinely cared about him. It was nice to have someone cuddle close to him while watching TV. It was nice holding her in his arms. It was nice to fall asleep with her running her fingers through his hair.

He didn’t want it to end at the end of the seven day period. He didn’t want it to end a month from now. He didn’t want it to end at all.

That was the scary part: Mulder couldn’t see the end. It was exhilarating as it was terrifying. Like, skydiving. Or, so he imagined.

Even though he still wasn’t feeling a hundred percent, Mulder made his way to the bathroom to go through his morning routine: shower, shave; forego the coffee because he wasn’t completely sure his stomach could handle it, yet.

He didn’t feel like he was feverish so he was going to work. He needed to see her.

When he got there, however, he found out that she was assisting in Quantico for the day, leaving him alone in the office. If he’d known he wouldn’t see her at all, he would’ve just stayed home.

Around lunch, his phone rang.

“Mulder,” he answered.

“Mulder? Hey, it’s me.”

He smiled. “Hey, Scully.”

“You sound better.”

“I feel better.”

“Good. Good. I tried calling your home phone…”

“I’m not at home.”

“Mulder…” He smirked at the disapproval in her voice. Really, he expected nothing less.

“I’m actually at the office. And, you’re not.”

“Sorry, I’m stuck doing autopsies today,” she replied, sighing. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was disappointed. And, not just in him for going to work.

“So, I heard,” Mulder replied. “Are we still on to watch a movie later?” Scully didn’t answer for a moment and he got nervous. “Scully?”

“I’m here. Are you feeling up to it?”

He smiled at that, resisting the urge to tell her that nothing could keep him from coming over except her word.

“I feel fine. No fever. I’ve been able to keep down food today.”

She didn’t say anything again. Mulder couldn’t help but to wonder if his illness was the excuse she needed to stop with these nights. Was she running away? Or, what if he got her sick? He smirked at the thought. He’d just have to take care of her the way she did him.

“You’re welcome to come over and watch a movie with me,” Scully finally responded. “Only if you feel up to it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Mulder replied with a smile.

“Okay.” He could hear the smile in her voice and it gave him butterflies. She wanted to see him. “What have you been able to keep down? I don’t want to make something that you can’t eat.”

It was his turn to grin.

“I kept down a sandwich earlier,” he offered. “I probably could’ve eaten two, but I didn’t want to push it.”

“Okay. Well—.” He heard the muffled voice of another man and fought the urge to get jealous as Mulder told himself that it was probably just some poor lab geek returning from doing Scully’s bidding. Like any man would. “Mulder, I have to go. I’ll see you tonight.”

“It’s a—.” He heard the click on the other end of the phone as she disconnected the call. “Date,” Mulder finished to himself.

He exhaled deeply through the mouth.

It was going to be a long rest of the day.

At six o’clock that evening, Mulder stood outside of Scully’s apartment, waiting for her to answer the door, poinsettias in hand. He was early and hoped she didn’t mind.

“Muuulllldeeeer…” she said in that sheepish yet grateful way that she did whenever he did something particularly sweet. She gave him a peck on the cheek and thanked him for going to find a place for it. Mulder couldn’t help but chuckle at the sounds of Alvin and the Chipmunks singing about the holiday.

He’d give her crap about that later.

He noticed the Christmas tree in the corner when he took his coat off and hung it on the coat rack. He’d wondered when she’d finally put one up.

“Scully, you know I would’ve brought this up for you,” he said with a slight hint of admonishment.

Scully waved him off. “I paid the teenager next door twenty bucks to do it.” He must’ve made a face because she stiffened awkwardly and added, “You can put the lights on it while I make dinner, if you want. They’re already out.”

He nodded, forcing himself to contain his happiness at being able to share in that. Scully loved Christmas. She had since he’s known her.

“They’re in that tub over there,” she said, pointing to one of three tubs labeled ‘Christmas’. With that, she went to the kitchen and Mulder went to work.

By six thirty, Mulder found himself tangled in Christmas lights and Scully laughing at him but doing nothing to help free him of his multi-colored bondage.

“A little help?” He asked and she finally made her way over to unwrap him.

There was a euphemism in there somewhere, he thought but chose not to say that aloud.

When he was free of the cords, Scully went back to the kitchen to check on dinner and came back, declaring that it would be ready in a few minutes.

He got the lights on the tree in time for the oven’s timer to go off.

Scully loaded the last of the dishes into the dishwasher and made her way back to the living room to help Mulder decorate the tree. When she got into the living room, she caught sight of the poinsettias on the table behind the couch. It was thoughtful of him and she appreciated the gesture, but the look on his face when he gave them to her gave her butterflies.

Even now, when she saw them in passing.

“So, what first?” He asked.

She pointed to the tub containing ornaments and told him they’d start there.

As they decorated the tree, Scully stole glances at him. This particular step of their relationship, while still undefinable, was exciting and nerve-racking at the same time. On the one hand, it was just Mulder. Her best friend. Her partner. On the other hand, it was Mulder. Her best friend and partner.

She’d been in love with him for longer than she cared to admit and knew he felt the same. So, why was this so hard; so… Scary?

“The Grinch,” she smiled. “Followed by Holiday Inn, if you want to stick around for that.”

“No White Christmas? No Charlie Brown? I’m disappointed.”

Scully smirked in response, desperately trying not to give him the satisfaction of a laugh. “Those are Christmas Eve movies.”

“Ah,” he replied with a self-satisfied smirk. They stared at each other for a moment and she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, “I’ll get the fire started.”

He was already in the living room before she could process what he’d said.

Mulder sat anxiously through most of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Scully was acting differently than she had all week. She was… hesitant. Part of him wondered if he’d done something wrong. Another part of him wondered if he’d gotten her sick.

He glanced at her, sitting on the opposite side of the couch. They should’ve been cuddled together by now. But, they weren’t.

“Scully?” He blurted. She looked at him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” Mulder nodded his response. “Why?” She added.

“You just seem… I don’t know. I didn’t give you that bug I had, did I?”

She chuffed a laugh. “No, I’m fine.”

“Famous last words.” Mulder tried to sound playful, but the look she gave him said he’d failed. Miserably. He winced at returned his gaze to the TV.

A solid while went by before the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes, causing Mulder to blurt, “Wouldn’t he die if that happened?”

He glanced to Scully who was shooting him the most adorably confused expression he’d ever seen on her perfect face.

“It’s a cardiomyopathy, right?” He continued. It took a moment, but a grin formed on her face. “See, I pay attention when you say words I don’t quite understand.”

“Oh, Mulder,” she said in that way that made his insides knot up.

“I’m just saying,” he continued playfully, “it’s not natural. It’s bound to lead to heart failure.”

She laughed at that and he felt like he could breathe again.

There was a moment of silence, as the credits rolled, before Mulder asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Mm,” she replied. “I’m just tired. Long day.”

“Oh, okay.” Try as he might, he couldn’t hide his disappointment. “I’ll get out of your hair, then. Let you get some sleep.”

She looked at him curiously before getting up to rewind the tape.

“I’m still going to watch Holiday Inn,” she announced quietly. “You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.”

Mulder’s gaze jerked to Scully, whose back was still to him and a small smile quirked on his lips.

“Only if you’re sure…”

“Mulder, it’s totally up to you,” she said, pausing briefly before adding, “I’d like to watch it with you, but I’m not going to be offended if you don’t want to stay.”

As a response, he settled back into the couch, hoping desperately that she’d sit closer for this movie.

To his delight, she did.

[carmenlire]

Higher than the Big Trees Ch. 50 Epilogue Part II: 5 Years Later (Complete)

Amazing moodboard courtesy of @kindaresilient!

read chapter one

read on ao3

Happily Ever After: Alec and Magnus Lightwood-Bane People Magazine

The two of them walk into the little pâtisserie that had been chosen for the morning’s interview. They’re alone and the easy affection is obvious in the way they hold hands, in how Alec kisses the top of Magnus’s head as the two laugh at some joke between them.

Watching them, the reporter tries to maintain her objectivity but she can admit it’s difficult. She’d first interviewed Alec years ago when he was a rising star and had just swept through his first awards season, winning four Grammys and considerably more household notoriety.

At the time, she’d been struck by the man who reveled in his image and single status. To see him today as one half of an incandescently happy couple-- and to know why they’re on the cover of next month’s issue-- is a bit surreal.

Still, Alec and Magnus sweep into the restaurant and it’s just a few minutes before she’s starting the interview.

“So,” she starts briskly. “What’s new?”

Alec and Magnus look at each other for a minute before laughing and turning back to face her.

“Oh you know,” Magnus replies airily. “We’ve just adopted the cutest twins in the world and that’s kept our focus fairly well.”

Shaking his head with a soft smile, Alec joins in, “That’s definitely the most exciting thing that’s happened to me-- hell, all year.”

Taking the cue, the reporter leans in a little. Her eyes gleam but it’s considerably friendlier than Alec had initially thought. She’s getting her scoop but there’s genuine interest there, too, and not just a need for the exclusive they’ve granted People.

“The internet had a meltdown last week when you posted that photo on Instagram of the two of you, each holding a baby. Did you anticipate that level of fervor?”

Alec’s mouth kicks up into a lazy grin as he relaxes back against his husband. “People don’t like change and even when they do like it, they want to be the first to know. That’s why we’re doing this. The babies are getting old enough to where we’ll want to take them out of the apartment and I wanted to face the world before we made that first step.”

“Our children’s privacy and safety is of the utmost importance to us. While this isn’t an invitation further into our lives, we had the discussion and it was equally important to be able to acknowledge and celebrate that our family had grown from two to four recently,” Magnus interjects.

“How recently?”

“The twins are seven months old and we adopted them the day they were born. It was finalized earlier this summer.”

“A lot of people were shocked to see that you two were officially parents. Had this been the goal all along or was it a more recent desire for a bigger family?”

“My brother Jace and his wife Clary had their first kid a couple of years ago. I was away from home as often as I was in the city back then and neither one of us had any thought of settling down. But then Jace asked Magnus and I to be godparents and it became an elephant in the room for a little while. Neither of us wanted to come out and say that we wanted kids but every time we babysat or talked about kids in general, it was fairly obvious we were thinking along the same lines.”

“I never really let myself think of the possibility of being a father,” Magnus says softly, flicking his gaze from Alec to the reporter. “I always joked that my students were my children and that I didn’t have time for kids of my own. Alexander was home for a few months on a break, however, and as we started babysitting regularly I think there was a sort of mutual realization that our goals had shifted. Alec was like a new father, anyway, with the way he was constantly researching how to care for a baby. It was as adorable as it was exasperating.”

"Hey," Alec cuts in indignantly. "I wanted to be prepared! I wanted my niece to be as comfortable and safe and happy as possible."

Humoring him, Magnus agrees, "You did. But it was also a sign that maybe we were both ready and eager for that next step."

Alec nods along.

“Yeah, there were a few hard discussions about how to make it work and if we really were ready but at the end of the day, I love Magnus and I want it all with him.” With a laugh that edges on self deprecating, Alec adds, “I’m very happy that he feels the same.”

“Of course, darling,” Magnus murmurs before raising their joined hands up to his mouth for a kiss.

It’s quiet for a moment and the reporter watches as Magnus and Alec share a look that feels intrusive to witness, no matter that they’re in public.

Clearing her throat a little, she diverts the conversation. “The last time you two were on our cover was four years ago when we were given exclusive access to your wedding in Florence. In that time, things have changed quite a bit for you, isn’t that right Alec? Fans and media have missed you as you’ve moved to a position behind the scenes of the music industry.”

Alec takes in the question lurking in her tone and crosses one leg over the other. Absently fiddling with his wedding ring, he answers her unasked query with a raised brow.

“I’m just as active on my social media as I’ve ever been with the exception of keeping quiet about our kids. While my role has shifted to producing and writing, I’m still very much an entertainer and artist. It’s just that I keep more regular hours and get to spend more time with Magnus these days.”

Humming thoughtfully, the reporter’s eyes sharpen as she bluntly asks, “Do you miss it?”

“Touring?” Alec chuckles, shaking his head in a wondering yet confident gesture. “It’s not like I’ll never go on tour again. I’m just enjoying this time now. It’s been wonderful to challenge myself in a new area of the industry and establishing Iratze Records has been a very rewarding, if grueling, process. I still perform a few times a year and that’s enough for me. It’s more than enough that I get to have the best of both worlds.”

"And what about you, Magnus. You last book landed on the New York Times Bestsellers list in the nonfiction category where it's still sitting at number one. Last fall you were brought onto an Emmy winning show as a historical consultant and that's not to mention your duties as the Chair of the Columbia University's history department. Do you two find it difficult to juggle caring for kids with your demanding careers?"

"It's hard work," Magnus allows but looking at him, it's hard to picture the man breaking a sweat over anything. "We work hard, every day, to be the best we can be-- the best partners, the best parents, the best professionals. It's exhausting but I wouldn't trade my life now for anything."

Alec grins and it's a little dopey at the corners as he looks over at his husband with his heart in his eyes. "What he said."

“You sound like the picture of a happily settled man, Alec. It’s hard to believe that at one time you were known as a sort of Lothario. Is it true what they say then?” There’s a glint of humor in her eyes as she asks, “Do reformed rakes make the best husbands?”

Magnus is quiet though he flashes a quick grin as he looks down at his wedding ring. It’s a simple band but is obviously well cared for. They both seem to be waiting for Alec to answer and Alec does so, but not before taking his husband’s hand and interlacing their fingers.

“I love Magnus more than anyone in the world,” he says, “And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him. The truth is, if he asked me to give it all up today, right now, I’d do it, no hesitation.”

Alec glances over at his husband just to see Magnus already staring at him, smiling with eyes so warm that he can’t ever imagine being cold again.

“But I wouldn’t,” Magnus says softly, thumb stroking over Alec’s where they’re hands rest on his thigh.

“But he wouldn’t,” Alec echoes with a quiet smile. He forgets for a minute that they’re not alone, that there’s a journalist right on the other side of the coffee table watching them with eyes that capture everything.

He comes back to himself after a minute though, looking over at her with an apologetic grimace that the reporter waves away, her expression far from annoyed and instead veering much closer towards enamored.

Clearing his throat, Alec says, “The past five years have been one hell of a journey and I couldn’t imagine anyone else by my side other than Magnus. I’m grateful every day that I stepped into that diner in the middle of the night and that Magnus took a chance on me. This next adventure, kids? I never thought that was in the cards for me.”

His voice is self-deprecating as he continues, “I never thought any of this was meant for me. I’m excited, though-- we’re excited to grow our family by two more and be the best parents we can be, every day.”

The journalist’s voice is warm, curious as she asks, “So is it fair to say that Alec Lightwood is still at the top of his game, even if he’s more concerned with his family and producing behind the scenes these days?”

Alec’s voice is confident as he answers, “Yeah. I’ve never felt better. I’ve finally found my place and that’s worth all the sold-out stadiums in the world.”

Magnus scoffs a little, though his expression is anything but doubting as Alec raises their joined hands up to his lips, kissing his husband just above his wedding ring.

As the reporter watches her subjects, the can’t help but think that this is one of the easiest, most enjoyable interviews she’s ever done. She’s writes the conclusion of the article as she watches the couple in front of her act like the newlyweds they haven’t been in years.

Alec Lightwood’s been a staple of these pages since he was a teenager. It’s been a long time coming, but the boy is now a man and instead of the confirmed bachelor we’d started thinking of Lightwood as a few years ago, domestic bliss is his best look yet.

There’s an easy contentment to Alec now, as he sits beside his husband and they banter back and forth, easily answering our questions between little inside jokes that we have no hope of deciphering.

We don’t mind, though. It’s hard to when the couple sitting across from you looks nothing but ecstatically happy.

We can’t wait to see what’s next for Alec and Magnus and their growing family. Best of luck to the Lightwood-Banes. We’re sure this is far from the last time we’ll see them between our pages!

Make sure to check out Alec’s new single What a Heavenly Way to Die, available now on a variety of streaming platforms and wherever music is sold.

[j-whirl44]

Grounded and Safe.

Hey y’all in still fucked up over Amnesty (I only finished it like 24 hours ago after binging it all in 8 days oops) so I wrote a fic about it.

Pairing: Duck Newton/Minerva Word Count: 1,796 Rating: T for just a lot of goddamn hand holding

Read it on AO3! (x)

Duck watched as Thacker stepped through the Sylvain rift with ease. He didn't know the man well, but even he knew that was probably the best choice for him. The look on Mama's face all but proving it.

Aubrey stood there, flicking the little flame between her two fingers as she chewed the inside of her cheek. "I have to talk to Dani," Duck heard her say idly to herself before she sat on the ground and closed her eyes.

Duck looked back at Vincent and Mama now embraced in a hug. A rare sight Duck considered himself lucky to witness.

Vincent walked up to Duck, "To think the first time we met I was ready to kill you on sight," he laughed, putting a hand on Duck's shoulder.

"Yeah, uh, thanks for not doing that man really appreciate it," Duck said.

Vincent turned serious as he looked Duck in the eye, "I'm glad i didn't. Who knows where we would've been now without you, Duck Newton," he said. He turned and went through the Sylvain rift.

Duck never was good at reviving compliments; especially one as grand as that. It made his stomach both turn and flutter at the same time. He didn't feel like he really deserved such praise.

Aubrey was back in the present now we a little smile on her face. She looked between Duck and Mama as she announced she's going to Sylvain.

Duck tried to study Mama's face for any reaction, but it stayed neutral.

Then it burst into a bright smile as she hugged Aubrey.

Aubrey started to spew her justification. Dani should get to go home. Sylvain needed help to rebuild. Sylvain, the goddess that lived inside her, should be a part of the restoration.

"Aubrey, Aubrey please. You don't have to justify yourself. This is the perfect choice for you to make. I hope you and Dani are happy together. It should be a very romantic adventure," Mama said, Duck could see the tears that formed in her eyes. Aubrey clung to her tighter before they finally stepped apart.

Aubrey walked up to Duck.

Before she could say anything Duck held up his hands, "It's okay Aubrey. Mama's right this is the best choice for you. Now, uh, I'm not too good at goodbyes or anything like that so uh..."

Before he could really finish Aubrey gave him a quick, bone crushing hug that Duck, once he came too, reciprocated with a smile.

"See you later, Wayne." Aubrey said with a wink as she leapt through the entrance to Sylvain.

Duck sighed. He's not ever going to get used to that. He heard Mama try to stifle a laugh as she made her way to the Earth rift.

"I suppose someone has to," she said. She gave Duck a nod as thanks, which he appreciated. No sappy words, no hyperbolic expressions. Just a simple nod as respect and understand before parting ways.

And then it was just him, Billy, and Minerva, who he realized that up until now had been standing towards the back of the room. She walked up to him, "Wayne Newton. We seem to be the last ones left," she said.

"Yeah, I guess we are," he said distracted.

Words ran across the screen as Billy tried to get his attention:

"The PoRtals CaN onLy be Open fOr tHe NeXT feW MomEnTs, Duck"

"I know that look, Wayne Newton,"

"It's nothing, Minerva, just. I know Earth is where I belong but..."

"We will see them again,"

We... Duck thought.

He walked towards the Earth rift but stopped to notice Minerva didn't follow.

They were at an impasse, he realized. The fight was over, they had won. Destiny fulfilled. He wasn't sure where that left them. His heart suddenly tugged in her direction. He didn't want to leave here without her, he decided.

He looked to see Minerva's usually stoic and righteous face now suddenly soft and timid.

"Wayne Newton I'd....like to come with you. To your planet. If that's alright," she said.

Duck couldn't hide his smile as nodded.

She walked towards him quickly as Billy gave another bleat that told them they were out of time.

Duck grabbed Minerva's hand and they jumped through the rift. Together.

They landed in Billy's old room in the Cryptonomica. It was dark and dusty but all the old garbage and the foul smell from it was gone since the last time Duck was in here.

Neither of them made a move and they just stood there, hands still intertwined.

The palms on Minerva's hands were softer than Duck expected them to be. He dared a glance down at their embrace and saw how perfectly they fit together.

Well, maybe not perfectly. Minerva's hands were larger than his, her fingers strong and big between his mere human ones.

But it felt perfect to Duck.

Minerva looked at his face quizzically, "This feels...nice, Wayne Newton," she said.

Duck couldn't believe he was blushing right now in this moment, but he didn't fight it. He hoped the room was still dark enough to hide most of it from the strong woman that stood next to him.

Another moment passed before Duck finally released their hands as he removed his hat and fixed his hair. A nervous tick he picked up over these past decades.

They looked at each other again. Minerva's blue markings faintly glowed, it illuminated her face.

Which, in this moment, Duck finally could see how beautiful it was. Her jaw sharp, her mouth and eyebrows were peppered with little scars from her years of battle. Dark skin illuminated and glowing. He was speechless.

He wanted to see her face every day now, he realized.

"We should, uh, get back to my apartment. I, uh, have a spare bedroom you can sleep in. If you'd like. Or I'm sure we can link of with Mama at Amnesty Lodge and see if there's room for you..."

He stopped talking when Minerva smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder. She squeezed, a little too tight, but Duck tried to ignore that.

"I would like to see how you live, Wayne Newton. The spare bedroom sounds delightful!" she exclaimed.

Duck smiled, "Good, great, sounds, uh, sounds good. Hope you like cats," he said.

Her face lit up even more as they started to walk out the Cryptonomica, "oh is that one of your domesticated creatures this planet has?"

"Something like that," he answered.

Somehow, Duck's car doesn't seem to be damaged by whatever battle happened here on Earth. He starts it up as they drive the way back to his apartment in silence.

Minerva's face is twisted in deep thought, Duck laughs a bit, "What's on your mind there, 'Nerva,"

She jumped a bit at his voice, being caught off guard, a rare occurrence.

"What? Oh nothing. I was just thinking about...everything" she said, the last word coming out softer than Duck expected.

He's known Minerva for a long time now. He knew when to fight her and when to let her be. This was a moment to let her be; no matter how much he wanted to pry.

They were almost to his apartment now and still neither said anything. Finally as Duck parked and they both exited the car, she spoke, "That thing we did earlier...with our hands," she started.

Duck looked up at her and attempted to hide his smile. It didn't work.

"I would like to do it again, Wayne Newton," she said.

Duck didn't say anything. Instead he grabbed her hand again, this time giving it a soft squeeze as they made their way to his apartment.

"Duck? Minerva? That you two?" they heard as they entered the hallway. Duck turned to see Leo headed their way, his eyes trailed down to their joined hands only for a moment before he looked back at Duck with a grin that let Duck know they would certainty talk about that later.

"Ah! Leo Tarkesian! You're alive this is most wonderful news," Minerva exclaimed. She moved both her hands around as she spoke, which in turned yanked Duck's one arm with it.

Because Leo already saw and Duck didn't want to let go and Minerva didn't realize she had to.

Leo laughed, "Yeah I'm still here, Minnie, can't get rid of me that easy," he said, he looked down at their intertwined hands and again gave Duck a shit-eating grin accompanied with a wink, "Where you two off too?"

"My apartment just to...chill out. It's been kinda a rough 24 hours or so. So yeah," Duck said, he tried to ignore Leo's look. The man was a good friend but his Manhattan attitude and the years he had over Duck sometimes made him unbearable.

"Won't you join us, Leo Tarkesian! We can share stories of our conquests over our foes!" Minerva said.

Leo shook his head, "Ah maybe tomorrow, Minnie, this old bag of bones here needs about a 12 hour rest. Now I don't know why you all got to but I assume you two do too. I'll catch you guys later."

As Leo walked passed them and into his apartment, he gave Duck one last smile and wave before he disappeared behind the door.

As the two walked into Duck's apartment, Minerva was immediately delighted when Duck's tuxedo cat walked up to them instantly. He walked up to Minerva curiously and sniffed her legs.

"Minerva meet Cookie, Cookie this is Minerva," he said. Cookie meowed in response and looked up at the two.

"Cookie is a ridiculous name for this creature, Wayne Newton, who came up with it?"

Duck laughed, embarrassment filled inside him, "Twenty-three year old me," he said.

Minerva looked at him and laughed.

Duck really liked when she did that.

After scrounging up whatever they could for a meal they sat on Duck's couch and watched mindless television. Minerva constantly asking questions and Duck having to explain it's not real.

Somewhere between it all Minerva fell asleep, her head found its way to Duck's shoulder. He tried to stay as comfortable as he could, given the size of her head being bigger than the space between Duck's head and shoulder.

He realized that he really didn't mind however, and he knew that maybe sometime they'd have to talk about what's next for them now their destined were fulfilled, but he tried to not think about that.

Because everything in this moment felt right to Duck. Her head on his shoulder, their hands in one another's, Cookie at his feet.

He felt grounded and safe. And that's how he wanted to feel all the time.

[exchangewritingsandramblings]

The ABCs of Steve and Natasha Rogers-Stark

Happy First Anniversary, Babe. Love, Steve

A is for all my love for you. I know it’s cheesy and you’re probably rolling your eyes by now, but buckle up because it gets worse from here.

Before we started dating, you sort of got on my nerves. I know now that it’s a defense mechanism, your prickly porcupine act, to push people away before they can betray you. You’ve had too many betrayals in life, and I won’t be one. 

Contrary to whatever the tabloids say, we didn’t start dating after the first battle we fought together. At that point, we had at least warmed up to each other more, and I’ll admit, I was crushing pretty hard. I wish I would have gotten the nerve to ask you out earlier, so I could spend more time with you. But after that first battle, we started to text; you provided witty quips while I provided typos courtesy of super-strength, tiny screens, and a complete lack of knowledge of technology in the 21st century. 

I started to fall even harder once you, in all your genius, designed a phone for me, taking into account my previous challenges. I was touched that you would spend time creating something for me, and even more touched that it was to better our middle of the night “I can’t sleep because I’ve seen terrible things” conversations. I was so happy to have someone to talk to who was able to understand the things I’ve seen, but I was worried that you only saw me as a friend, and I didn’t want to overstep. 

Every night we’d text, and I became very glad for the fact that I need less sleep than an unenhanced human because it allowed me to spend more late night hours talking to you. I used to daydream about a time when, if one of us woke from a nightmare, we could hold the other and talk about our fears. It would have beat curling up on the couch cuddling a blanket, for sure. 

Finally, we went on a date. Fortunately, you asked me out while I was still mustering up the courage to do so. I’m sure that if you had waited for me, we would have both been waiting for a few more months. 

Our first date was great. We went to a pizzeria in Brooklyn that I remember from when I was a child, and somehow the place is still operating. Being back there, I felt a little bit less out of my time. Yet I was sitting across from a tech genius, who I knew would drag me kicking and screaming into the 21st century whether I liked it or not. Fortunately, when your crush pilots some crazy armor connected to an AI system, you lose reservations over modern technology.

How did I get so lucky? I’m not sure. All I know is that our first date was a success, then the second, then the third… again, if it wasn’t for you being so direct, we’d probably still be waiting on our first kiss. But at the end of the first date, you pulled me over to you (with a surprising amount of strength, I might add!) and kissed me. I think I saw stars (of the red, white, and blue variety… before you feel the need to say that before me. I know you babe). 

I fell more and more in love with you after each incredible date. Time flew by, and all of a sudden, we had been dating for a month, then two, and eventually six. I knew you were special before we started dating, and each passing day reaffirmed that fact. I knew that one day, I was going to marry you. 

Just as things were going well and we had established a nice pattern of domesticity, we were called into battle again. I heard over the comms as you were shot multiple times, with one shot bringing your armor crashing down. After the battle, I rushed to the hospital to see you. That was one of the scariest experiences of my life, and I fight aliens, monsters, and all sorts of other scum for a living! But you pulled through, because you’re the strongest woman I know, and a few bullet holes weren’t going to stop you.

The day that you were discharged from the hospital, we walked out together into the sunshine. I kissed you, and asked you to move in with me, because if that hospital stay taught me anything, it was that life is too short to be timid, and I didn’t want to lose any time with you. 

You laughed at me, and I was so anxious and confused until you shut my spluttering up with another kiss. “Honeybear,” you said, rolling your eyes, “Of course I want to live together. But you’re moving in with me, not the other way around. I have that whole tower getup, remember?” I remembered that I couldn’t stop laughing, partly from the relief, and partly from your sarcasm. 

Movie nights with you became my favorite way to unwind, a tradition we started after I moved in. You’d put on a movie that you’d claim I was “deprived” for not seeing while I was, in your words, a capsicle, bring out a giant tub of popcorn, and we’d cuddle on the couch and watch the film together. It did certainly beat newsreels. My favorite part, I think, is when you’d fall asleep halfway through the movie on me. I knew how hard it was for you to sleep, and I was honored that you trusted me enough to be able to let your guard down enough to finally go to sleep. By the way, honey, you really do need to sleep more frequently!

Another of my most treasured memories with you was the date when we drove out to a cabin I didn’t know you owned, and laid on the grass under the night sky, fingers intertwined as we saw more stars that I had ever seen in my life. The way that the glow of the moon illuminated your features, and the stars in your eyes… Golly, my heart swelled with love for you. And then, for the first time, we… did things that I’m not going to spell out because you know exactly what they are, and I’m sure you’re going to mock me for the fact that right now, as you’re reading this, I probably have a pink flush up my neck. Just remember that you find it adorable!

Engagement ring shopping was an ominous task for me; you would buy yourself the jewelry you liked, and I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to find anything that you didn’t have but would like. Finally, I decided to get something custom made for you. I wanted something with symbolism, so I got you a pattern of stones that looked like your arc reactor. Cheesy, I know, but I’m forever grateful to that thing for keeping shrapnel out of your heart so that I was able to enter. And yes, Natasha, I know you’re rolling your eyes right now. Just roll with it. 

Planning a proposal was no simple feat, either. Nothing I thought of could ever live up to the idea of a perfect proposal that I had in my head. So instead, I took to carrying the ring with me everywhere, knowing that when the perfect moment came, I would be ready. We were standing on the tower roof, looking over the fantastic New York skyline. The lights of the city reflecting off your face reminded me of the date we had under the stars, and I asked you what the building in the distance was, knowing full well that it was related to some scientific pursuit and that would keep you distracted for long enough for me to get onto one knee.

Once you had finished explaining, there was a period of quiet, where you didn’t realize that I wasn’t standing next to you. Finally, it registered with you, and you turned around. I don’t think I ever saw anything so beautiful, and I sketched it as soon as you went to sleep that night. Check the wall of the living room, when you have a chance. Of course you said yes, and you definitely cried (don’t even try to tell me I was seeing things, Stark).

I didn’t think we’d ever be ready with a planned wedding; wedding planning was worse than I expected, filled with a lot of stress that I didn’t know what to do with. Fortunately, you were already well-versed in planning formal events, and you were the real powerhouse behind our wedding. I just stood there and looked pretty. 

When coordinating wedding attire, we decided to wear our suits. How perfect was that to symbolize us, and the pictures of us shoving cake into each other’s mouths while in our superhero costumes were truly the highlight of our wedding album. 

We got married on a Thursday, because that was the one year anniversary of the battle we first fought in together, when we met each other. It was sappy and cliche and perfect, and both of us cried reciting our vows. I have photographic evidence to prove it, Natasha, don’t even try to deny it. 

For our honeymoon, we decided on a tropical getaway to some island that you owned. I really, at that point, should have not been surprised that you owned an island, yet I still was. As we laid under the stars, I thought back to that date, the one I mentioned earlier that makes me blush, when we did… things… for the first time together. And then we did the same, uh… things, again. This was the first time we did that as husband and wife, and as we stood in the sea, your legs wrapped around my waist, your arms around my neck, and the moonlight reflecting off your perfect skin… I think I fell in love all over again. 

I am a very lucky man to be your husband, Natasha, and I’m reminded of that every day, with little things such as the way your nose scrunches up when you’re working on calculations, or the way your tongue pokes out of your mouth when you solder. The way that you aren’t fully alive until you have your morning cup of coffee, and the way that you play with your bots when you don’t know I’m watching. 

There are endless more ways that I am completely in love with you, and every day we share together fills my heart with wonder. When I was thawed from the ice, I thought that any of my chances at love had disappeared with time. I’m so glad to have been so wrong. 

[frostclawdragoon]

Prompt #13: “Feelings Under the Waxing Moon”

((A follow up to @ishgard-dragoon‘s TRAGIC SAD STORY PROMPT from earlier. :’D))

“Would you like to accompany me to--” His words got caught in his throat. He hesitated to speak his mind. “--to--”

“Yes!” She answered quickly without waiting for him to finish.

“But you don’t know what it is yet.”

She could only smile wide and sweetly, even though she knew he could not see it, she knew he could at least hear it. It was so easy to hear the sound of someone’s smile.

“I’ll go anywhere you go, Sillyman!”

Sitting beside the open window in her room, in the light of a waxing moon, that moment replayed over and over in her mind as she gently slid a comb through her hair. She had caught his hesitation. The anxiety that had crept into his voice as he searched for any excuse he could give her was not hard to spot. Not for her, at any rate. Watching expressions, listening to the slightest change in tone, the tiniest shift in posture, these were all skills she honed during her days at the okiya. She had to, if she was to survive.

But even with all her training, the truth of his words would forever elude her and she would never know what he truly meant to ask her. Perhaps she had jumped too soon with her agreement? She had a habit of becoming overzealous when it came to doing anything with him… She couldn’t help it. She had become so protective of him since he had been blinded, and in the days before that… Well…

Her combing motion had slowed slightly as her gaze softened to the fluttering sensation in her chest. She was overzealous with Silianaux because she wanted nothing more than for him to notice her like she had noticed him all those moons ago. When they had first met, he immediately jumped at her, flirting with her as hard as anyone possibly could. She was amused by him and decided to play his game. She flirted back with him, teased him and giggled at his impressive displays of strength and beauty. But that is all she had viewed their relationship as: A game. She had dealt with clients like him before, clients only wanted the soft winks and giggles, to play behind masks and reveal no true feelings.

… But on the night before Windsong left for Ishgard for the first time, she saw a glimpse of his true self. A soft, gentle and vulnerable man. It was such a small window, so brief it was gone in the blink of an eye and his mask returned and their game had resumed. He played it off like nothing had happened, and she tried to respect his wishes of not wanting to discuss his past or his weaknesses. But no matter what she did, that tender moment occupied her every waking thought. That gentle spot that he had shown her… It made her wonder how much was he hiding behind that mask?

She wanted to see that man again. She wanted to hold that man’s hand and tell him it was all going to be okay. She wanted him to be vulnerable with her. To trust her with the side of him that he never showed anyone else. She wanted to be his friend.

Rayana trailed after him everywhere, hoping to catch a glimpse of the secret side of Silianaux. Anytime he would offer to go with her somewhere, she always happily accepted. They traveled far and wide, took good jobs and weird ones. They’d seen so many places, tried so many foods, experienced so many cultures. And through it all she quietly hoped that, maybe, if she were to show him kindness, gentleness, that she was a safe place for his heart, he would open up to her.

There were times he almost did, but he would immediately withdraw. And the mask would go back up. She had toyed with the idea of perhaps using her charms to coax the truth from him, but realized that it would defeat the purpose of earned trust. She was stuck in a position of wanting to know him, but being too afraid to ask for fear of hurting him or scaring him away. So she kept playing his game.

… Until she realized it wasn’t a game anymore.

Her flirting had become real. He had cracked her mask, broke beyond her defenses and found her untouched heart and stole it right out from under her without even realizing he had done so. It had happened when they had stumbled across the Vanu of Ok’Zundu, they had saved one of their people and had been welcomed into their village as a show of gratitude. Rayana wanted to stay with them for a while, to learn of their culture and their way of dancing all the while sharing her own culture with them. Silianaux was more than happy to oblige, and the two remained in the village for what felt like weeks, living in a tent provided by the Vanu.

One morning, Rayana had awoken early as she always did to prepare breakfast for them. And there, beside her in their tiny space, he slept facing toward her. So soundly and peacefully, his ruby red hair framing his face so elegantly in the warm morning light. Her heart had begun pounding wildly in her chest, her face running hot with blush while her stomach twisted in knots. The very thought of such a simple, domestic life with him sent her into an emotional fit, one that forced her running out of the tent with her face in her hands while he slept none the wiser.

Her feelings had only grown in intensity since then with each new adventure, and it took such strong willpower to keep her knees from giving out every time he’d hold her hand or spew forth his long-winded compliments. He seemed to still be delighting in their game that was now very much one-sided, as she didn’t want to play it anymore, she wanted it to be real. He had been nothing but kind to her, compassionate and attentive, gentle and soft. He was her knight in shining armor, her beloved serpent chaser, her inspiration.

… But still that masked blocked her from his true self. Still that wall between them that, in recent days, seemed to grow thicker and stronger. After he had been blinded, a strange and painful distance started to form. Not just with her, but with the entirety of Windsong. She tried to fight against it, this distance he was putting between him and everyone else, but he seemed keen on letting it absorb him entirely. She could see, plain as day, that he was losing himself to a darkness she couldn’t face. That he wouldn’t let her face.

She loved him. She loved him so dearly and wanted him so desperately to see that. She wanted him to see that she was there for him, wanted to be there for him, wanted him to know he was safe and loved. And above all, she wanted him to know he was not alone, that she would stand at his side and protect him from all his woes… That all of Windsong would do so much of that and more for him.

Rayana sighed softly as her hands fell to her lap. At her side, a familiar round lump of fat and fur twisted around as Dumpling, her cat, looked up at her curiously.

“... I do not think Sillyman will ever trust me.” She said softly as her head lowered. “Is it because he does not believe I am strong enough to handle his truth?”

Dumpling meowed in response.

“I wish I could ask him.” She continued as she lifted her gaze toward the moon peeking through her open window. “But I am scared he will run away if I try. That he will be angry for my prying into his life that he does not wish me to be fully part of.”

She paused a moment as she thought, a soft frown forming on her face.

“Am I being foolish? Should I just come out and say how I feel, regardless if it scares him away?”

She felt Dumpling bump his head into her leg and she looked down at him, then smiled woefully at him as he returned her gaze. She carefully stroked the top of his head.

“... Perhaps… When I go to the market with him… I will tell him…” Her smile grew a bit bigger. “I will tell him the truth, and maybe, it will encourage him to share with me his own?”

Dumpling purred loudly in what she assumed was approval, and she giggled despite the immense fear suddenly forming in the pit of her stomach at the thought of her confession.

“Very well. Tomorrow then… Tomorrow I shall be brave, just like him.”

The following morning, Rayana left her room with a cautious and nervous shuffle in her steps. She descended down the hall to Silianaux’s room to wake him, only to find that his door was open and he was nowhere to be seen inside. She quickly made her way to the kitchen after, hoping to find him there already, but instead only found Nalin, working tirelessly on the breakfast of the day.

“Nalin-san…?” Rayana asked as she walked in. “Have you seen--?”

“He left early this morning.” Nalin answered without looking back at her. “Ouros was trailing after him despite his objections.”

“Ro-chan and--…?” Rayana’s voice trailed off. “Where were they going?”

“Didn’t ask and they didn’t say.” Nalin said as he stirred something in the pan in front of him. “All I heard was that Silian didn’t want his company and Ouros didn’t care.”

Rayana’s gaze lowered slightly in disappointment. “I see.”

Nalin glanced over his shoulder at her for a second, seeming to come to a quick realization of some kind, before shifting his attention back to the food he cooked. “... Would you like pancakes?”

“Eh?”

“I’ll make the extra fluffy kind, like we had in Kugane. And we’ll wait for him to come back.” He shook the pan slightly on the burner. “He does have to go to the market today, I have a list for him so he’s not going to miss it. Or I’ll kill him.” He glanced back at her again. “You’ll have time.”

Rayana smiled faintly, then nodded her head. “Y-yes. Of course.” She paused thoughtfully. “And… Yes. I do think I would like some pancakes very much, thank you.”

She quietly took her seat at the table, her hands resting on her lap as she waited for breakfast to be served. All the while she quietly wondered where Silian and Ouros had run off to...

[gh03st-writer]

Madam Kadara

Summary:  Phoenix Ryder got herself exiled after joining the revolt on the Nexus when both the Arks and Pathfinders were nowhere in sight. After over a year of coping with losing her family and being stranded in a whole new galaxy, she finally gets word of an Ark docking the Nexus: the Ark Hyperion. The arrival of the Hyperion and its Pathfinder shakes Phoenix’s world and forces her to consider her position as an information dealer on Kadara.

Pairing: Reyes x OFC

chapter 2

Chapter 3: Promises of Dreams Never Deliver

The sun had set on Kadara hours ago, the oranges and purples filling the sky slowly turned to black and filled with stars as Phoenix and Reyes drifted to sleep in Reyes’ room in Tartarus.

           A banging at the door woke them and Phoenix groaned, “Maybe if we ignore them they’ll go away.”

           The banging became more persistent as the person on the other end shouted, “Madam Kadara, I know you’re in there, Sloane wants to talk to you!”

           “Tell Sloane, it’s late and I couldn’t care less about what she wants,” Phoenix shouted back, “I’m not a lap dog, I don’t come running when called!”

           “Sloane said that you might say that,” the voice remarked, “She told me to mention that it was about a Doctor Carlyle.”

           Phoenix’s ears perked up at the mention of Harry Carlyle, she weighed her pros and cons, hesitating a moment before replying, “I’ll meet with Sloane in an hour.”

           The sound of footsteps could be heard as the owner of the voice walked away, more or less happy with Phoenix’s reply. A sigh escaped her lips as she began to get up, untangling herself from Reyes. Phoenix stretched as she stood, Reyes stayed laying on the couch and wondered aloud, “Who’s Doctor Carlyle?”

           Phoenix thought about how she should reply, and if she were honest she would say that Carlyle was someone special, “A friend.”

           Reyes knew that there was more to her relationship with Carlyle than she was letting on, “You’ve never mentioned them before.”

           Phoenix knew she would have to tell him the truth about Carlyle, especially since the simple mention of his name was able to make her agree to meet someone in the dead of night, “I’ll make you a deal, be in my room in Kralla’s Song when I finish talking with Sloane and I’ll tell you anything you want,” she smirked, “Free of charge.”

           Reyes considered her offer before taking her hand and pulling her down towards him, “Deal.”

           She laughed as their lips met and they started to melt into each other again. Reluctantly, she pulled away, “Keep that up and I’ll miss my meeting with Sloane.”

           It was Reyes’ turn to smirk, “Would that be so bad.”

           She shook her head playfully and walked towards the door, “Maybe, maybe not, but tonight’s not the night I want to figure that out.”

           Tartarus was still quite alive with the sounds of patrons and bartender alike. Phoenix barely registered the noise as she left the club and headed towards the lift to the Port. Her mind ran through every possible thing Sloane could tell her but one question kept popping into her mind: how the fuck did Sloane know about Harry.

           She reached the Outcast headquarters and stopped at the guards, “Sloane requested to see me.”

           The guard on her left, a new one by the looks of it, puffed his chest out to make himself seem more intimidating, “Head in, but don’t even think about trying anything.”

           Phoenix looked the guard over, her walk from Tartarus to Outcast headquarters had given her enough time to turn her mood from annoyed to aggravated, leaving her with little to no patience for people who thought they could intimidate her. She glared at the new guard and glanced at the older guard that stood on the other side of the door, “You should teach the rookies some manners.”

           The older guard was about to say something but was interrupted when Phoenix used her biotics to slam the newer guard against the closest wall as she walked through the door. She could hear the older guard muttering and telling the newer guard he should pay attention to who he’s talking to.

           The other guards parted ways to let Phoenix through, knowing why she was here. She entered the room where Sloane sat atop her throne as if she were the high and mighty ruler of Kadara. Sloane laughed, noticing Phoenix’s mood, “Who got all your panties in a twist?”

           Phoenix rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her, “I was told you had information about Doctor Carlyle.”

           Sloane leaned back in her seat and smiled, “Not really, I just needed something to get your attention.”

           Phoenix clenched her jaw with enough strength that borderlined on breaking her own teeth, “I don’t take well to being lied to, how the fuck do you even know about him?”

           Sloane chuckled, “I have my sources, but don’t worry Madam Kadara, I won’t air your dirty laundry out to dry,” she paused for a moment, “I just need information and I heard you were slumming it with that third-rate smuggler Vidal.”

           “Information isn’t cheap,” Phoenix stared Sloane down, “My usual price plus a hundred credits for lying to me and another hundred for your smartass remark.”

           Sloane nodded and transferred the credits, “Sounds fair, knew my mouth would cost me something,” she contemplated her request for a moment, “Now, tell me about the Human Pathfinder.”

           Phoenix shifted so that she was leaning to her left, “She’s become quite the hot topic in Andromeda recently, her SAM implant has given her the uncanny ability to interact with the Remnant and restore Vaults, helping boost the viability of previously unlivable planets.”

           “Does she have a name,” Sloane questioned.

           “Ryder,” Phoenix replied, “Artemis Ryder.”

           “Thank you, Madam Kadara,” Sloane’s voice patronizing, “I appreciate your time.”

           Phoenix contemplated the reasons why Sloane would want to know about the Pathfinder, deciding that the need to know probably came with the territory of trying to rule an entire Port on an outlaw planet. She turned and headed towards the door, stopping short of the doorway as she considered the implications of Sloane knowing about the Pathfinder, “Oh, and Sloane, I’m sure you’ve already figured out that the Pathfinder and I are family, so that means if you decide that the Pathfinder needs to be removed, I will personally make sure that such a decision will be the last thought you ever have.”

           Sloane chuckled, “Is that a threat?”

           Phoenix smiled sweeter than syrup, “It’s a promise.”

           The guards eyed Phoenix as she left, very well aware of the danger she posed to their leader. She passed the newer guard who she slammed against the wall earlier and noticed how he averted his gaze when she walked by, “You know son,” she grabbed his attention, “Let our little interaction be a warning that when you try to intimidate someone like me, you need a bigger gun.”

           The older guard chuckled to himself as Phoenix continued her walk away from Outcast headquarters and towards Kralla’s Song. She rolled her shoulders out as she walked, the tension she was building up in her muscles nearly made her want to jump into one of Kadara’s many acidic lakes.

           The door to the club slid open as she entered and the music flowed out onto the Port before the door shut behind her. Umi nodded to acknowledge Phoenix’s entrance and Phoenix returned the greeting with a tired wave of her own.

           Phoenix entered her room to find Reyes sleeping in her bed, his shirt tossed on the floor. She laughed at how domestic he made the whole room look; it reminded her of her own apartment on the Citadel that she shared with Harry before the Initiative was born. It made her wonder, if they had never boarded the Nexus and crossed dark space, where would they be now.

           She began to undress down to her shirt and underwear before sliding in next to Reyes. He stirred as she laid against him, his back to her. The bed shifted as Reyes turned so that he was facing her as he wrapped his arms around her, his voice raspy from sleep, “What took you so long?”

           Phoenix smiled and subconsciously ran a hand down his arm, “Sloane likes to hear herself talk.”

           He laughed as a yawn escaped his lips, “I think you’re the only one who thinks that.”

           “Mmm, you’re probably right,” Phoenix’s smile evident in her voice. She watched him, took in every feature of his face, it made her feel like everything was how it was supposed to be; that they weren’t two criminal bosses trying to survive in an unforgiving galaxy, and instead, they were just two people finding happiness in the comfort of one another.

           Reyes knew that look in her eyes, the misty far off dream of a home they were promised but never given, “Would you like a map?”

           It took Phoenix longer for her to register his words than she would like to admit, “Why would I want a map?”

           “Because, I think you’re lost in my eyes,” Reyes grinned.

           “I hate you,” Phoenix laughed and playfully pushed him away, “Can’t you learn any new pickup lines.”

           He hummed and pulled her back into him, “Never.”

           She softly shook her head and smiled, “I can’t stand you.”

           “Good thing we’re laying down,” he teased.

           Phoenix laughed, it was moments like these that helped her to forget for a brief moment that she was one of the most infamous women in Andromeda.

That she was anyone at all really.

There was a soft silence in the room as the two of them enjoyed each other’s comfort and drifted off to sleep. Phoenix knew that she would have some explaining to do when they woke up. Reyes isn’t one to forget about the deals he makes; especially when it’s with her.