#gave him gloves and 80's star earings

[jaywalkingjaywalker]

kahdkKAHSIAJJHHH

I DREW THE HIM!! HE!!! im so normal im so calm and collected

[haouintheworld]

Savage

A Decayshipping fic co-written with the incredible @confuzzeledpanda​

If you’re wondering what Decayshipping is, it’s the ship for Gentle Darkness (Tenebros) and the Light of Destruction. It’s a very angsty ride. 

This fic is set 80 years after YGO GX, thus 20 years before YGO NT (thanks for the timeline and creating NT @itsashowtime​ ). It was inspired by Bahari’s “Savage” which I highly encourage you to listen to while reading along with “Fucked Up” and “Wild Ones” by the same band.

Warning (s): There’s some cursing

Why in hell Sophocles was supposedly in a steel warehouse in the middle of Brooklyn in the dead of winter, Tenebros did not know. Regardless, he had to walk in there and warn Sophocles that Sophia may come after him after that stunt he pulled with Yubel and Jūdai. The embodiment of the Gentle Darkness braced himself for the crowd and the blaring music he could hear bleeding into the street. He created clothes which gave him staff credentials and the bouncers let him in without a second glance, too concerned by the influx of concert goers arriving late.

Everything inside was grey, be it metal or concrete. A set of double doors separated the entry, complete with a merchandise booth and bar from the actual concert venue. More people were clearly inside so Tenebros made his way through them. He easily blended in with his all black outfit complete with a turtleneck sweater, ripped skinny jeans, oxfords, and leather gloves. He didn’t need much else since his powers naturally kept him warm.

Now the problem was moving through the crowd to find Sophocles. With the Light of Destruction’s height and white hair, he should be easy to find had not Tenebros been around five feet tall. This is why he liked his serpent form, he could make it grow to any length. But nope, not his human form. Dumb balance of the universe.

The space was almost filled. The balconies were near bursting and there wasn’t much room to move around on the ground floor. Tenebros worried for all of them. If Sophocles was here, then he could be planning anything from minor chaos to corrupting the whole lot. Tenebros wondered if the light being was ever as tired as he was of all the plotting.

The lights alternated pulses of scarlet, white, and gold. The trio onstage played some eerie pop music that Tenebros found himself liking. He wandered around the edge a bit, keeping himself close to the door. Every blond in the place looked like they had white hair in this light and there were too many people taller than him. No one he could see remotely resembled Sophocles as a few of songs came and went.

Tenebros was ready to call this a failure and just enjoy the concert when the crowd parted just right. Sophocles’ attention was on the stage as he swayed to the beat, knowing all the words. Plenty of other members of the crowd danced, but none of them seemed as in tune with music as Sophocles was. Tenebros let out a sigh of relief, seeing him safe and clearly in one of his elements. He observed Sophocles for a minute or two, taking note of how at peace he looked. Tenebros felt his heart twinge. He missed seeing Sophocles without cruelty lining his features. He missed talking to him without a conversation blowing up. Seeing Sophocles this at ease brought up memories of better times.

Tenebros had resigned himself to simply watching over Sophocles from a distance when the light entity met his gaze across the room. He looked surprised for a millisecond because it wasn’t in Tenebros’ nature to go to populated places. Tenebros didn’t meddle in the affairs of mortals or spend an abundance of time with his creations. Also, he hadn’t sought out Sophocles in centuries.

Sophocles’ surprise easily phased into a more playful expression and Tenebros steeled his heart. Suddenly he felt caught in a trap and there was nothing to do but make his way towards his enemy.

But should his supposed enemy be flashing a smile, a wave to come closer, or dancing like that? Tenebros thinks they're both making their way to each other now, but he’s not entirely sure because his eyes are locked on Sophocles. Watching his every move. He doesn’t realise that the crowd was parting bit by bit for the entity sometimes called the Light of Destruction. There’s the stir of whispers too, but Tenebros swears too many of them sound like Sophocles.

Tenebros could not take his eyes off of Sophocles, but he has his face scrubbed of any emotions. The only part which remains expressive anymore is his eyes. They're not pitch black for once and the lights catch the tiny stars. He’s aware of the simple little tricks Sophocles is pulling now. He’s using anything he can to his advantage. He knows the Darkness hates being the centre of attention, loathes having eyes on him. Anyone that he passes by contains a slight murmur of Sophocles’ voice. He wants everyone to keep an eye on him even if no one in the crowd understands why they can’t stop talking about this white-haired dancer.

As Sophocles gets closer, he flashes a more devious smirk, he's aware that he holds the cards. Tenebros has walked in quite willingly into his world. He's dancing to the beat, his steps going in Tenebros’ direction. He's gathering more attention and his lips are easily following the words flawlessly.

They were finally close enough to hear each other speak when a couple dances between them. They stop and have their arms around each other, kissing in time with the music.

There it was, in front of the opposing forces. Everything they could never do. They could only touch if something separated them. Kissing wasn’t even a possibility, let alone be together.

Tierra’s words from millennia ago reminded Tenebros that even if Sophocles learned to love him, it would always be doomed. They were too different. He realises it’s probably a bad idea to allow Sophocles see him. He's just going to get mocked, but he lets Sophocles see him anyway.  He lets sadness flicker across his features for a moment as he looks between the couple and Sophocles. Then he wipes it away, and looks at Sophocles’ irritated expression.

"Pardon the interruption on your fun." Tenebros says to the pair.

“Excuse us,” Sophocles says, shoving them out of his way.  He grabs Tenebros' hand and pulls him in dangerously close. The cockiness in his expression shows he’s pleased with the startled reaction he receives from Tenebros.

"What brings you here, handsome?" He asks coolly.

Tenebros feels flustered and can't stop the light grey blush which appears on his cheeks. He's glad he came heavily dressed for this situation, but he thought they would just accidentally bump into each other due to the crowd. He didn't think Sophocles would chance holding his hand or him!

The air around them felt electrified as he stifled his emotions, not wanting to show Sophocles exactly how much he affected him.

"I came here for you..." Tenebros swore internally, reminding himself that they were supposed to be enemies. "... To see how you're doing after your most recent defeat by my champions."

Sophocles let out a half amused huff. He moves his hands down to Tenebros' waist, pulling Tenebros a little closer as he continues swaying to the music. He starts purring his words as the songs go on.

"Mind dancing with me then? We can catch up on a lot more you know." He’s purposely ensured they stayed close, remaining the center of everyone’s attention.

Curse Sophocles for playing on his introverted tendencies. The crowd was looking at him expectantly to reciprocate Sophocles’ gesture. Tenebros didn’t want to cause a scene just to break away from the Light so he could think clearly. He had to somehow figure out a way to warn Sophocles about Sophia’s threats. If he ran now, he'd have to leave without a word.

Plus, they were never able to be this close and even if Sophocles was just playing with him again… At least Tenebros would have a moment to look back on and say he was in the arms of the person he loved.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Sophocles’ neck, “I don’t mind so long as that means you’ll listen for once.”

"Who says you get to say anything? This is my territory, remember? I hold all the cards," he whispered into Tenebros' ear. "Poor, little Tenebros flew right into the spider's web." The Darkness could practically hear the smirk in Sophocles’ voice. He pulled Tenebros closer into the crowd, taking the lead in the dance.

As the song switched over, he started purring the lyrics to Tenebros, knowing exactly the effect they'd have on him. This was way more fun than just talking after all. Whatever Tenebros had to say could wait until Sophocles had his fun.

Tenebros rationalised that the longer he was with Sophocles, the more time he’d be able to protect him from Sophia should she decide to show herself. He rolled his eyes at the little comment. Fate must be having a field day making him a foot shorter than his rival. As he let Sophocles guide him into the crowd, subconsciously getting closer to the Light as more people crowded around them.

The dark being had not heard Sophocles sing in ages, thus the blatant shock in his eyes as he heard the Light. This brought him back to happier times. Gods, his nightmares were going to include Sophocles’ angelic singing voice now, weren’t they? Tenebros sighed, resigning himself to his later pain and let Sophocles lead. Tenebros would let him have his fun and the music was good. They were between champions, the most damage he could do to Tenebros was manipulate Tenebros’ feelings like he had all those years ago.The lyrics are definitely getting to him, Sophocles sounded earnest and that he meant what he sang. Tenebros’ eyes filled with guilt and concern over Sophocles.

"You know I'm not a saint but I can make you pray. So get down on your knees, give me a reason I should stay." Sophocles sang to Tenebros, his voice weaving into the hypnotic tune.

He didn't like the look in Tenebros’ eyes. It struck a bit too close to his heart and played with the feelings he thought he buried. They were supposed to be dead. Perhaps this hadn't been the best idea, but Sophocles hadn't sung in a very long time. He wasn't going to stop now.

He spun Tenebros around, making sure he ended up with his back against Sophocles’ chest, the devious smirk growing into a full blown grin. He may not be able to press his lips to Tenebros’ ear, but he got pretty damn close to sing, “If you think that you can save me, break me down, and tame me. Here's your chance to do some damage.”

Sophocles’ grin unsettled Tenebros because he didn't think it suited the former, despite the fact that he'd seen deviousness etched into Sophocles' features for centuries. Were these really the lyrics to the song? Tenebros thought they fit their current situation too well as he found himself speechless. His shoulders stiffened as he was spun around and leaned into Sophocles. He noted that he felt coolness coming off the light entity. It was nice since his body temperature kept him warm all the time, in fact he felt too warm right now. "Don't get it twisted cause, I could be really into us, Or I can leave you just because, because."

Okay, now Tenebros felt even hotter. This wasn't fair. Sophocles had to know he still had feelings for him if he was throwing those words at him. He had to know the easiest way to play with Tenebros was to mess with whatever heart he had left. He tried extremely hard to keep all of his emotions buried deep, under lock and key, but here was Sophocles just bringing them to the surface effortlessly. Tenebros cursed his eyes, they showcased too much; adding stars the better he felt, black holes for when he felt worse. They were probably a mixture of both right now, starry at the chance to dance and hear Sophocles sing. Then swirls of the abyss for his intense worry over Sophocles' safety, the guilt for starting their rift, the despair that they could never be.

When this song was over, he'd just tell Sophocles straight up about Sophia. Then the dark being would have to leave, lest he spill anything else Sophocles could use against him. It was one thing for the other to suspect Tenebros' affections and play on them. It would be a whole different game if the Light knew for certain the Dark loved him regardless.

Sophocles wasn't sure what to think about Tenebros at this moment. He hadn't seen the stars in the elder being's eyes in decades, so used to seeing the black holes that swirled angrily within the warm gold. He also didn't miss the sudden flush of heat from Tenebros. Was he enjoying this?

No, no, Tenebros wouldn't enjoy this. Not really. It's a nice break from all of their fighting, sure, but there's no way he would want to be around Sophocles outside of this. It's why this ‘disagreement’ started in the first place. The Dark wanted nothing to do with the Light.

“Trapped inside this madness, I know you wanna have this. So I can take advantage."

This probably hadn't been the best song choice, but Sophocles didn't control the mortals, he simply 'persuaded' them to do as he pleased. He continued dancing, turning Tenebros back to him, ensuring that the cruelly cocky smile didn't leave while he thought.

"When you touch me, you take me to heaven. When you hold me, my body is a weapon."

Sophocles rolled his eyes at the lyrics, noting how too close to home they were. That didn't stop him from holding Tenebros flush against him though. What better way to mess with the Dark than to push this as far as he could? If he got lucky, this would bother Tenebros enough to leave Sophocles to his own devices.

Tenebros wished he blushed like mortals, at least then he could blame the steady blush on his cheeks on the red lights. But of course Fate hated him, his greying cheeks making it obvious under each strobe of colour. He couldn't even try to focus on anything else in the crowd, he was completely rapt by Sophocles. He tried to center his attention on Sophocles' eyes, trying to read them since they were so close.

"Savage..."

Regardless of whether or not Sophocles meant any of the words, they made the Dark want to try. Try to mend the bridge between them, at least work towards a peace or mutual agreement to coexist. Sophia and Tierra were getting wilder in their schemes and Tenebros worried more for their plans than Sophocles'. Sophia spoke with a new brand of harshness about punishing his opposite and it unsettled him... Quite frankly, it angered him too. How dare she threaten Sophocles when he was a crucial part of the universe.

Tenebros leaned in to Sophocles naturally, somewhere his thoughts noted how well they fit together. He rested his hands on Sophocles' chest, one of them holding the edge of the vest the Light wore. He'd be lying if he said he didn't like the feeling of being this close to Sophocles. Saying anything was probably going to end the moment, but Sophocles had to know. Tenebros couldn't let go of him until he had said his piece and was satisfied that Sophocles would take it seriously.

"I know you don't want to hear anything from me, but you should know that Sophia may be plotting to destroy you. Maybe with Tierra, I don't know. I just want you to know so you can be on your guard." The words came out rushed and worry had crept in by the third word.

How cruel of Fate. Make two beings that fit together, and yet, keep them apart for all eternity. Sophocles wanted to strangle Fate for this cruel design. The warning caused the smile to leave Sophocles' face as his eyes narrowed in irritation. He snapped the connection between him and the crowd, their interest in the two waning. Then he simply lead Tenebros towards the edge of the audience, not bothering to hide his annoyance. He didn't like the worry and concern that showed in Tenebros’ words. Whatever game the Dark had decided to play was far more cruel than his own. He just wanted to irritate Tenebros, not really trying to play with his feelings.

"You just couldn't enjoy the moment, could you? You just had to ruin it," he growled, running his hands through his bangs. He crossed his arms, his eyes becoming a darker red, the color of freshly spilled blood. Something he picked up on long ago. "Besides, wouldn't me disappearing be a good thing for you? Your little dolls would be perfectly safe until Tierra gets bored."

It confused him to hear Tenebros worry over him. If he's pretending, then he's becoming the perfect little copy of Sophia. If not, then maybe... No, what was he thinking? Tenebros doesn't care about him. If anything, he's more concerned with the balance of the universe. Typical.

"And has it ever crossed your mind that maybe I'm purposely pissing off those two? I'm not stupid, you know. I very well know how those two are reacting to me. But recklessness is in my nature, remember?" Sophocles didn't realize a sour, bitter note wrapped around his words, reminiscent of every other time these two forces met.

Nope, not today. He's not letting Sophocles get under his skin with this thinking. They were wasting their time talking around each other. "You've no idea how much I just wanted to enjoy the moment! But forgive me for knowing you’re unpredictable and wanting to make sure you knew you had a bigger target on your back than usual before you disappeared or something." Tenebros pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to take a deep breath. They had to fight in close proximity to hear each other properly. A couple of drunks passed them, "Oooo, they're fighting like a couple in a rom- com!" Hardly. Tenebros fought back the urge to hiss at them, his gold eyes flashing.

The dark red unsettled Tenebros, "Damn it, Sophocles. I don't want you to disappear, so get that ridiculous thought out of your head! You don't want both of them after you. It's stupid to provoke them, why would you risk yourself when nothing keeps them entertained these days?"

"Someone hasn't been paying attention~" he sang, the smirk falling back into place. "It doesn't really matter if I piss off Sophia and Tierra. The worse they'll do is torture me in some way, and then I'll be put back to work."

He shrugged his shoulders before his eyes slid back to the crowd, which was excitedly welcoming the next song. Sophocles hummed along, his fingers tapping on his arm to the beat.

"Besides, dealing with my newest idea is making me lose it. I needed to get away from it for a moment, Sophia doesn’t mind."

His gaze slid back to Tenebros, who still had the look of a concerned parent. "Oh lighten up, Tenebros. Enjoy it while you can! Sophia and Tierra aren't planning to make another one of these hellholes for a while after this one's destruction. Once the Virus is freed, this world and all the dimensions will simply tear themselves apart."

"What?" Tenebros' face fell. His eyes wide in horror as the few stars in them died.

He was a prized idiot.

This was just a set up. Sophia had just been trying to get a reaction out of him and he'd certainly given her one. She just wanted Tenebros to see how far Sophocles had fallen into his role... Wanted to see how far he would go for the Light, well, now she had her answer.

Tenebros resisted the urge to lift his head and scan the balconies. If one or both of the goddesses were here, he didn't want to let them know he'd made them.

"You're in on it... All three of you are working together." The Dark entity put together out loud, hanging his head in his hands for a moment. He dragged them down into a prayer position below his chin. He was nowhere near praying though. Sophocles was clearly referring to the Evilswarm virus which had plagued all the duel tribes of old. It nearly destroyed them all to conquer the virus and eliminate. Now it was on the horizon again and everything Tenebros stood for was on the line.

Realising another thing, Tenebros reached his gloved hand out and touched Sophocles' chest, over his heart. His fingers were millimeters from Sophocles' bare skin. Now that his mind was clearer, he could feel the difference. There was no electrical charge between them, the air around them didn't heat up from the opposing forces sharing space.

Sophia was definitely here and she could lift their no touching rule whenever she pleased. She lied all those thousands of years ago about not being able to do anything... And Sophocles was on her side which meant that he knew that.

Tenebros put it all together that Sophocles really was just messing with him earlier. It must be Sophocles’ favourite trick to feign feeling for Tenebros. He met Sophocles' eyes and let the immense disappointment show. Disappointment in Sophocles, for banding together with their tormentors, but mostly in himself for letting him hope they could be anything more than enemies.

"Bingo~" Sophocles giggled, his smirk growing into a childish smile. "It's only natural that Tierra and I would work together, but you can imagine my surprise when Sophia wanted to go against you. This little fairy tale has been going on far too long."

It hurt to see the disappointment in Tenebros eyes, or did it? Half the time Sophocles couldn't even tell which were his thoughts and which were the Evilswarm. Oh well. It's not possible to do dirty work without getting dirty yourself.

"I was surprised to see that Sophia could lift that rule too. But she is quite the fickle goddess after all. Kindness has never been her forte either."

At that point, Sophocles had started swaying to the music yet again, softly singing the lyrics to himself.

"And if I fall, I fall with you. My veins are what you're running through, through through, through. And now I'm fucked up."

He closed his eyes, the childish smile back on his face as he swayed. He had no doubt that both goddesses were watching. Tierra and Sophia would be foaming at the mouth if they had missed this.

"Come on, T. Just let go of this cycle, and we can go back to normal. Just you, me, Tierra, and Sophia!"

It hurt even more to hear Sophocles admit he was just messing with him now that the ‘no touch’ rule was gone. Tenebros stood frozen watching the Light sway. The Dark barely had a heart and now he could feel it shattering again. It did this every time he saw Sophocles and knew he had to leave. Had to carry on, knowing it was practically impossible to mend the damage between them.

Tenebros’ existence was just one cruel realisation after another. Now he had to come to terms with the fact that he was going to have to fight against three immortals when the next champions came around.

The hand on Sophocles’ chest clenched into a fist, taking the fabric with it as Tenebros pulled Sophocles down to him. If they could touch for the moment, the Darkness would abuse it to allow himself a selfish act. He cupped Sophocles face with his other hand and pressed their foreheads together. With all the energy he could muster through his heartache, he channeled a protective aura around them, trying to will Sophocles to really listen.

“Do what you want, Sopho, just don’t trust either of them at all. Betrayal is written in those two's beings... I won’t stand idly by this time. If you’re all going to band together, then the least I can do is give you all the fight of our existences… Look after yourself, please.” Tenebros’ voice shook a bit, but it was still strong.

Slowly, he let go of Sophocles and took  steps backwards. Of course he’d been dragged to the edge on the opposite side of the exit and the room was packed now. He turned from the light being, forcing himself to rip his eyes away, and started his way through the crowd toward the exit.

No one wanted to move out of Tenebros' way. Despite his short stature, he found it hard to push through the sea of people. Everyone wanted to be as close to the stage as possible and didn't appreciate the dark being just trying to leave. He swore as he heard his name barked in irritation.

"Tenebros!"

Of course the crowd wouldn't let him pass, Sophocles was manipulating them not to. Why now of all times was he choosing to run after Tenebros? Out of all the countless other moments he fled the Light, the most he'd ever gotten in response was cursing and name calling. The crowd parted for Sophocles quickly and he caught up to the dark entity. The crowd closed back around them as the Light encircled his arms around around the Dark and made them face each other.

"What the fuck kind of answer was that? You can't just walk away from this." Sophocles snarled. He was probably expecting Tenebros to be obstinate, defiant, chastise him. 

But Tenebros couldn't find the will to even look Sophocles in the eye. Instead he hid his face in the Light's chest, his hands bunched in the folds of Sophocles’ shirt.

“Now our bodies moving in slow motion, yeah. I know you didn't ask for it, I know you didn't need my love, You thought you were immune to it…”

These songs were not helpful in the least. They didn't sway or move, just existing in that moment.

Why did it have to be so damn hard to walk away from him? Tenebros was hyper aware of their differences and all the reasons why he shouldn't give Sophocles the time of day. And yet… he still let his mind think ridiculous thoughts. Why can't he and Sophocles just stop fighting and run away? Or at least they could band together and find a way to get rid of the goddesses. Less torment for everyone.

Tenebros couldn't find the words, so he borrowed the lyrics from the song Sophocles enchanted him with earlier, "Give me a reason I should stay."

He felt Sophocles stiffen around him.

“Why should I, it's obvious isn't it? It's like I said everything can go back to how it was.”

Tenebros pulled back, taking the risk to look at Sophocles. For once, it looked like the Light being was a little confused as his eyes searched Tenebros’ for answers. The words came out before he could stop them.

“I want more than that.”

Now Sophocles looked very puzzled. There were a lot of ways to interpret what the Darkness meant. Tenebros felt the arms around him tighten.

“T, that’s not very descriptive. I can say I want more than the destruction of the universe, and you could still find a million ways to fulfill that,” Sophocles reasoned, trying to understand how he was supposed to answer. “What could you possibly want more than to go back to how everything was?”

“I want us… to be more… than that.” Tenebros admitted quietly, not even certain Sophocles would be able to hear him over the music. Simply saying the words out loud made the dark being's head spin. He immediately wanted to take them back. He was letting on too much and he already knew the Light didn't reciprocate, there was no point in trying. Gods, he hoped it wasn't plain on his face. Tenebros moved his gaze from Sophocles’ eyes to his lips.

Sophocles didn’t catch what Tenebros said, instead looking off towards one of the balconies. He could already tell Sophia was going to have his head for haou long this was taking. He turned his gaze back to Tenebros, sighing. The longer this took, the more likely Sophocles would end up with a punishment from the goddesses and a migraine from the virus.

“Tenebros please, just give up on this damn cycle and come back where you belong. With the Goddesses and with me.”

“I don't want anything to do with those two.” Tenebros said, agitation creeping in at the mention of the goddesses, “I belong with you, just you, Sopho. Regardless of which of us wins. I want it to be you and I standing at the end of this.”

The bands lights started an intense strobe effect which made the crowd jump and dance with joy. It also caused momentary moments of pitch black, limiting everyone's sight.

“SHIT!” Sophocles swore, his grip on Tenebros tightening subconsciously. The Light couldn’t see two feet in front of his face, especially in this kind of darkness. It didn’t matter how old he was, Sophocles wasn’t fond of any form of darkness without Tenebros. While they were enemies, Sophocles couldn’t help keeping Tenebros flush against his body, pouting. “I swear, I’m gonna kick Sophia’s ass for this. I’m sick of her little games.”

Tenebros sighed as he raised his voice to account for the increased volume of the crowd, “Sophocles did you hear me? I'm not giving up on this cycle, but I'm not giving up on you either. You know those two are just going to betray you and I think you and I could rise against them-”

The concert went pitch black, save for three blue spotlights on the band as the tune they sang became more melancholic than upbeat. Plenty of people applauded as they recognised the song. No one could really see anything, save for Tenebros. He snaked his arms around Sophocles and held tight to the Light as the crowd pressed forward to be closer to the stage.

A short growl came from Sophocles when Tenebros spoke. “Drop it, would you? You should know by now that going against Sophia and Tierra isn’t going to accomplish anything.” As they moved closer to the stage, Sophocles rolled his eyes, the virus snapping at him for allowing the Dark that close. “Tenebros, I’m going to hit you if you don’t let go. I have other places to be, chaos to start, lives to ruin. And I can’t do any of it if you plan on just holding me.”

Damn it, Sophocles was dead once he was back with the Goddesses. No doubt Tierra would start poking at the newest cracks in his disguise, and Sophia would probably wring his neck for taking so long. How wonderful.  He attempted to remove the Dark’s arms as best as he could while essentially blind. Instead, he found himself even closer to Tenebros, causing a blush of his own to appear, cooling the temperature of the air around them.

“You're the one who ran after and grabbed me, remember?” Tenebros reminded the Light, his breath hitching at their proximity, able to see perfectly in the dark. “I've staved off you three by myself for some time. Imagine if we teamed up against them, Sopho, no more roles. No more rules. Why go back to being under their mercy? Just us presiding over everything… together, side by side.”

As he spoke, the Dark used the arms around Sophocles’ to pull them closer still. Their faces inches apart. While they were still shrouded in his element, Tenebros stood on his tiptoes to close the gap between their lips. His body heat skyrocketed as he pressed his lips gently to Sophocles'. Somewhere in his head, he was screaming at himself for being so utterly stupid and reckless. Another part of his mind made Tenebros slide one of his hands to cradle Sophocles’ face.

Sophocles’ mind went blank attempting to process what was happening. Tenebros was kissing him. Actually kissing. Some part of the Light’s mind screamed at him to pull away, to push Tenebros off and run away. But some small part urged him to kiss back. Surely, Sophia and Tierra wouldn’t know if he did, right?

You know what? To hell with what the Goddesses thought, Sophocles didn’t know if he would ever get this chance again. So, tentatively, he moved his arms around Tenebros’ neck, one hand moving to inter-tangle with the Dark’s hair. He gently pressed into the kiss, uncertain if Tenebros would pull away, all while the Evilswarm screeched its displeasure. The Light fully ignored it, determined to get lost in Tenebros’ touch while he had the chance.

When the dark being felt Sophocles kiss him back and move his hands, Tenebros deepened the kiss. His mind was a complete wreck as his romantic feelings for Sophocles returned in full force. He didn't care if his feelings weren't truly reciprocated, his first kiss was still Sophocles’. Tenebros hummed at feeling the Light's fingers in his hair. They'd never been able to touch skin to skin and now here they were kissing. Seriously kissing one another.

Tenebros breathed Sophocles’ nickname between kisses, somehow finding a way to press himself closer to the other. He had no intention of breaking the kiss, he would stand there with his lips against Sophocles’ for as long as possible. For this moment, he could pretend everything was fine, that they were just two boys at a concert letting themselves get swept up in each other. For this instance, Tenebros could call himself Sophocles’. Even if this was all they ever had, it could fuel Tenebros for another millennia. He wasn't going to give up on Sophocles, not when they kissed each other like this.

Sophocles melted at Tenebros saying his nickname, the one he hadn’t heard in decades. It warmed his very soul and easily washed away the screeching of the virus. His free hand found its way to Tenebros’ sweater, holding on as if the Dark being was his only lifeline. He started murmuring Tenebros’ name between kisses, switching between his full name and his nickname.

As the kisses got deeper, Sophocles nipped at Tenebros’ bottom lip, with a soft hum. He couldn’t help how needy he got, Sophocles truly didn’t know if he’d get this chance again, and he planned on making full use of it.

Involuntarily almost, Tenebros let out a little whimper and opened his mouth for Sophocles. Both of his hands gripped Sophocles’ neck now, desperately trying to hold on to this feeling with the light being. His name kept slipping past Tenebros’ lips, his voice painted with want and need. He knew this wouldn't last forever with the goddesses watching from the wings. Who knew what they would do if they saw them? Who knew if their plan was get Sophocles to be the honey trap to lure Tenebros to their side? He didn't want to leave Sophocles’ with those two, but he knew it would take more than kissing to sway the Light to switch sides.

Sophocles had just slipped his tongue into Tenebros’ mouth, his hands moving to cradle the Dark’s face. He also tilted Tenebros’ head back slightly, deepening the kiss and stroking the scar on the elder’s cheek.

Although, Tenebros wasn't sure how strong he could be if Sophocles asked him to stay again after this. This is why them being involved in this of all times was dangerous. Tenebros’ love for Sophocles was his biggest weakness. It would probably only take Sophocles several meaningful words to convince Tenebros to let it all go.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Tenebros wouldn't have to make that decision. At the moment the music crescendo, the concert hall was flooded with bright, white light. The intensity made Tenebros wince and hide his face in Sophocles’ neck. He hated breaking his connection with the light being, but the intense brightness threw him off. Now Tenebros was flooded with fear and anxiety at what Sophocles’ reaction would be.

Once the lights flared up, Sophocles’ pouted when Tenebros pulled away, only to give a small whine as Tenebros burrowed into his neck. Just why was he so sensitive there? How long has he been sensitive right there? Sophocles’ mind continued to wander, rendering him oblivious to the rising temperature between Tenebros and him. He ran his hand through Tenebros’ hair, trying to coax him into showing his face again. As his hand touched the Dark’s skin, Sophocles’ eyes widened and he pushed Tenebros away in pain.

“FUCK!!” No no nononono this means Sophia’s had enough and Tenebros needs to get out of there. Now.

          Tenebros recoiled from Sophocles, hissing at the familiar pain. He met the Light's gaze with his own wide eyes which revealed the vast amount of stars which had accumulated. Of course now that Tenebros realised what was happening, they were starting to fade. Sophia had caught them and that was it.

“Sopho, I-”

   A chilling female laugh filled the space, effectively interrupting the Dark. The concert continued around the immortals as if nothing was amiss.

Tenebros’ cheeks were still darkened with a dark grey blush and he could still taste Sophocles. He already missed sharing breath with the light being and certainly didn't want to leave him now.

“Well, well, well… look who has decided to grace us with his shadowy presence.” Rang out the voice of Sophia who was throwing her voice so the two male immortals couldn't pinpoint her.

“T, you need to leave. Now. Before she actually tries something,” Sophocles whispered, looking away from the Dark being. Gods above, why didn't he just let Tenebros go? Why did Sophocles force him to stay?

“My, you've lost your manners, haven't you Sophocles? Telling that pest to leave without giving proper greetings to Sophia and I?”

Tierra didn't even attempt to hide, watching the two entities from the side of the crowd, a wide teeth-baring smile resting on his face. “Dear Sophia, it seems like we caught the children out past curfew~” he growled, his eyes half lidded.

Sophocles had made eye contact with the God of Destruction, and he refused to break it. “Go now, T. Tierra's has been vying for the chance to tear you to shreds.” Fear and concern slipped into his voice as he motioned for Tenebros to go.

“You're right, Tierra dearest. Seems we'll have to think of appropriate punishments for both of them. Something special to suit each of their misdeeds.” Sophia spoke in a pseudo sweet voice. She still hid among the crowd, purposefully, always with a dramatic flare.

Tenebros cursed himself for not having just teleported he and Sophocles away when the lights went out. He had so many things he wanted to say after what just happened. He resented that their reality was he had to leave without the man he was in love with. Now the goddesses were relying on Tenebros to stick to his nature and not make a scene. To not mess with mortals. He wasn't exactly surprised Tierra wanted to tear him apart, Tierra was that way with practically everybody.

The Dark had an idea on how to get himself out, thanks to this band's lighting cues. There was no time to argue Tenebros stepped as close as he dared to Sophocles, so even if Sophia appeared next them, only the Light could hear. His short stature allowed Sophocles to keep his scarlet eyes on Tierra.

“Leaving you here will be the hardest thing I've ever done, second only to leaving you before this whole mess started with me not believing you over these evil crones. I should've picked you then. Know that, Sopho.” His voice was shaky, it held more emotion in it then he'd used in decades, but he was dead serious. Tenebros was a little teary, but he blinked them back. With his senses cast out, Tenebros found a fire alarm and pulled it.

Immediately, the venue erupted into chaos as the sprinklers’ ice cold water fell on the crowd. Within a few seconds, the water reached the sound and light board. Terrific electronic screeches sounded from the speakers and the lights flickered and defaulted to the strobe strobe setting before casting the venue in darkness.

The crowd went in every direction taking Tenebros away from Sophocles. In the pitch black, he shifted into his formless mist and sneaked through the crowd, unable to be caught in this form.

Sophocles flinched in response to the sudden makeshift rain, internally swearing when the lights went out. “Wait, T! Fuck, this would have been easier if you have left beforehand,” he growled in frustration. Why did Tenebros say that? What was his reasoning for it? All it did was confuse Sophocles even more. And he's tired of being confused. Tired of being left out of the loop when Tenebros is involved.

He started feeling for a wall to situate himself when a harsh voice spoke next to him.

“I wasn't expecting him to leave you all alone, Sophocles. How cruel of him.” The next thing the Light knew, Tierra grabbed the collar of his shirt, dragging him over to where Sophia sat, unbothered by the events seconds before. She looked as pretty as a picture, not a single hair out of place, whereas Tierra looked as if he had just finished physically fighting someone. His hair was wild, his clothes in slight disarray. They made the perfect dysfunctional couple.

“My bad Sophia. The problem child got away. But we have the next best thing as always. Tenebros’ personal favorite. Especially since he got rather handsy with dear Sophocles,” Tierra snarled, the sound ripping from his throat. Yeah, Tierra was pissed. That was the perfect opportunity to get rid of the Gentle Darkness. To bring back the fear of the unknown and the secrets held by the long dark nights.

“Don't you worry, that chaotic mind of yours Tierra. If my fellow little creator refuses to see reason and let go of this dollhouse. Then we just resume our plans. Tenebros will out of our way soon enough. In fact I think I have a few new ideas on just how to hasten the Gentle Darkness to his downfall.” Sophia insisted, looking Sophocles up and down. She stood up in one fluid, graceful motion to approach the destructive immortals. She grabbed Sophocles’ jaw roughly.

“Who would have thought you could work things out after all this time? Did you confess to him again? Looks like it worked out better than last time, but not enough to sway him...” Sophia giggled. Her tone sounded like she was talking to one of her favourite dolls instead of a sentient being.  “Such a shame, I was going to let you keep him too after we erased everything.”

[saxafimedianetwork]

We unearth little-known tidbits of information about the King of Pop Michael Jackson’s life, on what would have been his 60th birthday

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1. He was born in Gary, Indiana. He remains the city’s most famous resident, with Gary never recovering from the loss of its factory industry in the 1960s. That said, it’s also home to Jesse Powell, Kym Mazelle and Sista Monica Parker.

2. His parents had musical ambitions of their own. Mother Katherine Jackson played the clarinet and piano, and aspired to be a country and western singer. Father Joe was a guitarist and made extra cash performing in local R’n’B bands.

3. His first public performance was in 1963. When he was 5 he sang Shirley Bassey’s Climb Ev’ry Mountain at a public event organized by Garnett Elementary School’s Kindergarten.

4. His father was the first to notice the talent in his children. He would invite music executives to the family home, where The Jacksons would audition in the living room.

5. James Brown was his major inspiration. The late Godfather of Soul inspired Jackson to hit the stage. Speaking at his public funeral in 2007, Jackson recalled how, “Ever since I was a small child, no more than like 6 years old, my mother would wake me no matter what time it was, if I was sleeping, no matter what I was doing, to watch the television to see the master at work.”

6. He made his recording debut at 9 years old. It was on Big Boy by The Jackson 5, which was released by a small label in January 1968. It didn’t sell in large numbers, but it was enough to notify the major labels that these kids had talent.

7. His love for books began as a young teen. His early favorites were Rip Van Winkle by Washington Irving and The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway. He reportedly amassed a library of more than 10,000 books.

8. His relationship with his sister La Toya was based on their love of practical jokes. His favorite was tormenting her with fake spiders and tarantulas. He would place a suspect creature on the phone in La Toya’s bedroom and would then call her and wait for her scream.

9. He began touring as an 8-year-old. As part of the first run of shows in America’s Midwest, The Jackson 5 supported soul legends Etta James, Gladys Knight and Sam & Dave.

10. He was never particularly fond of his voice during early recordings with The Jackson 5. Despite the acclaim, he would often lament the high pitch of his voice in later interviews, describing it as similar to that of Minnie Mouse.

11. It could have been The Jackson 6. Nearly 18 months before he was born, his mother gave birth to a set of twins, Marlon and Brandon. As a result of a severely premature pregnancy, Marlon survived but Brandon passed away 24 hours later.

12. Berry Gordy initially wasn’t a fan of Michael and his brothers. The star-maker and head of Motown Records dismissed the idea of signing them to his label, preferring to focus on Stevie Wonder. But he was eventually convinced to give them a shot and he signed them up in 1969.

13. You may not know her name, but Suzanne de Passe had a big role in his artistic development. She was assigned as a mentor and stylist to The Jackson 5 after they joined Motown. That relationship extended to Michael’s solo career, and she was the first one to see him rehearse the iconic dance The Moonwalk in 1983.

14. The Jackson 5’s global hit I Want You Back in 1969, was originally written for Gladys Knight and The Pips and Diana Ross. What’s unusual about the song is that the lovelorn lyrics are sung by Michael, who was barely in his teens at the time.

15. ABC is the first of Jackson’s songs that 50 Cent recalls hearing. Speaking to NME in 2015, the rapper said the track was responsible for him becoming a fan. “I’ve always loved MJ, so I guess it was probably a good place to start music: right here, with the ABCs.”

16. He broke barriers from a young age. When he was a 12-year-old with The Jackson 5, the group became the first black male group to release four back-to-back chart-toppers with 1969’s I Want You Back and 1970’s ABC, The Love You Save and I’ll Be There.

17. There was solo life before Off the Wall. For many, Michael arrived with 1979’s Off the Wall, but he released his debut solo album, Got to Be There, in 1972. It was a solid collection of soul and pop, with covers of Leon Ware’s I Wanna Be Where You Are and Bill Withers’s Ain’t no Sunshine.

18. He won his first and only Golden Globe in 1972. For Ben, a song he wrote for the 1972 horror film of the same name.

19. He always had his ear to the clubs. Jackson was a frequent visitor to the legendary New York City club Studio 54, where he was exposed to beat-boxing, which was an early harbinger to the upcoming hip-hop movement. He went on to incorporate the vocal technique into many of his future songs.

20. His first venture into film was The Wiz. He starred as a scarecrow in the title role of The Wiz, an adaptation of The Wizard of Oz. The film was horrible, but it was here he struck up a life-changing partnership with Quincy Jones, who went on to produce his biggest albums.

21. Quincy Jones nicknamed him “Smelly”. This was during their time on The Wiz. “I used to call Michael ‘Smelly’, because he wouldn’t say ‘funky’. He’d say ‘smelly jelly’.”

22. He broke his nose in 1979 during dance practice. He then consulted Hollywood favorite Dr Steven Hoefflin who reportedly performed Jackson’s first rhinoplasty.

23. He only worked with the best. In addition to enlisting Jones to produce the 1979 blockbuster album Off the Wall, the songwriters who helped him on the record included none other than Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder.

24. Unlike many of his peers, Jackson hated singing from a sheet. While recording Off the Wall, he spent the evenings learning lyrics and harmonies, and would arrive at the studio the next day singing them off by heart.

25. Prince visited him during the Off the Wall sessions. Speaking to The National, Quincy Jones recalled how Prince arrived “into the studio like a deer in the headlight – clothes and shirt off – but he was always competing with Michael”.

26. He was the only musical mind behind one of his biggest hits. Off the Wall was full of songwriting collaborations, but Jackson was solely responsible for one of its biggest tracks, Don’t Stop ’Til You Get Enough. He decided to write the song after constantly humming the melody at home.

27. The change on 1979 single Rock with You. It was originally called I Want to Eat You Up, but that was deemed too risque for Jackson’s heartthrob image.

28. Off the Wall was almost a hit for Karen Carpenter. The hit title track from Off the Wall was originally written for the late Karen Carpenter’s debut solo album. She declined to use it and Jackson made it a top 10 hit instead.

29. The tears in She’s Out of My Life are real. Jackson would break down in tears at the end of each studio take. “We recorded about – I don’t know – 8 to 11 takes, and every one at the end, he just cried,” producer Quincy Jones said. “I said, ‘Hey – that’s supposed to be, leave it on there.’”

30. Jackson surrounded himself with talent in both the studio and the boardroom. With Off the Wall he secured the game-changing royalty rate of 37 cents wholesale per sale. It went on to sell more than 20 million copies.

31. Thriller was a blockbuster fueled by frustration. Despite big sales and critical acclaim, he was irked that Off The Wall didn’t win the Grammy Award for Record of the Year. “It was totally unfair that it didn’t get Record of the Year and it can never happen again,” he told manager John Branca. Thriller went on to win a record-breaking eight Grammys in 1984.

32. Billie Jean doesn’t exist. Despite being the subject of one of his biggest hits, the woman – who in the 1983 song admits she is carrying Jackson’s unborn son – is pure fiction. “The girl in the song is a composite of people my brothers have been plagued with over the years,” Jackson wrote in his memoir Moonwalker.

33. Billie Jean was the first video by an African-American artist to air on MTV. The video revealed Jackson’s new look of a leather suit, pink shirt, red bow tie and his signature single white glove. It was a style copied by kids throughout the United States. It caused one school, New Jersey’s Bound Brook High, to ban students from coming to class wearing white gloves.

34. Jackson introduced his famous Moonwalk in 1983. It was during a live performance of Billie Jean for the Motown 25: Yesterday, Today, Forever concert special. He was taught the move by veteran dancer Jeffrey Daniel, who went on to be hired as Jackson’s co-choreographer.

35. Jackson was a music investor from 1983. He bought the rights to select music from funk pioneers Sly and the Family Stone, and the iconic Dion DiMucci songs The Wanderer and Run Around Sue, before landing the rights to the 4,000 song catalogue of ATV Music Publishing, which included the lion’s share of The Beatles’ songs.

36. Jackson’s Beat It was a fiery single … literally. When Eddie Van Halen recorded his blistering solo, the sound of his guitar caused one of the studio speakers to catch fire.

37. The gritty music video for Beat It was a landmark production. The lavish production cost US$100,000 (Dh367,250) at the time. It was set in Los Angeles’ Skid Row and featured up to 80 real-life gang members from the notorious street gangs the Crips and the Bloods.

38. Toto were heavily involved in the making of Thriller. Keyboardist Steve Porcaro co-wrote Human Nature, and Steve Lukather contributed rhythm guitar on Beat It.

39. Thriller was almost Star Light. The lyric “thriller” in the track of the same name was originally “star light”. The decision to change it was down to marketing appeal.

40. PYT (Pretty Young Thing) was never performed live by Jackson. Despite being a well-received single from the Thriller album, the star never featured the song in any of his live sets.

41. Thriller was included in the Library of Congress’ National Recording Registry. The music video for the title track was also placed in the National Film Preservation Board’s National Film Registry of “culturally, historically or aesthetically significant films”.

42. It was with his seventh album, 1987’s Bad that Jackson really came into his own as a songwriter. He wrote nine of the 11 tracks and co-produced the album with Quincy Jones.

43. The title track for the Bad album was supposed to be a duet with Prince. But the latter walked away from it due to the opening line “Your butt is mine”. “Now, who is going to sing that to whom? Cause [he] sure ain’t singing that to me, and I sure ain’t singing it to [him],” Prince said in a TV interview with American comedian Chris Rock.

44. The smooth 1987 ballad I Just Can’t Stop Loving You is a duet with singer Siedah Garrett. She was the third choice after Barbra Streisand and Whitney Houston rejected the offer.

45. The Way You Make Me Feel was his mother’s request. Jackson wrote this track after his mum asked him to write something with a “shuffling kind of rhythm”.

46. Man in the Mirror is one of the few music videos he is hardly in. Other than appearing at the end standing in a crowd, the video is a montage of major events and historical figures.

47. His Superbowl XXVII half-time show in 1993 was game-changing. His pyrotechnics-laced four-song set was watched more than the game itself. It has set the standard for half-time shows ever since.

48. Michael Jackson’s 1991 album Dangerous was hot property. Five days before its release, three armed men broke into a music warehouse in Los Angeles and stole 30,000 copies.

49. The explosive video for Black or White was directed by Hollywood stalwart John Landis. It starred an 11-year-old Macaulay Culkin fresh from his starring role in Home Alone.

50. The music video to Scream was, at the time, in 1995, the most expensive ever produced. It had a US$7m budget. The menacing and arty video starred Jackson and his sister Janet.

51. Even when he wasn’t trying, Michael Jackson broke records. His album Blood on the Dance Floor: HIStory in the Mix, released in 1997, remains the bestselling remix album of all time, with more than six million copies sold, after virtually no promotion.

52. Jackson consistently mixed music with charity work. He was behind a series of Michael and Friends concerts in Germany and Korea, which featured performers such as tenors Luciano Pavarotti and Andrea Bocelli, as well as rockers Slash and The Scorpions. The money raised went to the non-profit organization War Child.

53. Jackson’s final studio album Invincible was the bestselling album of 2001, despite moderate reviews. It features the song Unbreakable, which had, until then, the unreleased vocals by slain rapper The Notorious BIG.

54. After years of scandals and court cases, Jackson re-emerged on the music stage by announcing his final live tour This Is It. The first 10 shows alone, to be held at London’s O2 Arena in the summer of 2009, would have netted him £50m (Dh236.49m). The residency was extended to 50 shows, but the tour was cancelled following his death on June 25, 2009.

55. This Is It was his first posthumous release. With the This Is It tour abandoned after Jackson’s death, the tour’s title track became the first of many posthumous releases. The song was originally written in the 1980s by Paul Anka.

56. The secrecy of Xscape. Michael Jackson’s second posthumous album, released on May 13, 2014, was such a big deal that journalists were invited to secret listening sessions around the world days before its release. The session for this region was held at Dubai’s now-closed Qbara restaurant.

57. The life and times of Michael Jackson were discussed in detail at the inaugural Dubai Music Week in 2013. It featured a sold-out special panel session on Jackson’s career featuring producer Quincy Jones and other collaborators, the late Rod Temperton (via live video feed) and singer Siedah Garrett.

58. Abu Dhabi and China were discussed as possible sites for the world’s first Jackson family-themed hotel called Jermajesty. Speaking exclusively to The National in 2013, Jermaine Jackson said he was looking at Yas Island as a possible site for the hotel, which would be filled with Jackson family memorabilia. Nothing has been built as yet.

Read also: Jermaine says Michael Jackson was on the verge of converting to Islam

59. To celebrate Michael Jackson’s 60th birthday today (August 29), a large street party was held in New York City last Saturday to celebrate his life. It was organized by the director, and his collaborator, Spike Lee.

60. It is only fitting that the Apollo Theater in New York is hosting its legendary Amateur Night today. It was on the same stage that, in 1967, The Jackson 5 launched their career.

60 Things You May Not Have Known About Michael Jackson

[trivialqueen]

A Haunting in LA [Red Cricket AU]

Also known as this started out as like a one page little anecdote and turned into this 10 page, 4,414 word monster.

Summary: Ruby and Archie share a conversation and a moment, circa 2009. Part of The Quiet Ones AU (A magic free Red Cricket AU). Any by ‘part of’ I mean I started putting this into ‘The Quiet Ones’ and realized it didn’t fit, but I loved it so much I had to keep it. So, I came up with this little interlude.

Disclaimer: It’d be a fairytale reality indeed if I owned Once Upon a Time or anything associated with the show. No infringement or offense intended. 

Pairing(s): Archie Hopper/Ruby Lucas

A wintery mix of rain and snow lashed against the diner windows as Archie slid into his favorite booth at Granny’s. It had been ‘a day’ to put it mildly and it was two o’clock. Really, he should have just gotten back into bed when he realized the stars were stacked against him this morning.

It had been raining when Pongo had gone out for his morning business, creating a thin glazing of ice over the deck and yard in the freezing predawn hours. He’d noted the way Pongo had slipped and slid on his way down the wooden stairs to the back yard but thought nothing of it as he put the kettle on. The beauty of central heat keeping his bare feet warm as he stood at the stove and started making breakfast.

He’d gotten all the way through his eggs and toast and the entire front section of the Daily Mirror when he realized he’d not heard Pongo asking to be let back in. During the summer months Pongo would stay outside until Archie had to use his alpha voice to get him to come back in or risk being late for work. But it was a rainy February morning. Shuffling to the kitchen window he soon realized why. Pongo, his energetic, sweet, highly trained, intelligent…dumbass of a dog had managed to get his head and one of his front legs stuck in the fence. The picturesque white picket fence that ringed his yard had been broken since December, but with the snow and ice and cold he’d not hurried to fix it. Up until now it’d not been an issue either.

His first mistake was being in a hurry. He’d put on his house shoes barefoot and just threw his jacket on over his time worn Michigan tee shirt and rushed out the door. His second mistake was forgetting how much Pongo had skidded on the back porch. He bounded out the door and his feet flew out from under him and in the next second he was flat on his back looking up at the icicles on his eaves. All of the air had been forced out of his lungs, he could see it hanging in the air like a thick fog and somehow, inexplicably his left moccasin was now four feet in the yard. He had to crawl to retrieve it, his flannel pajama pants soaked from knee to him, his hands freezing because of course his gloves weren’t in his coat pocket.

And then of course there was getting Pongo out of the fence. His poor pup was cold, frightened, frustrated, and covered in mud like he’d been wallowing in a pig sty. It took all of the swearwords he knew, plus a few more that he made up before the dalmatian was free. They were both covered in mud and soaked to the bone but able to get back in the house without incident. Of course, once inside the warm, dry house Pongo did what all wet dogs did… He saw it like it was shot in slow motion, the undulation of Pongo’s shoulders, hips and tail, the way the water and muck just few off of him…and all over the kitchen. To add insult to injury, as the slow-mo mudding occurred his sadistic mind sang him Harry Belefonte – shake shake shake senora, shake your body line; Shake shake shake senora, shake it all the time.

“Nooooooooo!” He knew he sounded like he’d just found out Darth Vadar was his father, but it was still cathartic. There was mud and water everywhere, including on the wall clock… which was also telling him that maybe if he and Pongo hopped in the shower together, he might still have a chance of making his first appointment on time.

Predictably Pongo did not want to take a shower and instead created the sixth Great Lake in his bathroom. Archie was marginally more successful in cleaning up that mess by standing on a towel and shuffling around to mop up the standing water while also brushing his teeth.  He gave up on toweling off Pongo and instead tried to pretend that he was happy with the dog at least being clean when he shook himself for the second time. Archie tore through his bedroom and pulled on the first things which came to hand, resulting in an outfit which was warm and serviceable if not terribly well thought out. The Duck boots only looked slightly off with his brown cords however and he just hoped no one would notice as he flew out the door like he could make up the fact he was ten minutes late in his five-minute walk to work. In his mad rush he had remembered his gloves, which had been sitting on the foyer table, but completely forgotten his lunch.

He had made good time getting to his office; however, he was still late. Late for his first session of the day, which of course was Mayor Mills. Not that his day had started on a high note, but he soon learned that it could in fact still get worse. The one upside of being so backed up that he had to work through his scheduled lunch hour was that it helped distract him from the fact he’d forgotten his lunch. However, once work slowed down and the adrenaline he’d been running on since 6:30 that morning wore off he realized he was so hungry he was shaking. Checking his watch, Micky told him what he already knew, breakfast was a long time ago.

“Mrs. Merriweather, when is my next appointment?” He leaned against the door jam, grateful that such a posture came across as casual rather than the fact he was feeling lightheaded. His highly efficient receptionist blinked at him owlishly behind large glasses which had gone out of fashion sometime in the late 80s only to somehow circled around to fashionable again.

“You only had a 4:00 appointment left and Mr. Macario, just called to postpone until tomorrow so you are without patients for the rest of your afternoon.” He could have kissed her in that moment, it was exactly what he wanted to hear.

“Delightful. I have a lot of paperwork to catch up on, so please keep the rest of my day free.” She nodded and began blocking the remaining times out on the scheduler. “I’m going to head to the diner, can I bring you anything back?” He barely registered her request for a hot chocolate as he grabbed his coat and headed toward the warm glow of Granny’s.

Ruby had just finished turning over her order pad to Tiana for the day, when Archie walked through the door. The younger woman gave her an amused look as she grabbed up a menu and followed him to his usual booth, despite the fact she had just finished her shift. The heiress to Granny’s Diner and B&B resolutely ignored her friend, she had already decided to eat a post-shift lunch at the diner rather than go to the effort of cooking at home. She could do that alongside her favorite head shrinker as easily as she could alone. He’d not come in that morning for his usual coffee and Danish to go, the first workday he’d not been in since Christmas. As she crossed the empty diner, she observed him closely. He was so consistent in his habits she’d assumed he was ill when he’d not brightened her morning with his twinkling blue eyes and overly cheerful smile for so early in the day. (He was a morning person; it was a character flaw she was willing to overlook). She wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t ill as he winced taking off his coat and carefully took a seat. She became convinced of his poor health when she reached his table. Archibald J. Hopper, PhD wasn’t wearing a tie.

He might as well be naked. It was a ridiculous thing to think considering the fact he was still wearing a navy blazer, a grey wool fair isle sweater, white collared shirt, rich brown corduroy pants and boots. He was covered from wrist to ankle in layers of fabric, but one button undone at the neck was all it took for him to seem completely undone.

“We missed you this morning.” He probably didn’t need the menu, he was one of the most regular regulars of the diner since he moved to town almost a decade ago (holy shit, it’d been almost ten years since he first sat in her section, she realized with a jolt). He took the laminated card anyway and gave her a lopsided smile.

“Not by choice, Pongo had a rough morning.”

“Oh no! Is he alright?” She could remember the first time Archie had taken a wriggling, floppy eared pup for a walk past the diner, the little scamp tugging his new leash every direction as he tried to smell everything at once. In addition to regular walks Archie also had a habit of bring his dog with him to work, which also meant to the diner as he got his coffee and meals throughout the day. She never told him this, but she considered Pongo her dog as well since after Archie it was clear the dalmatian loved her best (which she was sure was entirely for her own merit and not the fact she snuck him Nilla Wafers every time she saw him).

“Possibly traumatized by the bath he had to have this morning but otherwise alright. He spent his morning constitutional wallowing in the mud and then getting his head stuck in the fence.” He laughed a little as he told her Pongo’s tale of woe, but she could see in his eyes that his day had been no cakewalk either.

“Sounds like you both need a drink.” She nodded toward the meager draft list, the ubiquitous Yuengling and Budweiser plus their one ‘seasonal tap’ which was currently a Belgian Blonde ale and the requisite hoppy IPA with a deceptively high ABV.

“Ruby, it’s two in the afternoon.” He sounded serious but she could tell he was also thinking about it. He was always so mild mannered and inoffensively polite but if you watched is eyes carefully it wasn’t hard to discern what he was really thinking – which, she was delighted to learn, was usually quite sassy if he broke character long enough to say what was really going through his head.

“Archie, I believe it’s five o’clock somewhere.” He laughed at that, a true, genuine laugh. It warmed her insides better than even Granny’s secret cocoa recipe (which was really just cocoa powder plus finely chopped dark chocolate, cream, and a sprinkle of cinnamon). “I’ll even join you.” She slid into the bench across from him with a smile. He couldn’t reject her if she didn’t give him an opportunity.

“I thought your shift would have ended by now.” She tried to not read too much into that statement, which meant she of course did.

“I just finished when you arrived, and since I’d decided to have lunch here anyway, I figured I could join you.”

“I’d really like that.” She’d known sweet, nerdy Archie Hopper for nearly ten years and had come to consider him a friend. And then there were moments like right now when she absolutely thought she was going to melt.

“Hi Dr. Hopper, what can I do for you?” Tiana’s voice was like a bucket of ice water, shocking and almost a bit painful. It did succeed in bringing Ruby’s attention back to the moment. Instead of thinking about how his eyes looked different in different light and how despite the fact she was sitting beside a window with sandy little snowflake and spits of rain collecting in the corners and decorating the glass she felt warm. As warm as a hug, but it was just his smile.

“Hi, Tiana, how are you?” ‘How are you’ was such a common greeting, and most of the time fine was the automatic response because everyone knew no one really cared about the response, just the signs and signifiers of polite small-town life. Archie always asked, because Archie cared to hear the answer.

“I’ll be better once it’s spring.”

“Wouldn’t we all?” Tiana was a friend. Archie was a friend as well, but she couldn’t help feeling a little unfriendly about sharing the conversation. Archie always sat in her section. Watching someone else take his order didn’t sit right.

“They say April is the cruelest month but personally I think it’s February.” He nodded toward the window and the snow and rain. “It might be the shortest month but not one of the days has sun.”

“Why do we live in Maine? It’s cold and dark most of the year.” the grilled cheese Cubano hung limply from Ruby’s slim hand as she chewed and pontificated. He’d not expected to even see her today, given she’d always worked mornings on Thursdays for as long as he’d known her. He’d certainly not expected her to sit down and join him in his shamefully late lunch. But here they sat, steaming bowls of tomato basil bisque in front of them, half a grilled cheese Cubano on the side and two beers between them. Despite his hesitation in ordering a beer in the middle of the afternoon (what would people say if they saw the town therapist day drinking?) he had to admit after the morning’s misadventures it was absolutely necessary.

Archie sipped his beer (the Belgian Blonde, he’d never gotten into IPAs, it was probably the only thing keeping him from fully being accepted as a Mainer. 95% of Storybrooke residents drank IPAs if they drank beer) and pondered her question. He’d lived all over the US in his life and experienced the entire gamut of weather from Maine’s consistently cool temperatures and snow to Kentucky and Missouri’s extreme humidity and swamp ass to San Francisco’s year-round ideal temperatures, fog and lack of seasonal change. He actually enjoyed Maine, most of the time. Yes, the lack of sun could be draining, and the winters were long, but he loved the seasons, each distinct and beautiful, and he appreciated the cool temperatures. He was not a man made for direct sunlight, heat, and humidity.

“If not Maine, where would you live?” He didn’t get a chance to talk to Ruby as much as he’d like, and he missed it. Their brief exchanges in the morning were wonderful, as fortifying as the coffee she provided, but not quite the same as proper conversation. She looked thoughtful for a moment, taking another bite of her sandwich before answering.

“California, if I could live anywhere it’d be like Southern California – beautiful weather, dynamic city, an ocean you’d actually want to swim in. If I had a choice, especially on days like this I’d want to live in Southern California.” He felt himself perk up. Ruby was always so interesting and full of life, in addition to being strikingly beautiful, he always worried that he bored her. Afterall under his mild-mannered, tweed wearing persona was, in fact, more tweed and mild manners (and buried well under that was a thief and a killer but he did his best to block his life as Jiminy out). He craved her conversation, however, whenever he could get it. And so, he was forever trying to keep her engaged. Listening was easy, it was his strong suit, but she rarely settled for him just listening to her. She wanted him to talk too. Which was always difficult. But for once he had something to say.

“Have I ever told you about the time I spent living in San Bernardino county?”

Ruby leaned forward, eagerly. She and Archie talked all the time, sometimes at length and sometimes of substance (she’d spent an entire break barely even drinking her coffee because he was just wrong if he thought that We Have Always Lived in a Castle was a better novel than the Haunting of Hill House), but rarely did he share any information about his life, even less about his past.

“No. When did you live there?” Finally, a new kernel of knowledge for her to squirrel away in her mind.

“About fifteen years ago,” his ears turned pink and he looked into his beer, “it was during grad school, I had a research fellowship at UCLA.” She had no idea why he would be embarrassed. A research fellowship at UCLA sounded quite prestigious. It was so easy to forget he was super smart when he was always so approachable and adorkable (sometimes he used ‘Golly’ and ‘Gee wiz’ in actual conversation, he was such a pure cinnamon roll).

“So, I had this semester long fellowship at UCLA, and I needed a place to stay. I had no idea where to even begin to look for a place, I knew nothing about the area other than LA is expensive.” He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed, swallowed, and began again. “Thankfully I had a friend, Bill who lived there, so I reached out to him. And boy, was I in luck. You see Bill worked in LA but his partner, Thomas, worked at the Huntington Library, which is this big, gorgeous research library in San Marino.” He paused, studying her face to make sure she was following this introduction of characters and geography. “Thomas lived in an apartment that was too small for one adult, let alone two. So, Bill took it upon himself to find a place to stay when he visited. And he did. Bill found a mansion,” He leaned back with a laugh, “An honest to God Tudor Revival mansion! Right at the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains.” Ruby felt herself gasp. She didn’t know a lot about Southern California, but she knew that that place had to be stunningly beautiful, and stunningly expensive.

“I know, right?!” He sounded as excited as she was, “And it was empty.” He punctuated that declaration with a sharp rap on the table. “It was empty. In California. Empty!”

“No way.” By all accounts the house was large, beautifully located, and convenient to Los Angeles. She’d have thought it would be ideal.

“It was jointly owned by a brother and sister who inherited it from their parents and since they couldn’t agree on what to do with it, they left it empty. Entirely furnished. Empty.” He had such a wonderful voice, deep and a little raspy, low and soft. She could listen to him read a phonebook so him in the role of storyteller was a real treat. Not only was his voice perfectly suited for it, but his eyes were twinkling at her. She’d loved that about him when they first met. Now, as she sat in his favorite booth at Granny’s, the weather outside frightful, but she was inside with him – and it was delightful, she was certain she was in love with that twinkle.

“Something you should know about Bill; Bill is the single most charming man you will ever meet in your life. And handsome. He could talk a dog off a meat wagon. So, he went to the sister and convinced her to let him stay in the house…” He paused dramatically, “rent free.”

“Holy shit.”

“I know!” Archie laughed with delight at his friend’s charismatic success. “He’s a level thirty bard come to life; I swear.” He shook his head lovingly and sipped his beer before continuing. “He had to pay all his own utilities and he needed take care of the property but still, rent free. An eight-bedroom mansion in San Bernardino county.”

“Holy shit!” Archie leaned forward again.

“So that’s Bill, whom I called to see if he had any recommendations for a cheap place to live for a few months near UCLA. And he was like,” And here Archie adopted a genteel southern accent. “‘Oh, you can just stay with me’. Again, this was all going to be rent free. So, I jumped at the chance. Hell yeah, cheap place to stay near where I needed to be with a backyard in the mountains.” In addition to his voice Archie was an excellent storyteller because he had excellent rhythm and tone. He varied the volume of his voice from nearly a whisper to normal volume, colored with different tones for emphasis. Sometimes he spoke slow, other times it rolled from his tongue.

“So, I get out there, a few months after I called him, and Bill isn’t living at the mansion. But he says, don’t worry, I can still stay there, same deal as before – I pay utilities and take care of the place but otherwise it’s free and all mine. I have this place entirely to myself and it’s eight bedrooms, five baths completely decorated in Tudor revival stuff. The real deal - big, heavy furniture, thick curtains, dead animal heads on the wall, it was just missing a suit of armor. I bet it hadn’t been changed since the 1940s, if not before. And honestly It was a bit eerie. It was also basically free in one of the most expensive cities in the world. So, whatever, I stayed. I started my fellowship and I rattled around the big empty house by myself.”

“Wait someone put an honest to God Tudor revival home smack in the middle of Southern California?” She’d not processed that when he’d said it before, her mind had immediately corrected to Spanish Revival, which would have made a lot of sense and looked gorgeous amongst the scenery. But Hampton Court palace in the same setting was absolutely ridiculous.

“Yes! And it’s important to keep that image in your mind, and not just because it stuck out so badly from its surroundings. This was a two story, half-timber monstrosity with dark wood, dark fabric, and hideous paintings of dead relatives on the walls. All set against a distinctly Californian backdrop – the San Gabriel mountains. There was a cactus in the front yard.” Ruby giggled into her beer. She could see it. A ‘ye old England’ mansion dropped in the middle of the dessert. She imagined the owners resolutely dressed in tweeds even in the height of summer because it was ‘proper’.

“Oh God.”

“Yeah.” He rolled his eyes. ‘The ugliest house on the planet. Anyway, I had been living in the house for about a month and I met up with Thomas and Bill for dinner. And we got to talking about the house. I wondered why Bill wasn’t taking advantage of the amazing deal he got – Thomas refused to stay there. Bill put all that effort into securing the place and Thomas refused to stay overnight.”

“Oh my God.” She couldn’t help but giggle. After all that work… He smirked and popped the last of the grilled cheese in his mouth, rubbing his fingers together, brushing the crumbs off of them and into the empty soup bowl. He had gorgeous hands, broad, with long fingers. They looked gentle and they looked dexterous, both of which were desirable. He washed it down with some beet before continuing.

“I asked why,” He pulled a surprised face, “and he went, “It’s haunted.” What? I say.” He used a sort of Californian, Valley boy accent for Thomas and his own low voice for himself and turned his head back and forth to imitate this conversation. ““Haunted” Thomas insisted. Oooh-kay, what makes you think it’s haunted. “I keep smelling pipe smoke.” He says. Well,” He threw up his hands. “the place is done entirely in heavy upholstery with thick curtains and rugs, so I guess it makes sense that there’s still whiffs of pipe smoke. I put it out of my mind,” He waved the thought away. “I go home, I go to bed.” He paused again, his eyes absolutely glowing with mirth. She leaned forward, practically laying on the table, but she just knew this was going to be good. “Four in the morning the house shakes VIOLENTLY,” He brought his hands down on the table with a *thwap*. “I am thrown out of bed and onto the floor and I’m thinking ‘Oh my God! the house is haunted’.” Ruby was howling. She didn’t even realize she was laughing, it just happened. It bubbled up out of her like a spring. He was laughing too, from deep in his belly. It was a nice laugh, one she wanted to hear more of. She’d heard him laugh before, but it was different, higher in the chest. This was real. And she loved it.

“But somehow,” “But somehow,” “But somehow, remarkable I got myself together and turned on the radio.” He had to start the sentence three times before he and she stopped laughing.

“It was an earthquake! The Northridge earthquake. I think I was the only person in all of California glad to find that out.”

He watched Ruby wipe tears from her eyes with the heel of her hand.

“My cheeks are killing me, thanks so much.” He’d made her laugh. Really laugh. He could feel himself preen. He didn’t have much to offer but he could do this. And she was absolutely stunning when she laughed. It hit him like a bolt out of the blue. This was more than just friendship warming his chest.

It was love.

Note: So, this story is real and was told to me over pizza and beer by Pulitzer prize winning historian/kinda a big deal in my field Alan Taylor. His delivery was so amazing I was howling. My little fic obsessed brain was also thinking, OMG I’ve got to remember this for later! So, my deepest gratitude to Dr. Taylor.

[3one3]

The Sequel - 895

Wardrobe Approval

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

Christina’s flight from Munich, where she stopped to visit her doctor, got her to Doha at 4:45 on Tuesday afternoon. Juan’s inbound flight from London arrived about an hour later, at 5:50. She wanted to hang out in the arrivals terminal and wait for him, but Jan Tops, the show jumping legend and proprietor of the Global Champions Tour, asked her to meet with him and the editor of the Tour’s new lifestyle magazine at the hotel so that she could sign some copies of the quarterly on which she was the debut cover star. The magazine launch was happening during the competition, on Saturday afternoon, between the Global Champions League Final and the Grand Prix of Doha. Christina wasn’t expected to change out of her riding clothes and get into a dress for all the pictures, or hang around the event for the whole two hours during which it was scheduled, so they wanted her to do a little photoshoot with the editor, someone from the publishing company, the photographer who came to Dortmund to get the art for the cover and her feature story, and the woman who wrote that feature, plus some of the big advertisers who subsidized much of the issue. Rather than wait for her companion at the airport, she needed to hurry to her hotel room bathroom and make herself pretty and put-together.

Some of the advertisers had gifts delivered in advance of her arrival. She found a box of Tom Ford makeup goodies, a bunch of Kiehl’s skincare products, a cashmere glove and scarf set from Loro Piana, a small Nancy Gonzalez shoulder bag, and some clothes from Rag & Bone and Gucci. From the gifts, she selected baby pink high-waisted, tie-front, wide-leg trousers to pair with a loose white crewneck blouse from home that had precious tie-detail cuffs too. Dramatic baby pink pants were a first for her, and that was somewhat exciting. Also, she kind of forgot that it was 80* and perpetually sunny where she was going when she packed black leather pants to go with that top. The pink trousers were much more appropriate for Doha. They were also way too long, so she had to wear them with the soaring sandals she brought for after-hours activities. The details of her pre-launch outfit were important because Juan totally didn’t recognize her in the lobby when he got to the Four Seasons. Christina had to excuse herself from the group of magazine people and click-clack-speed-walk to the elevator to intercept him. His phone didn’t work there yet, but she’d given him their room number when he had wifi in the airport. He was evidently very absorbed in the phone anyway, because she scared him half to death when she stepped in front of him and tried to kiss his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she laughed at his surprised and defensive reaction.

“Why are you dressed like a wealthy 1970’s housewife?” the footballer questioned as he air-kissed both of her cheeks. He wisely avoided messing up the extensive makeup.

“Am I?” Christina looked down at her outfit and shrugged. She was happy to see him. That negated his skepticism about the wardrobe call.

“Yes,” Juan laughed. “A beautiful one though?” he asked more than stated.

“Do you want to go put your stuff in the room and then come hang out? I don’t know how long this is going to take. I just came down myself a minute ago. We’re doing the pictures outside by the pool.”

“I don’t want to interfere while you’re working. Go have your picture taken and then we’ll have some food, sí?”

“Do I have to change my outfit before dinner?” the rider sassed. Juan looked her up and down, appraising her clothes again.

“Yes. Hakkasan?”

“Yaaaaaassssss.” Her eyes grew big, brimming with excitement and temptation. I totally forgot they have a Hakkasan! We wanted to go last time but the guys decided to do Nobu instead since it’s right here. I want Peking duck.

“Is 8 too early? I’ll call for a table.”

A relatively low-maintenance girl from a wealthy New York family, Christina was the type to love aimless wandering around Paris with no plan or bookings, and then be equally enchanted by a man confidently offering a hard-to-get, sexy reservation for dinner. The princess within her, with her love of Smith & Wollensky steaks, her first-name-recognition of the best personal shoppers at Neiman Marcus, and her lash-fluttering adoration of smooth gentlemen with exceptional manners and perfectly tailored clothes, absolutely swooned for a dinner-date somewhere exclusive, poorly lit, overpriced, and heavy on the classic formality. She went weak in the knees at just the nonchalance in a princely gent’s invitation. She always had. It was a “Daddy Issue”. Anything was attainable for her father, so nothing was a big deal. She looked for that easy attitude in other men as an admirable and desirable trait. No other little girls were celebrating their 4th birthday at Windows on The World, the fine dining restaurant on the top floor of the World Trade Center, when she did. Surely no other little girls knew that the kitchen was in the basement and there were special high-speed elevators to bring the food up to the restaurant. At the same time, that little girl had a thirst for exploration and adventure that made a stroll along an unfamiliar street in a familiar city, or any street in a new one, with a game and curious companion, an absolute delight.

So as romantic and fun as her quick trip to Paris was with André, Christina was excited by Juan’s easy swooping in with the get-changed-I’m-taking-you-to-a-$250-duck-dinner thing within 60 seconds of laying eyes on her in a very, very foreign country. It was the seamlessness of it all. He came with a plan, but it didn’t sound overly curated- with just enough thoughtfulness to prove his understanding of his girlfriend and her travel habits, and that he’d looked forward to their trip enough to have checked out the local dining scene. He was wearing a black t-shirt and really nice medium wash blue jeans, and that meant he was automatically undeniable. He was clearly thrilled to see her too, but not in an outward way that anyone but Christina and his other close friends and family would notice. He didn’t need to go loiter around her while she fulfilled her work commitment. He had standards. He didn’t like her outfit and he didn’t want to take her out in it, but he wasn’t going to say it that way, or be a wimp and try to hint at it. He conveyed a clear but inoffensive message of disapproval. All of it added up to a very specific, “just so” manner that she found totally devastating in the best way. She gave him her room key and went back to the magazine gaggle with a swagger in her step.

She practically ran back to the elevator when they were finished doing photos, making her sign magazines, and schmoozing about the book, the competition, and the title. It was already 7:15 and she wasn’t sure how long the taxi ride to Hakkasan might be because she had no idea where the St. Regis was. Juan was speaking to someone on the phone when she got to the room- a predominantly beige affair with some dark wood furnishings, a nice enough sand-marble bathroom, and a good size terrace with a view of the pool and the sea. He made a hurry-up gesture and she turned around to go to the closet in the square-footage-wasting entrance hallway. There was a pair of light gray skinny jeans in her open suitcase on the stand in there, and an off-white polyester sleeveless top hanging above. Christina grabbed the pants and yanked the shirt off the hanger, then headed into the bedroom to change. Her pink trousers were so wide that she could get them off without removing her strappy sandals. It didn’t occur to her until she’d swapped shirts that she’d need to take the shoes off to get the jeans on. With a groan of frustration at that realization, she dropped the pants on the bedspread again and bent over to undo the tiny buckle on the gold-chain-accented Tom Ford sandal. It would have been much easier to put her butt on the bed too and not try to balance on one white 105mm heel, but haste overshadowed reason. And then the Spaniard on the phone overshadowed Christina.

Oh hello, she said to herself when she felt two hands on her hips and something like denim push into her butt. Those pink pants were fully lined and in no way see-through, but they fit snugly in the butt, so she wore one of the nude thongs she always had on under her breeches. Evidently her behind was too tempting in said thong to go ignored. Juan let go with one hand to adjust the phone held between his ear and his shoulder, and leaned more heavily into the rider. Without his help to keep her steady, she went flying.

“Dude!” she exclaimed in a heap on the floor. He had to pull the phone away from his face to save the ears of whomever he was speaking to from his hysterical guffawing. I guess I can get these off as long as I’m down here, Christina begrudgingly decided. Her dainty sandals included a wraparound ankle strap with a small gold chain stitched on top, and featured really annoying buckles. She’d only managed to get the end out of the keeper before her friend knocked her over. It was work to yank the prong out of the hole. Her Tom Fords were very lightly used, so the hole was still very tight. She mouthed “help” at Juan and made a woe-is-me face until he squatted to use some footballer strength to free her from her designer footwear. He even offered her a helping hand to get off the carpet, but then he was back on her bum again the second she bent over to stick her right foot in her jeans.

At least he’s nicer about it, the cover-girl snorted inside while the Chelsea man kneaded the plumpest part of her butt cheeks. His greedy fingers kept at it even as she shifted to get her other foot in the gray pants, and then moved up to her waist while she shimmied them up. By the time the button was through the hole and the zipper was up, his hands had found their way to her ribcage, just under her bra, and he was telling the person on the other end of the call, in Spanish, that he needed to go.

“I missed you more than usual, this past week,” Juan told her conversationally- that is to say, without sounding flirtatious, or seductive- once he was finished. Christina was fixing her pockets so that they weren’t bunched up on her hips.

“Get your filthy paws off me so I can finish getting ready,” she shot back, feigning more aggravation than she really harbored.

“We have time. I made the booking for 8:30.”

“Oh. Well then why did you tell me to hurry up and let me run around like a Trump campaign coffee boy in Moscow?”

“Because you use up as much time as you’re given. Turn around.” The player withdrew his hands just long enough for her to move, and then replaced them on her cheeks when he leaned forward to give her a real hello-kiss. We never get to have these when we first see each other, Christina reflected after it, while Juan lingered right in her face, his nose almost touching hers. We never get to do hello-kisses properly until we get behind closed doors somewhere. It sucks. You miss somebody and you’re so happy to see him and you can’t wait to touch him and smooch him and you have to do a phony, just-friends greeting instead of the I-love-you-sooooo-much one. It’s like if every time your team scored a goal, you couldn’t clap or fist pump, or yell “yeah!” until 5 minutes later in the restroom. Juan gave her one more little, tender kiss, and then sat heavily on the foot of the bed. “How was your magazine thing?”

“It was fine,” the equestrian star shrugged, plopping down beside him to make her life easier in terms of re-installing her sandals. “I just smiled a lot and then answered some questions about how my ponies are doing and who I think is going to win on Saturday.”

“Are you going to win on Saturday?”

“I dunno. Do you mind if we stop by Al Shaqab after dinner? I want to see Rio Grande and Socks.”

“Why would I mind? Did they just get here too?”

“No. I told you they came yesterday.”

“Should we bring them fortune cookies?”

“I don’t know if Hakkasan even does fortune cookies, but yes, if they do, absolutely,” Christina smiled. I’m glad my “head” coach has finally fully grasped the nature of my relationship with my boys. He finally gets that I treat them like spoiled children. Schü got that right away. He offered to buy Dirk a banana from the crepe tent the first time we had breakfast together, in Florida. It was like four days after we met. I know Juanin has been aware of those relationships but I’m not sure he always fully understood. I think it’s hard for people who don’t have animals to get it. “Should we go? Do you have my keycard? Let me just throw some stuff in a bag.”

They got a ride to the renowned Chinese restaurant and preceded to order way too much food, as was standard with Christina. She wanted the whole applewood Peking duck and the traditional pancakes and accompaniments, but also stir fried vegetables in ginger sauce, wok-fried lobster, fried rice, and sliced pepper steak. Juan pointed out that it wasn’t like being at home, where taking the copious extra food home made perfect sense. His date conceded the lobster and beef, and there was still leftovers. All they took with them after the marathon meal was fortune cookies, which they actually had to ask for. But then the security guards wouldn’t let them into Al Shaqab to give the horses their dessert anyway. Christina hadn’t yet been to the venue, so she didn’t have her credential yet, nor the player’s. Her passport wasn’t enough to get her in, and she was afraid to try bribery because she wasn’t sure if that was a big deal in a place like Qatar. The security officer they were dealing with had already flipped out about her leaning backwards on Juan and dropping her head on his shoulder because it brought her face awfully close to his and that was evidently a no-no in the land of no PDA allowed. It wasn’t even meant to be affectionate. Her feet just hurt from her shoes and the guy was taking a long time checking with superiors or something on the phone and her friend was there to physically support her. He made fun of her on the way back to the Four Seasons, joking about what a great public story it would be if she were thrown in a Qatari prison for being a heathen in public with not her husband.

“Daniel and Christian and the guys are chilling at the bar on the pier. Do you want to go have a drink or something?” the heathen inquired as she got out of the car in front of the hotel. “I know it’s late but with the time difference I feel like it’s early still.”

“The whole two hours.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t care. Whatever you want, cariña.”

“Okay. I’ll tell them we’re coming to say hey. I want to run upstairs first and get a sweater.”

“Mhm,” Juan yawned, holding the interior door for her. It was definitely getting colder out- down in the low 70’s from the afternoon’s mid-80’s, but the blast of the air-conditioning in the lobby was still quite noticeable. Christina put her texting on hold to rub her arm. It took a minute to get an elevator, and she walked up to her friend and demanded he either hug her or take over rubbing her bare arms for her while she tapped away at the phone.

“Who else is here?”

“Daniel, Christian, the other Christian, Marco, Nicola, maybe Janne? And then from not-Germany, Edwina, obvs, Eric, Scott, Simon, my friend from Spain, Kevin, Lorenzo, Bertram, Lauren and Laura and Lillie from the US, Ben, Janika...Most of the best people, except Marcus, because he doesn’t like leaving Europe, and the Americans who stayed home to do World Cup qualifiers at indoors. Oh and all my Belgian friends, who are also in the US to do the World Cup Qualifiers at indoors. Also, I told you all of this already. Do you not remember asking me about the competition and me going through the entire entry list, horse by horse, to assess the odds?”

“Maybe? I don’t know,” he shrugged, his voice kind of flat. She didn’t know how to take that. That’s the second thing he completely forgot or just never heard the first time, she realized. Is he tired, or in a bad mood? He’s the one who suggested coming here with me in the first place. I hope he didn’t wish he could take it back. I know tagging along on a horse show week can be really boring, and he talks to Marcus more than the other guys so that sucks that he’s not here, but I’m going to have so much free time to go do fun things with him. The doors dinged open and Juan’s hands dropped away from her goosebump-covered skin. They stepped out onto the generic blue hallway carpet together, turned to the left, and let themselves into the second door on the Gulf side.

“I think I’m gonna change my shoes too,” the rider announced before taking a seat on the foot of the bed. “Or I could just take these off and not put any on. Do you not want to go to the bar?”

“I don’t mind. It’s up to you.”

“Is something wrong? You’re all...meh, all of a sudden, Juanin.”

“You changed the picture on your mobile,” the Chelsea man replied after staring blankly in her direction for what seemed like a really long time. He sat next to her and pointed at the screen in her hand. Her new wallpaper was a selfie she took with André during a piggyback ride.

“I made Schü carry me up 4 million stairs at Sacre Coeur,” she smirked. “He lost a bet.”

“I don’t feel jealous of him many times. I think I’ve said, when I see you kiss him all day long I used to have that jealousy. Now you kiss me every time you get up or sit down, so not so much anymore. I feel it when you go to Paris with him though,” Juan laughed ruefully. “Remember when you were pregnant and you invited yourself to some dinner I had to go to? We almost didn’t go because you wanted to drive to Paris.”

“And then I said I was kidding and went to Paris with Schü in the middle of the night.” Christina finished the memory for him with a look of resignation about her.

“Twice you go off to Paris for a quick last minute trip with him.”

“Twice I told him I wanted to go wander around Paris and eat in quintessentially French cafes, and twice he didn’t hesitate.”

“Neither did I.”

“I know. And it was really fucked up of me the first time. But why are you mad about it this time?”

“I’m not mad. I’m jeeealouuuuus.” Juan drawled out his answer as if he were talking to someone with trouble understanding, and he smiled. That was a good enough signal to make his friend feel significantly less under pressure in the moment. She hated when she did the wrong thing, and that overnight drive to Paris back in the day was definitely the wrong thing.

“You got upset with me last week for being jealous that you talked to some girl in a nightclub,” she shot back pointedly, but just to be funny. She also flopped backward on the mattress and drew her knees up, then let them fall over to her right, toward him.

“Different thing.”

“Oh is it?”

“Yes. I think, in my official capacity here as your psychological coach, that it would be best for you, with the competition in mind, to start getting ready for bed. No drinks on the pier.”

“And in your capacity here as not my psychological coach, is that opinion based on your need for snuggles in front of the TV, or sexy fun time? Or are you just worried you’re gonna get jealous when I laugh too hard at D’s jokes?”

“To be honest I just thought you were hoping I would say no in the first place, and that you sat down and got comfortable because you don’t really want to go down there,” Juan chuckled. “I don’t care whichever we do. Usually when you want to do something you just tell me we’re doing it. I assumed you were looking for me to say no and give you an excuse.”

“Oh I am done feeling obligated to do anything with my teammates,” Christina snorted dismissively. “I don’t need any excuses. I won them a fucking gold medal.” She did her best “honey, please” tone.

“Well let’s go then,” her scruffy-faced roommate replied, poking at her tummy where her shirt had ridden up as she stretched her legs down straight.

“I’ve kind of lost the motivation to get up though.”

“And is that based on your need for cuddles in front of the television, or sexy fun time?” the Spaniard questioned knowingly. She rolled onto her stomach, and he jiggled one side of her butt as much as was possible in her tight jeans.

“Both, I think. I need to do nothing until the food blockade breaks up, and then I need Juanin love.” Her hips lifted up off the bedspread so that she could shake her butt herself. I need Juanin to fuck me in this position exactly. Well, I would probably sit up on my elbows. Because he does amazing things to me in this position, and because I love how good it feels to stretch my lower back. Nicky needs his chiropractor every other week and I need mine. Mine’s more handsome, she thought, trying to keep the smile out of her eyes while giving him her innocent and nonchalant look. He rolled his eyes at her, pinched her behind, and got up to start changing into more comfortable clothes.

She texted Daniel to cancel her appearance, and confirmed her morning schedule with Tom, whose accommodations were right at Al Shaqab. The royal equestrian facility was designed for hosting international competitions of all sorts, and had a place for everyone involved- equine and human. Organizers of other shows, be they regional show jumping events, breed shows, or the very popular Arabian competitions, put exhibitors and riders up in the same dormitory-like rooms on site that Tom and his colleagues were in. The Global Champions Tour was too fancy for that. The Tour always put riders up in a 4 or 5 star hotel, no matter the city. Getting riders to go to places like Doha and Shanghai was hard enough without then putting them in dorms. The schedule they went over was quite light. Wednesday involved a mid-morning horse inspection followed by a draw for the starting order for the first big event, open schooling in the arena from 4-6, and then a formal warm-up class immediately after that ran like a regular class but counted for naught. Both of Christina’s horses were to be presented for the jog after 11, so there would be plenty of time to sleep in, work out, and have a nice breakfast before heading over. Then there was time to leave the show and go shopping or wandering, or come back to the hotel to relax by the pool. All of that was explained to Juan, with extra emphasis on the free time. He didn’t react in any remarkable way. She didn’t want to see his reaction to her goodnight call to André, so she made it outside on the balcony.

“Are you exhausted from playing?” she asked him, since Borussia Dortmund played a closed-doors friendly at Brackel against Bochum to try to shed the funk of losing and give some of the players returning from injury a chance to get minutes without pressure. André participated for 90 minutes and scored two goals in the 4-2 win.

“Yes. I’m about to go to bed. I’ve got one of your cashmere blankets, and the lights are already off,” he told her. “I want to hear about your night, Prinzessin, but I need to sleep.”

“Aww don’t worry. There’s nothing to hear about. Get some rest. You deserve it. I bet you’ll sleep good. Call me in the morning.”

“Love you.”

“Gooodnight, babe.” Well no reason to have shielded Juanin from THAT, the sympathetic wife and girlfriend commented to herself. This is kind of a weird time for me between the two of them. I had that talk with Schü two nights ago, and lately it’s so easy to remember why I want to be with him. But nothing is changing with Juan. I still want to be with him too. He’s so...We’re so...It’s like a real relationship now. We don’t even pretend to be friends anymore. It’s weird to be in this situation. It’s okay, right now. I don’t know how long that lasts though, she thought, staring out into the Arabian Gulf and zoning out of everything else happening around her- behind, in the room, and down on the ground level, where people hung out by the pool and on the pier. When does it start to feel like there isn’t enough to go round? When does it feel like one takes away from the other? Like I told Schü, it was easy before to be okay with our problems because I had Juan. I put more of me into being with him than Schü in those situations. It’s not- The sound of the sliding door opening startled her out of introspection. A head stuck out.

“What are you doing?” it questioned with furrowed brows.

“Nothing.”

“Do you want anything from room service? I feel like a nice tea.”

“No thank you.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Schü was going to sleep so it was a quick call. I’m coming in,” Christina hastily explained. She turned the rest of the way around from the railing, and Juan pushed the door open more so a whole human could fit through rather than just a head. “Did you unpack anything earlier? I didn’t even notice when I was hurrying to change. I can give up some hangers if you need.”

“I already hung up my shirts. Is the white dress in there for the party on Saturday?” He walked by the human unzipping her pants and headed for the phone, but there was more than a conversational lilt to his tone, and that caught her ear. It made her smile to herself. She loved knowing his tells, and knowing his turn-ons. He was entirely the reason there was a white dress in the closet.

“The black Balmain mesh-sleeve mini dress fresh from Paris is for the party. The white one-shoulder, collar-neck mini dress is for your Kygo thing.” Because you looooove me in white dresses and because you’re gonna dance with me and hopefully you’ll be a little drunk. And maybe I won’t wear underwear. Hmm. The rider stared at the imaginary light bulb in the middle distance for a moment before pushing her jeans down. Everything is backwards. I did the explore-a-city-with-no-plan thing with Schü, and then had excessively romantic sex with him, and he’s been totally chill about Juan lately. Juan did the smooth-guy-dinner-reservation thing, he’s the one that’s jealous, and I just had a mini-fantasy about being naughty with him in a nightclub in the most prude country I’ve ever been in. Usually everything is the opposite. I’ve been having all the romantic sex with him, and dreaming about it, even. I told Juan about my butt thing. Everything is opposite.

“Do you want to have dinner with him tomorrow or no?” The Spaniard had his hand on the receiver already but was looking at the spacey rider.

“Yeah, if you want. I don’t care. I should be done with the horses by 8. I can have a snack or something between the schooling and the warm up so I can make it to late dinner.”

“But do you have another dress?” he teased while pushing buttons. Someone in the kitchen answered before Christina had a chance to. He ordered his tea and she changed into a t-shirt and more comfortable underwear.