#but i need to wake up at 4am to get to the rink tomorrow

[shomouno]

2024 World Figure Skating Championships Kiss & Cry

[tripleaxeldiaz]

maybe one day i’ll fly next to you

chapter 2/8

read on ao3

start from the beginning

Autumn Classic doesn’t mean anything, really — the USFSA won’t look at it when considering Olympic spots — but it’s Buck’s favorite competition of the year. It’s his first chance to see new programs, size up competition, gauge where he thinks he’ll be landing this season. It’s also the first buzz of nerves and adrenaline that he feels after six months of break, and it’s a high he keeps chasing all season.

It’s a long flight to Toronto plus time changes, so he’s exhausted by the time they get to the hotel. He blearily accepts his room key from Bobby as he heads to the elevator, leaning heavily against the wall on the short ride up. He’s already dreaming about falling into bed as he opens the door, expecting to see Chimney as usual, but instead sees Eddie, standing in the middle of the room, scrolling through his phone. He looks up as the door shuts behind Buck and gives him a small smile.

“I, uh, didn’t know which bed you wanted, so I figured I’d wait until you got here.”

Buck, brain still half-offline, just looks at him for a minute before saying, “You’re not Chimney.”

Eddie lets out a surprised laugh, “No, not last time I checked. Bobby said he volunteered to chaperone the Juniors floor so he gave him a single. Guess that means you’re stuck with me.”

Buck makes a mental note to hunt Chimney down in the morning, but right now all he wants to do is sleep so he’s at least somewhat rested for practice at the asscrack of dawn.

“This one’s fine,” he says, dropping his bag at the foot of the closest bed before belly flopping onto it. He already feels himself drifting off as Eddie rifles through his own bag.

“Mind if I shower first?” he asks. Buck waves him a “yes” without moving the rest of his body. He thinks he hears a snort before the bathroom door closes and the shower turns on. The drone of the water almost puts him to sleep again, but he gets up with a groan instead, propping himself against the headboard while he waits. He could just say fuck it and go right to bed, but he’s been in three different airports today and feels disgusting, and he’d rather not wake up at 4am to shower in the morning.

He’s scrolling through the schedule Bobby emailed, figuring out the absolute latest he can set his alarm for, when the bathroom door opens again, steam pouring into the room. Eddie emerges, towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still falling down his flushed chest and shoulders, and Buck feels like he swallowed his tongue. Because, yes, he might hate the guy, but he also has eyes. Eyes that are currently taking in miles of skin and lean muscle so perfect it looks like he’s carved out of marble. His back muscles ripple as he leans over to grab a shirt from his bag before going back into the bathroom, and Buck actually feels his mouth water. 

He hasn’t had sex in...a while. Two and a half seasons, to be exact. He hasn’t felt this attracted to someone so quickly in even longer. Since his leg healed, his sole focus has been skating — practicing day in and day out to get his jumps consistent, his skating skills back up to speed. And since he’s still having issues, he hasn’t even let sex or relationships cross his mind, didn’t want to lose focus. Apparently, he was a lot more focused than he thought he was, if it prevented him from noticing all this.

That lust — so intense he still feels it lingering in his gut — quickly turns into familiar irritation though, because of course, along with being a world class skater, Eddie also looks like a goddamn supermodel. Buck knows he’s no slouch himself, but this is a stupid new level. A distracting new level, and distractions are not something Buck needs right now.

Plus, he’d never sleep with Eddie anyway. He hates him.

The bathroom door opens again, and this time Eddie is, thankfully, fully clothed. “All yours,” he says, jerking his head toward the door as he sits down on his bed. 

Buck nods, quickly grabbing his things and shutting the door behind him. He turns the shower to cold and gets in immediately, the shock of it waking him up and burning any lasting arousal out of him. He closes his eyes, trying to forget Eddie’s everything and focus instead on the things he needs to work on at practice tomorrow, where he put his KT tape, literally anything else.

He’s better by the time he’s done, just at the usual baseline of annoyance he’s always at where Eddie’s concerned. Eddie’s still awake, TV quietly playing a rerun of some sitcom, when Buck comes back and falls into his bed. He ignores Eddie as much as he can as he texts Maddie and sets his alarm, though he swears he feels his eyes on him when he’s not looking. Exhaustion finally takes over as he turns off his lamp, and he’s asleep as soon as he flips to his side. 

He dreams he’s falling again, but this time, someone with golden skin and a blinding smile is falling with him.

~~~~~~~~~~

The first half of the week goes by in a blur — three days of wake up, skate, eat, skate, sleep, repeat — and before he knows it, it’s short program day. He wakes up to Eddie’s alarm — they had to be up at the same time anyway — and takes a minute to just lay in bed, feel the butterflies already forming in his stomach, excitement and anticipation lighting up every nerve ending.

Rooming with Eddie has been...not terrible, so far. He’s clean, quiet, doesn’t hog the bathroom. The second night, after long practices that left them physically drained but mentally wide awake, they even watched a movie together — some made-for-TV psychological thriller that started as background noise but quickly turned into them coming up with the most ridiculous ways for the movie to end, and Buck actually getting it right.

It’s...weird. Buck has spent most of the last year actively avoiding Eddie, but now that the cold shoulder he usually gives him has thawed out a little bit, it’s not so bad. He’s still irritatingly perfect on multiple fronts, but he can at least hold a conversation with him now.

They leave the room together, grabbing a quick breakfast at the hotel before heading to their last practice. It’s silent, each of them in their own heads about when they need to get ready, but it’s not awkward. Buck would almost call it comfortable.

The practice rink is as chaotic as expected by the time they arrive. All 15 competitors plus coaches and choreographers are there, most in the stands stretching and warming up, watching the first group run their programs on the ice. There’s a small group of reporters as well, snagging people when they can for quotes and comments. They scan the crowd for Bobby, finally see him waving from the spot he and Hen secured at the far end of the stands. They make their way across to them, smiling and waving at familiar faces as they go. It feels forced for Buck, at least — making nice despite the fact that they’re all secretly hoping everyone else will tear or bruise something bad enough that they’ll have to withdraw. Eddie, on the other hand, is genuinely warm to everyone, friendly slaps on backs and laughs at jokes that don’t have a hint of fakeness. He’s nice, even to people he has to know cheer a little bit every time he falls.

Buck resists the urge to roll his eyes, but just barely.

They finally make it to Bobby and Hen and start warming up. Buck takes real stock of the crowd now as he stretches his hamstrings, noting costumes, levels of panic he can see on faces, who’s skating to what music as it loops through the sound system. Overall, he feels good — at a smaller competition like this, he’s usually one of the strongest technically and artistically, and this time feels no different. 

Their group gets called to the ice, and they each have one more chance to run through their program. Buck has two quads planned for his three required jumps, and he lands both of them cleanly and fully rotated. It’s still ambitious, given his consistency — you never know what will happen in front of the judges — but as long as he stays out of his own way, out of his head, he’ll be just fine.

He hopes.

When their time is up, Buck packs his things up quickly, waving to Bobby, Hen, and Eddie as he hustles to the green room to drop off his stuff before heading to the main rink. The first group for the rhythm dance is just starting their warm-up as he finds May in the stands, sliding into the seat next to her. It’s not often that their segments are spread out enough that they can all watch each other compete, but Buck and May always take full advantage to cheer on Maddie and Chim and judge everybody else.

“Did I miss anything?” he asks.

She shakes her head, eyes on the ice. “The Polish team almost collided with one of the Canadian teams, but it looked like an accident.”

“I don’t know, those Canadians love to cut it close during warm-ups, they think it scares the other teams.” 

“They tried it at Worlds and got yelled at pretty bad, I don’t think they’d try it again so soon.” Buck whips his head over just as Eddie sits down on his other side, like he’s part of their little cheer squad too. 

“What are you doing here?” Buck asks, tone a little more accusatory than he wanted.

Eddie just shrugs. “I usually stand in the back and watch, but I saw you guys and figured I’d join,” he says, meeting Buck’s eye. “If that’s okay with you?”

May elbows Buck in the ribs as she turns to Eddie herself. “Of course it’s okay, as long as you tell me everything that went down with that team at Worlds.”

Eddie smiles as he launches into the story. It takes Buck’s brain a minute to catch up with Eddie being sociable and funny, not hiding in the green room and ignoring everyone like he always assumed he did. They all fall into an easy banter as the first team begins their program, and by the end of the first group, they’re having to stifle their laughter and commentary as the people around them shoot dirty looks their way. 

Their cheers are the loudest when Chim and Maddie are announced during the warm-up, and again when they start their program. Buck loves watching Maddie skate — she’s the reason he got into the sport in the first place, and the way she looks so graceful and effortless is something he never gets tired of seeing. Their tango is smoldering, easily covering the ice and drawing the audience in, and their group isn’t the only one giving a standing ovation at the end. They take first place by a good margin, Buck and Eddie letting out matching wolf whistles as their scores are announced. 

Buck never would have imagined being here, cheering on his sister with the guy he’s hated for longer than he can remember, but now that he is here, it’s...nice. Much nicer than he expected. He actually likes hearing Eddie’s opinions on lifts and spins, likes hearing him laugh at his jokes, likes the feeling of their arms brushing against each other in the cramped stadium seating…

Yeah. Nice. Weird and a complete upset of his world view up until the beginning of the week, but nice nonetheless.

~~~~~~~~~~

He may be sitting in the kiss and cry, but Buck still feels like he’s flying. He landed both quads, including his quad loop which is chronically underrotated, and nailed every step and spin. The audience was thunderous when he finished, and he almost wanted to cry because it really felt like the beginning —  the beginning of his redemption, the beginning of chiseling his name into the record books, the beginning of finally achieving everything he’d dreamed of.

He is, of course, miles and miles ahead of himself, but that doesn’t stop an ember of hope glowing brightly in his mind as he gets his score — first place, 20 points above second. Bobby squeezes his shoulders, shaking them in excitement, and he stands and waves to the crowd. They’re just making their way to the green room as Eddie’s name is announced, and rather than avoiding watching himself get knocked to second, he stops just outside the exit and turns back towards the ice.

He’s seen Eddie’s short a million times in practice — usually watching against his better judgement to see if he screws up — but watching it in full in a competition is a completely different experience. The opening notes to “Dust in the Wind” start playing, and Buck watches Eddie’s whole demeanor change, swears he sees his mind locking into all he has to accomplish in the next two minutes and 40 seconds. Pundits always describe his skating as “classic but refreshing”, and Buck is more than inclined to agree. Eddie possesses all the charm and grace of old school skaters, but manages to put his own spin on it, making it feel like something no one’s ever done before. Buck’s a little in awe, if he’s honest, and watching Eddie’s nearly perfect program this time doesn’t fill him with the usual annoyance or ill-placed rage, it makes him feel...something. He can’t quite put a name on it, but he knows it’s a good feeling.

He’s inclined to blame that on the high he’s still feeling from his own skate, but part of him also knows that that’s not the case.

Eddie does knock him into second, but only by five points. There’s a pang of bitterness, but it’s dull, because five points is nothing. Five points is one perfect jump, one spin combo, one seamless step sequence. It’s not insurmountable. And even if the gap were bigger, Buck would be hard pressed to find any flaws in Eddie’s program anyway.

The pundits don’t lie. He’s incredible. And maybe Buck is starting to appreciate it.

The rest of the day passes in snapshots: pressers, watching May win gold in the ladies’ event, dinner with the team that was overflowing with excitement tinged with nerves about free skates the next day. He’s asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, distinctly not thinking about how he and Eddie sat shoulder to knee at dinner, or how Eddie’s eyes glowed almost golden in the low lighting of the restaurant, or how crushed he might be if he doesn’t win tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s skating last, which means he’s going to be nauseous for the next two hours while he watches everyone else go. He considers just putting his headphones on and ignoring everything, going in blind to the scores, but he can’t. He has to know where he stands, his margin for error, how much perfection is needed.

He alternates between watching the first group on the TVs in the green room and going through every possible scenario of him screwing up and how he’ll fix it mid skate. Eventually, he’s just picturing himself falling on every jump, over and over, placing last and going home a loser before the season even officially starts.

He’s not sure if it’s doing more harm than good, preparing him for success or failure, but they’re announcing the second warm up group, so it looks like he’s about to find out.

Eddie goes right before him, because the universe really wanted to test the strength of his stomach, apparently. Buck always loves “Hallelujah” programs, but Eddie’s is, of course, on a completely different level. He puts every emotion — the anguish, the uncertainty, the faint hope — into his movements, and it pulls at Buck’s heart so hard he’s afraid a blood vessel will snap. He’s so enthralled that he almost doesn’t notice that Eddie was supposed to do a quad toe on his last jumping pass.

But he doesn’t. 

He triples it, losing him five base points.

Buck feels bad (which is...new), but he also feels a surge of hope buzzing in every bone.

Does that make him a bad person?

He doesn’t have time to process that as Eddie’s scores are announced and he moves into first place. He stands and waves at the crowd from the kiss and cry, smiling widely and looking genuinely pleased. Maybe he didn’t know he messed up? Maybe he’s still in blissful ignorance, will stay that way until he looks at his protocols? That’s the only thing that makes sense to Buck — he’s aware of every mistake as soon as it happens, and even minor ones send him right off the rails, no amount of points able to bring him back for days.

There’s a hand on his shoulder, squeezing as it passes. He meets Eddie’s eyes, and that genuine smile is still there, directed him now.

“Good luck out there,” Eddie says, and Buck blames the flutter in his heart and flush on his cheeks purely on adrenaline and nerves.

The audience cheers as he skates to center ice, and he sees Maddie and Chim, still wearing their silver medals, near the top of the stands. He takes a deep breath as he stands in his opening pose, letting the crowd, the noise, the worry, everything wash away. This is all that matters, these next four minutes that could define the rest of his season, the rest of his path to the Olympic podium. Maybe it’s too much pressure for a preseason competition, but Buck’s been fighting for it, clawing his way through for the past four years, and a strong start is exactly what he needs to convince himself and every other coach, analyst, and skater, that he is here to win.

The music starts, and everything just clicks, like the notes are flowing through him while he moves, carrying him along. Every jump is clean and balanced, every spin is fast and poised. The music itself is about birds, flying through and away as quickly as they came, and that’s exactly how Buck feels. Like if he jumps high enough, he’ll float away like he does in his dreams, but this time, it’s not scary. There’s no jolts to his brain while he jumps, pulling him carelessly to the ground, and he takes every one with a bit of gratitude, knowing how easily he could second guess himself and make it all come crashing down around him, figuratively and literally. But there’s none of that today, just confidence and precision and joy that he only ever gets at moments like these. He still feels like he’s flying as he stops in his final pose, audience on their feet around him.

If he could, he’d bottle this sound and take it with him everywhere, have it follow him through Grand Prix, through Nats, all the way to Beijing. If this is the way the season is starting, he feels like he can’t go anywhere but up.

Or anywhere but down, a terrible voice whispers. Luckily, it’s drowned out with the crowd before it burrows too deep.

Bobby is all smiles when he comes off the ice, hugging him and slapping his back as they sit in the kiss and cry. He’s just catching his breath as they announce his score — first place, 9.5 points above Eddie. He wishes the gap had been a little bigger, but he’ll take what he can get. He waves at the crowd as they roar again, but he doesn’t have long to bask in it all before he’s whisked away for the medal ceremony.

It’s short, thankfully — no fanfare, just the president of Skate Canada and an ISU official handing out the flowers and medals. Buck skates out as his name is announced, taking his place on the highest podium between the bronze medalist from Japan and Eddie. Eddie beams at him, that same blindingly earnest smile, and Buck can’t help but smile back.

He gets a little misty when they play the national anthem. It’s not so much the song itself, but the accomplishment it represents, the fact that his blood, sweat, and tears were all for something. 

Eddie falls in step with him as they make their way to the presser, shoulders brushing in that casual way they’ve made a habit this past week. Buck doesn’t know if they’re friends just yet, isn’t sure if a week is long enough to shed a decade of bad feelings, but he does know that there’s something about Eddie that keeps drawing him in, makes him want to dig past the annoyingly perfect exterior and figure out what’s going on inside. Is he always this positive and friendly? What makes him snap? He’s spent years trying to think as little about Eddie as possible, but it’s been harder and harder to do, and Buck doesn’t really want to fight it anymore. It was taking up too much energy, and he has bigger things to worry about.

“Congrats, man, you looked great out there,” Eddie says, squeezing his shoulder again. This time, Buck squeezes back.

“Thanks, so did you. Your triple axel was so perfect it literally looked computer generated.” Eddie laughs, sharp and bright, and something in Buck wants to keep hearing that sound as often as he can.

There aren’t many reporters, but they ask all the same questions — how did they feel about their performance, what are they looking to improve, how do they feel about the other competitors, blah blah blah. As they’re given the two minute warning, the last reporter stands, pointing her microphone towards Buck.

“Evan, you really started this season with a bang. Do you think you’ll be able to keep coming out on top?”

Yes, he thinks automatically. I can and I will.

Maybe, says the whisper again, or maybe you won’t.

“Anything could happen,” he says, a phrase he has a feeling he’ll be repeating again and again, “but I’ll keep fighting no matter what.”

[secretlynestaarcheron]

A/N - sorry guys, I uploaded yesterday but on the wrong account! Quarantine is not being kind to me! Sorry for the delay! 

Tagged: @awesomelena555 @catwomancabella @overgrown-bat @sannelovesreading @candid-confetti @gendryaforthemasses @musicmaam @skychild29 @empress-ofbloodshed  @8emmy @thestarkswinter

Cold as Ice

SIX

Cassian groaned as the buzzing of his phone woke him up, he reached blindly, his hand hitting the cool metal as he slid open the phone and pressed it to his ear. “Hello?” he grumbles, rubbing his eyes and glancing over to see the time. 5 am. 

“Hey, is this Cassian?” 

Cassian sits up at that, worry spreading through his body, “Yeah, what’s up?” 

The femine voice on the other side of the phone sighs in relief, “I found your friend, tall and blonde? Morgan, I think? She’s had way too much to drink, I found her stumbling through the street.” 

Cassian rips off his covers, walking over to slip on his shoes, “Thank you for calling, where are you guys now?” he asks, he's glad to know that she's with someone that seems to be safety minded but he was still confused on why she was out drinking, she hadn’t gotten drunk in a long time. 

“Right outside of Velaris Bar,” she replies, “I am sorry to call so late, you were one of two people on her favorites list and I didn’t-,” 

“No, it's okay, I am glad she's safe with you. I’ll be there shortly, I am leaving now,” he says, running out the door and jumping into his jeep after hanging up. The streets are still quiet as he makes his way towards the bar, sure enough he sees a small brunette standing outside with Mor leaning against her. 

He quickly jumps out of the car, moving over towards his friend, “Hey, I am Cassian,” he says to clarify he was the right person, as he transitions Mor into his arms, “Thank you so much for everything.” 

The brunette smiles, “Yeah, of course, If I was in her position I would want someone to stay with me,” she replies, “She was really out of it, is she okay?” 

Cassian shakes his head, “I hope so,” he replies, “Do you need anything? Money to get home? A ride?” 

She shakes her head, “I actually live right there,” she says, pointing across the street, “Get home safe, I hope everything works out for the best for both of you.” 

Cassian smiles, turning to help Mor get into his car, she groans as he moves but doesn’t fight him on any of it. He buckles her in before running to the other side and hopping it, he looks over at her, her hair wild and her mascara smudged. “Wanna tell me why you decided to drink the night away?” 

She hums, digging her head into the chair and pulling her knees to her chest. He chuckles looking towards the road and driving back to his apartment. He carries her up the stairs, only slightly winded when he hits the fifth floor. He kicks his door open, moving towards his room quietly and sets her on his bed. 

He runs a hand through his hair, glancing around the room for his phone, he groans when he realizes he probably left it in the car. He sits on the side of the bed, yawning as he glances at the clock on his nightstand. He curses when he sees that it's 6:05, he was supposed to meet Nesta five minutes ago with coffee. 

“I am going to leave, you good just sleep for an hour?” Cassian asks, turning towards Mor who was staring up at the ceiling, she shrugs in response. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Cas,” she says, turning on her side to look at me. 

He glances at the clock, before shifting back and laying down next to her, he would explain it all to Nesta and she would understand, right? He shakes the thought, he couldn’t care about that right now, not when Mor was obviously going through something like this. “Did you go out with friends last night?” he asks. 

She shakes her head, resting it in his lap, “No,” she replies, covering her face with her hands, “It was stupid, I was stupid, I don’t know why I let myself feel like this again.” 

He runs a hand through her hair, comfortingly, Mor and him were best friends he knew how to handle her when she was stressed or upset. “Amara,” he concludes, “What happened with getting coffee?” 

Mor groans, rolling onto her back so she could look up at him, “That’s just it, we drank coffee and talked,” she replies, “No apology for ditching me, she didn’t even really give me an explanation. She just said she had been busy.” 

Cassian nods, letting her speak, “It’s stupid, she was like this when we were going out so I don’t know why I thought It would be any different,” she replies, “But of course, I couldn’t just think it was a bad idea myself one of my parents posh friends had to see me and tell them.” 

“Did they contact you?” Cassian asks, clenching his fists, he had many issues with her parents. 

“My dad,” she replies, “My mom refused to talk to me, which hurt worse than any word my father called me. Getting coffee with Amara was dumb mistake on my part, but that phone call-,” she chokes out a sob, wiping at her eyes, “I am sorry Cassian.” 

“Don’t be sorry, I’ll always be here to pick up the pieces,” he replies, smiling down at her as she curls into his sides. “You should really get some rest, we can talk about this more once you’ve slept at least five hours and had a greasy breakfast.” 

“You’re right,” she murmurs under her breath, wrapping her arm around his waist, trapping him in the bed with her. He glances over at the clock on the nightstand, 6:45 am, he slams his head down against the pillow careful not to shake her but still frustrated. 

He wakes up to Azriel clicking on the light, “You guys had a crazy night it seems,” He replies, chuckling softly, and turning to walk away. “Gotta get up, practice starts soon!” 

Cassian bolts up, Mor slipping off his lap who grunts at the movement. “Sorry Mor, I gotta go,” he says, looking over at the time. It was almost one in the afternoon. He had made Nesta wait for however long she decided to wait with no excuse for six hours. 

He quickly threw on some sweats and a jacket before following Azriel out to their cars. After jumping into his jeep he turns to grab his phone from the passenger side seat. He only had one missed call from Nesta and she didn’t even leave a voicemail. At least she did call. 

He presses the call button as he begins to drive home, clicking the speaker button and setting it on his dash. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel with every passing ring until he eventually gets her voicemail. 

He clears his throat, “Hey Nes..-ta, I am really sorry about this morning, something important came up and I’ll explain everything if you just call me back. Okay. Bye,” he says, hanging up, as he pulls into the rinks parking lot. 

He looks around as he walks in for the dirty blonde hair but she's nowhere to be found, just when he needs her to be hanging around the rink practicing she's not. He can’t even focus throughout practice because he feels so guilty ditching her this morning. 

Rhys skates next to him, “What up with you? The Spring Court game is tomorrow, get your head in the game.” 

Cassian shrugs, “Yeah, I know,” he retorts, skating back towards his position. Rhysand gives him a skeptical look, and Cassian shakes him off. “It's nothing, just a lot on my mind.” He was just starting to gain Nesta trust and then he ditched her, but he also was worried about Mor. She hadn’t been like this since highschool when her parents were talking about her getting into school with prestigious scholarships. 

“Just figure it out by tomorrow,” Rhysand retorts skating off towards his position. 

Cassian struggles through the rest of practice, trying to stay focused but failing miserabile. He would catch Rhysand eye occasionally who would just shake his head, even Azirel would give him side eyes that to some wouldn’t mean anything to anyone but to Cassian, he could see the disappointment behind his eyes. 

Cassian was quiet as they made their way into the locker room, he was quiet as they had their team meeting, he was quiet as he showered and changed. He silently grabbed his bag, moving past his teammates, out into the lounge. 

He glanced at his phone, he only had one missed text message from Mor letting him know that she went home and that she was okay. He throws his bag into his trunk, getting into his car he decided to stop by Mor’s apartment to make sure she was okay. 

“I am fine, Cassian,” Mor retorts as she opens the door to see him standing in the hallway. “You didn’t need to make a special trip just to visit me.”

Cassian chuckles, shaking his head at Mor, “Yeah, I did,” he replies, pushing past her and into her living room. “Whats up? How are you? Let's get down to the nitty gritty on why you decide to bar hop by yourself, you’re incredibly lucky that the girl found you and called me. Do you know what-,” 

“Yes, I know what could have happened to me,” Mor turns, crossing her arms, “but it's my life, and I am a mess, let me be.” 

Cassian groans, turning away from her to pace her living room, “Let me be she says, next time you decide to bar hop just invite me along to begin with so I don’t get a wake up call at 4am to get you,” he replies. 

Mor rolls her eyes, “I didn’t ask you to come pick me up in the middle of the night, you chose to do that all on your own,” she retorts before groaning, “Yes, I know that sounded dumb. I am very thankful that you woke up to come pick me up when I got too drunk to function, I’m working on my demons.” 

Cassian turns back towards her, stopping short when he sees Nesta standing in the doorway, he scratches the back of his neck. Mor raises an eyebrow before turning to see Nesta and scoffing, “I’ll leave you to it,” she says, turning towards Cassian, “I don’t approve, but I am thankful.” She moves towards her room, disappearing from sight. 

Cassian turns towards Nesta, who was walking into the room, shutting the door behind her. “Have a good day?” he asks weakly. 

She looks over at him as she tosses her backpack onto the ground, “Um, yeah I guess you could say that,” she replies, with a slight shrug, “Went to visit my father, went out to lunch with Armen, took an online exam, oh and ya know got stood up this morning.” 

He frowns, “Nes-,” he begins softly but she cuts him off, “I am not mad, I mean I was when it first happened but now I know that you did it to get Mor so we’re good.”

“Then let me take you out tomorrow,” he blurts out before he could even think about what he was saying. She pauses what she's doing a looks over at him, “You have a a game and I have a competition.”

He shrugs, winging what he says next, “My game isn’t until 9pm, and your competition doesn’t start until 7pm, which means you won’t have to be there until 3 to get your ten extra practices in.” 

She ponders what he says, “Okay.” 

“Okay?” Cassian replies in surprise, “Okay! Cool, I’ll pick you up around 10?” 

She chuckles, “With an Iced Caramel Macchiato, please. It’s the least you can do.”  

[lokisgame]

Ghosts Of Our Fathers

When we sat down with @frizzyhairedbitch85  to re-watch Beyond The Sea, I never suspected how much fun it will be. This fic came from the black hole of emotional continuity behind Mulder’s tenderness and use of first names. I hope I managed to do do it justice and set it up in a more believable way. 

The doorbell rang and she climbed of the ladder, careful not to break any bones in the process. She was expecting the call, unofficially of course. She’d never call Mulder out on bothering her at home, she knew better than that. He was terrible with boundaries and living with it was apparently a part of the job. Scully looked at the window, half dressed in green garland and red ribbons and thought about risking some payback. “Coming!” She called when the knocking paused for a second, and sure enough, there was Mulder, nose red, warm woolen mittens and a file folder in hand. “Good evening, I hope I’m not interrupting anything” he said looking around noticing the boxes and ladder and the half dressed tree. “No, you’re not, but can I ask you a favor?” He looked a little unsure but he was already inside and it wouldn’t be polite to run away from your partner. “Of course, what do you need?” “I need a pair of long arms” she smiled and he couldn’t just let that slide. “You’d think medicine would find a cure for that by now” he joked as she took his coat. “It’s on the list, right after cancer and bad sense of humor” he grinned in a touché sort of way and spread his arms “What do you need me to do”

“Can you climb on that ladder and pin the garland over the curtains? I’ve been at it for almost an hour and I can’t see it when I’m up there, climbing up and down” “Say no more Scully, just tell me when it looks right” “Thanks” He climbed the ladder and pulled what needed to be pulled, moved and loosened, pined and tugged, following instructions surprisingly well, given their history of working together. “You must really love Christmas, Scully” he said pinning a red ribbon she handed to him to the garland. “My favorite time of the year, you don’t?” She chanced, ready for an evasive remark or a joking comment. “I’m half jewish, half atheist, so not really, Christmas was more of a social event when my parent still did social things” he paused, and Scully realized this wasn’t exactly the most comfortable subject “my dad was the one, who was most vehemently against the idea, claiming it was a waste of time.” “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked” she lowered her gaze, suddenly very interested in the pattern of her carpet. “It’s okay, with Sam gone, no one was exactly in the mood to celebrate anything without her” his tone confirmed, that he wasn’t offended but she wasn’t sure if she was comforted “one thing’s for sure, even if the moods were sour, the dinner on those days was always a bit more special” “My dad always made us take the tree down a day after Christmas” she said out of the blue, knowing the second she said it, that she had nothing to complain about next to Mulder’s story “now I keep it up at least until Three Kings” “You go girl, show him who’s boss” they both laughed as Mulder pinned the last bow in the corner of the window and climbed down, eager to help now that he was already at it “What else you need long arms for around here?” “Nothing, that’s all, thank you” she smiled sweetly and took the safety pins from his hands “what’s in the file?” “Oh, just some last minute details from our arson case, if you’re still interested” Mulder passed her the file. As he did, he spotted an angel still in her box, waiting to take her place of honor on top of the tree. Without waiting for Scully to say so, he took the ornament out and lifted it silently asking her approval. She looked up from the file and nodded with a small smile so he placed the angel on top of the tree, smoothing down her skirts and straightening gold wings. “The man heals uncommonly fast” she noted paging through the file, looking at blood work and notes of the attending physician. “Yeah, it’s unfair that this scum gets to live when good people have died for his twisted fantasies” “He won’t get much of a life either way” seeing there was nothing more to do, he went to the door and she followed. “We’ll make sure of that” he assured her taking the coat from her hands. “My parents are coming to dinner sometime after Christmas, maybe you’d like to join us?” Scully tried to make it sound like no big deal, but Mulder the profiler saw right through her charity. “Thank you, but maybe some other time, enjoy your family time, Dana” she looked up, a little surprised by this breach of protocol, but his smile was also different from the one she knew, softer, open even “just remember me if there’s some leftover pie” He winked his funny slow wink, twisting the scarf around his neck, a choking hazard if anyone asked her. “I’ll see you after the holidays” he said, resting one hand on her arm in a friendly farewell “Merry Christmas” “Happy Hanukah Mulder” that made him chuckle. “Thanks, I’ll see you around” “Bye” She stared after him as he walked down the corridor and couldn’t stop herself from having the last word “Drive safely, it’s an ice rink out there” He didn’t turn, but she could feel the smile in the wave of his hand.

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She finally convinced her mother to take something to calm her neves and help her sleep for at least a couple hours. Now Maggie was curled under a blanket on her bed and the clock was approaching 4am. She shut the bedroom door and went back to the couch. Her tea went cold and only light came from the tree she left on before any of the nights tragic events happened. The dinner they had just a few hours ago felt like a whole different lifetime. She had a long day ahead of her, arrangements to be made, people to notify. Bill and Missy already knew and she couldn’t reach Charlie, for which she was secretly grateful because these were the two hardest calls she had to make in her entire life. Still, there was one more call she needed to make tonight. She didn’t fear she’d wake him, he called her at the oddest hours more than once. Dialing Scully took a deep breath to calm her voice and thoughts, this was a business call. “Mulder” he sounded sleepy, she did wake him and instantly felt guilty. Too late to hang up now, so in hushed voice, for her mother’s sake, not because her confidence was someplace far away, she answered “It’s me” “Scully? What time is it? Did something happen?” She tried to convince herself that she didn’t drop her mask, it was the early hour in his voice not concern, this was business. “No” she shook her head as if he could see her and realized the stupidity of that lie before she finished the one syllable “I mean yes, I won’t be able to make it to the office tomorrow, today” she corrected herself and her voice failed her at the end. Mulder picked up on it instantly. “Are you okay?” There it was again, the urgency, the need to know everything. “I’m” her voice got lost somewhere, probably went looking for confidence, she felt tears rolling down her cheeks, Mulder waited patiently. “My father died five hours ago” she finally said, gathering the rest of her will and strength, before she squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip to stop the sobs. Saying it out loud for the third time made it irreversible and real. “Oh Scully, I’m so sorry” his warm voice fought it’s way through her tears and hit home. Pressing the receiver to her ear she let the tears flow, silently listening to his words of comfort “if is there anything I can do, just say the word. You have someone there with you? I can come over. Don’t worry about work, that doesn’t matter right now. Please, tell me if you need anything, anything at all” She finally took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down, wiping the tears with a clean, paper tissue she pulled from a box under the coffee table. “Thank you” feeling as if she spoke for the first time in months, her words sounded alien but calm “I’ll manage, I’m not alone, my mother is here” “Okay, but my offer still stands” Scully nodded, though again he couldn’t see her, words were still coming and going and speaking was a little beyond her right now. She moved to lean against the armrest and sinking deeper into the couch, spotted the angel on top of the tree and remembered Mulder putting her up and father mentioning the needles and mess. Mulder’s voice was a soothing hum in her ear and she was beginning to relax “you said he was a navy captain, they can arrange the funeral for you, I have a friend there, I can call him” “Mulder, I appreciate it, but my mother hasn’t decided anything yet” there it was, her voice and her calm, reoriented on his voice and ready to stand her ground. Not unkindly, he simply was her new normal and holding on to that, she could for a moment feel like herself again. “Whatever you say, but let me know if you change your mind” he was a good man, crazy, but good, her father... “You know, my dad never approved of me leaving medicine to join FBI” She heard the leather sofa creak on the other end of the line, a deep sigh. “Neither did mine, he never approved of my determination to find Sam, he said I was hurting mom bringing it up all the time” “But it never stopped you from searching” “No, neither did it make me stop wanting to please him somehow” she puled a blanket over herself and watched the tree, the angel there, her flowing skirts, Mulder’s voice soft in her ear “somehow, I imagined that if I could find her, we could be a family again” “You love this job and you will find her, we’ll find her” she could feel sleep calling her with his voice. “Yeah” was it hope she heard, or doubt, her mind was too foggy to decide “go to sleep Scully, come back when you’re ready, I’m really sorry for your loss, pass my condolences to the rest of your family” A mumbled thank you was all she could manage. “Good night” he said softly, but she couldn’t remember saying it back.

____________

Woken by the scent of coffee and bacon, her mother bustling around the kitchen, making breakfast for what looked like a platoon not two women grieving and with no appetite for food. Scully understood completely, it gave her something to do, a purpose other than seeing to the funeral. This was a connection to the living, living who still needed her. It was always her purpose, to live for others. Scully ate her food, like the obedient daughter she was. Maggie Scully decided to bury her husband with love. The arrangements were made through the funeral home, the ceremony was to be simple, only the family, the ashes given back to the waves and the winds. No one knew better than her, that those three were his only love in life, the navy was just a mean to an end. That second night, when Scully finally had the time to feel the loss was terrible. She cried and cried and even warm arms of her mother couldn’t stop the tears from falling. A card came with flowers from Mulder, and it now rested securely inside her pocket.

“May the winds take away your sorrow, May the water wash away your tears, The ones’ we lost still live within our memory.”

She didn’t sleep well, troubled dreams plagued her all night. She couldn’t get the vision out of her mind, she was sure she saw Ahab in a chair speaking to her, before she got the news. She was sure she saw something like that in Mulder’s files and she needed to understand. She couldn’t sit at home and watch the time go by, she needed to work. She needed to get out and feel normal even for just a few hours.

“I didn’t think you’d be in today” he ignored her quip completely, honestly concerned “how are you Dana” Still Dana, even for Mulder, the way he spoke her name came close to piercing her carefully constructed defenses. “I’m fine, thank you” she tried to smile and succeeded, determined to make this day as normal as possible. 9am office, Noon funeral, 2pm, back at the office or whatever they might have planned. It was the only way she could keep herself together, otherwise the grief would bury her at home for days. Just because she didn’t show them, it didn’t mean she didn’t have any feelings. She felt them deeply, but there was time and place for everything, this was work, and she counted on Mulder to proceed accordingly. “What are you working on?” her voice didn’t crack, she could do this. He presented the case as usual and it really worked, for a moment. He did try one last time to convince her to sit this one out, but in the end accepted her choice. “I need to work” “I’m sorry about your father” His hand rested on her cheek and there was comfort in his touch, strength and understanding, both for her grief and the way she wanted to cope with it. They set out for Raleigh, North Carolina, to face the ghosts of Mulder’s past and for the first time it was Mulder who seemed skeptical.

_______

Luther Lee Boggs was evil incarnate, ruthless killer and a liar, not even Mulder could trust him. Yet she saw him change, she heard the song, how could he do that? How could he know, Beyond The Sea, Starbuck, those were things even Mulder didn’t know. She sat in her hotel room surrounded by the restless sea and thought about the ghosts she saw, a ghost who still wasn’t speaking. She had to tell Mulder, he was her partner, she had to tell him how she found the warehouse because the lie was weighing on her heavily. His anger still took her by surprise.

“The bureau would expect something like that from “Spooky’ Mulder, but not Dana Scully” he lashed out and immediately felt guilty, the hurt in her eyes made him take a step back. He didn’t believe that, not from her, not really. “I thought that you’d be pleased that I opened myself to extreme possibilities” he would be, if for once they’d agree on something. “Why now? After all we’ve seen, why Boggs?” Mulder felt like he was missing some crucial detail “Does this have to do with your father?” Scully shook her head looking away and finally her body language said something he could understand. Her feelings were still raw and he wanted to help her, but he wasn’t ready to die if something happened because she was distracted. He reached for reasonable arguments, something she couldn’t deny or outright dismiss as his brand of nonsense. “You said he didn’t approve of you becoming an FBI agent. If being on the job now makes you feel guilty or uncomfortable or uneasy, I think you should back away” she finally looked at him, and he saw that she heard what he was trying to say. “Because if it’s clouding your judgment, you’re putting yourself in danger” and I don’t want to lose a partner to this wormtongue’d monster “I love this job” she said softly, hear voice breakingm. Admitting weakness was never easy, he knew that better than anyone. And that’s why she needed to trust him, take a step back and look at all the facts. “You love your father” Two days ago he could be her friend and her partner, he wanted that back, he wanted to trust her. She needed her strength back, and he needed his partner. She could be human around him if that’s what she needed to get back on her feet and he wouldn’t think any less of her for it. As she walked away he saw a glimpse of the human she fought so hard to contain and spoke to that part of her who needed a friend. Her first name seemed to be the key to the door that separated the woman from the FBI agent, and it surely caught her attention. “Dana, open yourself up to extreme possibilities only when they’re the truth. That goes for Luther Boggs and your father” Mulder watched her and saw she was becoming Scully again, the pieces of her were falling back into place. What she needed was to acknowledge her feelings, and know that her little relapse into humanity didn’t mean he thought her incapable of performing her duties. They had their moment and now it was time to get back to business. “As for Luther Boggs, he’s the greatest of lies” he moved to sit next to her and she was there, behind those wet, ocean blue eyes, a woman of steel, reason and skill, already healing “I know he’s working with someone on the outside and they planted that evidence” “Now, we have to be very careful about planing our next move” he was using all his psychology tricks and for once was glad to use them to help someone in need, and she needed to feel that she’s still a part of the team “because he’s five steps ahead. The one advantage we have is time” And time was running out quickly.

___________

They found the girl, but at what cost? A white cross stained with Mulder’s blood. She watched him covered in blood, barely conscious and the prospect of losing another close person filled her with dread and anger like she never knew before. To be led by the nose by a liar and a murderer, set up to play his game like puppets, and she let him do it! If Mulder dies, she will kill Boggs herself. Mulder tried to warn her, he’ll try to claim you as his last victim, don’t deal with him Scully. The judge was against it, a timely death was all he would offer. But she did it, she lied again, for the greater good, she reasoned with herself. Knowing, that as soon as she gets the information out of him, and her lie will come out, her last chance to hear the last words from her father would be gone. Forever. She chose what she felt was right. And the more she thought about it, how Boggs was capable to gather information and orchestrate the kidnaping, it wouldn’t be hard for him to find out some things about her as well. Public records, obituaries, connecting the facts. Mix some general assumptions with her fragile state, no wonder she believed in his lies disguised as prophecies. Perhaps Boggs’s words served as a warning and had some influence over the fact that she didn’t die on that bridge, but she didn’t go to bare witness to his death, he didn’t deserve the courtesy. She went to see Mulder, and felt comforted by the way balance was restoring itself between them.

“Dana, after all you’ve seen, why can’t you believe?” Her decisions over the last few days baffled him, but she did it. Her faith helped her solve the case, so in the end it didn’t matter who was the skeptic and who was the believer, as long as they worked together. “I’m afraid to believe” she admitted. A week ago she wouldn’t dare to say that out loud, but what they learned from the experience was that they could be more than just partners. “You couldn’t face that fear? Even if it meant never knowing what your father wanted to tell you?” “But I do know” she assured him with a wistful smile. “How?” “He was my father” Mulder smiled and put his hand on her shoulder, glad to see her one step closer to her old self, his partner and his friend. His Scully.