#he seems to get so frustrated when Anya’s slow on things which like GIRL SAME

[choco-mooooose]

Spy x Family Chapter 92 manga analysis/speculation- SPOILERS!!

Ok after reading this chapter, do I think the Authens have something more to them? Yes. Do I think they have bad intentions? Absolutely not!!!

Every single person in the family in spy family has their own hidden identity, even the dog and uncles. It would make sense if even the grandparents (the grandfather, at least) have their own hidden side. Except, in this case, it’s a case of forgotten identity, rather than hidden identity. The fact that a point was made to bring up that he worked in neurology and he was away from home for a while seems pretty specific of a detail to include. I don’t think Sigmund was one of the researchers who experimented on Anya, though. If anything, he may have been a branch head of some sort and greenlighted the project, without knowing/being told the extent of the experiment’s goals.

If he does find out she was one of the victims of this project, it could lead to a really profound scene with the absentminded, somewhat silly man earnestly apologizing to her for the trauma she’s endured.

I don’t think Twilight needs to be suspicious of them, but I do think there’s more to them than what’s on the surface. Besides, it feels pretty intentional that the Anya backstory special artwork and short chapter was released pretty recently.

And with them being the “Authens” (authentic), it’s an interesting parallel between the Forgers and their secrets (and repressed love!) vs the Authens, who may also have secrets, but also have very real love between them. They are what the Forgers could and can be.

Anyways… those are my thoughts on the chapter. I really loved it!!! It’s nice seeing an abundance of Anya after not seeing her during the mole arc at all. Makes me remember why I love her so much!!!! I seriously hope it’s not a fake out and she actually does really well on the test. I loved seeing Sigmund’s method work for her and seeing her be really dedicated to not failing, lol. The beard was great, we love you Anya.

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Footie 7

previously on Footie

By the time the the skies cleared, the world warmed and shook off the rust that accumulated during the long, wet winter. Gone were the obscenely heavy and low clouds, and in their place, puffy white things lazily drifted along while the chill in the air lessened with new sunlight streaming through fresh leaf growth on winter-blown branches. 

The streets were fresh, the people alive and streaming out into them with new vigor to chase the first hints of warmth and yellow sunshine on their cheeks and faces, an entire city with their eyes tilted upwards, sighing happily and distracted from real life with moments of humanity peppered back from the dismal sorrow of the autumn months. 

It was a beautiful spring. It was going to be one for the books, with flowers filling sidewalks and spilling out from cracks in sidewalk. 

There wasn’t a set schedule, or at least one that kept for very long. But there was a rhythm to the day, even without a harmony. It was impossible to keep up with everything, but Clarke realized she was just going to have to live her life a week at a time. 

Lexa had her own routine, made even more difficult by travel. While Clarke found herself making her way to Lexa’s place between games and training and her own school assignments and workdays. 

But it worked. The timing of it all, of the season and the year and the life-- it all just seemed to completely work. And for reasons not completely explored, Clarke realized she appreciated the timing of it all because it meant that Lexa wasn’t around and she could take it slow, something her mind just didn’t think about near her. 

“She looks good out there today,” Jake nodded as he reclined, coming over a cold that left him mildly irritated by almost anything. 

If anyone was not built to grow old, it was Jacob Griffin, head coach and Hall-of-Famer. Surly and annoyed by the inconvenience of illness, he grunted and watched the game with the same vigor as someone who was still coaching. 

“She always looks good,” Clarke smiled slightly as she continued to balance her gradebook for the semester so far. 

“I mean she’s really putting work in. The team’s at the top of the board and I think they have a good enough chance of staying there to win.”

“Lexa’s so precise and focused. It’s oddly contagious.” 

“I have some good news for the Olympics.” 

“What’s that? You’re going to get the permission to come?” 

“Better. That’s the way!” he cheered as Lexa took a shot from deep, burying it deep in the net for the first goal of the scoreless half. “Hell of a shot.” 

“It’s me. I’m lucky in this jersey.” 

“That must be it.” Clarke watched her father chuckle at the notion before shaking his head and leaning forward to watch the replay a little better. Gone was the deep wheat-color of his hair and now it was replaced with a little more salt. He was still fit, perhaps more gaunt than before because of the treatment. Deep beneath it all, a bit of life still existed despite all else. 

“So what else was it? You’re coming to Tokyo?” 

“I was invited to commentate.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah, seriously,” he rolled his eyes, his good mood coming around despite how he felt. “Some people still like to listen to me.” 

“I can’t relate.” 

“I can’t believe they’re going to let me commentate. I have to practice being impartial. How am I going to root for Lexa and the home team but not actually root for anyone?” 

“Are you kidding me?” Clarke scoffed. “Any chance for you to talk about soccer nonstop, and you won’t be able to shut up let alone root for anyone.”

“That’s true,” he nodded. 

“Are you going to be good to go?” 

“I think so. Other than this cold, I’ve been doing well. Plus, after the clips of me and Lexa went viral-- is that the word?” he waited until his daugher nodded. “Once that happened, I got a lot of emails with different offers.” 

“Mom’s okay with it?” 

“She encouraged it.” 

“Must be sick of you just laying around the house.” 

“Or she really wants to go to Japan.” 

Clarke found herself smiling, happy that her father sounded happy despite his annoyances. She was grateful to have a new appreciation for his love of the sport. They sat on the couch together, and Clarke leaned against her father’s side. He put an arm around her and started to couch coach well into the second half. 

In a completely different city, Lexa sprinted across the field, her footwork weaving the ball through three defenders before she got the shot off to the top right corner. With a punch to the air, she slid on the grass and was adored by teammates and cheered by the stadium. 

There was something poetic about watching someone do something that brought joy to the universe. Lexa was often the first person to diminish what she did, but she couldn’t see this part, the part that Clarke saw when she watched her father disect a play, or when the player on the field disappeared and floated, not one ounce of focus to be spared for anything else other than breathing and scoring, and even then the brainpower reserved for breathing was minimal. An entire brain worked to score, to move, to be precise and exact. 

Clarke smiled as she watched, proud of her girlfriend, proud of the girl who bashfully asked her out and now, who she was finding was awfully silly and very smart and quiet. If she wasn’t mistaken, sh might have even guessed that she loved the soccer player. 

“I’m going to meet Lexa’s sister,” Clarke muttered. “And her niece.” 

“When are they coming?” 

“Next week, for finals.” 

“Well, you’ve been dating for nearly a year now. Might as well as get it over with, right?” 

“I’ve never met anyone’s family.” 

“It’s not that bad. You’re a good person. Anyone would be lucky to have you date their sister or daughter or aunt or granddaughter or neighbor.” 

“You have to say that.” 

“I do,” he agreed, squeezing her shoulder. “But I also mean it.”

“I like her a lot.” 

“I figured.” 

“I don’t know if we’ve self-determined things, but I thought it was a joke, when we said it was fate, but I don’t know. Sometimes I think it is.” 

“Everything is a bit of fate, Clarke. At least the big things in life,” Jake explained, as if it was something he remembered he should have taught his daughter long ago. “Good or bad or indifferent. You and Lexa orbited each other, and then BAM, you can barely remember life without her.” 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

“It’s not a bad thing, to spend your life with someone else.” 

“You just really want me to date her because she’s a soccer goddess.” 

“It doesn’t hurt.” 

Clarke rolled her eyes and clapped as Lexa got a foul, righting herself quickly and preparing to take her kick, all business, hair stuck to her forehead and neck, body drenched with sweat. It wasn’t even a game she had to win, but still demanded to play. 

“They’re going to love you, darling,” the coach promised again after the shot went wide by a few inches and the camera flashed back to Lexa’s tight jaw and groan of complaint for failing to score again. 

“Thanks.” 

“Now tell me I’m going to do a good job as an announcer.” 

“You can’t ask for reassurance like that. You’re Jake fucking Griffin.” 

“You’re right.” 

“But you’re going to do great. I already know it. I can’t wait to watch you and Lexa.” 

“I have to start preparing, watching older footage, scouting players-- there’s a whole slew of things to make sure I know the most.” 

“I’m not going to help you study. I get my fill of soccer with that one,” Clarke decided as she nudged her chin at the screen. 

“Speaking of, is she going to offer me tickets to the championship or do I have to outright ask?” 

“Dad, seriously?” 

Jake just shrugged and took a sip of his secret beer, grinning to himself. In moments like this he found himself almost tolerant of cancer. Almost. Because he wasn’t sure he’d ever spent so much time with his daughter, and here they were, watching a game and talking about things of substance, of fears and frustrations and goals and victories. It was moments like that, in which he could almost respect fate. Almost. 

XXXXXXXXXXXX

“I’m so happy you’re here. It’s not even funny,” Lexa grinned, silly and happy in the beautiful day. 

There was a kid on her shoulders, hands beneath her chin, surveying the world from the perch. Her sister walked beside her, enjoying the spring sunshine and the feeling of her sister showing her around a city she’d never been to before. 

“Not because you just won the championship three days ago or because you’re set to fly back with us for training camp?” 

“Or because of the ice cream?” Mia added helpfully. 

“Maybe a little the ice cream,” she nodded and took another lick of her cone. 

It’d been a whirlwind of two weeks, and for the first time, Lexa felt as if she could finally breathe. Gone were the nerves of playing on such a large stage. Gone was the unsettled feeling that came from traveling so much. Gone was the weight of an entire city on her shoulders and it allowed her to inhale and hold it before slowly exhaling, savoring the warmth of the day and the aura of the street. 

“She’s absolutely in love with this place,” Anya observed as she watched her daughter taking in all of the sights. 

“You’ll have to come visit me more, how does that sound, Mia-Girl?” 

“I’m not allowed to fly on a plane alone.” 

“I guess your mom can come too.” 

“Are we going to watch more soccer?” 

The sun began to set behind the buildings, while a few people recognized the athlete, interrupting to ask her questions an utterly gush. It was something her sister and niece got used to being around. 

“No more soccer. You didn’t like my game? There was all the confetti and balloons.” 

“But it is so long. It takes so many minutes to play, and I get very tired and bored when you don’t have the ball or score points.” 

“You make a good point.” 

“I like it better when we go to see the castle and that fun science museum and stuff.” 

“I liked that stuff too.” 

“We miss you at home,” Anya explained as they made their way to her sister’s place, oddly proud of the beautiful place she found for herself, and more relieved with the circle of friends she made. 

“I miss you sometimes.” 

“Just sometimes?” 

“Yeah,” Lexa grunted as she pulled the kid from her shoulders as they made their way to the elevator. “But forget that. You guys can help me pack.” 

XXXXXXXXXX

Even from the hallway, Clarke could hear the noises of a family laughing from behind Lexa’s door. It was a sound she almost got used to experiencing over the past two weeks, with Lexa’s sister and niece in town. It was a much more welcomed sound that the roar of the crowd at the championship, or the people calling her name in the street when she was out with her girlfriend ever since. It was certainly better than the multiple phone calls she got from her mother fretting about her father’s deal to commentate in Tokyo. 

Naturally, Clarke was worried about her father, but seeing him come back to what he loved, even just at the game the one time, was more than enough to prove to her that he needed it more than anything else. 

Even after spending a whole game and a few trips around town together, Clarke was still slightly nervous about spending time with Lexa’s sister, as if every time she did, she waited for the inevitable call from Lexa that said she’d considered it and it wasn't going to work. Anya was stoic and tough to read. It was almost comical for Clarke to think of how Lexa seemed practically animated beside her poker-faced sibling. 

But the call never came, and Clarke had to remind herself to not be so ridiculous. It was absolutely silly to think Anya had any reason not to like her. 

And so she knocked. 

“Hey,” Lexa greeted, easy and happy and with a dish towel on her shoulder as she dried her hands. 

The thoughts were gone and Clarke remembered the girl who walked around town in the middle of the night just to talk to her and prolong a date. 

“It smells really good.” 

Clarke leaned forward and kissed her girlfriend at the door. She pushed her hand against her chest, laying it flat there while she tasted her for a moment, the wine still tart on her tongue, soft and sweet before going further into the house.

“You smell really good,” Lexa retorted with a floppy smile. “How was your day?” 

“Long, but okay. The sun is out so the kids are itching to burn off the winter energy.” 

“I can barely keep up with one, let alone a whole herd like you do every day. I don’t know how you do it, Griffin.” 

“Well, when a mediocre salary and lackluster benefits package rolls up to your door with the promise of weekends off and a pack of thirty primary-aged kids, any sane person would jump at that kind of career opportunity.” 

“When you put it like that…” 

“It was a good day, just long,” Clarke chuckled. “What’d you guys get into?” 

“Mia made me take her to the park, and we watched a puppet show, and played on the late.” 

“Don’t forget the ice cream and the shopping,” Anya supplied, sitting at the counter with her glass of wine as Clarke followed the soccer star into the kitchen. “Lexa hates shopping, unless it’s for toys to spoil a kid with.” 

Slightly guilty, she just shrugged and picked up her spoon to stir something on the stove. 

“We may have done a little shopping,” she agreed. “Nothing too crazy.” 

“We’ll see when the packages start to arrive at home.” 

They bickered in a way that Clarke didn’t understand-- sisters. It was a concept she understood inherently, but in practice was beginning to see how inept she’d been at truly learning the full notion of having someone like that. She had close friends, friends she’d give a kidney to, friends she’d die for, friends she couldn’t live without, but there was a bit of a shared history between the sisters, a legend and lore, that transcended some of what Clarke considered to be her dearest confidants. 

“Grab a glass, join us. Anya picked out a nice red on her own excursion today.” 

“A girl after my own heart,” Clarke nodded approvingly as she reached for a glass to pour a much deserved drink. “If those two were left unsupervised, what did you get up to today?” 

“Just a little bookkeeping,” Anya murmured over her glass as she flipped through a stack of papers. “My sister is hopeless at any of this stuff and refuses to listen to anything her agent suggests unless I read it first, like I have some kind of law degree or something--”

“You could and should,” Lexa interrupted. “She has better instincts than I do. I love Indra, but at the end of the day I’m a collection of numbers and commas and dollar signs. I trust Anya to give me her hoenst opinion.” 

“Because you don’t pay me.” 

“Exactly. If I paid you, then the integrity of the process would be ruined.”

“Can’t have that,” the oldest sighed and flipped and drank.  

“She acts like she gets annoyed, but the moment I make a decision without asking her, and all hell breaks--”

“Don’t you start! You signed a deal to move across the entire world. That warranted a bit of a freak out--”

“That was one time and it turned out okay. It truly is a great opportunity, and you even admitted it--”

“You got lucky and I still don’t like it. Someone breaks your heart and you key their car, not impulse trade yourself--”

“It wasn’t impulse. You knew it was an option for months.” 

Like a ref at a tennis match, Clarke looked at each of them lobbing facts and histories at the other. None was bitter, and in fact most seemed almost comical to them as they argue the finer points of indignation. Clarke took a large gulp of her wine. 

“As I was saying,” Anya ignored the rebuttal and explained it to Clarke as her little sister went back to the stove. “We have a system in place for a reason.”

“If you could not trade yourself to another continent, I would appreciate it,” Clarke muttered, earning a grin. 

“I don’t know, this offer to come back home doesn’t look so bad.” 

“I just won a damn championship and unpacked the last box. I think I’m set,” Lexa shook her head and held a spoonful for her girlfriend to taste. “Plus, what do I need money for? My sister works for free.” 

“I’m going to bill Indra my hours as a freelancer.”

The squabbling remained at the same level, but Clarke began to hear the love woven throughout, and as much as Lexa couldn’t admit it, sparring with her sister was her love language, and Clarke was almost certain it was the same for Anya. The only question now, was how did she survive it.

XXXXXXXXXX

“I’ll clean up in the morning,” Lexa offered as her sister began to pile plates in the kitchen.

“Oh, I know you will,” her sister grinned, her cheeks slightly tinted with the drink they’d gone through during dinner. “It was nice to see you again, Clarke.” 

“Good to see you, too.” 

“I’m going to check on the ki and head to bed. Tomorrow we’re going to the art museum and I need to start to taking naps to keep up with a first grader.” 

“And I’m taking them to that diner we like by the station.” 

“Get the potatoes. You’ll love them.” 

“I’m going to gain seventy pounds visiting this damn country,” the oldest complained as she made her way down the hall with a wave over her shoulder. 

The dining room seemed a little more empty all of a sudden, slightly quieter now that the third of the dinner party was gone in search of sleep. Lexa smiled and sipped her wine before looking at her girlfriend, the first time they’d been alone in what felt like months. 

The eyes never changed, Clarke realized, as she adjusted slightly in her chair, pulling a leg up and balancing her cheek on her knee. Quietly, they looked at each other. Neither speaking with words. 

“You look beautiful,” Lexa offered, cocking her head slightly as she played with her glass. 

“You look like a champion.” Clarke earned a chuckle and slight blush. “Your sister was so proud. And Mia was screaming. I wish I had it on video. They’re very proud of you.” 

“Anya loves you, by the way.” 

“I don’t know about that.” 

“She does. She was worried about me falling for you. I think she might be ready to beat you up if you break my heart, but she likes you.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” 

Lexa nodded, dreamy and mildly intoxicated from the food and the wine and her beautiful girlfriend and her wonderful family and the fact that she had a championship ring on the way and the fact that she was going to represent her country. 

“I should head home,” Clarke sighed after looking at her phone and sliding it on the table. 

With monumental effort she pushed herself up and stood while Lexa refused to move except to take another sip. She made it a few steps before a hand grabbed her wrist. 

“You should stay.” 

“Your family is here.” 

“I miss you.” 

Puppy dog eyes followed and Clarke allowed herself to be pulled down into a lap. She missed her girlfriend’s smell, she realized. She missed how she felt and looked at her, and as much as they’d seen each other, it felt almost new again, a comfortable kind of same that was just renewed. 

“You’re a busy lady.” 

“You’re my favorite way to spend time,” Lexa promised. “You’re just so… so… I like you.” 

“They leave in a few days, and then you’ll be gone.” 

“I’ll see you in Tokyo,” she promised. 

“I know.” 

It was a little bit of a lie. Clarke was aware of the schedule after getting her hopes up to see her dad when he was in tournaments as a kid. But she knew Lexa would be busy for most of it, and it wasn’t about her. It was about support, as much as it killed her to not scream for more. She’d never dated an actually talented soccer player before, but she knew the role. 

“Stay tonight,” Lexa whispered again, kissing her shoulder. 

“You have plans tomorrow morning.”

“Come with us. I need you tonight.” 

“You’re just tipsy and needy right now.” 

“Yeah,” she shrugged, her lips half pulling up in a mischievous grin. “I need you tonight.” 

Clarke moved her hands, rubbing them up her girlfriends chest, over her shoulders and to her neck. She ran her thumbs along the corner of the soccer players jaw, staring at her lips before meeting her eyes, debating what to do. There really wasn’t much to think about because they both knew what she was going to do. 

“I need you to take a week off so we can celebrate all of your accomplishments.” 

“There’s never enough time. I’m sorry I haven’t been around as much as I’d like--”

“I knew what I was getting into, somewhat.” 

“Once you realized who I was.” 

“Yeah, after that.” 

Clarke sighed and leaned forward, tenderly kissing her girlfriend, savoring the feeling of the quiet and the night and the world when they were allowed to exist together. She hadn’t thought about anything else on the planet except for them, together.

“You going to make it worth my while if I stay tonight?” 

There wasn’t much of a word uttered, but Clarke got her answer.

NEXT

[theajaheira]

regarding honor and honesty in the workplace (27/43)

read it on ao3!

god i forgot how excruciating this slow burn is. anyway.

from the personal files of Jenny Calendar:

I’m in love with Rupert.

I like putting that down in my files. Better than “the Wolfram and Hart case was a total fucking failure,” or “no one’s seen Angel, Wesley or Fred in weeks,” or “Cordelia keeps texting me with desperate pleas for help and answers, and I have to keep texting her back that I’m taking care of Rupert,” because the detective I was before this mess of a case wouldn’t hesitate to charge recklessly in to save the people in need of saving, and she’d be really fucking disappointed in my inability to do the same.

If it were only my life on the line, I’d be willing to be reckless. Faith’s always been aware of the line of work I’m in, and of the risks I take, and she knows that I do dumb things but I do it all to make sure people stay safe. If it was only me in danger, I’d throw myself back into working on this case, but

I can’t watch him take a bullet for me again

I won’t ever

It almost hurts, how much I

there are things I can’t ever risk losing.

Rupert was discharged from the hospital with an actual multiple-page pamphlet regarding taking care of the dressings and what would and wouldn’t be safe for him to try and do over the next few weeks (“I wouldn’t recommend getting frisky in the bedroom,” the nurse had said with a significant look at Jenny, which had made Jenny blush and Rupert utterly unable to look her in the eye for fifteen minutes after the fact), and Jenny went over what she’d read in the pamphlet like fifteen times in the car with the girls, who all wanted to help out in any way possible. Jenny, who had seen Buffy spill chicken soup on Dawn, Rupert, and Faith all at once while trying to play nurse, wasn’t exactly sure if this was a good idea, but didn’t want the girls to feel left out or nervous about Rupert’s getting better.

“I’ll be changing the dressings—” she began.

“Yeah, I bet you will,” said Faith significantly. Buffy elbowed her.

“Girls,” said Rupert, gentle but still reproving.

“That was Faith!” said Dawn indignantly. “Don’t girls us, that was Faith and if you start saying girls every time Faith does something dumb then you’re going to be girlsing us for the next month or so while she’s staying with us—”

“Excuse me, shortstop,” Faith huffed, “you’re expecting me to let a perfectly good innuendo just lie there?”

“Yes,” said Buffy, “please, that’s my dad you’re talking about—”

“And that’s my mom I’m talking about, you think I really wanna think about them having sex? I would make the same dumb joke about you—”

“Is that really supposed to justify your point?”

“Mo-om,” Faith whined, “B and Dawn are on my ass about one dumb joke I made—”

“You take this one, Jenny,” said Rupert, “I’m injured,” and did his best to look sufficiently wounded, slumping somewhat dramatically against the passenger-side door while smiling tremulously (and very theatrically) up at her. He looked like he was acting in a badly staged high school play.

I love this man, Jenny thought, with no small amount of exasperation, and used the rearview mirror to peer at the girls in the back of the car. “Listen,” she said. “I know all of you are kinda keyed up after the last few days—”

“You think?” said Buffy. Faith elbowed her. Buffy elbowed Faith back.

“—but I am going to murder each and every one of you if you don’t stop acting ten years younger than you are,” said Jenny, “and Rupert won’t be able to stop me, because he’s a soft guy and he’s still very injured. Cool?”

“Jenny, that isn’t disciplinary,” said Rupert reprovingly, but went back to looking wounded when she glared at him.

“No, Dad’s right,” said Buffy. “You need to discipline us, Jenny, not just make empty threats.”

“Fine,” said Jenny. “If you all make this needlessly difficult for me, I will cut off the wifi to the house and hack all your phones so you can’t use your mobile data. Deal?”

Faith, Buffy, and Dawn all exchanged small, exhausted smiles. Then Dawn said, “I like it when we’re all arguing about dumb things. It’s kinda better than—other things to be upset about,” and her eyes darted not-that-surreptitiously to the small bump on Rupert’s chest where the padding and bandages covered up his injury.

Jenny reached her hand backwards and felt someone take it—from the index-finger ring and the neatly manicured nails, she was pretty sure it was Buffy. “Yeah,” she said. “Thing is, though, we’ve all gotta give ourselves some space to be upset about what happened, okay? Don’t just start arguments because you want to argue about something that isn’t—” She inhaled, then said, “Um, Rupert’s—injury.”

Buffy swallowed hard and Jenny felt her grip tighten. “It really sucked,” she said. “And I really liked that pink dress.”

“I’ll get you five pink dresses,” said Rupert, and there was a note in his voice that made it very clear that he meant it. “If that’s what’ll make you feel better—”

“No,” said Buffy, then, “Maybe,” then, “Can we go to the same mall and then go to that fro-yo place?”

“Absolutely,” said Rupert, and gave Jenny a small, tired smile when she looked over at him. Jenny kept on holding Buffy’s hand.

Anya and Tara had brought over a boatload of things from Jenny and Faith’s place in a large moving truck. Anya was heading back down to Sunnydale—the Magic Box needed her, and she missed a less “trigger-happy” city—but Tara had decided to forgo returning to Sunnydale in favor of transferring to UCLA and staying at Jenny and Faith’s apartment while Jenny and Faith were at Rupert’s. “I-I wouldn’t want to impose on your time to heal,” she was saying to Faith, soft and sincere, “b-but this way I get to be in the city near. Um. Near you,” and then she stood on tiptoe, kissed Faith on the cheek, and headed back to the car with Anya.

“Oooh,” Buffy and Dawn began as soon as Tara was out of earshot. Faith punched Buffy’s shoulder, ruffled Dawn’s hair, and hurried inside, grinning broadly.

Jenny was more preoccupied with the intense amount of stuff Anya and Tara had brought over, all boxed up and ready to go. If she didn’t know better—she took another look inside the truck, and saw that pretty much the entirety of what had once furnished her apartment was stuffed into boxes, wrapped in newspaper, and cushioned by bubble wrap. “What, does she think I’m moving in with him?” she muttered, then started blushing.

“Do you need any—”

“Go lie down,” said Jenny without turning around.

“I can help—”

“Did you even read the pamphlet?”

“Yes,” said Rupert matter-of-factly, “because I knew you’d fuss regardless of what it said, and I know I’m allowed to lift at least a few of the smaller things. This isn’t a job you can do alone.”

“You and the kids need to rest,” said Jenny, who was already pre-exhausted from the argument she was sure they were about to have. Rupert looked at Jenny with a small frown. “What?”

“You’ve seemed—different,” said Rupert. “Since the gala. Like there’s something bothering you.”

“You got shot,” said Jenny thinly. “It’s not exactly going to be an easy transition from holding you while you bleed out to moving in with you and your kids.”

“That isn’t what I mean and you know it,” said Rupert, quiet and deliberate. “I-I don’t know exactly what it is, but—Jenny, we’re partners. I want to help you in any way I can.”

Jenny managed a smile. “I’m just tired,” she said finally.

Rupert looked extremely satisfied with this. She didn’t realize exactly why until he asked, nonchalantly but very smugly, “Tired enough to warrant some help, I’d wager?”

I love this man, a frustrated Jenny thought, and wanted to start kicking all her belongings until they fell apart and no one could take anything out of the moving truck but her. “Fine!” she said very loudly, slumping against the side of the truck. “Fine, I’ll—I’ll find a ramp or something so we can—”

“Buffy and Faith can get one from the garage,” said Rupert, walking carefully and deliberately up to her. He leaned in, then kissed her forehead; Jenny heard herself exhale in a way that sounded uncomfortably close to a sob. “I love you,” he said, “and I’m going to be fine. All right?”

It took Jenny a moment to reply. There were a lot of ways a person could mean I love you, and she didn’t feel emotionally ready to press him or process things or any of the stuff that she probably should do. “Yeah, I love you too,” she said, and reached up to curl her hands around the lapels of his comfortably scratchy tweed jacket. Then, quietly, “I’ll kick your ass if you’re not fine.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure,” said Rupert, smiling at her a little exhaustedly.

They stayed like that for a few seconds longer, Rupert resting his forehead against Jenny’s, Jenny holding tightly to Rupert’s jacket. The image of Rupert bleeding out in the alley was faded in that moment, but it still felt etched onto the inside of Jenny’s eyelids—startling her every time she blinked. She liked the physicality of him being safe and close enough to touch even when she closed her eyes.

“I’ll go lie down,” said Rupert finally, but he didn’t move, and Jenny realized that he was waiting for her to pull away. Letting her call the shots, just like it had been—before Lilah.

Jenny stepped back and smiled at him, feeling strangely hollow and sad for someone who had been so close to the guy she was in love with. After she was certain that Rupert had entered the house and was heading towards some quality bed rest, she turned back to the truck and clambered awkwardly inside, lifting a box that read Faith’s Clothes and shifting it to her hip as she jumped back down onto the street.