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the-dubstep-strawberry · 3 years

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Just Passing Through

The sun was rising on another day in the Commonwealth, but as far as Lucas Miller was concerned, that bright, lazy son-of-a-bitch had had more than its fair share of rest. His day had started hours before dawn, with the bellowing of his restless pack Brahmin better than any alarm clock; he'd rolled up his sleeping bag and doused the dying embers of the campfire, while the two guards who traveled with his caravan grumbled over cups of the steaming homemade tea they brewed from Bloodleaf flowers.

It was Sunday, two days since his caravan had set out from Bunker Hill with its usual itinerary. Their destination was Tenpines Bluff, one of the Minutemen settlements. It was small - just a handful of settlers and their shacks, and the field of Tatos they tended - but the armor trade was brisk and there were always orders coming in from nearby Sanctuary Hills. General de Havilland and her growing band of men and women had become his best customers, he reflected, as he finished tying his bootlace and rose to his feet.

The Brahmin let out a long, low moo of protest as they set off walking again.

“All right, Ol' Girl,” he told the cow, patting the side of the head nearest him. “Not much further now. We'll rest up soon and get you fed and watered.”

As he walked, his eyes settled on the road ahead, at a point just below the horizon. It always paid to keep your eyes on the road. The caravan routes were safer now than they had been for some years, with the new Minutemen patrols on the roads, but his father had always warned him to be vigilant when traveling. There were still dangers to be found out here if you weren't wary – Bloodbugs and Stingwings had taken down more than their fair share of Brahmin, and sometimes people. There were Raiders too - fewer than there used to be, but still the occasional brave or foolhardy group who took their chances. Gunners, for the most part, knew better than to disrupt the trade routes that they depended on for their own weapons, armor and chems, but some of the hotheaded ones preferred to do their negotiating down the barrel of a gun when disagreements arose. Yao Guai, Radscorpions and Deathclaws were the worst, he thought, shuddering. And Mirelurks. He hated Mirelurks.

One of the guards looked up at the sound of a distant noise. Lucas looked up too, and saw the shapes coming over the horizon; another pack Brahmin, heavily laden with boxes and bundles of goods which rattled and rustled and jingled as the two-headed cow trudged along, hooves thudding on ancient asphalt. No guards accompanied the beast of burden, but a person he recognized was walking alongside it; a weary-looking woman in a familiar blue jacket.

“Carla,” he greeted her. “How's business?”

“You again,” she said dryly. “Here to trade?”

He nodded.

“Mm-hmm. The usual. Tenpines Bluff and back again.”

“Need to pick something up? Road's pretty long from here.”

Lucas smiled. Trashcan Carla, as the locals called her, sold junk, but it was good junk – household goods, odds and ends, useful scrap scavenged from old ruins and sold to whoever had enough caps in their pocket. Sometimes she sold bulk goods, oil and steel, wood and screws, things that homesteaders and builders would put to good use as they staked their claim in the wastes, putting down foundations for farms and families. The General was a regular customer, she'd said once, as they'd stopped to chat in Bunker Hill between trips. Always building, and rebuilding, wherever she went.

“You keep traveling and I'm sure we'll do business by and by,” he replied politely.

“Maybe next time,” she said, amused. “All right then. Safe travels.”

“Safe travels to you too.”

They passed alongside each other, perfectly parallel; their Brahmin brushed past each other with long lowing noises, and the guards both nodded in Carla's direction; the small greeting designed to acknowledge each other's presence without getting caught up in conversation when you had other places to be, which she returned in kind.

Safe travels. That was the traditional farewell when your paths led you in different directions, no matter who your fellow travelers were. Farmers venturing out to bigger settlements to sell baskets of bulbous purple Mutfruits and bundles of Razorgrain; the provisioners who traveled between the smaller settlements, entrusted with the essential tasks of delivering goods and messages to their neighbors, smartly dressed in the Pre-War postal uniforms that the Minutemen issued to make their role look more “official”; the Minutemen patrols themselves, in worn jeans and yellow jackets and the militia hats popularized by Colonel Preston Garvey, the General's second-in-command; and occasionally a passing squad of Power-Armored soldiers from the Brotherhood of Steel, who might reply with a salute and a gruff response of “Citizen”, if they were feeling talkative that day.

The General wore Power Armor too, sometimes, when she wasn't wearing her famous tricorn hat and military overcoat. He'd been told that she was a member of the Brotherhood of Steel herself, in addition to leading her own army; he'd seen her out and about a few times with the former Paladin Danse, who had been forced out of the faction he'd once served over some internal disagreement, if the news reports on the radio were to be believed. For someone who'd lost everything, he decided, the man had looked surprisingly happy. He supposed he would be too, if he had a beautiful woman like the General following him wherever he went...

“Who's that behind us?” said one of the guards, by his side.

Lucas blinked, and turned around to look. Sure enough, there were two more Brahmin coming up behind them, and a few more shapes, human ones – two were caravan guards, much like his, with leather armor and suspicious scowls, and rifles slung on their backs. A third person was the merchant they guarded, a bearded man in a long coat and sturdy armored boots.

“Haven't seen him before,” he responded. “Not a local, by the looks of him. Must be from outside the Commonwealth.”

The second guard, the younger one, took the hunting rifle from his back in readiness, but the first one shook his head.

“Settle down, kid, they're just traders,” he told the other. “Wrong armor for Raiders and they're hauling too much gear. Raiders travel light round these parts, and they tend to hole up somewhere and stay put. Besides, they would've taken pot-shots at us by now. And Gunners make more of an entrance. Nothing to worry about.”

The second guard reluctantly lowered his rifle again.

“Yeah, I guess so. Who's that with them?”

There were two other people with the approaching caravan, Lucas noticed, as they got closer and the second Brahmin came into view. A young woman in a Vault suit and a leather jacket was trudging alongside the animal, complaining loudly about her aching feet; the other was a little boy, mop-haired and freckle-faced, sitting on the Brahmin's back and holding onto its neck as best he could. He was about four or five, Lucas supposed, and his clothes were slightly too big for him, although wasteland kids tended to wear clothes that didn't fit them too well, and slightly too big was always considered better than slightly too small. He and the woman had clearly come a long distance, perhaps even further than the others; they both looked tired and travel-worn, their clothes and boots thick with dust from the road.

“Hey,” called out the woman. “Hey, you! Wait up!”

Lucas and the guards stopped walking.

“Whoa there,” he told his own Brahmin, and Ol' Girl obediently came to a halt. “Let's see what they want.”

The other caravan drew closer, hurrying to catch them up, and then stopped right behind Ol' Girl, who looked unimpressed by the presence of the other two Brahmin; she mooed at one when it tried to get too close, and one of its guards shooed it away a few feet.

“Hey, friend,” Lucas greeted the newcomers. “Looks like you've come a long way. Where are you headed?”

“That's just it,” said the woman, cutting in before the other trader could speak. “We're… kind of lost. Could you give us some directions? You're from round here, right?”

Lucas nodded.

“Aye. Name's Lucas Miller. I sell armor for Old Man Stockton's outfit. Based out of Bunker Hill,” he told her. “And who might you be?”

The young woman frowned, and he was suddenly reminded of the way the General frowned; the purse of her lips, a slight wrinkling at the bridge of a shapely nose, and the furrowing of a pale brow that hadn't seen very much of the outdoors.

“Best you don't ask her that,” the trader beside her interjected. “Bit of a sore topic. She's given us three fake names already, and she didn't speak to us for a day and a half when we tried to get the real one out of her.”

“How about yours, then?” Lucas tried again.

“Name's Cartwright,” said the man, with more enthusiasm. “I sell junk, mostly, odds and ends, but there's a few bits of tech the Brotherhood boys might be interested in.”

“Don't think we've met before,” Lucas remarked. “What brings you all the way out here? I take it you're not from the Commonwealth.”

Cartwright laughed.

“You're right about that, my friend. We came up here from the Capital Wasteland.”

Lucas couldn't keep the surprise from his face.

“That's quite a way to travel for a pile of junk,” he said, in spite of himself. “Just those odds and ends bringing you out here?”

This time Cartwright shook his head.

“No, not really. Wouldn't have journeyed this far, but an old friend called in a favor. You know Daisy? From Goodneighbor?”

Lucas nodded. He knew her; the Pre-War Ghoul who ran Daisy's Discounts, although he rarely frequented Goodneighbor, where the locals were more interested in chems and ammunition than armor.

“Then you'll know how persuasive she can be,” said Cartwright, with a chuckle. “No saying no to a woman like that, is there? So I promised her we - ”

The woman standing beside him gave him a sharp look. If her eyes had narrowed a little more, her expression might have nailed him to the ground.

“They told us not to talk about why we're here,” she reminded him. Her voice was less pointed than her expression, but the hint of danger was unmistakable; there was a flash of steel in the violet-blue eyes. “Mercenaries out there, remember? Gunners, or whatever they call themselves. If that guy reports back to them and they find out why we're here, then we're in a whole world of trouble.”

Lucas shook his head at that. Gunners were, on the whole, bad for business. Angering them somehow seemed like an even worse commercial decision.

“I won't ask, then,” he said firmly. “I stay out of the affairs of others. No good comes of it.”

This time the woman gave him a friendlier look; still cool, but more appreciative.

“Smart man. Sorry. Nothing personal, but the instructions we had were pretty clear. All we want is a nod in the right direction.”

“I think I can help with that,” Lucas volunteered. “Where is it you're wanting to go?”

The woman paused to roll up her sleeve. There was a Pip-Boy on her wrist; a rare sight, thought Lucas, although the Vault suit now made more sense. There was a trading post at Vault 81, one of the few that still functioned and hadn't killed its Pre-War inhabitants in the process, and a few regulars came out to barter for goods they needed. Those Vault-dwellers tended not to travel too far from their home, although the General herself hadn't been able to get out of hers fast enough. Frozen, they'd said, before the war; what a world she'd emerged into, and how different it must have been from the one she'd left behind.

“Sanctuary,” she said, after checking an entry on the screen. “Or Sanctuary Hills. Heights. Something like that.”

“Sanctuary Hills?” Lucas suggested. “That the one you mean?”

The woman made an irritable noise, and waved her hand impatiently.

“Whatever. Close enough. But yeah, that's where we're going. We have a delivery we need to make.”

“Special delivery!” the little boy said proudly, from atop the Brahmin's back. “That's me!”

The woman smiled, perhaps a bit distantly, and ruffled the kid's hair.

“Yeah, that's you. Good job, kiddo, you've told everyone we met so far. So much for not talking to strangers. Your dad's not going to be pleased with me if we run into anyone who's not the friendly type.”

“You don't need to worry about that, miss,” Lucas' older guard assured her. “The Minutemen don't take kindly to folk who harass travelers on the road, and that goes double for kids. Mess with someone's child, steal them away or what have you, and the General will get to hear about it. You might be worried about mercenaries, but trust me, they're more worried about her.”

The young woman smirked.

“Hmm. And I thought Talon Company were scared of me back home. Sounds like this General is a woman to be reckoned with.”

“You'll reckon with her soon enough,” said Lucas, raising his eyebrows. “Sanctuary is her home and it's well-guarded. Turrets and watch towers and the like. You mind yourself when you visit and be sure to make a proper introduction. Strangers who won't give their names aren't the welcome kind.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Fine. If she wants to know who I am that badly, I'll be sure to tell her. Now can you tell us how to get there?”

“That I can,” Lucas told her. “Here, let me see that Pip-Boy of yours. I'll mark it on your map.”

The younger of his two guards muttered something to the other about Colonel Garvey, and the other let out a small chuckle. Lucas ignored them, and studied the screen, patterned in green and black. The topography seemed less familiar from above than it did at eye level, but he followed the road until he saw some landmarks he recognized.

“Concord's that way, and then the Red Rocket station. Follow the road up north and cross the Old North Bridge. It's dead ahead, you can't miss it.”

“Thanks,” said the woman, as he let go of her arm again. “Appreciate the help, Mr. Miller.”

“Not a problem. Any armor for you today?”

She shook her head.

“No, thanks. I think we're good.”

Lucas shook his head too. He'd been selling his wares to wastelanders for many years, and it was the bold and foolish ones who went away empty-handed. Still, there was something in the woman's expression that suggested that it would be more foolish still to try to grab her unawares, and there were subtle hints in the way she moved that suggested that her blue-and-yellow Vault jumpsuit had already been customized to her liking, and that she was more than adequately armed and armored.

“As you say. Well, safe travels then,” he concluded. “Good luck with whatever it is you're here to do. And give my regards to Daisy, when you see her.”

“Thanks, we will,” said Cartwright, with a friendly gesture. “Good to meet you, Lucas. And travel safe yourself. Perhaps we'll see each other again on the road.”

They parted ways, and the caravan moved on ahead of them, faster now that they were moving with more purpose. Lucas heard the little boy pipe up:

“Will we see Daddy soon?”

“Don't worry, Duncan, we're almost there,” she said casually. “They said he'll be there waiting for you. Been a while, too, hasn't it? I bet he can't wait to see you again…”

Their voices were already fading on the wind, dwindling in the distance as they followed the road and disappeared over the hill. Lucas shrugged, and gave his Brahmin a gentle nudge.

“Don't mind them, Ol' Girl. They're just passing through. Off we go now, there's a good girl.”

The Brahmin made some vaguely displeased noises and swished her tail a few times, but started to lumber off in the right direction again, unfazed by the goods on her back and the steeper incline as they followed their usual path.

As they climbed up the hill, Lucas caught another glimpse of the travelers from the Capital Wasteland; a long way to travel, he thought, and an even longer journey back if they hoped to avoid the greenish clouds that were already rumbling ominously over the Glowing Sea. It seemed a great deal of effort to go to, just to bring a small child all the way out here.

Still, he thought, as he turned his gaze toward the small cluster of shacks and caught sight of the bright blue Minutemen flag waving above Tenpines Bluff, they probably had their reasons.

#this was a little leftover from an abandoned writing challenge #short but sweet #Elle [Last Name Redacted]#Lucas Miller #Trashcan Carla #and a small Duncan MacCready cameo #more of which later #Our Bond Is Steel #OBIS #tales from the Margotverse #Fallout 4 #Fallout 4 fanfic #writing

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psychosistr · 5 years

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Sparks Fly- Part 2 (CaeJose Dancer!AU)

Summary: It’s date night and poor Joseph is all kinds of nervous! Will Caesar see through it long enough to turn this date into a success?

Also: Didn’t state it before, but the name for this part is based off of the song Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift because I felt that it fit the general mood of the date with how confused and nervous but excited and happy Joseph is about all of it. Then, for the dance later, this is the sort of music I picture them dancing to.

Saturday soon arrived and Joseph found herself waiting downstairs in the lobby of her apartment building. Caesar had texted her saying he would be there to pick her up for their date about thirty minutes ago and that he would be there within half an hour. She’d actually been waiting in the lobby for the past five minutes, wanting to make sure she was ready to go when he arrived. She wasn’t normally one to worry about punctuality, but her nerves and the desire to make a good impression on the Italian Casanova gave her the energy to make sure she would DEFINITELY be ready on time.

While waiting, Joseph caught the sight of herself in one of the large glass windows of the lobby. She decided to check her reflection one more time to make sure she looked fine.

Her dress looked as gorgeous as the first time she’d tried it on, so that was good. The jewelry she’d picked out complimented the dress perfectly- the cocktail ring, earrings, and necklace looking lovely next to the green of her gown. She’d decided on a pair of black silk thigh-high stockings to cover her legs and a nice pair of glittery golden mary jane high-heeled platform shoes. She’d argued with herself constantly on the heels, worried that they would make her too tall and that she would fall over as she didn’t have much practice in them- they were almost brand new and she’d only worn them two or three times before- but, in the end, her mother talked her into it and said they added a nice flare of color to her look.

Speaking of her mother, Lisa Lisa had been a big help when it came to Joseph’s hair and makeup. They’d decided to go simple but elegant for the makeup, using deep green eyeshadow in a soft smokey-eye style to match her jewelry, black eyeliner and mascara, black nail polish with both of her index fingers painted glittering gold to offset it, a touch of amber colored blush applied to her cheeks to soften her cheekbones and jawline a bit, and, simply because Joseph couldn’t resist going a LITTLE flashy with her makeup, her lips were painted ombre style with ink black around the edges that melted to gold for the main color. Then, for her hair, they’d decided to smooth down most of her shorter locks and take the bulk of her hair that usually stuck up in the front, braid it, loop the braid around to the side of her head, then pin it there using one of her flower hair pins- this one was a yellow ranunculus with two green leaves.

Logically, she knew that she looked drop-dead gorgeous. Emotionally, though, she was fretting over her appearance. Caesar was way too charming and way too good at flirting (and kissing) to not have gone on several dates with countless women already. Would she measure up to his standards? Would she look like she was trying too hard? Would she-?

Her thoughts were cut off by the muffled sounds of “Mambo Italiano” by Dean Martin.

Joseph looked down to her shimmering golden clutch bag in her hands and opened it up to retrieve her phone. She saw Caesar’s number displayed on her screen and quickly answered it. “Hello?”

“Hey. I just pulled up out front, but I can go park somewhere else if you need a few more minutes.” She could hear the soft sounds of music and the thrum of an engine in the background when he spoke.

“Oh, what a coincidence!” She said with her best “surprised” voice. “I’m actually down in the lobby already. I’ll be right out!” She hung up, took a deep breath, and put her phone back in her bag. “Okay..” She said to herself. “You can do this!”

She took one more breath before going out through the front doors. She looked around, expecting to see Caesar on his bike, but was surprised to see him standing beside a silver Mercedes SLR with the passenger-side butterfly door already open.

Caesar himself was dressed in a rather flashy white and purple suit with the jacket and pants being white and the buttons, some stripes on the pants, and the inner flaps of the jacket being purple; also, when he shifted slightly, she noticed that the shirt beneath the jacket had a dark gray and black striped color scheme. His accessories were equally eye-catching with a green belt decorated with a metallic silver sun, a purple bow tie on a black choker, and a pair of brown fingerless gloves with odd holed-metal plates on the back, the brown gloves matching his surprisingly tame-in-comparison brown dress shoes. The finishing touch, she saw, was that for once he was without his headband, but he kept the feathered clips and donned a black and white checkered top hat on top of his head.

Caesar looked at her as she walked up to the car and his eyes widened as he took in her appearance. “……” Oh god…he wasn’t saying anything…was that bad? Should she go back upstairs and change? Was he having second thoughts? Maybe she should- “Dio mio..” He breathed out as he gazed at her, the earlier wide-eyed look of surprise melting into something filled with awe and adoration. “Sei come qualcosa da un sogno..” He blinked and quickly shook himself out of whatever trance he’d been in from seeing her and stood up straight to greet her properly. He took off his hat with a flourish and bowed. “Sorry to keep you waiting, signorina.”

She smiled a bit, relieved that he seemed happy with how she looked, and walked the last few steps over to him. “Eh, don’t worry about it. Like I said, I was already down here.” She looked him over with a smile, glad that she’d decided to add a bit of flare with her makeup and shoes so as not to be outdone by this showy charmer. “You look really good- I love the hat.”

“Grazie.” Caesar said with that charming smile of his as he flicked the hat skillfully so that it flipped back up onto his head. He took her hand that wasn’t holding her purse and kissed it sweetly. “And you look absolutely stunning, mia splendida dea.”

She blushed a bit, not knowing what the new adjective meant but, knowing Caesar and the context of the compliment, it was something really sweet (she made a mental note to look it up later). “Heh, thanks- thought I’d pull out all the stops, y’know?”

“I’m honored you would go so far for me.” Caesar said with one last kiss to her hand before moving to help her into the car. “Shall we be on our way?”

Joseph couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up inside of her- he was just so cliché and cheesy sometimes, though she found it was cute- but she managed to restrain it to a small chuckle. “Heh, sure.” She held his hand as she got into the passenger’s seat and he even closed the door for her after she made sure none of her dress was sticking out. After he got in on his side and they were both buckled up with the radio turned down to a dull hum so they could talk, Joseph took a good look at the expensive car. “I thought you said you didn’t own a car?”

“I don’t. This belongs to a close friend of mine. I set him up with his girlfriend about a year ago, and now they’re engaged. Seeing as I helped him find the love of his life, he figured it was only fair to loan me his car so I could attempt to do the same.” Caesar said while driving down the street, eyes on the road but one hand reaching over to hold her own hand. “Besides, I wanted to pick you up in something stylish: I do love my bike, but it is hardly suitable for a romantic evening in formal wear.”

Joseph’s cheeks felt warm as she smiled and held his hand. The comment about finding the love of his life was not lost on her and it made her heart flutter in her chest. “Well, maybe we can save it for next time. After all, first dates are supposed to be fancy, but second or third dates can be more relaxed, right?” She said as she watched the scenery go by.

“Ah, you are quite right, mia bellisima angela.” Caesar said with a smile, his thumb stroking along the back of her hand. “Perhaps next time we can go for that race I promised you.”

She looked back at him with a challenging smirk. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot! I’ve still gotta kick your ass and show you the brilliance of British engineering!” Joseph froze up slightly after realizing what she’d just said. Shit! She shouldn’t be swearing on a date! That wasn’t very dignified or lady-like at all and she was trying to make a good impression on him! She decided to quickly change the topic, her smirk trying to force itself down into a calmer smile. “So, where are we going tonight, anyway?” She tried to be smooth with her word choice, but she still felt nervous over her earlier slip up.

Caesar cast a slightly confused and curious glance in her direction while they were stopped at a red light, but his eyes quickly snapped back to the road when the light turned green and they continued driving. Crap, was she too obvious? “Oh, I know a good place that prepares actual, authentic Italian food- not this Americanized junk that some New Yorkers try to pass off as Italian.” The way his face scrunched up briefly in distaste at the apparent “junk” he’d tasted before was adorable and it made Joseph muffle a quiet laugh behind her free hand as he continued. “Anyway, the owner is an old family friend and I pulled some strings to set up something special.”

“Something special?” Joseph echoed with a curious tilt of her head and a grin. “What did you do, you clever Casanova?”

He merely smirked and winked at her using the side of his face closest to her. “That, my dear, is a surprise that you shall have to wait and see.”

Joseph gave him a fake pout and barely resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. “Fiiiine. I’ll be patient, I guess.” She said with a sarcastically fake put-out tone of voice before breaking into a grin alongside Caesar.

So far so good. Joseph could do this, no sweat!

Arriving at the restaurant blew Joseph’s previous round of nerves out of the water…and replaced them with an even bigger ball of straight-up anxiety.

Joseph had seen the small brick restaurant with ivy growing along the walls several times on TV and in magazines. It was one of the most well-known places in the city, but she’d never actually eaten there because it was the kind of place where if you didn’t have a reservation set up weeks or months in advance, then there was absolutely NO WAY to get a table. It had been a fixture in the city for decades, was one of the top ten most romantic restaurants in New York, and was located right beside the river to give a gorgeous view of the water, as well as the city.

Joseph was about to ask Caesar if they were in the right place because, seriously, there’s no way he actually got them a table here, right? They’d only made plans to go out a few days ago, so there had to be some mistake, right?

But, no, it was very clearly the right place as Caesar got out of the car, greeted the valet with a smile that spoke of familiarity while handing off the car keys, then walked over to Joseph’s door and opened it for her while offering her his hand. “Come, we should head inside before they give our table away.” He joked with that charming smile once again.

“Uh, y-yeah, right..” Joseph took his hand and stepped out of the car. She was still stunned to think that Caesar went to so much trouble for her and her mind was trying to catch up to the situation at hand.

Joseph allowed Caesar to guide her to the front doors, walking confidently past the long line of people outside and going straight inside. Caesar ignored the glares sent his way for getting to skip the line of impatient socialites and Joseph did her best to avoid eye contact with them (several of which she recognized due to her own social status) as they went towards the host’s stand.

The dark haired host seemed to recognize Caesar as quickly as the valet had and greeted him with a smile. “Caesar! Good to see you!”

Caesar smiled back at him. “You as well, Ricci. Is Emilio still here? He had a table prepared for us.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” The host nodded and gestured at one of the waitresses. “I’ll let him know you’re here. In the meantime, why don’t you two go have a seat?”

“Grazie, amico.” Caesar said with a tip of his hat before leading Joseph to follow the waitress.

Along the way he also ended up waving to the bartender, the live band playing in the corner of the restaurant, and a few of the waiters- each person he greeted smiling and waving or nodding back to him.

“Wow..” Joseph commented as they carefully walked through the busy restaurant. “You must come here a lot.” She was partly curious about that, but, mostly, she was trying to distract herself from the odd stares that people were giving her.

Her body must have tensed slightly from her nerves, because she felt Caesar’s hand giving her own a reassuring squeeze as he replied to her comment. “As I said, the owner is a good friend and he often keeps a special table set aside for me.”

To Joseph’s relief, they were led outside to a much quieter, and far more intimate, location. The waitress took them through a side door out to a small veranda overlooking the river. There was only one table set out there, kept tucked away by the wall just out of sight of the patrons within, giving the guests who used it a chance to eat and talk and enjoy the same view without all the noise of the full room inside.

Joseph smiled a little as she looked at the table, it was small enough that they would be able to hold hands or lean in close if they wanted to while still being big enough to accommodate them both properly. It was covered by an embroidered red table cloth and even had a three-candle candelabra burning in the middle. ‘Damn, that’s REALLY romantic.’ Joseph thought to herself as the waitress set their menus and silverware down for them.

Caesar pulled a chair out for her and gave a bow of his head. “Ladies first.”

“Thanks.” Joseph couldn’t help but grin as she took her seat, Caesar pushing the chair in for her before taking his own across from her. “I swear, you must watch nothing but cheesy romance movies.”

“I would say I watch a healthy amount.” He replied with a wink. He then turned his attention to the waitress. “Could you ask Gabriele for one of my usual bottles?” He paused a moment before looking at Joseph. “Oh, sorry, I should ask first- are you okay with red wine? I can order something else, if you’d prefer.”

Joseph quickly shook her head. “No, no, red wine’s fine- I’ve had it plenty of times at parties and stuff.” She gave him a slightly challenging smile, the urge to tease him a little bubbling up again. “Besides, I wanna see what sort of ‘special treatment’ they give you here, Caesarino.”

Caesar’s cheeks turned the tiniest bit red from the nickname and when the waitress hid a giggle behind her notepad before he dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Very well, then- you shall have the full experience.”

“Oh, now I’m excited.” She teased again before she decided to reign it back in. Guys got annoyed if you teased them too much, right? She should change the subject and try to seem more grateful for being here (which she was, definitely, she just couldn’t help her natural disposition). Picking up her menu, Joseph read through the choices. There was almost nothing she recognized on here, even with her mom’s cooking history. She recognized some of the basics like caprese salad, spaghetti, and mozzarella sticks, along with certain soups and salads, but she was otherwise lost. “So, since you’re a regular here, what would you recommend?”

Caesar gave her that same look he had in the car earlier when she tried to change topics, but he quickly shook it off and his face lit up as he reached over and pointed out a few things on the menu as he spoke, clearly happy to show off his knowledge of authentic Italian cuisine. “Well, there’s a good variety to choose from depending on what you are in the mood for. I grew up eating a lot of my mother’s Neapolitan style cooking, so I’m a bit partial to certain dishes they have here, but the variety in general is excellent. For an appetizer, I would recommend anything with their buffalo mozarella- it’s made fresh every day and has excellent flavor and texture. My favorite appetizers are the fresh caprese salad when the tomatoes are in season, and the fried mozzarella the rest of the year- the actual slices of pan-fried of mozzarella, that is, not just the deep fried sticks.” His hand moved over to the main courses section as he continued. “You mentioned before that your favorite food is fried chicken, right? Then you would probably enjoy the mozzarella stuffed chicken parmesan they serve here, or the spicy chicken cacciatore. If you want something exotic, I’d recommend the spaghetti al nero di sepia.- it’s spaghetti in a squid ink sauce.”

Joseph made an odd face at the idea. “Squid ink? Does that actually taste good, or is it just something Italians use as a way to make fun of tourists?” Seriously, squid ink on pasta? That just sounded weird…

Caesar grinned and laughed at her words as well as the face she made, but shook his head. “No, it’s an actual dish and it’s quite delicious. Though, it does startle a few people who try it for the first time when it turns their mouths black.” He tapped a few other entries, his smile looking almost nostalgic. “My personal favorites, though, are the pasta ai fagioli- that’s pasta with beans-, their ragu dishes- pasta with a delicious meat and tomato sauce-, and the pasta alla Genovese- that’s ziti pasta with a white sauce and beef and onions.”

Joseph smiled fondly as she listened to him talk. “Are those some childhood favorites?”

Caesar’s smile softened as he looked down at the words on the menu. “Yes. Those were my mother’s best dishes. She would often make those for special occasions, such as holidays or one of our birthdays. That was the one advantage of coming from a big family- we had plenty of birthdays spaced throughout the year, so we got to have her special recipes fairly often, but not so often that they became any less special.”

Joseph noticed how Caesar’s smile, while fondly nostalgic, held a bittersweet sadness to it. “Has it been a while since you’ve had any of it?” She guessed, knowing she had hit the mark when he glanced away to the river.

“Yeah..” He sighed a little, bringing his hand back to lean against it as he gazed wistfully at the water and passing boats. “Coming here is nice, but I do miss the home-cooked quality her meals had..”

Joseph felt a tug on her heart strings seeing the slight sadness in Caesar’s eyes. She knew a bit about his past, the part about him being a street thug when he was younger, but he hadn’t really talked much about his family before. Hell, she didn’t even know why he left home, both his family’s home and his home country, to come all the way out to America. She imagined it must have been a painful story for him…

“Well then,” She began while reaching across the table to gently grab his other hand, catching him by surprise and making him look back at her. “I guess you’ll have to teach me how to make them sometime. That way you won’t have to go out and spend a fortune here whenever you want something to eat, and I’ll get to impress you yet again with my culinary genius.” She grinned at him and squeezed his hand in what she hoped was a comforting gesture.

Caesar gave her that same look of awe he’d had when he picked her up earlier. “……” His expression melted back into a smile that spoke of adoration and fondness once again, his hand turning over so he could lace his fingers together with hers. “Si…I would like that, Jojo.”

They smiled and gazed at each other, the only sound around them the muffled chatter from inside and the gentle crashing of the waves from the riverbank.

They decided on the fried mozzarella- both the slices and the sticks, simply because Joseph was still a bit of a kid at heart- for their appetizer. Caesar ordered the weird squid ink pasta just to goad Joseph into trying a bite. It was actually GOOD! Who would’ve thought?! She ended up stealing a few more bites just because she liked the taste, though it was funny to see Caesar’s lips turning black as he ate- their lips almost matching by the end of the meal. Joseph herself decided to try the bowtie pasta (she already forgot the fancy Italian name that Caesar told her for it) with the ragu sauce that Caesar seemed so fond of. She gladly shared some of hers, too, since she’d taken a fair share of bites from Caesar’s plate already.

Everything was delicious, from the wine Caesar ordered to the main courses. Even the free bread was tastier than most places she’d been to! Caesar happily showed her how to serve it with the olive oil and balsamic that was placed on the table for the bread and it made it taste even better.

Part of her felt a little bad for not being aware of how much everything cost. This was one of those fancier restaurants where they didn’t put the prices on the menu- one of those, “if you have to ask, you probably can’t afford to eat here anyway” deals, she presumed. She knew that she could definitely afford it, but she didn’t want to make Caesar pay that much for her. Joseph brought up the subject of paying for herself or splitting the bill, but Caesar firmly yet politely informed her that he would not allow a lady to pay for herself on the first date, no matter the cost. After a brief debate on the matter, Caesar ultimately won and reaffirmed that he would be paying this time, but Joseph only allowed it on the condition that she pay for him the next time they went out.

When it came time to order dessert, a short, older man with tan skin and dark hair walked out with a big smile on his face. “Haha! There he is! E 'bello vederti, bambino!”

“Emilio! Bello vederti, amico mio!” Caesar looked at the man with a big smile and stood to greet him, the two engaging in a quick, friendly hug.

When they separated, the shorter man looked at Joseph with what could only be described as a proud smile. “Ah, and this must be the lovely signorina you spoke so highly of!”

Caesar’s cheeks turned a touch red and he coughed into his fist to clear his throat, muttering something in Italian that Joseph wouldn’t really understand or remember. “Potresti tenerlo segreto, Emilio?”

“Io non la penso così.” Emilio shot Caesar a smirk before returning his attention to Joseph. “Caesar was awfully excited to bring you here- he kept calling every night to make sure we’d remember to set his table aside for you two.”

Joseph smirked conspiratorially at Emilio, her tone clearly teasing Caesar as she took in this new information. “Oh did he now?”

Emilio chuckled as he pretended to think back on their conversations. “Si. He kept insisting how important tonight was, and how he ‘could absolutely not afford to mess this up for any reason or he would never be able to forgive himself’- though I may be paraphrasing a bit.”

“You don’t say..” Joseph grinned at Caesar, the blonde’s face now completely red as he hid his head in his hands.

“Per favore..” Caesar groaned as the two continued to grin and chuckle at his expense. “Please stop..I am literally begging you..”

Emilio laughed and patted Caesar on the back good-naturedly while continuing his conversation with Joseph. “I haven’t seen l'insalata del bambino blush like that since he was smaller than me! Haha! It is too cute!”

Joseph couldn’t help giggling at Caesar’s flustered state- it was nice to see him losing his cool for a change. “What does that name mean? I got ‘bambino’, but what’s the rest?”

Caesar looked up from his hands to glare at Emilio. “Rispondetela e non parlerò mai più con voi!”

The shorter Italian just smirked wickedly while leaning close to Joseph as if whispering a secret. Joseph happily leaned in to hear him clearly. “It’s a nickname from when he was a little bambino. He HATES it. It means..” He leaned in closer and she cupped a hand around her ear exaggeratedly to hear his stage-whisper. “Baby salad.”

A hysterical fit of laughter rang out from Joseph and she threw her head back to let it out properly. “BABY SALAD?!!” She laughed so hard that she had to grip the table, otherwise she would risk falling out of her chair. “OH MY GOD!! That is too funny!”

Caesar’s face turned a darker shade of red and he buried his face in his hands once more with a muffled scream. “Auugh! Ti odio!”

Emilio laughed along with Joseph, the two having tears in their eyes by the time they were done. The short man wiped his eyes with his hand while Joseph pulled a tissue out of her purse to dab at her eyes and, mostly, avoid smudging her makeup. “I hope you make good use of that nickname, signorina.”

“Oho, I definitely will, thanks.” Joseph said with a devious grin. Oh, she already had plans for all manner of teasing floating through her mind.

Caesar shoved at Emilio with a glare, his cheeks still red. “You just had to say something, didn’t you?”

Emilio easily ignored the half-hearted shove while looking up at Caesar. “But of course! No one else is around to embarrass you in front of your date, so I have to do it myself!” He laughed again at Caesar’s annoyed glare before looking back to Joseph. “Now then, signorina, I am certain you can handle yourself..but, if this boy gives you any trouble or treats you like anything less than a proper gentleman, you come right in and tell me and I’ll set him straight, alright?”

“You’ll be the first to know.” Joseph replied with a smile, one that was born from both amusement at Caesar’s embarrassment and the genuine sweetness and concern of the older gentleman.

Having said what he wanted to say (and thoroughly embarrassed Caesar), Emilio took their dessert orders and let them be once more.

Caesar sat back down heavily in his chair, holding his face with one hand. “I am truly sorry about that interruption. Emilio, he…” He heaved a long suffering sigh and rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and index finger “He does what he wants, despite what others ask him.”

Joseph grinned smugly and reached across the table to flick the blonde’s hat playfully. “Oh, I don’t mind him one bit, my little salad~<3” She teased with a wink.

He looked up at her with a light glare and readjusted his hat, muttering something in Italian under his breath. “Accidenti a te, vecchio…”

Joseph flinched slightly at the glare and pulled her hand back. Crap, was that going too far? She should probably save the teasing for later in the relationship. Was there a set time limit on when it was okay to tease your boyfriend like that? Wait, was it too soon to be thinking of him as a boyfriend? She didn’t know any of the rules for this! Damn it, she needed to change the subject before she blew it!

“Sooo..” She began while placing her hands on the table in front of herself, desperately searching for anything else to talk about. “I know I got that tasty looking chocolate panna cotta for my dessert, what was that pastry thing you’re getting called again? You said something about it looking like a shell?”

Again, Caesar gave her a look that was partly curious, but mostly confused. “It’s called sfogliatelle.” He answered shortly before reaching across the table to gently touch her hand. “Jojo, is something wrong? That’s the third time tonight you’ve done that.”

“Huh? Done what?” She tried to bluff her way out of the situation by playing innocent.

The act apparently failed when Caesar gave her a troubled, worried frown. “You keep changing the subject. On top of that, you keep choosing safe, generic small talk to distract from what you said before.” His frown grew a bit more and he looked even more worried. “Are you..not enjoying yourself..?”

Joseph quickly shook her head, holding his hand with both of hers to get her sentiment across clearly. “No! I mean, yes, I am, and no, that-that’s not it at all! I’m having a great time with you, Caesar, really! It’s just…” She trailed off, glancing away nervously.

Should she tell him? He was always so patient and understanding with her. Then again, everyone’s patience had a limit. Would this be his? Damn it, she wasn’t used to feeling this confused!

“Just what?” Caesar prompted while bringing his other hand closer to cup the back of hers and rub it soothingly. “What is troubling you, mia dolce angela?”

Ah, another new adjective she’d have to look up later. “……” She took a deep breath to calm herself, as she had done earlier in the night. She still couldn’t meet his eyes, choosing instead to focus on their joint hands. “It’s just…I..I don’t want to mess this up..”

Caesar raised an eyebrow, looking more confused than concerned now. “Mess it up? How on earth do you think you could manage that?”

“I don’t know.” She answered with a slightly annoyed sigh, the annoyance focused completely against herself. “I’m just freaking out because I really like you and I want to make this work and I don’t want to make a fool out of myself by saying something stupid or doing something that pisses you off because then you might get annoyed and won’t want to go out with me again and then I’ll be kicking myself for screwing things up so badly with the first guy that ever asked me out-” God, she was rambling now, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop the words that just continued falling from her lips. “-and you clearly put so much thought into all of this with the fancy restaurant, and the car, and the outfit, and I’m freaking out more because I don’t know if I’m actually worth all the trouble you went to for tonight and it just all freaks me out because this is all new to me and I have absolutely NO idea what I’m doing and now I probably sound like a crazy person to you for worrying so much over what must seem like nothing to you since you’ve clearly been out on a bunch of dates before, but I haven’t so I don’t know what’s okay and what’s not okay and I just REALLY want you to like me enough to go out with me again because I’m really happy being with you, damn it!” She finished her rambling and gasped hard, trying to replenish the air she’d just drained from her lungs.

“……” Caesar seemed stunned, busy taking in and processing everything Joseph just told him. When he finally finished sorting through her mashed together words, though, he lifted his hand and gently tipped her chin up with one finger to make her look at his face again. He had that warm, kind, patient, understanding smile on his face that instantly put her at ease. “I think we both may have been trying too hard tonight.” Then, to Joseph’s surprise and slight confusion, Caesar got to his feet and walked around to her side of the table. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, brought something up on it that she didn’t have a chance to see, then set it down on the table before gently pulling her to her feet. As Joseph rose out of her seat, she heard music fill the air around them from speakers hidden along the sides of the building that she couldn’t see- it was a beautiful waltz melody, but a bit more upbeat and modern with a slightly gothic sound. Looking at her with a far more relaxed smile, Caesar kept one hand clasped around hers while the other moved to her waist. “How about, instead of trying to be something we’re not, we both just relax and do what comes naturally?”

Joseph felt her heart skip as she looked him in the eyes. She looked into those gorgeous green eyes and saw no ulterior motives, no flirty playfulness, no charming mask- she only saw Caesar. She saw a man who was clearly enjoying having her with him and who wanted to relax and enjoy himself with her.

A relaxed smile slid across Joseph’s face to match Caesar’s as she held his hand and brought her own free hand up to rest on his shoulder. “I think I’d like that, Caesarino.”

They began to sway in time with the music, already finding the rhythm with it and each other almost instantly. The swaying quickly turned into measured steps and quick turns. Before long they were dancing together with the same energy, passion, and chemistry they always had when they danced together in class.

Caesar would guide her down into a graceful dip, able to easily hold her weight without breaking a sweat. He would raise one hand above both of their heads so she could spin smoothly on one leg, the slit in the dress allowing an ideal range of motion for her legs. He would grab her around the waist and lift her off the ground as they spun together in large circles.

At one point, a sly grin slipped across his face and he moved his thumbs a certain way and she heard a “click” sound come from his gloves. She gave him a questioning look, but before she could voice her curiosity she noticed the holes on the back of those odd metal plates opening up as well as a couple of smaller panels on the sides that she hadn’t noticed before slipping open too. She noticed some sort of clear liquid moving just beneath the surface of the holes.

Then, on the next spin they executed together, she saw them:

Bubbles.

As they moved together seamlessly, the gloves on Caesar’s hands seemed to take in air from the panels on the sides before coming out through the holes on the back of the metal plates as bubbles. Soon the floating orbs filled the air around them, catching the lights from both the city in the distance and the windows of the restaurant that neither noticed they’d moved in front of while dancing due to being caught up in their own little world.

“So, what do you think?” Caesar asked while dipping Joseph down gracefully, the sly grin still on his face. “I used to do odd jobs as an engineer- I made these using some spare parts I found.”

Joseph was still in awe of the bubbles floating around them, but she soon came back to herself and smiled at Caesar as he brought her back upright. “Flashy and fashionable. I like it!” She laughed while spinning around on one leg, trusting Caesar to keep her from falling. “You certainly planned for every possibility, didn’t you?”

“Yeah..” Caesar’s earlier grin softened into something calmer and even a touch melancholic. “I was nervous about tonight too..” He admitted as he let her finish her spin, ending it with her back to his chest and the hand that was still holding hers crossed over her waist as he held her close. “I ran through countless lists in my mind about what could go wrong and how to prevent it, as well as ways to impress you whenever the opportunity presented itself.” He held her to him while they swayed to the music, his free hand tracing along the lace of her sleeve to hold her other hand as well. “As much as I hate him for saying it, Emilio was right: I was sweating over every little detail because I knew that if I messed this up..I would never be able to forgive myself..”

Joseph spared him a confused glance over her shoulder. “Huh? How could YOU mess this up? You clearly know what you’re doing- hell, I’d bet you’ve dated at least fifty girls before me!” She was joking slightly on that part, but, in reality, she supposed it could be possible- he never really talked to her about any past girlfriends, after all.

She felt a quiet chuckle rumble through his chest where it was still touching her back. “I stopped counting a long time ago, but you might be right.” He was silent for a little while after that, slowly turning her around in his arms so that they were facing each other properly again as they moved together in slow steps and spins across the ground. “I did not want to say anything before, when you thought that I was dating Suzi behind your back..but..there was a time not too long ago when you may have been right to assume such a thing about me…” He looked so pained, like he had a deep, burning guilt on his conscience that was eating him alive. “During my street thug days, I was…well, to say I was not a good person would be putting it mildly..” He lamented with a sad smile. “I went through each day not caring if I would live to see the next or not and thought little of the consequences of my actions. I got into fights without caring if I was attacked later for revenge. I stole from people without caring if I would be arrested. I hurt and used people without caring if I would ever see them again.” He looked down, avoiding her eyes like he was ashamed to meet her earnest, caring gaze. “I went out with many girls and women when I was young, but I never truly felt anything for them. I would see women who looked lonely and woo them with a charming smile or a flashy gesture, then leave them after I’d had my fun..I never thought I did anything wrong, even though I’m sure now that I left many of them broken hearted and alone..” Joseph could tell how much it pained him to admit that, and she couldn’t blame him- admitting you used to date girls only to leave after a one-night stand wasn’t exactly the coolest thing to talk about, but he seemed like he needed to get it off of his chest. “I lived my life that way for a while..but..I have tried to distance myself from the person I used to be: I still fight, but I try to only do it for a good reason. Earning an honest living can be hard at times, but I feel better knowing that I am no longer stealing people’s wallets just to get by. Also…” He took a slow, even breath before looking up to meet Joseph’s eyes once again, his own bright green eyes shining with a sincerity and strong sense of conviction that made her breath catch in her throat. “You are the only woman I have had any interest in at all for the past two years. If I am being completely honest, you are really the only woman whom I have EVER had any genuine feelings for. I wanted tonight to go perfectly so that I could prove I was worthy of your time and attention- so that I could continue seeing you as often as possible and hold you and kiss you and tell you how lovely and amazing you truly are.” His smile lightened slightly at his confession, one hand sliding around her waist again as he leaned her back slowly. “You may find it a huge cliché for me to say such a thing, but..”

Joseph reached up and put one hand on his cheek, gazing up into his eyes with a playful but understanding smile. “Now you’ll say ‘You’re different from the other girls- you are the first woman I’ve ever fallen for, Jojo’, and then you’ll lean in for a kiss.”

“You’re different from the other girls- you are the first woman I’ve ever fallen for, Jojo.” He said before leaning down with her in an elegant dip so he could kiss her lips. Just as his lips made contact with hers, he finally realized what just happened. “!!”

He seemed mildly startled, looking like he might pull away to say something, but Joseph was having none of that. “Mhh..” She moved the hand that had been on his cheek around to the back of his neck and held him in place so she could kiss him properly.

She’d done research since their last kiss and now had a better understanding of what to do between that and what she’d learned from kissing Caesar already: Tilt the head slightly to find a more comfortable angle. Breathe through the nose to make the kiss last longer. Purse the lips in smooth motions back and forth, responding to how your partner moves theirs.

Caesar was again surprised by her boldness, but did not seem to mind if the way he held her closer and sighed silently through his nose was any indication. “Hmh..” The kiss lasted much longer than their first one, the two of them taking their time to fully enjoy the experience. By the time they finally pulled apart (only by an inch or two so they were still practically breathing each other’s air), they had matching red cheeks and black lips- a combination of Joseph’s lipstick and the squid ink from Caesar’s pasta. “Jojo..” Caesar said while gazing at her with awe and pure, loving adoration. The smile on his face was so warm, so genuine, so clearly and completely Caesar that it made Joseph’s heart melt. “I may grow tired of that trick one day, but I don’t see that day coming for many years.”

Joseph’s heart pounded at the meaning behind his words and she smiled back up at him, sharing that hope and desire for the future with him. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

<-Previous Part Next Part->

-From the Beginning-

Italian Translations:

“Sei come qualcosa da un sogno..” - “You’re like something from a dream..”

“E 'bello vederti, bambino!” - “It’s good to see you, boy!”

“Bello vederti, amico mio!” - “Good to see you, my friend!”

“Potresti tenerlo segreto, Emilio?” - “Could you keep that a secret, Emilio?”

“Io non la penso così.” - “I don’t think so.”

“Rispondetela e non parlerò mai più con voi!” - “Answer her and I’ll never talk to you again!”

“Ti odio!” - “I hate you!”

“Accidenti a te, vecchio…” - “Damn you, old man...”

Also, the new nicknames he drops for her are “splendid/gorgeous goddess” and “sweet angel”.

#caejose #Caesar Zeppeli #Joseph Joestar #Dancer!AU #Modern!AU #trans!character #trans!joseph #first date #datenight #long chapter #interesting bonus fact: rananculus flowers mean #i am dazzled by your charms in the language of flowers

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ruman123blog · 3 years

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6PCS Artificial Sunflower Flowers Long Stem Silk Fake Sunflowers Decoration for Outdoor Home Wedding Birthday Party Single Bulk Yellow Decor(Dark Center)

Price: (as of – Details) Product Description “That must be Van Gogh’s sunflower there,where all the people are crowded around.” “Do you like sunflowers too?” “No flower can lift someone’s spirits quite like sunflowers. They are bright and cheery, and as warm and inviting as the sweet summer sun. ” Choose artificial sunflower flower as home decoration: No need to take care, always keep the…

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#home decoration for wedding

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oodlyenough · 7 years

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fic: asymmetry

There are exactly two people left who lived through the most intense month of Sasha’s life with her. That one of them happens to be her ex-fake-boyfriend is less than ideal. Which fits right into Sasha’s less-than-ideal lifetime.

~3k. Mostly a Sasha character study, but with a lot of emphasis is on her relationships with August, Rhys and Fiona. Set mid-episode 5, several months after Helios falling but pre-getting the band back together. Also on AO3.

Notes: You don't have to have read the thing with feathers, which follows Fiona and Sasha immediately after Gortys is destroyed, but I wrote this one with that one in mind and it might clear up a question or two about what Fiona's up to.

The Purple Skag is almost empty when Sasha arrives. Someone in the booth looks to be asleep, and a regular she recognizes is slouched over his table in the corner.

And then there’s August, wiping down the bar.

He freezes when he sees her, and Sasha puts on a casual smile, gesturing over her shoulder to the door.

“Tector let me in,” she says, “so either you forgot to tell him I was banned for life, or you really need to find a new bouncer.”

She keeps it as light as she can, arms folded, her weight shifted to one leg, a friendly challenge in her voice. But August watches her over the bar, stony-faced, just long enough to let her squirm.

Then he shakes his head. “Never told him that. Didn’t really think I’d have to. Didn’t think you’d show your face again.” Then, with a half-shrug, “What do you want?”

It’s not exactly an olive branch—more of a twig, maybe—but she’ll take it. She crosses to the bar, relaxing as she walks.

“Just a drink.” Before he can object, she pulls some cash from her pocket. “I can pay.”

He looks her up and down in a way that makes her feel more exposed than really makes any sense, and then he heaves a sigh.

“It’s on the house,” he grumbles, sounding more irritated with himself than with her, which heartens her. He points a firm finger towards her. “Just the first one.”

She shoots him a winning smile and tucks the cash back into her pocket. “Thanks, August.”

He grunts.

Sasha settles herself onto a stool as August pours her a pint. It’s weird to be back in the Purple Skag; for a few months she’d all but lived here, yet this is the first time she’s really herself inside these walls. You’re not supposed to revisit marks. Felix would have a conniption.

Fucking Felix.

“So.” August slams her drink onto the counter like he’s making a point, then slides it out to her. “What’re you really here for?”

“Just wanted a drink, like I said. Honest.” But his gaze is withering, so she shrugs as she pulls the glass closer. “And… to see a familiar face, I guess. Other than my sister’s.”

It’s the truth, and she tries to let him know that by holding his gaze, steady and plain. Sasha’s social circle has always been laughably small, but its sudden expansion followed by its even more sudden collapse has thrown off her equilibrium.

There are exactly two people left who lived through the most intense month of Sasha’s life with her. That one of them happens to be her ex-fake-boyfriend is less than ideal.

Which fits right into Sasha’s less-than-ideal lifetime.

August studies her for another long second before nodding, satisfied.

“You look different,” he points out.

“Keen observational skills,” she jokes, but it falls flat, so she shrugs. “Wanted a change. Made some new clothes. Think I might get a haircut, too.” She strikes a pose on her stool, one hand on her hip. “You like it?”

August only grunts again. Sasha takes that as an affirmation and tries her drink. He’s given her the good stuff—or at least what passes for the good stuff at the Skag—so she may as well savour it.

He makes no effort to start a conversation. Sasha learned some time ago that with August this could mean any number of things: a cold shoulder, a bad mood, or lingering resentment, sure, or simply nothing to say. He’s not much of a talker.

So she takes it upon herself. “How’s business?”

“Dude in the booth’s on his sixth beer.”

“He’s asleep.”

“Yeah, and I’m charging him for a new drink every half hour,” says August. Then he shrugs, and Sasha sees his posture change. “It’s been quieter. Ma’s people used to stop by a lot, and now…” He catches himself and shoots her a defensive look. “Not that I’d asked her to send them, or anything. They just—”

“Right,” she agrees quickly, hoping to spare his dignity. She shifts on her stool and frowns sympathetically. “I’m sorry about Vallory.”

“No, you’re not.”

The look he gives her isn’t angry, but it is uncompromising, and Sasha runs her thumb along the rim of her pint glass.

“No, I’m not,” she admits. “She forced us into a suicide mission that got my friends killed.” She presses down on the glass until her thumb starts to hurt from the pressure, closes her eyes, and pushes out a breath before meeting his gaze. “But... I am sorry you lost someone.”

That seems to be enough; August inclines his chin in a curt but appreciative nod.

“Guess that means you never found them, then,” he says. “Those Hyperion guys.”

Sasha swirls her glass, watching the reflected light dance around the surface of the drink. Not trusting her voice to stay steady, she shakes her head.

“The short one, Van—”

“Vaughn.”

“Yeah, him. He got away from Ma’s people. Tougher than he looks.” August shrugs. “Might be all right.”

She wants to believe him. The truth is she never knew Vaughn very well; when he wasn’t paralyzed and confined to groans, he’d spent most of his time separated from Sasha. The bulk of what she knows is secondhand, recreated through Rhys’ various affectionate anecdotes. It’s possible he has some hidden depths, and nice to imagine that after giving Finch and Kroger the slip, Vaughn beat the odds.

Sasha’s not a glass-half-full kind of person.

“Yeah,” she says vaguely, still staring at her drink. “Maybe.”

“And the skinny robot—”

“Rhys,” she corrects, looking up to scowl. “I know you know his name.”

“Right, Rhys—”

“Was on Helios when it crashed. So.”

It’s more irritable than August deserves for what is probably just an attempt at optimism, but there’s no chain of events August can dream up that Sasha hasn’t already thought of and dismissed. Even in the best-case scenario where Rhys somehow made it off Helios alive, he’s made no attempt to contact her, a possibility which comes with its own brand of hurt. Whatever had happened, in the end the truth is this: she hasn’t heard a word from Rhys since he told her, Fiona and Gortys to head for the ship. A Hyperion stooge, risking his life to save a couple of Pandoran grifters.

Who’d’ve thought.

“Sorry,” says August, and she smiles humourlessly.

“No, you’re not.”

“Well, yeah, not really, but... you know. What you said.” He’s quiet for a second, but she can see him debating with himself. Just before she can tell him to spit it out, he says, “I know you two had a… thing.”

“What?” She’s too distracted by the spike in her heart rate to register his unwarranted jealousy. “No, we didn’t. There was no ‘thing’.”

“You’re wearing his pants.”

“No I’m not, these are—these are new. These are mine. I made these.”

“Yeah. And they look just like his.”

Sasha blinks down at her own lap, like she’s forgotten what she’s wearing. Her cheeks feel warm. “I mean I—I guess they do. Sort of. A little.” Then she looks up at August with an innocent shrug. “I... didn’t notice.”

He rolls his eyes. “If you’re gonna lie to me, at least do it better than that.”

Sasha looks away without replying, her one pinstriped knee bouncing up and down on the rung of the barstool. She doesn’t like to think about Rhys, about the secrets he kept or the stupid flower he picked for her or all the things that might have happened to him after she left Helios. It makes her feel like there’s a rakk hive sitting on her chest.

She often wonders what the last thing she said to him was. She hopes it was something kind, something grateful, something worth the sacrifice he was about to make. More likely, she suspects it was something terse and impatient, a product of her own fear. That she can’t remember at all makes her nauseous.

“Rhys is just a friend. Was just a friend.” It feels like not like a lie but like resignation. “There wasn’t time for anything else. Maybe if...” She shakes her head and knocks back a quick swig of her drink. “Doesn’t matter. He’s gone. And so is Vaughn. And Loader Bot, and Gortys… all of them.”

A minute of painful silence creeps by, and Sasha begins to wonder if the complimentary drink is really worth the cost of, well, this: every regret she’s ever had in her life, lurking in the shadows of the Skag.

August breaks with tradition and breaks the silence first. He leans his elbows on the bar, his head level with hers. “Why are you really here, Sash?”

“Fiona and I have been fighting. She’s real big on the Vault Hunting thing and I… kinda never wanna see another Vault in my life.” With a rueful smile, Sasha takes a drink. “She told me she was going to investigate some stupid clue about some stupid key and I, uh, may have told her that if she wants to get her skull crushed by a giant alien monster that’s her problem, and... then I stormed out of the house to come here.”

It sounds silly and melodramatic to say out loud, and she avoids August’s eye. The thing is, Sasha gets it. Vault Hunting is Fiona’s lemonade, a desperate attempt to squeeze meaning and purpose from the Hyperion-yellow lemons they’d been given. She wants to make it worth something, wants a calling that can justify what they went through. If they’re Vault Hunters, all of this becomes a cool origin story rather than just the latest shitty thing Pandora’s done to them.

Sasha doesn’t want an origin story. Sasha wants to lick her wounds and give up.

August’s expression is unsympathetic. “You know you two don’t have to do the same thing all the time, right?”

“Gee, thanks.” Sasha glares, but it melts into something more pitiful as she peers down at her reflection in her drink. “I know we don’t. But it’s not that easy. We both need money. And…” She blows out a breath that sends ripples through her beer. “Fi’s all I have.”

“She doesn’t have to be.”

She can feel him staring but pretends she can’t, pretends she doesn’t know what he’s implying, pretends she isn’t tempted. Chewing her lip, she keeps her eyes trained on her drink as she says, “I don’t have a very good track record with anyone else.”

When she lifts her head, August is leaning back against the bar rail, arms folded across his chest. Sasha finds herself studying his stomach, trying to picture the scar his bullet wound must have left behind.

“Well,” he says, “if you need money, you could start working here again. Fewer people shooting at you.”

She meets his eyes at last, smiling wryly. “Still some, though?”

“Well, yeah. It’s Pandora.”

She’s avoiding an answer, and she knows it. She tilts her head. “Thought business was down.”

“Nothing better for business than a pretty girl behind the bar.”

It’s been a long time since she heard that low note in his voice, but it’s familiar, and heat pools in her cheeks anyway. There’s something about August that’s hard to shake.

He’s not the first mark to get under her skin. It happens sometimes, more often than it should, more often than she’d like to admit. Fiona gives her hell for it, but Felix used to say it’s what makes Sasha so effective at what she does—that people can feel the morsel of genuine connection and they latch onto it, trust her because of it.

He was probably full of shit, she realizes. Just trying to make her feel better about not being as good a con as Fiona. But maybe it explains how she got her hooks so deep into August that even now they have difficulty prying themselves apart.

Watching him now, she vividly remembers how it feels, working with him, sleeping with him, pretending to love him. Slipping back into the role would be like muscle memory. She already knows the staging: hop the bar, grab his jacket, kiss him rough, bite his lip the way she knows he likes.

It wouldn’t be happiness, but it would be a good facsimile. She thinks she could live in the lie for a while.

“August…” she starts, then stops. She can’t think of what to say.

There are many loose threads in Sasha’s life, but August is the only one she can still touch, the one she can tug and tug and tug until it all frays and unravels.

August pushes himself up out of his lean and walks back over to her, so close she really could kiss him. The intensity in his blue eyes is intimidating, but she doesn’t look away.

She swallows.

The Sasha that August thinks he loved was a carefully crafted fiction, all her rough edges sandpapered away for easy consumption. The real Sasha is a more bitter pill to swallow. Quick to anger and slow to trust. Crueler than she means to be and never as kind as she’d like to be. Never willing to give anyone the benefit of the doubt.

She doesn’t believe August would feel the same about the real deal as he did about the character she created. On her worst days, she’s not sure anyone would.

But they’re similar enough, the two of them, at their core: guarded and suspicious, each with plenty of regrets to their name. Riddled with the sort of scars that growing up on Pandora gives you.

“Sasha.” It sounds like a dare. August’s hand creeps across the countertop towards hers, inch by inch. There’s a split second of hesitation, of indecision, her heart in her throat, before—

Finally she breaks eye contact, looks down, studies her own lap again, the black fabric with turquoise detailing. She pulls her hand away, wiping her clammy palm on her pinstriped pant leg.

She wants a change, she reminds herself. A fresh start.

All she’ll get with August is a repeating pattern.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says gently.

August’s shadow disappears from the countertop as he steps back, and she forces herself to meet his eyes.

“Yeah.” His expression is hard to read—sad, she thinks, but relieved, too. “Probably not.”

Sasha sits up straight, takes a breath, and tips back what’s left in her cup.

“Thanks.” She fishes a bill out of her pocket and sets it on the counter. “For the drink.”

August eyes her money, making no move to take it, but no move to reject it, either.

“Yeah,” he says. He maintains the distance between them but gives her one final approving nod. “You take care, Sash.”

She slides off the stool and back to her feet. The smile on her lips is subdued, a little sad, and completely authentic.

“See you around, August.”

As she leaves the Purple Skag, she catches her reflection in the window and reaches up to touch her hair.

Yeah, she thinks, definitely time for a change.

Fiona’s still out when Sasha gets back, chasing after a Vault Key that’s probably about as real as Felix’s. Sasha preoccupies herself with her hair and tries not to worry. There aren’t many people more capable of taking care of themselves than her big sister.

Still, though. Pandora and Vault Hunting are a dangerous combination.

Three days, one new set of bangs, and zero calls later, Sasha’s about ready to tear out her brand new haircut when Fiona finally gets in touch.

“Where the hell are you?” Sasha demands without introduction, practically yelling over the line. “Are you okay?”

“Ha. Uh. Yeah. Funny story. Listen, I’m fine, but I need your help with something.”

Fiona’s voice sounds weird, and Sasha can’t pin down if it’s good-weird or bad-weird. “If this is about a Vault—”

“It’s not... just about a Vault,” says Fiona, and Sasha rolls her eyes so hard it’s almost painful.

“I swear to God, Fi—”

“Plus I’ve got a surprise for you. You’ll love it.”

That sounds more like Fiona, teasing and smug, and Sasha finds herself grinning reluctantly. “Oh really?”

“Promise.” Sasha can tell from the tone of it that Fiona’s grinning, too. “So, how soon can you make it to the Helios crash site?”

#borderlands #sasha the kid sister #august the brawler #tales from the borderlands #rhysha #oodlyenough i write fic

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jelantiahilma · 5 years

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wallpapernifty · 4 years

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liaflowerwall · 5 years