#I’ve just been so focused on decorating the living/dining room and bathroom I hadn’t gotten our room yet but I love her

[lordgolden]

finally decorated my bedroom and it looks sooo slay I’ll post pics once I clean up again for the millionth time (just like Sisyphus fr)

[orangeseoks]

365 Rain Street EST.1809 // k.th (M)

pt.5

this is an instant continuation from where pt.4 left off

ー this is a short chapter! i’m sorry!!

[ unedited ]

all rights reserved @orangeseoks​

Jimin smiles in response to (Y/n), holding her limp body close to his, “upon our arrival I shall treat you to a warm bath, sweets and a delicious meal.”

He notices how (Y/n) shakes her head slightly, a small smile gracing her lips, “no need.” Is all she says, her eyes slowly growing heavier by the second. “Rest up miss, I’ll awake you when we’re back at manor.”

A hum is all Jimin gets as a reply. The eyes of the injured woman in his arms closing, a calm expression falling onto her features. It amazes Jimin how ones expression can change due to one small thing.

The walk to the manor wasn’t as long as most would think, but to Jimin it felt like a whole mile had been walked as he held tightly onto the woman intertwined in his very arms. Her weight beginning to take a toll on Jimin, she wasn’t exactly heavy or weighed a lot, his muscles were merely growing tired.

He picked up his pace, practically bolting into the manor, calling for a maid as he bursts into an empty bathroom, resting (Y/n) in the corner of the room whilst he runs the bathtub.

“Mr Park, is something wrong- oh my..” The maid stops mid-sentence, glancing at (Y/n) in the corner, her dress torn and her body almost ruined. It was such a sight the maid had begun to lose feeling in her knees.

But she had remained strong, “I shall retrieve the nurse, as well as herbs and a gown for her.”

Jimin thanks her, asking for an extra maid while she is busy to undress (Y/n) and assist her into the warm water of the tub. Eventually she was placed neatly into the tub, the water suddenly turning a gross crimson colour.

The amount of dirt and blood that coloured the water was revolting, it had caused a rush of anger to bubble inside of Jimin as he watched her sit lifelessly in the tub. 

“Mr Park,” the maid from earlier speaks entering the room, “the nurse has gone home to her family. But I have a few things that can help.”

“Thank you,” is all he says. Taking the many items from the worrisome maid, placing them down to tend to (Y/n).

“Miss, I’ll just be washing your back and hair, please. Do not be alarmed by my actions.” I tell her, only earning a slow nod. Not a simple yes was heard, only a small action.

Taking note of this, I fill an empty container with clean water from the hand basin, making sure its warm before using it, and pouring it down her back so it has some sort of moisture before I wash it.

I gently rub a bar of soap between my hands, making it a foam so its easier for me to do whats needed. “Apologies if my hands are cold miss.” I let out with a hesitant chuckle, finally getting onto the task at hand.

Literally.

Coating her back with the foam from the soap, I use a rag to massage her skin and clean it properly, being extra careful when it came her neck and shoulders.

“Mr Park,” (Y/n) finally speaks up. My actions coming to halt at her sudden decision to talk, “yes?” She hums and rolls her shoulders back. “M-Mother, what happened to mother. Has Mr Kim and Sir Lee done something?”

Smiling painfully, I shake my head, knowing damn well she can’t see it. “No, nothing has been done, silly.”

Silly, she giggles at that.

“My hair please, Mr Park.”

“My bad,” I respond with a faint laugh. Moving on to washing her hair. The second my hands touch her head shes fallen asleep, chuckling I inform her to stay awake but she only hums and instructs me to continue.

___________________________________________________________

My bathing session had come to end once Mr Park had managed to wake me, telling me he’ll leave while I wash my body and a few maids help me with dressing and attending any wounds.

And he wasn’t lying when he said he’d treat me, infact -and to my shock- Seok Jin had the three of us bake a few things together to help take my mind off things since I’d gotten some strength back.

Of course, it still hurt when doing a lot of things, but it wasn’t something I couldn’t handle. “Seok Jin, may I add chocolate drops to the mixture?” 

He laughs in response, and flicks his wrist back at me, “do as you wish!” Seok Jin chimes, himself and Jimin focusing hard on making a big cake for me. Decorating it like its of high importance and worth the imaginary money spent to buy it.

I think its sweet that they’re going out of their way to do such things for me, but its odd, not once has anyone done such kind things for me. 

Its all new to me.

Smiling despite my thoughts, I add in the extra ingredient I’m wanting before pouring the mixture into a muffin tin and placing into the iron oven, lighting the fire beneath it to bake what I’m hoping to be cupcakes or some sort of cookie.

“Mm, something smells nice.” A deep voices cuts in, making me jump smally. “Ah, Taehyung-ah!” Seok Jin shouts, engulfing his friend into a hug. Giggling, I keep silent and return to watching my baking.

“Whats this?” Mr Kim asks, the conversation between himself and his friends sparking up like the fire embers in front of me. “Myself and hyung are making a cake for Miss (Y/n), hopeful it’ll make her smile and feel better. Right miss!”

Mr Park chuckles watching me slowly turn around at the gorgeous men standing at the dining table, their eyes focused on me. “Indeed, Mr Park. Hows it coming?” I ask, actually curious on how the cake is going.

Mr Kim hums and gives me a pained smile, “from what I’ve seen. It’ll turn out just right.” Nodding, I focus back onto my baking. “Ah! They’re ready!” I cheer with a wide smile, putting out the fire and pulling out the muffin tin being sure not to move the rag I’m using to hold it.

“Wahh, that looks extravagant!” Seok Jin praises me, waddling over, his friends following after. Smiling, I thank him, grabbing a knife and a plate. 

___________________________________________________________

Myself, Mr Park, Seok Jin and Mr Kim had finally finished our baking and treated ourselves. Now is the time that everyone should be parting ways, but rather than that the four us stay where we are.

In the warmth of the living room.

We’re all sat near the fireplace, just enjoying eachothers time, but I never cease to notice the multiple times Mr Kim looks up at me from their game of marbles. 

“Is something wrong?” I ask, closing the book I hadn’t even been reading. Mr Kim looks up at me, his eyebrows raised. “No, miss, why do you ask?” Shifting in his spot, Mr Kim gives me and odd look - a brow raised. “Why must you look at me every few seconds? Is there something on my face?”

Of course there is, I was hit for christs sake.

“No, not at all. I’m just worried about you,” frowning he sits up straighter, his two friends also. “You were treated like a ragdoll by your own mother, in front of not only myself but others also. How-How could you live with such a person?”

I curl into myself, placing the book in my hands onto the table beside me, “I have no other choice, mother says that a delicate girl like myself shouldn’t live on my own. Especially at my age, she said that I wouldn’t make it out there in the real world.”

I felt myself begin to believe my own words, all the lies I’d been told many times before; their toxic and powering presence making me feel weak - making me feel.. small. So, so small.

[bibliosauruswrecks]

I’m still spending an unhealthy amount of time staring at this Rumbelle aesthetic @timelordthirteen​ made despite the fact that Christmas is over.  Consider this a continuation of what I’m now calling Part 1, because I don’t know when to quit.  I guess this means I need to give this thing a name.

Is it obvious that I don’t know what I’m doing?

It took the better part of a week for Belle to finish the deep cleaning Mr. Gold had tasked her with downstairs.  The first three days, she focused on the front sitting room and the foyer, systematically moving and returning furniture and decorations so that every cleanable surface was wiped down and polished.  Some of the larger pieces she was unable to move, so she improvised with an extendable mop.  If Gold wanted thorough, he would get thorough.

Cleaning the house gave Belle some insight into her enigmatic employer, and confirmed many of the observations she’d already made. That Gold was wealthy came as no surprise; the house was full of valuable antiques, tasteful without flaunting it, but there was nothing that felt personal.  The rooms almost seemed like set pieces for a film, designed to give the appearance of habitation to the outside viewer without actually being lived in.  The formal dining room was much the same.  Belle had no doubt Gold didn’t use any of these rooms.

The back sitting room told a different story. Situated just before the kitchen, it was smaller and more intimate.  The lighter color scheme, a soft sage green, made it considerably less claustrophobic than the rest of the house.  Compared to the front room, there wasn’t as much furniture, but the living chairs and sofa looked used.  There were other little indications, as well.  A half-finished cup of coffee left on the end table, for starters, which Belle rinsed out and placed in the dish washer.  There was also a book, and she was unable to resist taking a peek at the cover.  It was an omnibus containing The Iliad and The Odyssey, with a bookmark of emerald silk poking out about three-quarters of the way through.

But it was the spinning wheel in the corner that caught Belle by surprise.  Smaller and more compact than the more traditional wheels she’d seen, it fit perfectly in the small space.  A basket of wool waiting to be spun indicated that it saw regular use.  It was the only truly personal item she’d seen in the entire house, so far.  As she finished her work in the remaining rooms downstairs, she wondered about it.

With her father still in the hospital, Belle found the prospect of eating dinner alone on Sunday evening unbearable, regardless of the fact that it wasn’t any different from any other night that week. She grabbed her hat and coat, wrapped a thick scarf around her neck, and stepped out into the chilly night without a second thought.

It still hadn’t snowed, despite the forecast promising everything from a quarter inch to two feet for the last four days. The air was crisp, the sky was clear, and Storybrooke’s maintenance department had gotten most of the town’s decorations in place.  Fake lanterns designed to mimic old-fashioned gas lamps had been attached to most of the street lights and utility poles, and garlands with large plastic bells had been strung across Main Street.  The business owners that hadn’t already started decorating back at Thanksgiving seemed to have taken this as a signal, and there wasn’t a single storefront that didn’t have something in the windows.  With one minor exception, of course.

Gold’s pawnshop was completely dark.

He could at least put some of those fake electric candles in the window or something, Belle said to herself.  A wreath on the door.  Anything.

She supposed it wasn’t really any of her business. If Gold didn’t want to decorate for Christmas, that was his own depressing choice.  Still, as she passed the shop on the opposite side of the street, she couldn’t help but wonder.  The place was clearly locked up for the night, so it was unlikely Gold was there. Was he at home right now?  Belle let her mind conjure up an image of him in the back sitting room, jacket off, perhaps with his shirtsleeves rolled up, settled into one of the chairs in front of the fireplace while he finished The Odyssey.  Or maybe seated at the spinning wheel, working with the wool she’d seen, his nimble fingers teasing it into something usable.

You’re being absolutely ridiculous.  Belle banished the thought, and focused on getting to Granny’s before she froze.

The diner was nearly empty, but that was hardly surprising for a Sunday night.  Marco and his son occupied a table in front of the window so they could people-watch, and Leroy was parked on his usual stool at the bar.  Other than that, there were no other patrons.

Catching sight of Ruby, Belle waved a greeting as she settled down into one of the booths.  It was just moments later that her friend came coasting over with a burger and a glass of iced tea.

“How did you…?”

“I’m psychic.”  Ruby plopped herself down opposite and slid to the middle of the booth. “So, you survived your first week with the Beast.  How was it?”

“Not that bad, actually,” Belle admitted.  She poured a generous helping of ketchup on her fries.  “I mean, he’s usually already left by the time I get there, and I’m always gone before he comes home.  And the few times I’ve seen him, he’s been civil to me.  Awkward, but civil.”

“Awkward how?  Creepy awkward? I-hope-you-don’t-find-my-secret-stash-of-kinky-sex-toys awkward?”

Belle took a bite of the burger, mulling over Ruby’s question while she chewed.  “No, nothing like that.  I think he’s just unused to having someone in his house.  He seems like an intensely private person, and having me there’s probably thrown his whole routine out of whack.”

“Yeah, he strikes me as the anal-retentive type.” Ruby pilfered a couple of fries from her friend’s plate.  “So, you found the bodies of his ex-wives in the basement yet?”

Belle choked on her iced tea.  “What?  No!”

“I’m joking.  Pretty sure it was just the one.  And the divorce was messy, but I don’t think there were any bodies involved. Might’ve been some blood.”

“I’m trying to eat, Ruby.”

“Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all as she pinched another fry.  “So, you got any big plans for Christmas?”

“Not really.  It’ll just be me and Dad, assuming they release him next week.  I doubt he’ll be up for a big celebration.”

“Think you’d feel up for some decorating?”

Belle raised an eyebrow.  “I’m sensing an ulterior motive here.”

“Granny’s leaving the decorating to me this year. She’s giving me free reign, and I intend to make the most of it.  Holly, mistletoe, tinsel.  The works.”

“Only you could make that sound ominous.”

Ruby shrugged.  “I aim to please.  Anyway, the point is I may’ve gotten a bit too carried away.  I’ve been dragging out boxes and boxes of decorations, and I’m starting to realize I’ve bit off more than I can chew.  There’s no way I’ll get everything up in time by myself.  But two people…”

“You want me to help you decorate.”

“It’ll be fun!  You can stay after closing, we’ll put on some carols, throw tinsel all over the place, and get plastered with eggnog.  It’ll be good for you.”

As Belle mulled over her burger, she conceded that it sounded like fun.

“Good!” Ruby chirped.  “I’ll drag everything out from the hall while you finish eating. Marco and August’ll be on their way soon, and I’ll kick Leroy out at closing.  This is gonna be great!”

She purloined a couple more fries before scrambling up to get Marco’s check, leaving Belle to finish her burger in peace.

Half an hour after Ruby had locked up and closed down, Belle found herself standing in the middle of a tinsel explosion while “Run, Run, Rudolph” played in the background.  What she’d thought was a set of multiple garlands in a box had turned out to be a single and apparently endless strand of shiny red tinsel.  The box, she decided, was also bottomless because she was sure there was no way the entire thing could fit in there.  The strand snaked out of the box, up around her neck, wound its way down her torso, and ended in a massive pile at her feet. And there was still more coming.

“This is impossible,” Belle declared, wrapping part of the strand around her arm just to get it out of the way.  “Granny’s using stolen Time Lord tech, isn’t she?”

“How else do you think she fits all that lasagna in the freezer?”  Ruby offered her a glass of eggnog.  “You want some help with that?”

“Please.”  Belle sipped the eggnog while her friend unwound the tinsel.  “Just how long is that thing, anyway?”

“I’m not sure.  I mean, I’ve never actually measured it.  I just know it’s long enough to get completely around the diner if you hang it in the doorway and don’t run it down the hall.  If you do that, it’ll reach all the way to the bathrooms, but it won’t make it back, so then you’ve got this big gap you’ve gotta fill and – ooh!”

A pair of glittery red antlers attached to an equally-glittery headband tumbled out of the tinsel.  Ruby pounced on them.  Belle eyed the antlers with more than a little skepticism.

“Are you really gonna wear those?”

“Absolutely!  Magpie brain likes the shiny!”

“How much eggnog have you had?”

“Not enough,” Ruby pronounced, taking a sip of her own.  “I’m wearing these for the rest of the year.”

“The antlers.”

“Yes!  Antlers are an important part of Christmas festivities!  A necessity!”

“You’re going to wear reindeer antlers.  For the rest of the year.”

“Well, I’ll take them off to shower, obviously. And I’ll probably have to take them off to sleep.  Don’t want to get them all tangled up in my hair.  I wouldn’t look like a Christmas reindeer, then; I’d look like a reindeer that just got hit by a car.”

Belle snickered into her eggnog.  “Yeah, I don’t think Granny would appreciate you scaring customers away with your Christmas cheer.”

“Better to scare people off with cheer than being the town Scrooge.  I don’t know how Gold does any business this time of year.”

“Being the only place in town that sells jewelry might have something to do with it.”

“True.  But, hey!” She grabbed the garland and bounded away in a shower of red glitter.  “Let’s not talk about that old miser, and get to decking some halls!”

With Ruby’s unbridled enthusiasm and Belle’s meticulous eye, the pair set about decorating the diner.  It took almost three hours, and Belle didn’t tumble into bed until sometime after midnight, but having seen the end results, she agreed with Ruby that it was worth it.

The snow the forecasters had been threatening the Maine coast with was definitely coming.  Gold was sure of it.  He leaned against the counter to take the weight off his bad foot, and took a deep breath in through his nose, trying to focus on anything except the throbbing pain.  The temperature had dropped ten degrees since that morning with no signs of stopping soon. He glanced at the clock.  It was still too early to take another pain killer, not that it seemed to matter.  If this was how bad it was with medication, he’d hate to see it was without it.

He supposed he could always close up early.  One of the benefits of being self-employed was the ability to make one’s own hours, and any business someone had with him could just as easily be done tomorrow.  Another white-hot lance of pain shooting through his ankle made the decision for him.  Gold closed down and locked up, scowling at the Christmas decorations as he stalked to his car.

It really was quite ridiculous the amount of time and effort Mayor Mills put into decorating for the holidays.  It wasn’t as if Storybrooke had a reputation as a tourist destination, particularly during the winter.  Day-trippers weren’t uncommon during the spring and summer, autumn brought the leaf-chasers, and Granny’s bed-and-breakfast saw the occasional overnight visitor, but like the rest of coastal Maine, winter was the off season.  Gold saw little point in trying to impress a disinterested public.

His disapproval must’ve shown on his face, because Dr. Hopper, approaching from the opposite direction with his dog, quickly side-stepped to get out of the way.  He passed by without offering a “Merry Christmas,” or even any of his usual chirpy greetings.  Gold supposed it was inevitable.  Most of the town had given up on wishing him the compliments of the season, with the exception of a few relentless enthusiasts like David and Mary Margaret Nolan, but they were the sort of people who started celebrating Christmas in October, so their behavior was forgivable if a bit nauseating.

The first flakes had started falling by the time Gold pulled up in the driveway.  He sat for a moment rather than getting out right away, massaging his knee in some vain hope that it might help.  It didn’t, but after all, he reminded himself with a touch of bitterness, it was the thought that counted.  The idea of limping back around to the front of the house didn’t appeal to him, so Gold made his way to the patio door to let himself in through the kitchen, instead.

The soft strains of classical violin caught him off guard, and he froze for a moment while his brain tried to process why there was music in his normally-silent house.  Then he spotted the purse on the kitchen counter.

Right.  It was the middle of the day.  Belle French would still be cleaning.  That belated realization was closely followed by the woman herself.  Belle glided into the kitchen, wielding what appeared to be a curtain rod, and stopped short when she spotted her employer by the back door.

“Mr. Gold.  Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, Miss French. I simply closed up early today.” Why the hell hadn’t he considered that Belle would still be here?  How was he meant to relax with her in the house?  He supposed he could send her home early.  Yes, that would work.  Send her home early, and he could pretend to ignore his agony in peace.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll stay out of your way.”

Gold was fairly certain by now there was a loose connection somewhere between his mouth and his brain, because that hadn’t been what he’d meant to say at all.

“Good.”  Those bright blue eyes darted up and down, and seemed to land on his cane briefly, before shooting back to his face.  “I mean, that’s fine, I’ll just be finishing here. I mean, I’m almost done with the sitting room, and I’ll be out of your hair, soon.”

His presence was making her nervous, if the way she fluttered back to the other room was any indication.  He shrugged out of his coat, and draped it over the back of a chair rather than walk all the way to the front of the house to hang it on the coat rack.  The very thought made his entire leg twinge. Timing be damned; he was taking another aspirin.

Leaning heavily on his cane, Gold hobbled his way over to the kitchen sink, grabbing a glass as he went. He filled it from the tap, retrieved the aspirin bottle from the overhead cabinet, and tipped two tablets into his hand.  He tossed the pills into his mouth, and quickly followed them with the water. The last thing he wanted was for Belle to find him choking on an aspirin.  He rested his palms on the counter, allowing his hands to take his weight and give his foot a slight reprieve while he gazed out the window.

The snow was coming down in big, fat flakes now.  It didn’t appear to be a heavy snow, not at the moment, at least.  The snowflakes meandered, spiraling downward in a slow dance before eventually coming to rest on the lawn.  There was something quite mesmerizing about it.

A loud thud and a whispered “Oh, bloody hell!” broke Gold out of his reverie.  Standing by the sink, the sitting room was just out of his sight, but he could hear Belle moving around, grumbling to herself. Curiosity finally got the better of him, and Gold limped past the stove and around the counter to see what was causing his maid to curse like a sailor under her breath.

Belle was perched on the back of the sofa, fighting with the curtain rod.  She’d discarded her shoes once again, and Gold found her red-and-white-striped stockings drew his eye right up to her—

Stop it!  He was veering dangerously into lecherous old man territory.  He set his attention instead on the curtain rod Belle was still combating.  It was no longer bare; she’d obviously replaced the curtains while he’d been watching the snowfall, and now she appeared to be trying to return the rod to its rightful place above the window.  With little success, it seemed.

“Miss French?  What are you doing?”

“I took the curtains down to give them a proper cleaning earlier today, and now I can’t get them back up.”  She fumbled with the rod some more, huffing in frustration.  “Odysseus dispatched the suitors with less difficulty.”

“Yes, but if I recall, he had the benefit of a goddess’s patronage.”

She craned her neck to look over her shoulder at him, her eyes alight with that spark seen in any bookworm who’d just found a kindred spirit in the wilderness.

“True.”  She smiled, and her whole face changed.  Gold had known, intellectually, that she was a beautiful woman.  He’d likened her once to a cameo broach he had on display in the shop: elegant and tranquil, with a gracefulness despite the lack of animation, but her smile… With her smile, Belle was positively radiant.

Then she looked away, and the spell broke.

Gold told himself he’d started gripping his cane so tightly because his bad leg needed the support, and not because he wanted to hide the fact that his hands had started shaking. The strange flip-flopping in his stomach was almost certainly from the glass of cold water he’d downed with the aspirin.  He had a little more trouble explaining away why his heart felt like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest, but surely he could come up with a reasonable justification, given enough time.

Belle readjusted her footing as she attempted to find a better angle for the curtain rod.  Gold almost offered to help, but before he had a chance to open his mouth, the loose connection resumed operation again long enough to remind his brain why it would be a bad idea for him to stand on a step-ladder.  He limped over to the end table, intending to grab his book and relocate to another part of the house.  Before he could do so, Belle slipped.

Gold reacted on instinct, stepping forward on his good leg while his cane clattered to the floor. The curtain rod joined it a second later when Belle’s arms pinwheeled in a vain effort to steady herself as she tumbled backward into his arms.  He caught her about the waist, and her hands came to rest around his neck, fingers clutching at his shirt collar.  One foot was still on the back of the couch; the other was wedged down between the cushions. The near-horizontal angle had to be uncomfortable for her, but Gold found himself incapable of doing anything about it.  Just breathing proved to be an issue.

It was the first time he’d ever been this close to Belle, or indeed any other person, in what felt like a lifetime, and he was unprepared for the torrent of emotions that barreled through his mind as his brain tried to process this information.  Incoherent feelings and fleeting impressions bounced around in his mind attempting to coagulate into some form of rational thought. He was touching Belle.  Belle was touching him.  He liked it. He shouldn’t.  He needed to let go.  He didn’t want to, but he wasn’t sure why.  She was so soft, so warm, and he marveled at how she could appear so delicate, but so strong at the same time.

His heart was pounding again.  He tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry.  A tiny, malicious part of his brain whispered that he still had his arms around Belle’s waist, but then she smiled again, and he decided he didn’t care.

“Thanks.”  Her voice was low, almost breathless.

“It was nothing.”

“You can, um— you can put me down now.”

Gold blinked. “Oh!  Right.”

He shifted a little, allowing Belle to brace her hands against his shoulders and get her feet back on the floor without tumbling over himself.  Before he had a chance, she bent down to retrieve his cane.  He leaned onto it, relieved to take some of his weight off his good leg.

“Thank you, Miss French.”

“You’re welcome.” Belle fidgeted, running her palms over her skirt to smooth out non-existent wrinkles.  “I should get back to work.”

“Indeed.”  Gold grabbed his book, and started back to the kitchen.  He made it as far as the counter before he turned around and called out, almost as an afterthought, “Miss French?”

Belle, bent halfway over in the middle of grabbing the curtain rod, looked up at him.  “Yes?”

“Do try to be more careful. My reputation in this town would never recover if my housekeeper broke her neck in my living room.”

He expected a nod, or perhaps a polite smile.  Belle took him by surprise with her decidedly-unladylike snicker at his quip. She was laughing at him.  No, with him.  His self-deprecating jibe had made her laugh.  Gold pivoted on the balls of his feet, disregarding the twinge of protest his ankle made, and returned to the kitchen.

With his back to her, Belle couldn’t see the faintest hint of a lopsided grin that had formed on his face.

[arcaneapologist]

Partners in Crime- Ch 8

the a/n is the end of the chapter this week. and because posts with links won’t show up in searches, check the notes for the link to a03!

Chapter 8: Ass Pinching and Cartoon Stealing

“Ego, you never answered my question. We’ve been working together for almost two months and you've admitted I've gotten better at this. Can we please do something more exciting than just pickpocketing?” Dan whined.

“Really? You’re going to ask that now? We’re currently hiding behind a fucking dumpster because you pinched a guy’s ass while trying to steal his wallet.” Arin struggled to keep his voice low.

“It was an accident!”

“Whatever you say, Sexb//ang.” Arin rolled his eyes.

It was only November third and Arin and Dan had interviewed roughly twenty-five people. Dan had essentially been living at Arin’s because of the amount of time this took up. All of them needed their help, but Arin didn’t find any of their needs to be morally right. There were people who just wanted them to steal something because they wanted it, some to get revenge. There were even some people who came in that wanted them to just vandalize other people’s property. Arin needed to have a serious conversation with Dan, Holly, and Suzy about the people they were talking to.

Arin was in his kitchen making coffee when there was a knock at the door. He looked at the clock on the wall and figured it was just Dan. Arin knew if he didn’t answer Dan would let himself in, so he poured the water into the coffee maker and ignored it. Or tried to, at least, because there was another knock a few seconds later.

“Just let yourself in!” Arin yelled, but was met with more knocking. Dan must have forgotten his keys again. “Fuck... Just Hang on!”

He closed the lid and hit ‘brew’. Arin stomped to the door, mentally apologizing to his downstairs neighbors but still wanting to mess with Dan. He loudly unlocked it and ripped the door open, feigning anger. “Look I gave you a fuu-uuck. You’re not Dan.”

“No… I’m a potential client. Can I come in?” The man standing in front of him was giving him a look somewhere between concerned and irritated.

“Yeah sure. You’re just early and my partner isn’t here yet, so uh. We’re going to have to wait on him.” Arin stepped aside to let him in and softly shut the door behind him. “Do you want some coffee while we wait?”

This guy made Arin nervous, and he wasn’t sure why. He looked kind of familiar; he was several inches shorter than him and thin. Maybe it was just because Arin didn’t know where he knew him from, if he did at all. “No I’m fine. I’m Ross, by the way.”

“Egor//aptor. I don’t give out names. Sorry.” Ross nodded in response while they both sat on the couch. Arin prayed Dan would get there soon. He was always better at breaking the ice with people. The past few days had followed a very strict routine: Dan answered the door, Arin stood vaguely threatening behind the couch while Dan introduced them and got them to start talking. If he didn’t approve he’d just put a hand on Dan’s shoulder and excuse himself to the bathroom. If he did, he’d come around and sit beside Dan and get more information. So far the latter hadn’t happened.

A minute or so later, Arin heard the door open. Before Dan could say or do anything incriminating, he yelled “Our first interview is already here, Sexb//ang.”

Dan stepped through the door, hanging his jacket up and kicking off his shoes. He looked up to see not one, but two familiar faces on the couch. He muttered a terrified ‘shit’ and stepped back against the door while Ross glared at him in response.

“Hold on… You’re the guy who pinched my ass and tried to steal my wallet a week ago!” Ross jumped up off the couch, then turned to Arin. “And you’re the guy who helped him run!”

“We’re also the guys who are going to help you with whatever problem you’re having. So I suggest you sit down.” Arin hadn’t gotten off the couch, but something in his voice made Ross listen immediately. “Come ‘ere Sexb//ang. Come join us.”

Dan made a wide arc through Arin’s living room and sat down on the arm of the couch behind him. “I’m really sorry about pinching your ass. I swear it was an accident. The wallet… Meh..-”

“It’ll be forgiven, wallet too, if you can help me out.” Ross sighed. “I’m kind of desperate.”

Ross was an animator and had been working on a cartoon for over a year. He’d gotten the entire first season done on his own. He was going to present it to a local tv station in a few days. There was only one issue: his coworker had stolen it and was going to try and pass it off as their own. Ross was able to give them all the information they’d need to get it back. He knew where this person lived, what the flash drive looked like, and when they would be out of the house for an extended period of time. After some debating between Arin and Dan they agreed to help him out, they’d have it to him in less than twenty four hours.

Arin and Dan headed out to the other side of town at seven thirty. By the time they’d get there they would have three hours to get in, find the flashdrive, and get out. By himself, Arin might not have been able to, but having a second person to look was going to be extremely helpful. When they go to the apartment Dan kept watch while Arin tried to discreetly pick the lock. However, once they got  inside he realized that all the help in the world might not find it in those three hours. Whoever this was, was disgusting.There were old take out containers strewn around and crumpled pieces of paper were everywhere.

“Well fuck.” Dan said after he shut the door behind them. “I'll uh... I'll start in the living room I guess.”

“Yeah. I’m going to look around and see if I find a work desk or a safe where they may have hidden something.” Arin set off down the hall. He carefully picked his way through the dressers in the bedroom. People had a tendency to hide things in their sock drawer. Like that wouldn't be the first place a thief would look. When nothing turned up in the dressers, he turned his attention to the desk. He let his thoughts wander while he looked.

Despite the ass pinching incident, Dan had gotten a lot better about not drawing attention to himself. Though, sometimes that ability to distract people was a massive help. There’d been situations where they’d gotten into a little bit of a bind and Dan had managed to charm them out of it. Arin admired how sure of himself Dan always appeared. He’d gotten to know him better, and knew Dan had a lot of anxiety over himself and his future, but he never showed it. More than anything, Arin admired his seemingly never ending patience.

He glanced around the room again, it was surprisingly more clean than the living room. It was decorated very minimally, and had very few things in the drawers. Even the desk was almost empty. Arin sighed, and made his way back to the living room to help Dan. He was carefully searching under the couch cushions and singing to himself. He stopped when Arin walked in, he seemed to have a sixth sense for when other people were nearby.

Arin started sifting through the piles of trash on the coffee table himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Dan, but rather that the apartment was a disaster. Dan stood up and stretched his back, aching from his hunched over position looking under furniture. This was going to be impossible. They still had the kitchen and the office to sort through. Neither men had tried to make conversation, too focused on searching for the flashdrive, and time seemed to be crawling by.

Dan sighed, and headed into the kitchen. He checked the dining table and chairs first, and this time he was in luck. Sitting in a chair was a gym bag with a small piece of the lanyard caaught in the zipper. He poked his head into the living room, “I think I found it Egor//aptor.”

“Oh thank god.” Arin stood up from his spot at the desk. “Let's get it and get out.”

They opened the bag to find, sure enough, the exact lanyard Ross had described. Arin high fived Dan then pried the flash drive off the keychain. It had only taken them about forty-five minutes to find it, but neither of them wanted to linger any longer than they had to. They slipped out the window and onto the fire escape, figuring this would be a safer route than the front door they had to use earlier. Now they just had to get it to Ross.

In the car on the way home Arin asked, “So. What did you think of the breaking and entering?”

“It was boring. I thought there’d be far more excitement than that.” Dan turned the heat up and pulled his coat tighter around him.

“Dan this isn’t Ocean’s Eleven. There isn’t going to be some big, grand heist.” Arin rolled his eyes.

“I can dream can’t I?”

It was a week later, in the middle of another interview, when Arin got a phone call from Ross. The TV station had loved his cartoon and had decided to air an entire season of. He thanked them roughly fifty times, making Arin smile. This is what the holidays were supposed to be about, He thought. Kind of. Maybe not the breaking and entering and stealing, but the helping people. The people that mattered to him knew where his heart was, at least

~~~~

A/N: so like. this isn't my favorite. i know it's kind of boring and i have no issue admitting its a filler chapter. but the next chapter is one of my favorites and much longer and contains plot and new permanent characters. (sorry yall. ross won't be coming back)

[lena-went]

Chiaro e Scuro Pt 2

F: I had just put the finishing touches on the set up of the dining table, crimson place settings and napkins accented with gold finishes that matched the plates we would be using. I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. When I heard the doorbell ring my heart dropped to my feet. I was petrified, so many firsts were about to happen. She was seeing my house for the first time, she was actually one of the few people I had ever allowed inside my impersonal sanctuary. 

During my recovery from Gideon's attempt on my life I had a male nurse looking after me a few hours each day but that was the last time I had seen anyone else besides myself in this house. The maid and groundskeeper would always come by during the day when I was at the hospital and I left checks for them either on the kitchen counter or in the mailbox. 

How long had she been waiting at the front door? I quickly grabbed my cane from against the bar where it was resting and checked my reflection briefly in the glass of the oven. I opened the door and my jaw dropped.

There she stood back towards me gazing at something in the distance. As she turned to face me everything around me slowed down and took on a blur except for her. She smiled playfully and leaned forward to give me a quick peck on the cheek. 

“Hello Frederick.” Dressed in a long sleeved dark green silk dress that nearly touched the ground she was a holy sight.

 My breath caught in my chest when her hand touched my chest as she walked past me into the house. 

“So…a tour first or dinner?” She inquired as she placed her purse on the glass table in the center of the foyer. 

I remembered myself and quickly shut the door. 

“Which would you prefer?” I asked praying for her to skip the tour. 

She must have sensed my urgency to begin dinner and suggested that we eat first. I smiled though I was filled with anxieties about the quality of my cooking and the quality of the evening. I led her into the kitchen which also doubled as the dining room not for lack of space but rather for a lack of guests. I pulled out one of the modern dark wood chairs for her and she thanked me and sat down. I purposely gave her the chair that caused her to look outside rather than at the wall. The wall was intended to showcase art but I hadn't gotten around to buying something to fill the space and thus it was empty and cold…like the rest of the house. 

She began a light conversation as I prepared and carried our plates to the table. She gasped slightly when I placed the dish in front of her and then praised me on the presentation and setting of the table. I poured us both a glass of wine (2008 Torbreck Shiraz The Laird) and took my seat opposite her. I leaned forward eagerly waiting for her to take her first bite. As she did I watched as she closed her eyes and sighed. 

“Frederick, this is amazing.” She praised. 

My heart did summersaults as she quickly took another bite and repeated her previous compliment. 

“Where did you learn to cook like this?” I smiled as I took a bite of my own food. 

“Some people are just naturally gifted in the culinary arts.” I smugly replied. I noticed her suppress a giggle with a quick sip of wine as I puffed out my chest and leaned back in my chair. 

“And you learned from one of those naturally gifted people?” She teased and I felt a slight blush rise to my cheeks. 

I took a gulp of my wine as I caught her gaze over the candles in the center of the table and saw the playful look in her eyes. She had a way of teasing me that never felt like humiliation, opposite to how I felt with everyone else. Just looking at her I felt so many emotions swelling like balloons inside of me. We fell into conversation about her day at work and in turn my week at the hospital.

 As I attempted to make a boring week at BSHCI seem interesting she nodded and paid attention occasionally offering advice or commentary when appropriate. I told her a story about one of my first patients who had random yet repetitive hallucinations of green cows and she laughed so hard she had to fan her eyes to avoid crying, resulting in me feeling as if I was on top of the world. Eventually we finished our food she insisted on helping me clean up the dishes.

After we had finished and the kitchen was once again spotless she turned to me expectantly. 

“Tour?” I rolled my eyes and sighed dramatically in fake exasperation. 

“Please?” She begged with wide eyes and a puppy dog like pout on her lips. 

“Yes, yes ok.” I replied fully knowing I was incapable of denying her anything. 

I led her first back into the foyer and introduced her to the rooms that radiated off it. Most were sparse with only a few pieces of furniture and a piano but she still complimented what was there. Then back to the kitchen where she marveled at the light fixtures and smiled when I told her the story of the artist who made them. 

She inquired about the pool and I sighed and replied that the previous owner had installed it and that I would have greatly preferred a garden. I had used the pool once in the time that I’ve lived in the house, it had proven to be a nuisance especially in the fall when all the trees above it would drop their leaves conveniently into it’s waiting waters. 

Moving fairly quickly I showed her what I used as a living room but was really just a corner off the kitchen where I had a large leather couch and a flat screen. As we continued downstairs she gasped when she saw my wine collection. To be fair to myself wine was something I knew I could rival Hannibal Lecter in. After dropping from medical school I had briefly considered becoming a sommelier but at the urging of my father I went back to school for psychiatry. 

There were a few other rooms downstairs, another kitchen, two guest rooms and a bathroom. All very unimpressive and sparsely decorated. I apologized numerous times for that but she rolled her eyes in response every time even once groaning dramatically.

I led her up the stairs in the foyer and I felt my heart beating faster. I hoped it didn't seem suggestive or predatory that I was showing her my bedroom. I reminded myself that this was simply a house tour, no different than a realtor leading a possible buyer through a house. A few more guest rooms and then my room. I took a breath as I pushed open the massive double fogged white doors. 

My bedroom didn't match the rest of the house, where the rest of the house was light my bedroom was dark. The emerald green curtains that hung from the large window at the end of the room darkened the space by preventing even the light from the street lamps outside from getting in. I watched as she entered carefully and looked around slowly with a slight smile. The room was accented with dark mahogany and the walls like the curtains were a dark shade of green. 

I observed her movements and realized how much she belonged in this room. The silk of her dress perfectly blended with the colors around her as she gently ran her fingers along the duvet and blanket I had carefully arranged on my bed. My heart nearly stopped watching her do this and I could hardly believe any of this was real. No other woman had ever gotten this far or even tried to. In the silence I cleared my throat and suggested we go back downstairs and open another bottle of wine. She turned back to me and nodded her agreement.

Soon we were both seated on my leather sofa drinking a very expensive bottle of wine and discussing our favorite vintages like two old men in a country club. I laughed as she pointed this out. The conversation then changed to our favorite films and both of us couldn't decide resulting in many laughs and a lively debate on the true meaning of The Shining. 

Once again the conversation rotated to a discussion of soundtracks in film and she sat up quickly and while waving her hands excitedly pulled out her phone so that I could listen to some of her favorite music. I turned on the TV so that she could project the music through the surround sound speakers which were finally being put to good use. First on her list of songs I must hear was Page 47 from the National Treasure soundtrack. I watched as she leaned back into the sofa and closed her eyes. About 30 seconds in I was completely swallowed into the luxurious whine of the violin and the look on her face as she soaked in the sound. Her chest moved heavily up and down as she took deep breaths feeling the vibrations from the orchestra as it began. Simply by observing her I felt every note deeply each one reminding me of just how wonderfully perceptive she was. As the song ended she took a deep breath and then her eyes fluttered open. 

“Couldn’t you feel that?” She whispered reaching for my hand. 

“Y-yes.” I stuttered back trying to regain my composure. 

Next on her playlist was First Kiss by Abel Korzeniowski, she highly praised him and a series he had scored called Penny Dreadful. I raised an eyebrow at the name but smiled and took a sip of my wine as she hit play once more. The soft sounds of the piano began and she leaned close to me so that I could feel her breath on my neck. 

“Close your eyes.” Her voice was barely audible yet still flowed like honey as it mirrored the notes of the song. 

I did so hesitantly as she removed the wine glass from my hands.

I focused on the sounds of the piano and strings until she spoke, “What do you see?” 

In truth I had journeyed back to the day we had met. The glow of the sun in her hair, her rosy lips and oh god her eyes, how they took my breath away. 

“Y-you. I see you.” I felt her move across me settling to straddle my lap at which I normally would have startled but the combination of the music and her hands in my hair kept me frozen. 

“And what do you feel?” Her breathy tone sent a shiver up my spine as her nails gently grazed my scalp. I could no longer form words as the piano and the touches overwhelmed me. Tears began to fall from my closed eyes and I felt her cup my cheek softly. 

“Frederick…” As she breathed my name my eyes opened to meet hers which were now only inches away. 

Holding my face she pulled me to her with a passionate kiss. My tears met her hands as I raised mine to hold her tightly to me. The heat from her body met mine and for a moment I forgot that we were two separate people. I took a shaky breath as she separated from me and stroked my cheek. I pulled her to me again just to feel her body against mine. I choked back a sob as her hands tenderly wrapped around me and cradled my head softly against her chest. I buried myself in her for those moments finally feeling safe. 

She slowly pulled me to lay with her on the couch holding me close all the while. We were facing one another so intimately it was impossible to hide. She traced my jaw with a delicate finger and kissed me ever so softly. Here I was falling apart in her arms and she had no idea why. She had been so impossibly kind. Kissing me again brought me back to her and the present. I treasured it and pulled her even closer tangling my fingers in her hair and caressing her soft cheek. 

The song had long ago ended and yet the music somehow remained. Neither of us speaking yet there was a silent spiritual dialogue between our souls. Soon we both fell asleep, our breath synchronizing as the world around us past and present faded away.