#a little annoyed yeah but. i can deal with annoyance. helplessness? sucks. and i am so done.

[impala-dreamer]

King Midas

SPN FanFic

~Dean gets hit with a curse and Y/N makes an unloseable bet.~

Dean x Reader, Sam

1,815 Words

Warnings: CRACK! It's just Crack, little smut chatter. Nothing too bad.

A/N: Sometimes you just need something ridiculous... Do hope you enjoy... ;)

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Bright light settled into a golden glow that pulsed around the room. Glass peppered the Oriental rug like shards of deadly confetti and a cold breeze blew through the now open windows; all shattered by the witch’s blast.

“Ya know!” Y/N’s voice rang through the room, annoyance clear in her yell.  

A big hand reached for her and she took it, allowing Sam to help her to her feet. “You OK?” he asked gently, hazel eyes brown in the gilded light that set around the edges of the disheveled room.

Y/N looked up and sighed, squinting up at him, aggravated. “Do you have any idea how many curses were flung at me before I met you two dumbasses?”

Dean laughed from the floor across from them and popped up on one elbow. “A few, I’m guessing.”

“None!” she yelled back, pulling a long piece of glass from her hair. “None.”

Sam held in a laugh, knowing she would calm down soon. She often called them dumbasses when she was annoyed and tired. It was like a pet name. A really rude, insulting pet name.

“Sorry, Y/N/N.” Sam swiped his hand across her shoulder and shooed away some dust and glass. “You cut anywhere?”

Y/N shook her head. “Nah, I’m fine. Just tired of getting knocked out by random colorful blasts. How come every witch we meet has the super rainbow explosion power?”

He shrugged and laughed under his breath. “I wish I knew.”

From the floor, Dean cleared his throat. “At least you didn’t take the rainbow bomb in the chest.”

“Oh shit, Dean,” Y/N cringed. “Are you alright?”

He waved a dismissive hand and then flipped over onto his stomach, pushing up on his hands and knees. “I’m fine. Can’t keep me down.” As he spoke, his lower back twitched painfully and he bowed, belly headed back towards the floor. “Gah!”

“Yeah, you’re fine,” Sam sniggered.

Dean grit his teeth and pushed hard on his hands, splaying his palms out flat on the rug. “Shut up, Sam!” A hot tingle spread down Dean’s right arm, starting at the shoulder and pushing down like warm syrup into his fingers and out the tips. “Oh…” Dean looked down and watched as the warmth left his hand and pulsed against the floor, fibers of the carpet heating up beneath his touch. “What the-”

“Dean?”

He turned to see Y/N’s annoyance gone, replaced with concern. Her eyes were big, her brow creased with worry. He shot up quickly, immediately forgetting the weird tingle.

“I’m good,” he said, shooting her a smile. “You guys hungry? I’m hungry.” He adjusted his collar and pushed passed them both, nearly knocking Y/N over as he headed for the door. “Saw a diner down the block. Daddy needs bacon.”

He may have needed bacon, but actually eating it didn’t seem like it was going to happen.

As soon as they left the witch’s house it started to happen; her curse taking on its form, showing off for the trio.

It started with the door knob but it was harder to notice since it was already metal. He lingered there, turning the knob in his hands as he waited for Sam and Y/N, and the tingle returned to his body.

Next was the iron railing coming down the front steps. They stood on the porch for a moment recounting some random information about the case, Dean leaning on his hand against the cold black metal. Again, the tingle flowed from his shoulder straight down until it left his hand.

If Dean had bothered to say something or hang out for a few more seconds, he would have seen what the warmth was doing. But as it was, he was hungry and failed to see that the things he touched turn to gold in his wake.

When shining gold began to overtake the weathered leather of the steering wheel, the Impala swerved dangerously on the country road and Dean screamed, driving off into the shoulder to park and panic.

“What the fuck!” Dean’s hands flew up and away from the wheel, his precious car becoming a victim of some quick working alchemy as he watched on in horror. He braced himself against the back of the seat, tingling beginning again as he clutched the upholstery.

“Well, that’s new…” Sam said curiously, leaning over the bench seat to look at the wheel.

The backseat squeaked as Y/N moved forward, looking over Dean’s heaving chest to see the gilded circle. It looked as if he had gold-leafed a perfect handprint on the leather.

“Whelp, guess we know what the curse was,” she said with a small laugh, sitting back and crossing her arms.

Still struggling to catch his breath, Dean’s head spun to look at her over his shoulder, brows creased, lips in a pout. “What!”

“You got the Midas Touch, my friend,” she said, nodding to the hand still clutching the back of his seat.

Sure enough, below his hand was a hard patch of pure gold.

Dean made a dying bleat noise and pulled his palm away from the seat. “Son of a bitch! My car!” Instinctively, he rubbed at his cheek, forgetting or perhaps not realizing what the strange tingling in his forearm foretold.

“Dean!” Sam barked, slapping Dean’s hand away from his face.

“What?” Dean looked from Sam to his own palm and then to the newly golden interior and his gears turned. “Oh, fuck me…”

“Not until this curse is over, Big Guy,” Y/N laughed, clicking her tongue.

Dean cast an annoyed glance in her direction. “This isn’t funny, Y/N!”

“Kinda is…”

“Is not!”

“OK, both of you shut up!” Sam commanded and the Impala fell silent. “Let’s just deal with this logically.”

Dean looked back at Sam like a boy who just found out there’s no Santa Clause. “How, Sam? How? How am I gonna eat? I need to eat.”

Y/N bit her tongue to stifle a laugh but couldn’t help making a comment. “He’s worried about food,” she said under her breath. “Wait till he has to take a piss…”

Dean found a bit of comfort in the old diner, hiding away in a booth in the back, old red vinyl seat molding to his tired ass as he sat there, forlorn and helpless. Every so often, Y/N would take pity on him and lift his burger to his lips, doing her best to feed the poor soul and not laugh in his face.

“So, it looks like the curse will wear off in twenty-four hours…” Sam swiped through the lore book on his laptop and shrugged. “Not too bad.”

Absentmindedly, Dean picked at a piece of bacon on his plate, jaw dropping as Sam seemed to brush off his predicament. “No big deal? Sam...I’m dying here. I’m gonna have to wear mittens to bed.”

Y/N shook her head. “Wouldn’t the mittens just turn to gold?”

Dean rolled his eyes at her. “Why are you so nasty this week?”

She sneered. “I don’t know. Just tired of witches and their bullshit.”

“Same,” Dean agreed with a sigh and lifted the bacon to his lips. He took a bite and immediately spit it back out. “Oh, come on! Not the bacon!”

“Everything you touch, Dean. Bacon, the car, your shirt, you! Everything.” Sam over enunciated the last word just to drive the point into his brother’s head, but Dean just slumped in his seat and pouted some more.

“This blows.”

Y/N grinned and looked at Sam. “Twenty bucks says he’s got golden junk by morning.”

Dean sat straight up and gasped. “Excuse me! I can control myself for twenty-four hours!”

“No, Dean,” she laughed. “You can’t.”

Dean lounged on the bed, fully clothed atop the comforter, propped up by pillows. He sat with his palms up, hands resting on his thighs. He was exhausted.

“Pssst!”

Sam looked up from his laptop slowly, distracted by Dean’s less than quiet call. “What?”

“What if…” He paused, looking towards the bathroom door behind which, Y/N was changing for bed. “What if I accidentally like grab her boobs while I’m sleeping?”

Sam laughed, head shaking as he wondered why Dean was such an idiot sometimes. “Just don’t touch her.”

“Yeah, but,” Dean whispered loudly, “what if I do?”

“Then that would suck,” Sam said simply. “So don’t.”

Another look at the bathroom door and Dean groaned pathetically. “Can I sleep with you?”

Sam scoffed. “What? No!”

Dean growled and pouted. “You suck.”

“Ready for bed?” Y/N appeared in the doorway, night shirt loose around her thighs but tight across her chest.

Dean drooled. “Uh, yeah.”

She hopped into the bed beside him and pecked his cheek sweetly. “No touchy.”

Her smile was both enticing and mocking, but Dean couldn’t decide which was more appealing. The idea of not being able to touch her all night was driving him mad.

“No touchy,” he echoed, silently praying that his hands would just fall off.

“Night, Sam!” Y/N called over Dean’s chest.

“Night,” Sam murmured back.

“Great,” Dean sighed as Y/N lay down and snuggled up against his side, her plump ass warm against his leg. “Just...great.”

“Oh, fuck…”

A moan tickled Y/N’s ear and she stirred.

“Goddamn, baby...mhm… just like that.”

Sam’s dream began to fade.

“Oh, shit. Shit. Shit!”

A scream woke them both and Sam jumped from his bed to bang on the bathroom door, Dean’s frantic yell making his heart race. Y/N bolted up out of bed too, right behind Sam, her breath short with worry.

“Dean!” Sam banged again, giant fist rattling the entire door. “What’s going on?”

The noise died down and the door opened up, bright white light spilling into the dark room.

Dean stood in the bathroom, his face twisted with guilt and pain, his shorts tented boldly. Y/N looked down to the fabric pop-up and saw a hint of gold glinting from the flap.  

Sam saw it too and shook his head. “Dean… no.”

Y/N rubbed her tired eyes and turned away, headed back to bed. “I called it!” She shook her head and plopped back down into bed, gathering up her pillow and closing her eyes. “I fucking called it.”

Sam looked down at Dean and sighed. “One night, man. One.”

Dean shrugged innocently and laughed at himself. “I… I couldn’t help it. I’m a man. I have urges, Sam.”

“Yeah, well now you got a golden dick!” Y/N called from the bed.

“This sucks.” Dean’s shoulders fell and he looked down at his 24 carat cock.

“Hey,” Sam said, trying to make him feel a little better, “at least you didn’t grab her boobs…”

Dean grunted and pushed passed his brother to go lay down. “Yeah… shut up, Sammy.”

2019 Forever Tags:

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[cwnerd12]

“Faking It” Andrew gets led through the hallways of the palace, holding a bottle of wine. He glances around, “I see renovations are nearly done.” The aide leading him ignores his comment and opens a door, “King David is waiting for you inside.” Andrew goes into the dining room, and sees David standing there, waiting for him. Andrew, “Your Majesty. Thank you so much for inviting me tonight.” David warily, “Just call me David,” he gestures over to a seat, “And please, sit.” David sits down, and Andrew hands the bottle of wine to a waiter. To David, he says, “I brought a bottle of wine for just to enjoy with dinner tonight. It’s a lively grenache from a small winery on the Carmel coast.” David, “Yeah, sounds great, serve it up.” As they go on with their conversation, the waiter uncorks the bottle and serves the wine. Andrew, “And what’s being served tonight?” David, “Grilled Pacific octopus.” Andrew, “Superb.” David gestures to the waiters, “Can you start serving us?” The waiters nod and get to work. Andrew, “I have to say I’m surprised that you would invite me here for dinner.” David, “Think of this as a peace offering.” Andrew raises an eyebrow. David, “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said to me at the wedding reception. Ultimately, I think you’re right. WE both have a common interest in seeing the truth get told.” Andrew smiles, “Well, I’m delighted we can see eye-to eye on this.” David, “There’s still a few things I want you to understand.” Andrew, “Oh?” David, “When the sex tape got leaked, yeah, it was embarrassing. But that was just a small part of it. When it came out that Jack and I were a couple, it put the AFG in danger, and we had to leave Ammon.” Andrew, “Yes, I’m well aware, and I know what you’re getting at. You don’t want me publishing state secrets, and that’s all fine. I have no interest in publishing classified military intelligence. My Uncle Silas kept so many secrets, and look what it did to our nation. What secrets are you keeping, David?” David laughs nervously, “I don’t have any secrets.” Andrew, “You’d be surprised.” David stares at Andrew awkwardly as waiters serve the food. Andrew smiles at his server, “Thank you so much,” he looks down at the food, “This looks incredible,” he begins to eat, “Mmmm. Absolutely unbelievable.” David quietly eats his food. Andrew, “I got dragged to so many awkward palace family dinners growing up. I would tolerate the awkward conversation and annoying cousins because the food was always so delicious. I am absolutely thrilled to see that in this regard, nothing has changed.” David, “Yeah, no kidding. The food goes a long way to making this whole king business easier.” Andrew, “I’ve heard you’re something of a foodie. The quickest way to gain your favor is with some new exotic dish you haven’t tried.” David, “If you’re implying that I can be bribed with food, I can’t.” Andrew, “I’m not implying anything. I’ve just repeating what’s been observed.” David sighs, “I’ll make a deal with you.” Andrew, “Yes?” David, “You can publish whatever you want about me, but, stay away from Jack.” Andrew raises his eyebrow in surprise. David, “Look, I don’t care what people say about me. I mean, I’m the king, of course I’m gonna get talked about and criticized and made fun of. I welcome it. But right now Jack is going through a recovery that’s difficult enough without constant coverage over every little frustration and setback.” Andrew, “Are you talking about when we reported on his seizures and headaches?” David, “Yeah.” Andrew smirks, “I heard you were upset over that. You really shouldn’t be upset over it, we only reported facts.” David, “I watched him get shot.” Andrew, “Yes, I’m familiar with this story.” David, “I can’t tell you what kind of hell it is to be completely helpless knowing that the person you love is hurt and needs you, and you can’t be there.” Andrew, “Jack is a public figure.” David, “Please. At least for as long as he’s recovering. After that, you can report all you want on him, but for now…. please.” Andrew grins with smug satisfaction, “You know, it’s really quite gratifying to see a king beg. I suppose if I refuse, you’re going to threaten me, imply that I’m somehow colluding with Gath.” David, “I’m not. I’m asking you sincerely.” Andrew, “And I can see how very sincere you are,” he takes a bit of food and smiles, “Very well. I won’t publish anything about Jack’s recovery.” David, “Thank you.” Andrew, “I am still free, however, to publish about Jack himself. The public has a right to know that he’s a spoiled brat who wanted the luxury and privilege of being royal without the responsibilities of being king, so he passed it off to you.” David sighs and rolls his eyes, “I don’t care if you publish that because it’s not even remotely true.” Andrew, “Truth is subjective.” David, “Are we in agreement, then?” Andrew thinks for a moment, “I suppose we are.” David, “Good.” Andrew smiles brilliantly, “I’m glad we could come to this understanding. Perhaps, with a little luck, we can build a better relationship going into the future.” David, “I hope we can so that.” Andrew, “And believe me, I do understand, you and Jack have been through some truly unbelievable things together. It’s only natural that you’re very protective of him.” David, “I couldn’t be king without him. He’s the one thing keeping me sane in all this. I- I know it’s probably stupid of me trying to appeal to your humanity like this.” Andrew smiles, “You know, I’m not the villain you must think I am. I don’t want to end up like my father, lost in petty grievances. I want to be a man my daughter can be proud of, even if I am in a rather unsavory business.” David, “You must be proud of her.” Andrew, “Oh, yes. You know, for as angry as I initially was when Jack took CrossGen from me, now I’m almost glad to be relieved of it. The shackles of three hundred years of familial expectations have been taken off of me. I can be my own man.”

David sits in the council chamber with Reinhardt, Abby, and Shay. Shay, “We’re taking a number of troops off of the Ammon border, and I need to know what to do with them.” Reinhardt, “We’re sending them to the Gath front, obviously.” David, “I’m a little hesitant about that. Is Shaw gonna see that as some sort of escalation?” Reinhardt, “We can’t operate out of fear of angering Shaw.” David, “Yeah, I know, it’s just, he’s gonna react to this, so we need to do it carefully.” Shay, “With the forces re-distributed along the front, we have enough to fight back if he decides to attack us.” David, “The goal is to get him to not attack us.” Abby, “That’s what I’m here for.” Reinhardt, “Gath’s army is still hurting from the failure of the CrossGen contract. They were counting on continued manufacturing, and they’re scrambling to make up the gap with what little resources they have.” David, “That’s good to know.” Reinhardt goes on, “Also, Gath isn’t immune from the David effect.” David raises his eyebrows in curiosity. Reinhardt, “Our sources are reporting a sharp increase in talk of a resistance to Premier Shaw. The people want and end to the war, too, and they want their rights.” Rose enters, “I have something you need to address!” David, “I’m kind of busy.” “Rose, it needs to be addressed now.” She pulls out her phone and presses a button. A recording of David’s voice, “That doesn’t sound like the fucking woods to you?!” Rose, “It was posted on OMGossip. What is it?” David, sighing with annoyance, “It’s me having a panic attack in the apartment in Ashdod. I fucking knew that place was bugged.” Abby, “We were all careful about everything we said. There was a big thunderstorm one night and it triggered David’s PTSD.” Rose, “You shouldn’t worry about this, then. You’ve been frank about your mental health and you’re receiving treatment now.” Reinhardt, “We need to be worried. Surveillance recordings like this are all highly classified. How the fuck did OMGossip get this without help directly from Gath?” David, “Jack thinks the sex tape came from William Cross. We know he was in contact with Shaw, and Shaw probably gave it to him. Cross probably had this and Andrew got it when he died.” Reinhardt, “We can’t rely on that, we still need to investigate.” David, “Andrew is trying to rattle me. I had dinner with him the other night and I struck a deal that he can publish whatever he wants about me, as long as he leaves Jack alone. Of course he’s gonna test that right away. If we make a big deal about it, he’s gonna immediately play the victim and make a big story about how I’m suppressing the free press.” Abby, “I can make a diplomatic inquiry. Send a message to Gath, at least.” David, “If all they have is recordings of us, then you and I know this is the absolute worst that they have. The best thing we can do right now is to show that we’re not afraid.” Joel, “David’s right. If we’re gonna nail that little bastard, it should be for a real, provable crime.” Rose sighs deeply. David looks at her, “What?” Rose, “Andrew’s trying to prove something, and I don’t know what it is, yet. He’s smarter than William. He’s not going to go around buddying up to terrorists.” David, “I’m not afraid of him! He’s trying to prove that he’s powerful and influential, and that’s fine! I’m still the king!” He thinks for a moment and sighs, “Look, I’ve got other things to deal with today, so let’s just leave it here, okay?” Everyone says, “Okay.” David gets up and leaves.

David walks through the nearly-finished palace lobby. Whereas before it was cold and intimidating, the new vibe is warmer and more comfortable, with plants and sunlight. He goes into the ballroom, which is now spectacularly decorated with a blue celestial motif. Monique is standing in the middle, under a sparkling new chandelier, looking around. David approaches her, “Hey, so what’s up?” Monique, “The Palace is gonna be officially re-opened soon. We need to make some decisions about how we’re gonna do it.” David, “I dunno, I suck at this shit. What are you thinking?” Monique, “We’ve got a story to tell. We need to tell it the right way.” David, “I answered all the questions at Council, and I talked to Elite, what more good will digging around in the past do?” Monique, “You answered questions and talked about the future. The AFG hasn’t had its story coherently told from start to finish. Not yet.” David, “So what do you want to do?” Monique, “I had the idea of creating an exhibition of photos and objects that tell the story.” David, “Like a museum?” Monique, “It’s history.” David, “What do we even have? It’s not like we were able to keep souvenirs.” Monique, “We don’t need much, we just have to tell the story.” David, “I dunno. Jack has a lot of pictures on his phone, but they’re like mostly pictures of me taking my shirt off.” Monique, jokingly, “See, we’ve already got ways of getting people interested.” David rolls his eyes, “I’m just not sure I see the point.” Monique, “We have to tell the story before someone else does. We’ve got a rare opportunity and we need to take advantage of it.” David, “So what are we gonna say? That the war was awesome and we all had a party?” Monique, “You do want you people to think of you as a brave and inspiring leader, right?” David, “Yeah, I guess.” Monique, “You guess?” David, “I just don’t want this to end up being like that movie they made about Silas.” Monique, “It’s not often that you get to control how your personal life gets displayed. What do you want people to know?” David sighs, “I dunno. I need to think about it.” Monique: “I think the starting place is pretty obvious: the picture of you blowing up the tank, and then the picture of you stopping the attack in Damascus.” David, “I hate that picture.” Monique, “It’s kind of iconic.” David, “What happened in Damascus was fucking horrible, why would I want to prop it up as something worth celebrating?” Monique, “Because it’s not about you, it’s about how people see you.” David, “What am I supposed to say about it, anyway? That I shot at someone and I was fucking lucky that it was a terrorist and not a civilian?” Monique, “David, I watched you do the damn thing, you knew it was a terrorist. Why are you so uncomfortable with your own achievements?” David, “It doesn’t feel right to call it an achievement when people died.” Monique, “Did Alek Amal lay eggs in your brain? Because that’s all I’m hearing right now.” David, “It’s just fucking weird for people to take all the worst moments of my life and go, oh, look, what a great guy, what a hero.” Monique, “Okay, this is officially a job for your therapist, not me. Can you just trust that I’m trying to right by you?” David, “I do trust you,” he sighs, “I’m just getting caught up in my own bullshit is all. There’s just something de-humanizing about having an image.” Monique, “Aren’t you glad to be at a point in your life where existential bullshit is your biggest problem?”

David and Jack sit looking at pictures on a tablet. David teasingly plays with Jack’s hair, and Jack tries to brush his hand away. David smiles adoringly down at him, “Do you think you’d be willing to show up at this exhibition thing?” Jack makes a face, “I can’t talk.” David, “You talk fine.” Jack makes a face and points to the scar on his forehead, “People see… all people see. Care about. Scar. Can’t talk. One giant brain injury.” David, “Just a few months ago you could only say a handful of words. I was just thinking it’d be a good chance to show how far you’ve come.” Jack, “No. You don’t…” he struggles to think of the right words, but can’t think of any, “You’re the hero.” David, “What’s that got to do with anything?” Jack, “Talking is hard.”

David, dressed up in a tux, stands in the newly-renovated ball room. It’s been done up with a pale blue color scheme and a stunning celestial map on the ceiling. Along the walls are objects and images related to the AFG. David walks along and looks at them. He lingers over the image of Isaiah diffusing a bomb in the Western mall, and gazes forlornly at the jacket embroidered CLEMENS. He goes on, and stops in front of a larger-than-life image of him shooting the Amalekite in Damascus. He stands, literally dwarfed by his image.  Rose approaches him in a chic black gown, “Where is Jack?” David, “He’s upstairs. He doesn’t want to come.” Rose, “He needs to be here.” David, “He doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to.” Rose makes a face of disapproval, “He’s always looking for an excuse to get out of these things. He’ll never show up, if you let him.” David, “If you can get him out of his sweatpants and into a tux, you can drag him down here, but the deal I made with him is he doesn’t have to do anything until he’s ready, and tonight, he’s not ready.” Rose, “You spoil him.” David, “Yeah, well, I’ve kind of earned the right to do that.” They both go quiet and stare up at the picture for a moment. David, “Why didn’t Silas come to Council at Damascus?” Rose, “He got a message from God telling him not to go.” David, “Seriously?” Rose, “To be perfectly honest… I think he was afraid of facing off against you. He knew that no matter what stunt he pulled, you’d out-shine him. And look at that, you did.”

Michelle stands next to him. David, “Is it wrong that I’m kind of scared shitless right now? I have no idea how I’m supposed to handle these society people.” Michelle, “Be polite, flatter their egos, and make them think that donating to your favorite charities will gain influence with you.” David, sarcastic, “That sounds really fucking easy. I don’t even know who these people are, but I already know they don’t like being not recognized.” Michelle, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you covered.”

David and Jessie stand behind the grand doors of the ballroom, arm-in-arm. Jessie beams up at David while he tries not to fret. Jessie, “This is so exciting!” David, “I’m glad you’re excited, Mom.” Jessie looks at him, “What? Are you nervous.” David, “A little.” Jessie, “You’ve been to these events before!” David, “Not as king, though. I have no idea how to talk to all these rich people. Everyone in there wants something from me.” Jessie, “They just want to be dazzled, you’re good at that!” David, “Only when there’s something I can blow up.” On the other side of the door, the muffled voice of an announcer, “Announcing His Royal Majesty, King David Shepherd of Gilboa.” Jessie laughs, “I still can’t get over hearing that!” The doors swing open, and David leads Jessie forward. He looks down the staircase and sees the ballroom crowded with joyfully applauding guests. He sees Rose and Michelle at the foot of the stairs, applauding for him. The AFG fam is scattered around the crowd, as are James, Ethan, Sean, and his family. Reinhardt smirks up at him, Lydia looking gorgeous at his side. Liam has a hot date, and Adam stands awkwardly away from them. Finally Andrew applauds coldly while Chloe beams at David. Jessie leans into David, “See, they love you!” David forces a wide smile and descends the stairs. Michelle comes over and greets him with a hug. David mutters into her ear, “Oh my God. Help me.” Michelle, “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

(“Pussy Got Ya Hooked” Three 6 Mafia) David stands sandwiched between Rose and Michelle. An older man and a beautiful young woman approach. Rose, “This is Eric and Laci Busch. Eric is the CEO of a large manufacturing firm.” Michelle leans in and whispers, “Wife, not daughter.” David smiles politely and extends his hand, “It’s very nice to meet you.” Eric, “Oh, it’s thrilling to meet you, your majesty. Used to be I had no problem getting the ear of the king, but since you’ve taken over, I’ve had a much harder time. I believe we can make some very good business deal in the future.” David, “I look forward to speaking with you then.” Eric, “You know, Laci is quite an admirer of yours. She’s been charmed by your charisma for some time.” David, staying humble, “I hear that a lot.” Laci leans in and whispers in his ear, “I will suck your dick so well you’ll make me a duchess.” Elsewhere, David talks to Michelle alone, as she points to various people in the room, “Racist, pedophile, poop fetish.” David, “Oh my god, I have to talk to somebody.” Michelle, “I know, I’m trying to find someone who’s not horrible.” David, “What about him?” Michelle, “He fucking hates Jack because he slept with his daughter and didn’t get her pregnant.” David, “Jesus, what about him?” Michelle, “Murdered his third wife and got away with it.” David talks to a rich man’s trophy twink. Twink, “You’re even more handsome up close,” in a low, breathy voice, “Jack is a lucky boy.” He puts a hand on David’s chest, and David steps away, laughing nervously. The comedian who plays David on Late Night poses with the real David. David stands next to a group of people looking at the photo of everyone on the palace balcony after the coup. A man in the group, “What are you thinking in this picture?” David, “I’m mostly trying not to barf.” David talks to an old man. Old man, “You should just bomb the shit out of Ashdod. Make those Phil motherfuckers weep, all of ‘em, men women and children.” David, “That would kind of be a war crime.” Old man, “Who gives a shit?” David talks to a woman. Woman, “I’m not going to waste your time with any bullshit, how large of a check do I have to write to get the council to rethink their tariff policy?” David, “I don’t accept bribes, and anyone within my administration found taking bribes will be charged with a very serious crime.” Woman, “It’s not a bribe. It’s a gift. How much?” Reinhardt sweeps over and gently interrupts, “Pardon me, but might I speak to His Majesty for a moment?” He leads David away, grabs a glass of champagne from a tray, and shoves it into David’s hand, “Buck up there, tiger. The night is still young.” David drinks some champagne, “Yeah, I realize that.” Reinhardt, “Jack should be here.” David, “I’m not pressuring him-” Reinhardt interrupts, “You need Jack to be here,” He nods towards Lydia, “Look at that.” She looks radiantly beautiful in a sexy red dress, laughing and dazzling the people around her. Reinhardt, “You think an asshole like me could get people to like him just by being himself? Fuck no. Lydia’s a fucking goddess and a goddamn genius. People like me because they like her. I could have snagged a big-tittied bimbo no problem, and I’d look just like every other rich middle-aged asshole here. But no, I got something good.” David, “What does this have to-” Reinhardt interrupts again, “Lydia doesn’t need me. Not one bit. She’s hot, she’s smart, and she’s rich on her own. She could have a lineup of men, and she chose me. Look at the men she’s talking to.” Lydia chats radiantly with a group of older men and their young trophy spouses (including the twink David was talking to earlier). Reinhardt, “They’re all afraid of a partner who equals them. They all have to be the guy in charge. They can’t stand being challenged. They’re all cowards and they know it. Come at them with a spouse who knows better than you, they’re all shitting their pants. They will listen to you.” David, "Are you giving me advice?” Reinhardt, “You want to be a good king, don’t you?

Elsewhere, Andrew approaches Adam, “Not surprised to see you again.” Adam, uncomfortable, “Good evening.” Andrew, "Are you here by yourself?” Adam, “Liam got me a date. I don’t know where she went.” Andrew, “Oh, come on, you can have your choice of women. You deserve better.“ He glances over to where David chats with Reinhardt, "I see our king has made good friends with Caesar Reinhardt.” Adam, “Yeah, he’s minister of defense. I get a lot of briefings from him.” Andrew, sneakily, “You know, I really shouldn’t tell you this.” Adam, “Tell me what?” Andrew, “OMGossip is investigating him.” Adam, “I- I know he was head of the MSS.“ Andrew, "Well, I suppose you do owe a lot to him. He ordered the raid at Nob.” Adam Doesn’t say anything. Andrew leans in, “He sent troops directly to Leo and Nora Levinson’s home with explicit orders, kill anyone you find there.” Adam, “How do you know?“ Andrew, “I have my sources,” He grins, “Some even in the palace.” Adam, “I should report that to David.” Andrew, “Will you?” Adam doesn’t say anything. Andrew, “Of course, Reinhardt was also behind the list of names that King Silas read off. He put it together knowing they would all be sent to their deaths.” Adam stares at Reinhardt. Andrew, “I would like to know something, and you can tell me.” Adam glances at him. Andrew, “You and Ryan Hitt were fighting him in the MSS building, weren’t you?” Adam, softly, “Yeah?” Andrew, “Did he kill Hitt?” Adam doesn’t say anything. Andrew, “I have a lot of questions about how Hitt died.” Adam, “It wasn’t Reinhardt. Ryan jumped in a line of fire so we could get to Reinhardt.” Andrew looks at David and Reinhardt buddied up together. Andrew, “What a waste,” he lowers his voice, leaning in close to Adam, “I think you know as well as I do that King David isn’t the reformer he claims to be. How free can Gilboa be when people like Caesar Reinhardt are not only still in charge, but in good standing with the king?” Adam stares at David and Reinhardt. Adam stares at David and Reinhardt. Andrew, “There’s one other thing I simply can’t stop thinking about.” Adam, “What?” Andrew, “The girl, the one who sat next to you at Council.” Adam, “What about her?” Andrew, “Her reaction was far more emotional than everyone else around her. No one else stormed out like that. Who was she?” Adam doesn’t say anything. Andrew, “I saw you talking to her. You must know her name.” Adam, “It’s nothing. She- she lost someone. She was upset because of that.” Andrew sneers condescendingly “Still loyal, I see.”

Back with David and Reinhardt, David’s phone buzzes. He takes it out of his pocket and looks at it. On the screen, a text: “from JACK: need you.” Reinhardt, “What is it?” David put his phone back in his pocket, “Nothing you need to know about. I have to tend to something.”

David goes into the residence, where Jack sits comfortably on the sofa. David, “What’s wrong?” Jack, “Nothing.” David, “Then why’d you call me up here?” Jack, “You need a break.” David sigh and sits down, “How did you know?” Jack, “It’s been an hour.” David laughs, “I guess you’d know what these events are like, huh? How’d you get through them before?” Jack, “Sex and booze.” David, “I have never gotten this many indecent proposals in my life.” Jack laughs, “You’re king!” David, “And you know what the worst part is?” Jack, “What?” David, “I can’t tell if I keep getting invited to three-ways because I’m king, or because I’m bi.” Jack throws his head back with laughter. David gazes at him adoringly. David, “Reinhardt says you should be down there. I think he’s trying to teach me how to power couple.” Jack rolls his eyes. David shrugs, “He’s not wrong. He says you make me look good.” Jack, “You look good. A-already. You already look good.” David, “Nah, it’s deeper than that. Reinhardt was mostly bragging about his wife, but I think the point was that I can be much more impressive and influential with you next to me. I like that idea.” Jack, “I’m not ready.“ David, quietly reassuring, "Keep at your therapy. You’ll be ready.” He squeezes Jack’s hand. Jack smiles a little bit. David sighs, “I should get going back. Thanks for calling me up here.” Jack, “You’re welcome.” David sends up, “Don’t wait up for me, okay? Go to bed when you feel tired.” Jack, “Okay.” David leans in and kisses Jack’s cheek, “I love you.”

Back in the ballroom, Andrew looks down at his phone, and grins wickedly.

Elsewhere, David goes back up to Jessie, who chats with a pretty young woman. David, to Jessie, “Hey, how are you holding up?” Jessie, “I’m wonderful, I was just talking to this lovely young lady who says she met you at the palace once before you were king.“ David, “You’ll have to forgive me, I met a lot of people in those days. What’s your name?” Lady, “Lucinda Wolfson.” David can’t place the name. Lady, “I went on a date with Jack and he brought me back to the palace. You were there with King Silas.” David recognizes her, “Oh, yeah, Lulu, I remember you! That was actually a very memorable night for me.” Jessie looks over at someone, “Oh, David, I think there’s someone Rose said she wanted you to meet.” David, “Uh, can you go talk to them for me? I’d kind of like to chat with Miss Wolfson.” Lucinda, “Ms. Caro, now. I’m not sure where my husband is.” She looks around. Jessie, “Okay, you two have a good chat.” She leaves. David heaves an uncomfortable sigh, “I’m the one with the crown, but Mom’s much better at being royal than I am.” Lucinda laughs, “Yeah, I keep thinking that if I’d married Jack, this would be my life.” David, “Yeah, I kind of screwed you over there.” Lucinda smiles kindly, “How is Jack? Our date ended badly, but I’ve always wished him well. I was kind of disappointed to hear he’s not here tonight.” David, “Actually that date ended extremely well for Jack, and for me!” Lucinda, “Really?” David, “Yeah, that was a very memorable evening. Jack’s doing great, actually.” Lucinda, “That’s so wonderful.” David, “Yeah, he just doesn’t quite feel like he’s ready for social events yet. He’s been through a lot, but, still, somehow, he’s got a long way to go.” Lucinda, “Give him my regards.” She looks over at the large picture of David in Damascus, and they both stare at it for a long, quiet moment. Lucinda, “You know, for a while, I was really scared about all this revolution business. I mean, I’m a historian, and I know that revolutions rarely end well. I wanted to root for you, but I was scared of how it would end. And then I saw that picture. I just- I knew that you’d be an exception to history.” David, “I hate that picture. What happened in Damascus was just… awful.” Lucinda, “Whatever happened there… that picture got a lot of people on your side.” Rose approaches David, “David, I have someone I’d like for you to meet.” Lucinda, “Good evening, your majesty.” Rose looks at Lucinda and recognizes her, “Miss Wolfson, how nice to see you. If you’ll excuse me, I have to introduce David to someone.” He puts her hands on his shoulders and begins to move him away. David, “Have a nice evening.” Lucinda, “You too.” Rose leads David to a woman, “This is Eloise Houben, she’s a major trader in fuel subsidies.” David extends his hand, “It’s nice to meet you.” Eloise, “Pleasure to meet you, your majesty. I’m interested in how the peace with Ammon has affected the oil trade- has the market been opened up?” Rose’s phone buzzes, and she looks down at it. David, “Uh, you should try talking to Abigail Benjamin-Hatch, she’s the one who loves that shit.” Rose, “David, can I speak to you aside for a moment?” David, “Sure,” he looks back over at Eloise, “Nice to meet you.” Rose leads him to a place away from other people. David, “What is it?” Rose, “Something else leaked.” David, “Oh, God, is it another sex tape?” Rose, “No, it’s-” she sighs heavily, “It’s a picture of Jack in the hospital.” She raises his phone for him, and on the screen is a picture of Jack, head shaved, wounds uncovered, face swollen, hooked up to a respirator. David tries to swallow his fury, “Is that OMGossip?” Rose, “Yes.” David looks around and sees Andrew staring at him in the crowd. Andrew sees him staring, and grins evilly. David nods, “Find Abby, Shay, Joel, and Reinhardt, and tell them to meet me in my office.” He walks straight toward Andrew, who has Chloe and Christine beside him. Adam watches David pass him. Andrew gives David a simpering smile, “Your majesty. So nice of you to finally talk to me tonight.” David, “I would like to speak to you somewhere privately.” Andrew, “I would be delighted.” They make their way towards a door. Adam sees it all and follows.

In a large, empty hallway, Christine, Chloe and Adam stand on the sidelines while David confronts Andrew. David, raging, “You agreed that you would leave Jack alone!” Adam frantically searches on his phone. Andrew, “It’s not personal, it’s journalism.” David, “You run a fucking gossip site!” Behind everyone, Rose enters with Abby, Michelle, Shay, Joel, and Reinhardt. They see David screaming and rush towards him. Shay, “David!” She goes up to him and puts her hand on his shoulder, “What’s wrong?” David, “Did you see the pictures he fucking posted?” Chloe looks over at Adam’s phone and sees the pictures of Jack. She gasps loudly and covers her mouth with her hands. Michelle and Rose on Abby’s phone. Abby’s jaw drops.. Michelle covers her mouth, and Rose fights back tears. Reinhardt steps up, “What is your source for these?” Andrew, “The source is confidential.” Reinhardt, “The prince was kept under 24 hour secure guard! How his room was infiltrated is an issue of national security!” Andrew, “You aren’t in charge of the MSS any more.” Michelle, genuinely hurt, holding back tears, “Why would you do this, Andrew? Why would you be this fucking petty?” Andrew, “Do you really want to know?” he rolls his eyes, “Given Jack’s dilettante history, people deserve to know that Jack isn’t exaggerating his injury.” David, “He’s not faking!” Michelle, “He has metal plates in his skull! I watched them put them in!” David, “I watched him get shot!” Andrew, “He attended the wedding reception where he was the center of attention, but not a royal even where he’s not.” Rose, “These are very different events.” Andrew, “Jack has always wanted the luxury and acclaim of being royal without the responsibilities of being royal.” David, “You don’t know him!” Andrew, “I’ve known him longer than you have.” David snaps and punches Andrew. Chloe screams while Shay tries to restrain David. She pulls him back. Andrew wipes at his bleeding nose, and seeing the blood on his fingers, sneers and says, “Afraid of the press and afraid of the truth, no different than Silas!” David lunges forward, pummeling Andrew. Reinhardt, Joel and Shay all grab him and struggle to pull him back. When he can no longer punch, David continues to kick and stomp at Andrew. Chloe and Christine rush over to Andrew. Reinhardt bellows orders, “Get him to his office!“ Abby and Michelle hurry off while Shay and Joel pulls David away. Christine helps Andrew up, “Come on, let’s go.” She hurries him and Chloe away. Adam and Rose are left standing there, and they stare at each other awkwardly. Rose, “I have to get back to the party.” She hurries off. Adam stands there, alone.

In David’s office, Shay and Joel push David into his seat while Abby and Michelle stand back and Reinhardt steps up to the desk. David fuming, “How the fuck did this happen, Caesar? You told me he was under guard!” Abby, “David, that is not the issue right now!” David, "Yes it fucking is! I want to know how those fucking pictures were taken and I want to know how Andrew Ceros got them!” Reinhardt, trying to stay calm, “Jack was under guard.” David, snapping, “Then how the fuck did a Gath spy get so close he could’ve unplugged his life support?!” Reinhardt, “We don’t know for sure it was a spy.” David, “How the fuck is this not Gath?! We are not letting them do this!” Abby, “What do you want to do, David?” David, “What can I do?” Shay, “You want me to mount an attack? Start an invasion? If we do that, I gotta say, Shaw’s definitely baiting you, here. He wants you to attack.” Joel, “Just give me the word, man, we can shut that fucker down completely.” Reinhardt calmly, “Not under the declaration of rights! Before we do anything, there needs to be an investigation. It could take a while.” David, “I don’t want to wait.” Reinhardt, “If an investigation finds evidence that Cross has been receiving information from Gath, it becomes a matter of national security, and we can shut them down.” David, “What are we gonna do when we find all that?” Abby, “First of all, I can demand an apology.” David, “I don’t want a fucking apology!” Abby, “Then what the do you want? Do you want to go to war?” David “I don’t know!” Abby, “This can be handled diplomatically, okay? But I can’t just go out right now and get an audience with Shaw and his diplomats. We have to at least wait until tomorrow.” Reinhardt, “And we still need evidence.” David, “It is them!” Reinhardt, “I know, but without evidence, they’ll just deny everything.” David, “Shit!” Michelle, “Andrew does this, David. He picks at old wounds. He wants to see you hurt.” Shay, “Yeah, Shaw is also a big fan of the mind games. Gath has never had real military superiority, so that’s what they rely on to keep Gilboa tied up.” David, “So what should I do right now?” Everyone looks at each other awkwardly. Reinhardt, “Go and wrap up this event. Pick everything up tomorrow.” David, bitterly, “Fine.” Reinhardt, “I’ll get the investigation going.”

In the back of the Cross limo, Andrew holds a was of tissues to his nose with one hand and an ice pack to his cheek with the other. Chloe, “You fucking deserved it, you know.” Christine, “Like father, like son. He’s not the first Cross man to get punched by the king of Gilboa at a palace event.” Andrew, “This is not about Dad!” Christine, “Everything is.” Andrew’s phone buzzes. He looks at it and sees ADAM SOLANO on the screen. He answers, “Yes?” In a hallway, Adam rushes to speak, “Beth Sabbatino. Her name is Beth Sabbatino. She was Ryan Hitt’s girlfriend, and she kind of got- I dunno, close to David. I don’t- she said nothing was going on, but, I- I dunno.” Andrew, “You don’t know what a great service you just did for your country. Thank you.”

David stands in an isolated, hidden spot where he can look into ballroom. He leans pensively against the wall and stares at the picture of him in Damascus. partygoers still gather around and admire it, completely unaware of what just transpired. Reinhardt approaches him, “Everything’s in motion. Well find out where the pictures came from.” David, “Thanks. I’m sorry for yelling at you. I just… I knew Jack was on life support, but to actually see it…” He takes a deep shaking breath and chokes up, “He was hurt so bad, and I wasn’t there with him.” Reinhardt, “Do you need anything?” David stares at the glittering party, “I suck at this event shit. I don’t know what to do around all these society people, and they can tell I’m in over my head.” Reinhardt, “I was been watching you all evening, you were actually doing pretty well until the Cross shit happened. It’s only your first event as king, and it took me a hell of a lot more than just one to get used to it.” David looks down at his bruised knuckles, “God, I’m a fucking mess. How long do you think it’ll take for them to realize that I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing? When do you think they’ll realize I’ve been faking it all along?” Reinhardt, “David, right now, I’m going to stop speaking as your minister of defense and start speaking as someone whose personal ambitions you thwarted. Before you blew up that tank, I was doing absolutely fucking great. I spent years doing everything I could to get close to the crown, I even thought that if I played my cards right, I could be king. I was a beloved hero, I was the youngest minster, and I was poised to be Silas’s chosen successor. And then you came along and fucked that all in the ass!” David, “I didn’t mean to.” Reinhardt, “That’s the worst fucking part! You did it all without even trying!” he points to the crowd in the ballroom, “When I look out there, I see a fuckload of people who used to think they had their life locked down, who felt like they had everything under control, but that all got shot to hell. Now, they’re out there trying desperately to re-gain the position and security they once had. They need a king to tell them who they fucking are and what they fucking do, and guess what, asshole! That’s you!” David looks at him, and Reinhardt takes a moment to compose himself, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken so rashly. It’s just god fucking damnit, you’re good at this shit! I have struggled so much just to be half as good at it as you are! You’ve got everything that I want, everything that a lot of people want, and you have the fucking gall to just wallow in self-pity and say you aren’t a leader!” David looks out over the oversize pictures of him: blowing up the tank, inciting a rebellion against Silas, in Damascus, fighting Amalekites in the Western Mall, declaring war against Abner, standing on the balcony of the palace after the coup. David, “Go home. We have a lot of work tomorrow.”

[dust2dust34]

Pieces of Always: August 2032 (FICoN ‘verse)

Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows.

by @so-caffeinated and @dust2dust34

Summary: Ongoing non-linear collection of family moments for the Queens. (You do not need to have read FiCoN to enjoy this, but it will spoil the end. Please see the first installment for additional author notes. Thank you @jsevick​ and @alizziebyanyothername​ for the amazing beta!)

A/N: Please see the first chapter for an important Author’s Note, as well as under the cut for an additional one.

A/N: I am taking more of a beta role for right now. The effervescent @so-caffeinated is taking the drafting lead and she’s kicking all the ass, so please go send her your love! (Especially because Ameliam is pure fire omg.)

Excerpt:

He looks from Nate back to where the brunette - Amelia - had been standing, but she’s moved. In fact, she’s walking right toward them. For a long, long moment, Will’s aware of absolutely nothing else but the woman striding his direction. Or… actually, maybe it’s Nate’s direction, he realizes when she reaches them and holds out her mug for Nate to pour her some coffee. The kid is more than pleased to do exactly that. It’s sort of silly.

“Thanks,” she says with a grin at Nate. “You have been a most excellent helper and absolutely played a part in our success today.”

Nate’s awfully proud of himself at the proclamation, standing straighter and squaring his shoulders as he nods crisply at Amelia, but her eyes drift over to Will as she takes a deep sip of her scalding hot, very black coffee.

“Congratulations,” he tells her.

“Thank you,” she murmurs into her mug.

“You know that’s not what most people would consider a celebratory drink,” he tells her. He doesn’t really mean to make his voice go gritty and check her out while he says it, but that happens anyhow.

God damn but that blouse should be illegal on her. It’s not even especially low cut, but the way that silk clings to her chest, he just… yeah he’s been looking too long.

(read on AO3)

August 2023 - A Swing And A Miss

For a guy who’d been dumped that morning, Will’s in a really great mood. To be fair, it had been less the end of a relationship and more an inevitable moving on, a satisfying last page at the end of a short book, and he doesn’t regret how things went in the least.

Addy had been fun. He’d liked hanging out with her and the sex had really been pretty damned good, but he’d never once deluded himself into thinking they’d keep up pretenses once she went back to Central City for her senior year of college. He hadn’t even wanted it to. He’s got enough going on in his life. He doesn’t need an actual girlfriend. Casual dating and short term hookups are, in his experience, the way to go.

Work takes up the bulk of his time, but it’s his family that has most of his focus. Ever since the accident that took his mom’s life and left Bethy in the hospital for weeks back in February, he’s grounded himself in being more present for his family, for both sides of it.

He’s the only link Bethy will ever have to her mom. She’s too little to even remember her and his stepfather absolutely needs the help. But he’s also more aware than most that life is short and unpredictable - as a firefighter, he sees that every day - and the life his dad and stepmom choose to lead puts them more in harm’s way than most. So, it seems like such an easy choice to prioritize his relationships with his siblings and parents over anything more transient that he might find with a girl.

“Will!” a little voice shouts from the back seat of his car, as if to underscore his thoughts. “Want yum yums.”

“Hold on, Bethy,” he tells her, maneuvering his car into a parking spot at city hall and grabbing the diaper bag he keeps on hand. If you’d asked him a year ago, he would never have guessed he’d have a car seat in his car and a repurposed gym bag full of diapers and teething rings. But that’s life. And, as much as he misses his mom, he can’t imagine his life going any other way, now. “Want some applesauce?” he asks, catching his two-year-old sister’s eye in the series of mirrors set up so he can check on her in her rear-facing seat even while he drives. She’s almost big enough to turn it around, which sort of blows him away. It feels like just last week she’d kept him up all night with colic and he’d escaped to his dad’s house instead of dealing with it.

“Yes!” she declares happily, making grabby hands back toward him.

“Give me a second to open it, squirt,” he says, unscrewing one of those miraculous applesauce pouches that even a two-year-old rarely makes a mess with. It’s out of his hands the instant the treat is within Bethy’s reach and she hums happily as she sucks down the applesauce with gusto. “You could’ve said ‘thanks,’ you know.”

The scolding is halfhearted at best, though, because she grins hugely around the nozzle of the applesauce and, damn it, Will is a sucker for all of his siblings. It probably helps that Bethy looks just like his mom and that socks him right in the gut, because wow... he misses her.

But he’s got people in the here and now that need him, and he can’t allow himself to be anywhere but the present.

“Alright, let’s get moving before we’re late,” he says, mostly to himself, as he unbuckles and grabs the diaper bag. He really should get a real one. Swapping out sippy cups for gym socks is getting old. But, it works for now. He slips out of his absurdly reasonable, top-safety-rated car and opens the back door, getting to work unfastening Bethy from her seat.

“Wanna play,” Bethy says to him as he works. She makes her eyes utterly huge as she says it and blinks with an innocence she absolutely does not possess. If Will hadn’t been so much older than his other siblings, if he couldn’t remember so clearly when Jules and Ellie and Nate had pulled that same damned look, he might have bought it. But he’s grown up around little kids and he’s well aware that Bethany knows precisely what she’s doing.

Besides, they’ve already got plans.

“Soon,” he promises her. “We’ve got fun plans today, squirt, but we’ve gotta do something first.”

“Wanna play!” Bethy shouts with increasing annoyance.

“Then be a good girl and we will,” Will tells her sternly with a firm look. He might be a sucker for his siblings, but he’s not about to be a pushover. His stepfather caves with Bethy way too much as it is. He’s not going to follow in those footsteps and the sooner his baby sister learns that, the better.

“I good,” Bethy tells him, her little face crumpling. She doesn’t cry, though, and he’s so grateful for that that it’s almost absurd. Bethy’s wail sounds like a dying animal and it never fails to set every nerve on edge.

“Glad to hear it,” he tells her, lifting her up from the seat and resting her on his hip as he shuts the car. “Let’s keep it that way so we can play and have fun later, okay?”

“‘Kay,” she agrees, chewing on the nozzle to her applesauce.

He hefts her up a bit, getting a better hold as the two of them head up the steps toward the entrance to City Hall. A grimace pulls at his lips as he jogs up the steps, keen to get this over with as fast as possible. He hates coming here. It leaves him feeling like he’s at a disadvantage, like he’s off-kilter. And, in some ways, he is.

His estranged grandmother has been mayor for fourteen of the last eighteen years. She’s powerful, beloved by the city and her staff, and being here, being on her home turf… it makes Will feel petty. It makes him feel like he’s being childish for holding on to a lifelong grudge against an old woman.

But Moira Queen is anything other than helpless and it would be a dire mistake to see her as weak. She is a master of manipulation and public opinion. Will knows better than to give her an inch because she’ll take a mile in return and make you feel like you asked her to do it.

So… maybe he had offered to pick Bethy up an hour or two early today. A toddler makes for an awesome excuse and buffer all in one. And, the fact that his little sister is the spitting image of his mother gives Will a bit of a boost, too. If anything in this world had ever been able to make Moira Queen uneasy, it was absolutely his mom. Will learned years ago not to face off against his grandmother without a plan.

Which is why he’s pushing his way through the glass doors to City Hall armed with a toddler.

Much to his chagrin, he’s been here frequently enough that he knows his way around the building and the guy working the front desk just waves him through without question.

They take the elevator entirely because Bethy likes to push all of the buttons. It’ll probably annoy the hell out of whoever gets in there next, but Will doesn’t so much care about that. He does care about the way Bethy’s eyes brighten in delight as she makes the buttons for each floor light up.

“Oh, not that one, squirt,” he says, pulling her hand back as she reaches for the alarm. “All the others are fine, but let’s leave that one be.”

“Red button,” she declares, reaching for it again.

“Very good,” he tells her, grabbing her fingers and kissing them as he steps back just far enough that she can’t inadvertently set off the building alarms. “It’s red. Good job. Super proud of you for knowing that. How’d you get so big?”

She blows a raspberry at him instead of answering with words, which feels like the most appropriate punctuation possible for a two-year-old.

When the elevator dings a moment later - they’d only been going one floor - he steps out into a flurry of activity. That’s not incredibly unusual around his grandmother’s office, but also feels more orderly than usual and he pauses to soak in the environment for a moment.

Two people look like a well-oiled machine as they put together binders in tandem. There’s a few people on phones who appear to be communicating whatever they’ve accomplished through a series of intricate hand gestures that Will can’t quite seem to figure out as a tall woman with dark hair taps something into a tablet.

“Hey, Will.” He turns to the side to see his ten-year-old little brother nearby with a coffee carafe. “You’re early,” Nate continues, glancing up at a clock. He keeps walking, though, never breaks stride as he refills the cup of someone on the phone. “I can’t leave yet. They need me.”

“No,” the brunette woman with the tablet says sharply, pulling his attention over to her. She’s not talking to him or Nate, though, she’s talking to someone on one of the phones. “Give me that.” She leans over the guy’s desk and takes the phone from his hand. “Jack? Hey, this is Amelia. You’re gonna want to rethink that position… Uh, no, not because the mayor said to - though she did - but because I said to. Do you really want to be the lone holdout on the council, because believe me if you stick with this position, you will be.”

Will just stares at her as she works. He’s not the only one. Both of the other people on the phones have finished their calls and the binder-assembly crew has paused to watch her, too. Nate seems like he’s the only one still working, playing the part of a barista for everyone there. Will’s not sure how, though, because this woman is… she’s a force of nature, captivating, and he can’t pull his eyes away from her even though Bethy is pulling on his collar in a way that digs into his neck.

“Don’t even try that with me, Jack,” she continues, shaking her head. She’s leaning so far over the desk that she’s practically climbed atop it. Her respectable-length skirt has ridden up to just-this-side-of-unacceptable levels and her silk blouse is… it’s draping very nicely and Will’s more than a little envious of the eyeful that the guy she’d taken the phone from must be getting. “If you want the mayor to play with you on cap-and-trade, you’re going to support the Every Family Home initiative… Jack… Jack… It’s not a debate, Jack! I’m telling you how it is…. Yes… Yes, I’m authorized to offer that…. Don’t even try that with me, you know we can pass this without you, but the mayor wants a unified front and you’re going to give it to her because you really, really want to keep your seat and it would help you a whole lot if your very popular mayor were pictured in the paper shaking your hand and thanking you for putting aside politics for the good of the city’s homeless population, wouldn’t it?”

There’s a long moment of silence where the brunette’s face turns a gorgeous but frustrated shade of red. Will feels sort of suspended in time as he watches her, but that might be because no one other than Nate and Bethy are moving. Most of them don’t seem to even be breathing.

But then the brunette starts talking again and it’s with a fury that’s both fierce and a little blinding.

“I swear on the damned city charter, Jack, that if you do not back the mayor on this, I am going to find whoever is running against you and I will run their campaign for free,” she swears, before cocking her head to the side and pausing, amending her statement. “No, you know what? If you don’t back it, I’m going to run against you myself. It’s not really what I want to do, but we both know I can kick your ass from here to election day. So here’s what it comes down to - do you help a whole lot of homeless citizens improve their lives and earn yourself the mayor’s thanks or do you have me as a thorn in your side for the rest of your political career?”

The slow grin that works its way across her face is visible from across the room and Will feels like someone pulled the rug out from underneath him. She was pretty before, sexy as hell, but that smile… holy shit.

“Aw, you know you love me, Jack,” she’s saying, scooting back off the desk and straightening her skirt. “What was it you said was your favorite thing about me? Was it my ‘gumption?’ ...Mmm, maybe just not when it’s focused on you. Give Cecile and the girls my best. I’m gonna go and let the mayor know she has your full-throated support.”

A second later, she’s holding the phone skyward with a booming “And that is how you get Jack Baker’s backing, boys and girls!”

There’s a lot of excitement around the room then, a couple of cheers and someone gives her a literal pat on the back. A flush of triumph has worked its way across her cheeks and she’s just… she’s absolutely captivating.

“Amelia’s awesome,” Nate says suddenly, as if reading Will’s thoughts. He hadn’t even realized his little brother was standing next to him. “She’s crazy fierce and she knows how to get things done. Grandma says she’s the best. She’s not chief of staff, but I bet she will be some day. I’m pretty sure it’s only because she hasn’t been done with college very long.”

He looks from Nate back to where the brunette - Amelia - had been standing, but she’s moved. In fact, she’s walking right toward them. For a long, long moment, Will’s aware of absolutely nothing else but the woman striding his direction. Or… actually, maybe it’s Nate’s direction, he realizes when she reaches them and holds out her mug for Nate to pour her some coffee. The kid is more than pleased to do exactly that. It’s sort of silly.

“Thanks,” she says with a grin at Nate. “You have been a most excellent helper and absolutely played a part in our success today.”

Nate’s awfully proud of himself at the proclamation, standing straighter and squaring his shoulders as he nods crisply at Amelia, but her eyes drift over to Will as she takes a deep sip of her scalding hot, very black coffee.

“Congratulations,” he tells her.

“Thank you,” she murmurs into her mug.

“You know that’s not what most people would consider a celebratory drink,” he tells her. He doesn’t really mean to make his voice go gritty and check her out while he says it, but that happens anyhow.

God damn but that blouse should be illegal on her. It’s not even especially low cut, but the way that silk clings to her chest, he just… yeah he’s been looking too long.

“Are you flirting with me while holding a toddler?” she asks with blatant amusement as she sets her coffee cup down on a nearby desk.

Nate huffs and walks off somewhere, grumbling about girls and how this is an important place of business. Personally, Will can’t wait for his little brother to discover an interest in the fairer sex because wow is he gonna have fun throwing things back at the kid one day.

“That depends entirely on if it’s working,” Will replies with a smirk.

She’s interested, that much is obvious immediately. Will’s very, very good at picking up on body language and between the way her pupils dilate and the way the silk blouse absolutely does not hide her nipples tightening in the least, she’s particularly easy to read. That he manages to keep his groan internal at the sight is something of a personal triumph.

“Might work better if you didn’t have applesauce all over your neck,” she replies. Her tone is playful and she’s staring at his adam’s apple as she licks her lips. He swallows hard, because he feels her gaze so strongly that she might as well be touching him. A riot of shivers sets out across his skin and he feels like she’s stroking every damned nerve ending he’s got. He can’t remember the last time a woman had him so utterly drawn in so quickly. Had that ever happened?

“Don’t like kids?” he asks as Bethy lays her head on his shoulder with a heavy sigh.

“I love kids,” she corrects, giving the toddler a gentle smile. “I’m just not used to being hit on by guys holding their…” her voice drifts off expectantly.

“Little sister,” he supplies, his lopsided grin growing by leaps and bounds at the proclamation.

“Ah,” she notes, giving Bethy another smile. “So you’re on double-duty for the big brother role today, then?”

“I am most days, when I’m not working,” he agrees. “Family’s important to me.”

“Right,” she breathes out, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She’s trying to find a flaw. He can see that. He’s got plenty of them, frankly, but so far he’s passing her quiet tests with flying colors. “So… what is it you do that you aren’t at work at 4:30 on a Thursday?”

“I’m a firefighter,” he replies, smiling at her in earnest. He can feel the edges of his eyes crinkling in amusement. They only deepen when she makes a little noise in the back of her throat.

“A firefighter?” she asks.

“Starling City Fire and Rescue Station 52,” he confirms. “And as someone who’s responded to two calls in the last month involving homeless residents who collapsed with easily treatable illnesses, I’m very grateful for the work you’re doing to help get people off the streets and back on their feet.”

“Well,” Amelia says a bit more soberly, brushing some hair behind her ear. “It’s your grandmother’s initiative. So, maybe it’s her you should thank. I just work here.”

“My grandmother…” he echoes, feeling a bit like ice water is slipping down his spine.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “You know, your grandmother. The mayor.”

“Right,” he bites out. Suddenly it feels like there’s an enormous expanse between them, but somehow that does nothing at all to dim the way she manages to send a zing of attraction right through him without even trying. “So… you know who I am, then.”

She laughs at that, light and disbelieving as she shakes her head. “Will Queen, I knew who you were the first time we met. I definitely remember it now.”

Well, that throws him for a loop. Suddenly he’s wracking his brain because he could not possibly forget this girl. She stands apart from every woman he’s ever met and he’s pretty sure she’s not even trying. But… but nothing registers.

“The first time?” he asks.

She chuckles and looks to the side, leaving him staring at her profile. She’s beautiful from every angle, he finds, and he wants to see more of her, make her laugh with a completely different tone than she is right now, because right now he feels like he’s not in on the joke.

“We were both camping,” she says as she looks back, taking pity on him. “That’s how I got this job. Your dad put me in touch with your grandmother’s office.”

“You were putting up a tent,” he realizes, as he looks at her in a whole new light. He feels like maybe he’s seeing clearly for the first time in a long time. “You washed your hair in the river.”

She pauses at that before tilting her head in agreement. There’s nothing overt, but something in her eyes is obviously pleased at being remembered and he’s hit with the sudden sense that he’d missed something back then, that he’d gone left when he should have gone right, and he doesn’t know quite how to backpedal.

“I did,” she agrees quietly. “And then I walked back to the campsite with one of my friends to give you and my other friend, Maggie, some space.”

Maggie… he doesn’t remember her. He has a vague recollection of dark hair and soft lips and long legs, but none of it means anything. It’s all indistinct, ill-formed in his mind’s eye. Amelia, though… Amelia he remembers. He remembers the way the air felt charged with expectation when their eyes met, just like it does now. He remembers her rising up out of the water like some kind of siren, dark wet hair trailing behind her and a soaked, pale blue lace bra that hid nothing.

It’s this very instant that he knows beyond any shadow of a doubt that he made the wrong choice that day. There’s something here, something he’s only found maybe once before, with his ex-girlfriend Allison back in college. He’s not really looking for that kind of depth right now. He’s not sure if he even has room for that in his life, but maybe… maybe for the right woman… maybe if it were real...

“I’ll tell her you said hi, if you like,” Amelia offers, pulling him back to the moment.

“Who?” he asks, because everyone other than Amelia has faded well into the background at this point.

“Maggie,” she replies a bit incredulously.

“Oh… Sure,” he says easily with a shrug. “If you want to. Tell her I hope she’s doing well.”

“Did you want me to pass along your number…” Amelia fishes.

“Actually, I’d rather you keep it for yourself,” he tells her.

She sucks in a ragged breath and raises one eyebrow as her gaze locks heavily with his. It feels like the temperature in the room goes up at least a few degrees and lightning chases something across the expanse of his skin. He wants… he wants something. He doesn’t even know what, but he wants something with this woman.

“That’s a bad idea,” she replies in a near-whisper.

“And why’s that?” he asks, shuffling forward half a step, edging ever-so-slightly into her personal space. She absolutely does not back up in the least. In fact, if he’s not mistaken, she leans inward just a bit.

“Conflict of interest,” she supplies. “I work for your grandmother. You’re a Queen. You’re…”

“I’m…?” he prods.

“Someone my best friend saw first,” Amelia points out. “And most definitely called dibs on.”

“I can debunk all of those reasons,” he offers. “If you’re interested.”

“I’m interested in you trying,” she replies. They’re scarcely a foot apart. Bethy’s weight against his shoulder redoubled some time in the last few minutes and he knows without even looking that the toddler’s fallen asleep. It’s just as well, he’s grateful not to have her interference at the moment.

“First of all, I don’t have any kind of relationship with my grandmother, so that’s not really a point of contention,” he starts.

“Isn’t it?” she asks.

“It’s not for me. Won’t be for her. Doesn’t have to be for you,” he tells her before moving on. “Secondly, I’m a Queen, but I was a Clayton first. Neither the public nor the press look at me the same way as the rest of my father’s family because I’m the bastard borne from my father’s youthful indiscretions. Now, my family doesn’t see it that way, but the rest of society? They do.”

“Their loss,” she tells him.

“It doesn’t bother me,” he shrugs. “It never has. I know who I am and I know my place in my family. The rest doesn’t matter.”

“And Maggie?” Amelia asks curiously.

“Expiration date,” Will tells her.

“I’m sorry?” Amelia laughs. He wants to taste it. He wants to kiss her while she’s laughing, feel the vibration of her amusement against his lips, breathe it in, let it soak into his soul. What the hell is this? How can he - on sight - feel this much toward this woman?

“Dibs has expired by now,” he tells her, the words coming out heavy and affected. “I didn’t sleep with your friend. I didn’t date her. Whatever she and I had is long over and you and I… you and I haven’t even started yet.”

Her breath catches and she stares at his lips, running her tongue over her teeth. He absolutely cannot help the strangled noise that gets stuck in his throat at the sight of that and if he weren’t holding Bethy, he’s pretty sure he’d step forward, rest a hand on her cheek and test exactly where they stand.

But he is holding Bethy.

And beyond that, they’re in her workplace and they’re absolutely not alone.

“William.”

The voice shifts everything on a dime. He steps back, feels steel working its way down his spine as he grits his teeth and turns slightly.

“Grandmother,” he greets. His voice is all chilly, hard edges that are impossible to miss.

“I understand you’re here to pick up your brother,” she supplies primly. Nate’s at her side, looking incredibly proud to be a part of a grown-up conversation. He absolutely misses the nuances of Will’s relationship with their grandmother, such as it is. He’s only ten. He doesn’t get it yet. “You look well.”

“I am,” Will grits out.

“Glad to hear it,” she replies. Her hair is entirely silver these days, but she still looks much the same as Will remembers from the first time he met her. She’s stately, his grandmother. Composed. He’d give almost anything to watch that composure shatter, to see her express something, anything, showing that she regretted in the least what she’d done. To him, to his father, to their entire family. But she never has. She never will. And Will is not the sort to ever let that go. His stubbornness, ironically, seems to have come from her. “And you’re still working that job with the firehouse?”

“I’m a firefighter,” he snaps at her, incredulity slipping across his features. “It’s not an after-school hobby. It’s my career.”

“Honestly, William,” she chides. “I was only making conversation.”

“Not very well,” he bites back.

“Fine,” she replies, holding her head high. “Forgive my attempt at civility. How dare I be so bold as to attempt to talk to you.”

“You and I have nothing to talk about,” he grits out.

He holds her stare for an abnormally long time, right up until Nate sighs heavily and draws both of their attention. Will immediately feels bad when he sees his little brother’s crestfallen face. This isn’t fair to him. All he’s ever known of Moira Queen was a grandmother who doted on his existence every moment of his life. She’s encouraged him, been proud of him, made absolutely no secret that he’s her favorite - even if she’s never said so outright. Nate’s never had to wonder why his grandmother never thought he was even worth knowing. He doesn’t remember being five-years-old and crying in the corner of his kindergarten class because every other kid’s dad had shown up for the family picnic. That’s not his reality. And as much as Will cannot stand his grandmother, he also can’t begrudge Nate the positive relationship he has with her.

“Sorry, kid,” Will tells Nate, squeezing his shoulder and pulling him closer in a one-armed hug. Nate relaxes a little bit immediately. He’s such a tactile kid, so eager for affection. Even just a half of a hug seems to mean the world to him. “You have a good time?”

“Yes,” Nate says, looking up at him with suddenly bright eyes. “I learned a lot. I don’t like politics, but it’s very important to understand for business. If I’m gonna run QI one day, I need a good background.”

Will grins down at the boy. He’s so serious. Will’s pretty sure he’s never been that serious in his entire life, but definitely not when he was ten-years-old. “You’re gonna run the world one day, kid,” he tells Nate, ruffling his carefully combed hair as the younger boy bats his hand away. “But for now, I think maybe you’ve had enough career-prep. How about we go do something fun and way more age-appropriate than interning in the mayor’s office over summer break?”

Nate looks suspicious of this suggestion, his eyes narrowing as Will chuckles. “Like what?” he asks with more skepticism than any soon-to-be fifth-grader should be capable of.

“You don’t want it to be a surprise?” Will asks.

“Am I the sort of person who usually likes surprises?” he asks, raising both eyebrows. That’d be a firm ‘no.’ In that way, and in so many others, Nate is very much like his mother.

“Fine,” Will relents, shaking his head affectionately. “I thought we’d hit the county fair. It’s a short walk from here. We can ride a few rides, grab some incredibly unhealthy dinner and catch the fireworks before we head home.”

The look on Nate’s face makes it very clear that he can’t decide how he feels about this idea. He’s a good kid, but sometimes he forgets to just be a kid. Will’s recently decided it’s his personal mission to act like an elementary schooler while he still is one.

“You can help me win Bethy a stuffed animal and we can gorge ourselves on cotton candy,” Will points out. Nate’s weak spot is sweets, always has been, and Will knew before he even said it that an offer of cotton candy would earn him Nate’s agreement.

And, sure enough, his face lights up at the idea. “The blue kind?” he asks, as if that makes a difference.

“Any kind you want,” Will tells him, grin spreading from ear to ear as he watches his little brother’s growing delight.

“You don’t want to have too many sweets, though.”

God, but his grandmother’s voice grates on Will’s nerves like nails on a chalkboard. Can’t she just let anything go? Can’t she just let Nate be a damned kid.

“I thought maybe I’d just buy him his own cotton candy machine,” Will tells her tightly. “He can keep it in his room and make as much as he wants on demand.”

“There’s no call for sarcasm, William,” she berates. Her tone makes it seem like she’s talking down to him. She has a way of doing that, of making him feel six years old all over again, hiding in his father’s kitchen and listening to him tell his grandmother that no, no she cannot see him because his mother isn’t here and he made her a promise.

His grandmother had used that same tone on his dad. And Will… Will hadn’t understood then. His mom’s parents both died when he was too little to remember them and the idea of a grandmother, in his head, had been someone who’d bake cookies with him and push him on the swings at the park. But Moira Queen is not the cookie baking-type. At least not with him. Will had learned that the hard way.

“I’m surprised you recognize it,” Will tells her dryly. “Isn’t sarcasm a bit too close to humor for you?”

“William Clayton,” she says sharply. “I expect considerably mo-”

“Queen,” he corrects, cutting her off abruptly. His voice is as cold as ice, which is sort of incredible because his blood is absolutely boiling. Nate laces their fingers together, a silent show of solidarity that Will desperately needs. Nate helps. Bethy, her soft little puffs of breath against his neck as she slumbers on… she helps too, in her own way. He is very present with his family in this moment, regardless of his grandmother’s words. “Despite your very best efforts, I am a Queen. I am my father’s son and you do not have the right to take that away from me.”

“Of course you are,” she replies in a hushed voice. It’s the first time in his life he can remember her looking uneasy. Color drains from her face and her head is dipped almost deferentially. Will’s not sure what to do with that. “I misspoke. Your name was Clayton. Old habits die hard, I’m afraid. You’re obviously a part of this family and I would never do anything to try and distance you from it.”

With those words, any trace of goodwill that her discomfort might have earned her absolutely evaporates. The nerve of her…

“Forgive me, but if that were true, we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place, would we?” he asks.

His point is utterly undeniable and his grandmother simply holds her chin high and stares at him with silent defiance. Will doesn’t care. At least that’s what he tells himself. He gave up on his grandmother more than a decade ago and it would be foolish to expect anything to change now.

“I don’t have to have cotton candy,” Nate says in a tiny voice. Will looks down to find his little brother glancing between him and their grandmother uneasily. “It’s not that big a deal. Even if they have the blue kind. I don’t want you to be upset at each other, so we can just skip it.”

“No way,” Will tells him, kneeling down so he can see Nate eye-to eye. It’s awkward with Bethy asleep and Nate’s actually a bit taller than him when he squats, apparently. When had that happened? Is he growing again? No wonder he always wants snacks. “No way. This wasn’t about you and it wasn’t about cotton candy, okay? Everybody wants you to have fun. Nobody’s mad at you, okay? Not your grandmother and certainly not me.”

“I’m not upset with you,” Moira agrees. Her voice is thick and her smile forced, but Nate doesn’t seem to notice. “You should enjoy your time with your brother. Everyone deserves a bit of a treat now and then.”

“You did good work today,” Amelia chimes in. “You should take a break, reward yourself.”

Will hadn’t forgotten she was there. He’s entirely too aware of her presence for that. But he had sort of overlooked that she’d been an uncomfortable witness to his ongoing spat with his grandmother. In theory, that should make things incredibly awkward. In practice, it doesn’t quite play out that way. He glances up at her to find her already watching him. There’s no mistaking the way her breathing speeds up or the way she hesitates a beat before smiling kindly at Nate.

Judging from the quiet hum from his grandmother, Will’s pretty sure he’s not the only one there to pick up on the oddly intense vibe between them.

Unfortunately.

“You did good work, too!” Nate declares, looking at Amelia with excitement. “You should come with!”

“I… I don’t…” Amelia starts.

“You should,” Will cuts in. His voice is soft as he looks up at her. “I’ll win you a stuffed animal, too.”

“But no cotton candy?” she asks with a hint of a grin.

“If it’ll make you really smile, you can have mine,” he replies. “Every last bite of it.”

Will ignores the disgruntled huff of annoyance from his side. He doesn’t give a damn about his grandmother’s opinion, but Amelia’s eyes dart her way quickly before meeting his gaze again.

He goes to stand up fully, but Bethy slips to the side and throws him off balance a little, making him stumble slightly. It’s Amelia’s hand that steadies him, reaching out and gripping his forearm. He must have scuffed his feet against the carpet at some point because there’s a literal shock that zaps him the moment her fingers graze his skin. It’s visible, a tiny little bolt of static electricity that leaves him sucking in an unsteady breath and staring at her in blatant surprise.

He hasn’t kissed her yet, has barely even touched her, and the tension is so thick that it swamps the room, makes him feel like his head is swimming.

It’s amazing and he wants more of it.

“Come with us,” he says, some of his teasing nature falling to the wayside. He wants this so badly. There’s nothing to joke about with that.

But Amelia withdraws her hand like she’s been burned and takes a small step back. “I’m not exactly dressed for a county fair,” she points out.

“I’ll buy you a t-shirt,” he tells her.

“I doubt they sell shoes,” she replies, tilting her head down toward the heels that nearly put her eye level with him.

“I’ll carry you,” he grins.

She laughs and ducks her head, looking up at him through a curtain of dark hair and it’s… it’s so beautiful he forgets how to breathe for a moment. “Don’t you already have your hands full?” she asks, looking to Bethy.

“Piggy-back ride,” he suggests. He’s mostly kidding, but it earns him a full-throated laugh and Will has always been happy to look a bit foolish for the amusement of others. That’s most definitely true with Amelia.

“I can carry Bethy,” Nate chimes in. “I can even hold her while you guys go on the rides she can’t go on.”

Amelia’s laugh dies off, but she’s still smiling, a soft look of clear affection as she turns to Nate. It’s just like when she’d looked at Bethy and it strikes Will that she’d been telling the truth earlier. She really very much does like kids.

“It’s tempting,” she says. She looks quickly in Will’s direction. “But I have work I need to do.”

‘You’re tempting. But no,’ is what Will hears and his heart drops a little at the subtle rejection.

“But-” Nate starts. Will cuts him off, though, resting a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. Nate’s too little to get the undercurrent of what’s going on and Will’s not going to push a woman who’s turned him down.

“Okay,” Will tells her. “Congratulations again on getting the support you needed. I hope you have a nice night.”

The way she watches him makes him think she might be reconsidering, but after a moment she says, “Thanks… It was good to see you again, Will.”

“You too, Amelia,” he agrees.

Every ounce of tension that’s been there still lingers, but it feels like they’re watching each other across a vast canyon right up until she turns and walks away. Will hits on a lot of girls and, though it works out in his favor more often than not, Amelia’s far from the first one to shoot him down. She is, however, the first to make him feel like he wishes he could rewind the last few minutes and try a different approach.

“You were right,” comes his grandmother’s dry voice. “You are your father’s son.”

It’s not a compliment.

Will bristles at the comment, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he glares his grandmother’s direction.

“Nate, darling,” she says, looking down at the boy only after she’s spoken. “Why don’t you run to my office and grab my purse for me? We can make this little afternoon trip of yours my treat.”

There’s clear confusion on Nate’s face, which is well-placed because it’s not like they have any need whatsoever for their grandmother to fund anything, but he does as he’s told. Because he’s Nate and the day he doesn’t listen to directions, Will is going to wonder what alternate universe he’s fallen into.

But his thoughts don’t linger on Nate long because the moment the boy’s out of earshot, Will’s grandmother is clearing her throat to earn his attention.

“Amelia is the most promising staffer I’ve ever had,” she tells him sharply.

“She seems more than competent,” Will agrees, wondering why the hell they’re having this conversation.

“The very last thing she needs is the distraction of a young man who thinks a two month fling is a long term commitment,” she clarifies.

Will absolutely cannot believe his ears. Defensiveness rises up, suffusing his entire body with annoyance and coiled up anger as he turns to face his grandmother fully.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he bites out.

“Don’t I?” she questions, quirking a disbelieving eyebrow. “Amelia is going places professionally. What she needs is someone like her, someone driven with ambition and purpose, not a boy offering piggy back rides to the carousel.”

“How about we let her decide what she needs,” Will snaps back.

“William,” his grandmother sighs with a tisk and a shake of her head. “She just did.”

She did.

It’s true.

But it’s also nowhere near as simple as his grandmother is making it sound, because when he glances Amelia’s direction, she’s staring back. He’s not about to approach her again. He took his shot and he’s not gonna nag. But it’s also not like she thought he was beneath her, not like his grandmother seems to be implying.

“Forgive me if I can’t take seriously the relationship advice coming from a woman who screwed the man who murdered her first husband.”

Moira Queen is a dangerous woman. She always has been. Will has never had any delusions about that, but it’s never been as obvious to the naked eye as the look of pure hatred that flashes across her features.

“You have no business bringing up Robert and Malcolm,” she hisses at him.

It’s appropriate. William’s always thought her a snake.

“And you have no business sticking your nose in my love life,” WIll counters. He’s not an imposing man, but he is taller than his grandmother and stepping into her personal space leaves him feeling like he’s looming over her. He hopes she feels the same way. “You and I share two things - a last name and a quarter of my DNA. That’s it. I put up with you because my father does. So, I will pass you the potatoes at holiday dinners and I will smile at you for my brother’s sake, but don’t for a second think you have any say over my life. You don’t even have my vote.”

Something solidifies in her eyes, a resolve he’s seen frequently from her in the face of adversity. But not like this. Not toward him.

Good.

It’s a whole lot more honest than any attempt at familial affection.

“Am I clear?” he asks.

“Perfectly,” she responds.

Nate, bless him, has fantastic timing, running up with his grandmother’s purse in hand almost immediately after the word leaves her mouth.

“I found it!” he says proudly, missing the undercurrent between them entirely, per usual, as he hands his grandmother her bag.

“Thank you, darling,” she tells him as she takes it and unzippers the front compartment, pulling out her wallet.

“You can keep it,” Will tells her, staying her hand. “I don’t want your money.”

“It’s for Nate,” she points out, giving him a heavy look. It’s meant to remind him that they try not to do this in front of Nate. They’re civil in his presence. He’s young and he misses a lot, but he’s not blind entirely. Sooner or later he’s going to figure out something deeper is going on and he’s going to want an explanation. But Will hasn’t forgotten these things, he just also isn’t willing to play by his grandmother’s rules anymore.

“Well, you can pay for him when you take him,” Will counters. “This is my treat. I have ‘that job at the firehouse,’ remember? I wouldn’t offer if I couldn’t afford it.”

There’s his trust fund, too, of course, but he doesn’t touch that and his grandmother is well aware of it. He wants to make his own way and he doesn’t want any part of the fortune passed down by his grandparents.

“Fine,” she allows after a beat. There’s really nothing else she can say, after all. She turns to Nate and straightens his collar, not that it needs it. “Have a good time and listen to your brother,” she instructs, as if there had been any doubt he would follow Will’s rules. “Tell your sisters I said hello, will you?”

“Sure,” Nate agrees. “Thanks for letting me help today, Grandma.”

“It’s my pleasure, my hard little worker,” she says, cupping his cheeks and smiling with obvious affection. Will wonders if she means it. He wonders if she ever has.

“Wanna get out of here?” Will asks his brother. “You’re pretty tall these days. I wonder if they’ll let you on the Mountain of Doom yet.”

“Don’t be silly,” Nate smiles, shaking his head. “I’m not that big.”

It’s true. He’s not. But Will’s not going to give up until he’s got his baby brother laughing like the little kid he is and if that means a few teasing comments, he’s more than ready to play the part.

“My mistake,” Will deadpans. “I thought you were seventeen.”

“Will, you’re ridiculous,” Nate grins. It’s all teeth. “Jules is seventeen. I’m ten.”

“Are you sure you’re not twins?” Will says with mock seriousness. “I could swear you’re taller than her.”

“I am not!” Nate giggles.

And there it is.

His eyes are bright and his cheeks pink. He’s a little kid wearing a button-down collared shirt and volunteering to pour coffee at his grandmother’s office on his summer break. But, for a moment… for a moment he looks like the child he truly is. He’ll spend plenty of time inside offices one day. Will is sure of that much. It’s joy like this that he needs to make sure is also a big part of the kid’s experiences. There’s far more life than prepping binders and pouring coffee.

“Bye, Grandma!” Nate says cheerily, waving her way as he takes Will’s free hand and the two of them head back toward the elevator. He’s humming something happily beneath his breath. He probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, but it makes Will let go of his hand to wrap an arm around him and pull him closer.

They step into the elevator and he catches Amelia’s eye again as he pushes the button for the ground floor. She smiles softly at him and he returns it. There’s an underpinning of regret, of longing, and for an instant he thinks maybe she’ll change her mind, maybe she’ll tell him to hold the elevator and hurry to join them.

But she doesn’t.

The door slides shut leaving him with his two youngest siblings and a full evening of fun planned for the immediate future. A huge part of him wishes she’d come with. He can picture it perfectly. Her sharp tongue sassing him as he misses the target in one of those games where he tries to win her a stuffed animal. Her stealing a bite of his cotton candy as he’s holding it and innocently proclaiming she’d done nothing. Her clinging to his arm as they race down some ridiculously steep ride… Her holding Bethy, looking at his baby sister like she’s the sweetest thing in the whole world. There’s a pang of longing for all of that, for what could have been if things had gone just a touch differently.

But they hadn’t. And that’s okay. It’s okay because Bethy sleeps soundly, resting against the curve of his bicep with a sense of comfort that he’s so very grateful to provide. It’s okay because Nate is humming and bouncing on his toes with bubbly excitement.

Will likes spending time with pretty, interesting, intelligent women. He likes it a lot. And Amelia… there’s something different about her that he wishes he’d had the chance to explore. But his focus - now and always - is on his family and he’s more than satisfied to be spending time with just Nate and Bethy. They need him and maybe… maybe he’d been right in the first place. Maybe his relationships with them are more important than they could ever be with a woman.

“Come on, Will!” Nate says with a growing sense of excitement, as the door to the elevator opens. “Let’s get going!”

“Let’s do it,” Will agrees, following in his little brother’s footsteps as he rushes out the door, leaving the office and everyone in it behind.

*

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