#i can't work on blue when my partner is home for obvious reasons

[partycatty]

Do you write for other characters like bi han or tomas?

i do! i'm just mentally ill over johnny LOL

lin kuei trio > caught

the boys can't keep their eyes off of you! what're you gonna do about it?!

warnings: idk nothing much tbh, i guess a little nsfw at the end of smoke's part but nothing crazy, controversial bi-han take? kuai favoritism <3 & google translate

notes: pretend that bi-han's betrayal doesn't happen for his part. i rewrote this twice bc i kept accidentally clicking on notifs and forgetting to save. third time's the charm :3 also pls admire that i specifically made gifs of each man making eye contact w you teehee

masterlist <3

♡

bi-han >

•let me preface this by saying i heavily disagree with the headcanons of most of his fics. this man is ASS at verbalizing affection, and probably wants a trad wife to serve him. he won't call you "princess" or "doll," and PDA is not his strong suit. he'll love you of course, he just wouldn't show it with flowers and cuddles.

•that being said, all he could do was eye you down as you opened the front door, coming face to face with him, his brother kuai liang, and the fire god liu kang. your jaw opened and closed rapidly, trying to make sense of the two ninjas and man with glowing eyes.

•"uhh, there's no hunky ninja-themed bachelorette party here tonight," you say, raising an eyebrow. "try two houses down. lord knows they're a couple of freaks—" before you could close the door on them, bi-han reaches forward and sticks his foot in the door. liu kang, the primary voice of reason and supposed leader of the situation, asks to enter your home. you don't feel like you're in a position to decline.

•kuai liang wanders your living room, tracing his finger across your shelves and leaning in to inspect your paintings. liu kang stands in front of you, giving you the whole "earthrealm, fire god, tournament, chosen one" spiel, we all know how it goes. but you're struggling to focus, struggling pretty hard actually, because bi-han is literally standing like a statue at your kitchen island a few feet away, his icy glare seemingly stabbing through your skull. perhaps he's just intimidating you into an agreement. it works.

•you really hope that bi-han's staring ends there, but you are a damn fool.

•you train alongside the other recruited earthrealmers, taking a short break when you see a now-familiar trio stroll through the training grounds. yellow, grey... and blue. and even though their destination seems well past your location, bi-han literally could not tear his eyes away from you as you sat under the tree as you try to relieve yourself of the ruthless heat of the sun. he drinks in your damp form, and the way your hair sticks sweetly to your forehead. that is, until kuai liang gives him an obvious playful jab to his side, making bi-han snap forward and continue to lead his brothers, not before shooting him a nasty look. icy frost is noticeable on his fists as he clenches them.

•are you losing your mind? why the hell is the grandmaster of the lin kuei eating you alive with his eyes alone? you try to confide in your earthrealm partners, but raiden shrugs, kenshi's at a loss for words, and kung lao and johnny just laugh boisterously at your oblivious nature.

•finally, you're accompanying the lin kuei trio as they wait for instruction from liu kang regarding the soul stealing beacons. smoke and scorpion sit on the bench while sub-zero paces endlessly. each time he faces your way, he locks eyes with you. what is this guy's deal? it literally looks like he wants to skin you alive.

•kung lao and raiden permit them to enter liu kang's meeting room, and bi-han immediately struts off with a noticeable tinge of pink on his face. as the other two follow, you stop and grab kuai liang's shoulder gently, making him face you with surprised eyes.

•"pardon my hindrance, scorpion," you say with a quick bow. "but your grandmaster has been eyeing me down since as long as i've known him. is... is there something i did? something he is displeased with? i find it quite unnerving."

•kuai liang's face freezes, and then very clearly fights a shit-eating smirk. it's not typical for him to be as amused as he is now, but how could he resist when he could literally see what was going on? he chuckles for a moment.

•"bi-han thinks you'd make a good wife," kuai liang replies, a smile tugging at his lips. "please forgive his harsh expression. he couldn't shake it if he tried."

•with that, bi-han's younger brother turns on his heel and enters the mission debrief, leaving you beet red and suddenly completely understanding the signs after the fact.

•when the trio returns successful, you stop noticing his eye contact, because you're too embarrassed to even glance in his general direction. doesn't stop him, though.

♡

smoke >

•you were an initiate of the shirai ryu following its formation. disgusted by the betrayal of your former grandmaster, tomas and kuai liang beckoned you to carry on a new oath in a new chapter of the close-knit clan. you had not seen them much prior to this, but they didn't think to question your dedication.

•since reforming the clan and being given a higher position rather than a lowly grunt, your uniform changed. the once all-black, full-body uniform became something you could design. you opted for something a little more... breathable. think mk11 mileena.

•shut up i know ninja uniforms are like that for a reason just bear with me

•you decide to debut said outfit at a meeting over tea, strutting in and taking your seat with grace. tomas nearly chokes on his damn tea, a single puff of smoke shooting from his lips as he coughs. he wishes he had his mask on right about now, so he could conceal his reddening cheeks. you, his brother, and harumi look at him with partially perplexed, partially amused glances before moving on, hoping to save smoke from the embarrassment of being confronted.

•every time you leaned forward to point at the map centered on the table, tomas's eyes were glued to you. this poor man doesn't know what to do with himself when you're just so pretty! taking a gentle sip of your tea as kuai liang asks tomas about the new recruit, that hasashi boy, you glance up past the cup and realize tomas is quite literally giving you heart eyes, completely entranced. you chuckle to yourself. it is quite cute when he looks at you like that, lips parted and eyes gentle.

•"grandmaster," you say calmly, turning toward the pyromancer. "it seems your second-in-command missed your question. would you mind repeating yourself?" as you ask, tomas seemingly snaps out of it and tries to conceal his devious thoughts, putting his palm over his mouth and leaning on his elbow on the table.

•kuai liang groans to himself before repeating the question, one that tomas answers quickly and a little anxiously. he flashes you a sheepish smile. harumi giggles and look at the two of you knowingly.

•a long evening of training kicked your ass, and you decided you deserved a good rest in the nearby hot springs. fully confirming you're alone in the moonlight, you strip of your uniform and dip into the hot water. your tense muscles unravel at the warmth and you let out a pleased moan at the relief. the water reaches just above your breasts and you're about to lean your head back and close your eyes, letting the comfort of the water encapsulate you.

•that is, until you see a faint trail of smoke creep out from behind you and dip into the water around you. you smile knowingly, not even bothering to turn around.

•"tomas," you say, a hint of playful displeasure in your tone. "for a ninja, your stealth skills are starting to fall apart."

•your trained ears hear him freeze completely and let out a little gasp. tomas slips out a curse in his native language. now it's time to toy with your food.

•still in the water, you spin around and prop yourself up against the ledge of the hot springs, looking up at him seductively. tomas breaks from his deer in headlights pose and faces you, looking down and trying so incredibly hard to remain focused on your eyes, but it's just so hard when your breasts are right—

•"i've seen the way you look at me," you confess in a sultry voice. "i'm not a blind fool. it's incessant."

•"i-i didn't think you were," tomas stammers out, crouching down to be more eye level with you. "i meant no offense, you're just so... so—"

•"none taken," you chuckle, tilting your head. "were you going to be a peeping tom, or join me, then?"

♡

kuai liang >

•since being recruited for earthrealm's part in the tournament, kuai liang has paid more visits than probably necessary to run into you during your months of training.

•he'd be all like "omg heeeey what are youuuu doing hereeee" knowing damn well of your schedule (i'm lying i'm just in love with this yummy little s'more).

•though he would get into the habit of taking late night strolls around the wu shi academy to clear his mind. it was happenstance that you enjoyed the same habit.

•this man is huge and hunky, giving you comfort and safety as you navigate the moonlit paths of the land. he finds you to be a sweet conversation partner, carrying yourself with elegance and kindness that perfectly compliments his humble, noble spirit. you speak of a passion to fight for what is right, so focused on speaking and gesturing that you don't even realize kuai liang is staring down at you with utmost admiration. his heart warms (more than usual) at what a catch you are — for the tournament...!

•"tell me, scorpion," you speak up, looking up at him with eyes that could melt. "are you the only of your family to harness the power of fire?"

•"it is a long running ability in my family," kuai liang replies, confidently but with a gentle tone. "the methods in which we harness this power are a well-kept secret."

•"even so, scorpions don't burn," you reply quickly with an amused tone, grinning up at the man. you realize he was already looking down at you with a mirrored smile. "what makes you a scorpion?"

•"my strength and sting," he says as if he were reading a script. then again, he's probably been asked this hundreds of times. his brothers were icy sub-zero and hazy smoke, his name didn't exactly fit the narrative.

•as you part your lips to continue your conversation, a gust of wind makes you shiver and you let out a little gasp, instinctively wrapping your arms around yourself. kuai remains unfazed but takes note of your chilliness.

•"are you alright, xiǎo huǒhuā?" he asks with a hint of uncharacteristic concern. your face warms momentarily at the nickname, only to be reminded of the bitter cold with another gust of wind. it wasn't the first time he said that unfamiliar phrase, but you just never thought to ask about it. reflecting on it now, you're realizing it's a pet name. you rub your arms.

•"just... cold," you reply with a trembling lip. "times like these i wish i had your power." for the first time in a while, kuai liang breaks his gaze from you and looks down at his hands, debating whether or not to speak up. he didn't want to push any boundaries with you, as he genuinely enjoyed your presence. still, he decided he's only got one shot.

•"it's a power i'm willing to share," he replies lowly, sticking his hands out palms-up. you look up at him, hesitant about his offer. another gust of wind, harsher this time, pushes on your back and pulls you toward him. you catch yourself on his hands. they're so warm and inviting. they're not necessarily soft, but they feel comforting and... god, so warm. as you sigh with relief, you look up again and realize that, just like every time beforehand, kuai liang was looking down at you with a soft smile. he was just always warm as a pyromancer, heat creeping through his skin no matter the weather.

•you two had successfully broken the barrier of touch, and you continue to walk down the path. kuai holds both of your hands in one of his, the other wrapped around your shoulder and rubbing up and down your arm to keep you from being too chilly. it's a sweet embrace, one that neither of you want to fully unpack yet, but it's a step nonetheless.

•"why is it that every time i look at you, you're already looking at me?" you ask quietly, enamored by his embrace. kuai tenses up momentarily, feeling a little sheepish at the direct confrontation. he soon relaxes after finding the right words.

•"because you're beautiful, xiǎo huǒhuā," he replies gently, squeezing your arm and hands tenderly.

•"what does that word mean?" you ask, face flushed and entire body no longer concerned over the cold.

•"...little spark."

•and so, you two continue to walk down the path in the moonlight, now in his comforting, toasty embrace.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Content warnings for this chapter: weapons, implied ptsd references, gambling addiction

@justalunaticfangirl

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55445686/chapters/140819224

Chapter 4 - Jesper

By the time Jesper woke up, he was supposed to already be in the library. Shit. Shit shit shit. He fumbled his way into his coat and hurried out of his dorm, arriving just in time to see his new Business and Markets partner walking back out of the building. Shit shit shit.

“Excuse me,” he’d said, hurrying to catch up with the boy yesterday.

He’d turned to face him slowly. 

“Hi. Are you…” Jesper surveyed the piece of paper in his hand, as if he didn’t know exactly what it said and exactly who he was talking to, “Wylan Van Eck?”

Wylan raised an eyebrow, tapping his slender cane pointedly against the floorboards. Up close Jesper could see that the kid’s eyes were slightly clouded over, softening the edges of what otherwise would have been a startling blue, but there was no sign of whatever accident might have caused him to lose his sight - except maybe a small, slender scar above his right cheekbone. But unless a good deal of it had faded since he was a child, the scar didn’t cross either of his eyes.

As soon as the note had shown up at his dorm this morning, stating his new partner for Business and Markets was none other than the merchling he’d seen leaving the office yesterday, the reason the dean had put them together was glaringly obvious: Jesper would have to take responsibility for writing the project, so he would be forced to do the work himself instead of letting Helena Dentte gift-wrap him a decent grade. Not that a single decent grade would’ve let him escape from the approaching surety that he was going to flunk out and end up wandering aimlessly around the Barrel until - until what? Until he ended up dead in a ditch somewhere?

“You already know that,” said Wylan, folding his arms.

“Alright, yeah, I already know that. I’m Jesper Fahey, I’m in your class; Economic Principles for-”

“For Business and Markets, right,” he nodded, “We’re being reassigned as partners?”

“Yeah,”

There was a pause.

“Do you, erm, want to meet some time to get started, or…?”

Jesper wasn’t really sure where that ‘or’ was going. 

“I have to get home pretty quickly after class,” Wylan swallowed, “My father worries. But I could meet you in the library tomorrow morning?”

Jesper nodded, then caught himself and said:

“Yeah, that sounds good. Say ten bells?”

“Ten bells,” 

To be entirely honest, he hadn’t been thrilled to see Wylan Van Eck’s name on the note he was currently distractedly crumpling between his fingers. The chances of him being more likely to pay for a grade than work for it were too high, and if Jesper was going to be stuck doing all the work alone then this plan of the dean’s was going to crash and burn about twenty times faster than it was already likely to. But at least he seemed prepared to start the project - Jesper couldn’t actually remember what the project was, so he’d have to hunt through the piles of abandoned papers in his room later to try and find the original assignment. But he’d had things to attend to first, and judging by this morning he’d apparently let them get out of hand. At least he woke up on campus though.

“Wylan!” he called, rushing up to the boy as he reached the base of the stone stairs, one hand on the railing and the other using his cane to find the edge of each step, “Hey, sorry, it’s Jesper. I’m so sorry-”

“Oh, so you decided to grace me with your presence?” Wylan snapped, turning to face him.

Jesper was taken slightly by surprise.

“Really,” he said, “I’m sorry, I just-”

“Showed up horrendously late,”

“Hey, look kid,” Jesper snapped, because it only took about three seconds for him to get defensive, “I’m trying to apologise to you here-”

“Don’t call me kid,” said Wylan, turning away, “If you want to try showing up tomorrow, I’ll be here from eight,”

Jesper was too taken aback to reply, and for a moment he just stood at the base of the stairs, watching Wylan walk away. He sighed - what time was it? He pulled the timepiece from his pocket and discovered he was over two hours late. Okay, maybe Wylan was right to be a little annoyed. More than a little annoyed. 

Twelve bells. He could go to the library alone, to study for a while. He could go and find that assignment, so he knew what he was actually doing when he met Wylan tomorrow. There were a thousand things he could have done.

He walked back to the Barrel, wondering vaguely what Wylan Van Eck was doing at the library from eight in the morning. It was a rare thing for Jepser to see eight in the morning. Jesper didn't want to cross paths with Wylan again until tomorrow; it was impossible to avoid the Geldcanal on the way back to the Staves but Wylan had gone North so Jesper moved South and crossed into East Stave not far from the Slat. 

When he’d arrived last night it had been about eight bells, leaving Jesper just enough time to change out of his ugly brown coat before he got to the Crow Club, and he’d found Nina on the doorstep of the Slat. It had taken him by surprise - she didn’t come this way much. Kaz had branded her a snob for it, but they all knew Nina was only here to find a means to an end. Jesper didn’t know the full story, but her beau was stuck in Hellgate on some false charges - at least she was claiming they were false, anyway - and she was making very slow progress through the living nightmare that was Kerch’s legal system in an attempt to win his freedom. But she wasn’t here tonight, and as Jesper wandered past and up towards the Crow Club he wondered what she’d been up to last night.  He hadn’t seen Kaz, in the end, except very briefly when he crossed through the Club and gave Jesper nothing more than a sidewards glance, but he had seen Inej. 

When Kaz walked through, Jesper was briefly overcome with the need to go and apologise to him. But that was the stupid in him; the part of him that imagined Kaz would forgive him and move on as though this weren’t the fifteen hundredth time he’d brought trouble to his door. He had to wonder why he kept him around, but the answer came pretty easily: he was a good shot, and they both knew he would stay no matter what Kaz said because he had nowhere else to go. So he didn’t make eye contact with Kaz, and instead turned his attention back to his hand of cards and the group of pigeons ready to pour their hard-earned cash into the Dregs’ coffers. It had been a couple of hours later when Inej appeared from nowhere and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Saints -” Jesper jumped, “you have got to stop doing that,”

“Not likely,” she said, “I might need you, I’m going to West Stave,”

Jesper frowned. 

“You are?”

“Nina needs me for something, didn’t say what in the message. I just - well, I don’t know what she wants. She said she’d meet me at Goedmed bridge,”

“Okay,” Jesper paused, “What do you need me for? I’m supposed to be here all night,”

“Kaz knows,”

Jesper fidgeted with one of his rings for a moment, then nodded. He kept up a steady stream of chatter as they walked to West Stave, because he knew Inej would find it easier than the quiet.

“And you’re joining me at university this week then?” he asked, when he was finally starting to run out of topics.

“In three days, if all goes to plan. I don’t really know what the plan is, but…”

“Let’s face it,” Jesper sighed, “even when he tells us, we never actually know the plan. I’ll never know how he does it,”

“I think it’s called running on up to sixty percent dumb luck,” said Inej, as Goedmed bridge and the silhouette of Nina Zenik came into view ahead of them.

As they approached Jesper realised the strange thing: Nina was wearing her kefta. Of course he knew she wore one at the White Rose, he’d been enough times when jobs went wrong and either he or a compatriot needed Healing, but he also knew she never wore it outside of the building. It just wasn’t safe to wander the streets so brazenly proclaiming you were Grisha like that. He fidgeted, finally falling quiet, and he felt Inej’s eyes flicking over him. Did she know? Had Kaz told her?

“Sorry,” said Nina, looking at Inej as they met on the bridge, “I know the note was vague, I wasn’t sure how much I could really say,”

“What’s going on?”

She played with the sleeve of her kefta.

“I’ve got a job, I don’t… I don’t know exactly what it’s going to look like, and I don’t like going out in this thing. I was just going to ask if you could tail me?”

Inej nodded, slowly.

“Where’s the job?”

“The Geldstraat,”

Jesper raised an eyebrow.

“What are you doing on the Geldstraat?”

“I have absolutely no idea. Something a Merchant Council member didn’t want to touch the White Rose for,”

“So literally anything?” offered Jesper.

Nina made a face that said ‘yeah, pretty much’. Inej rested her fingers on the knife handle in her belt - the one with the roses on, Jesper couldn’t remember which Saint she’d named after. He was distracted, because he’d noticed that she laid her hands on it or any of her other knives the same way he did his guns. She was on edge.

Now, as Jesper reached the Crow Club and the sun remained obstinately hidden behind a cloud, the building was about as quiet as he had seen it all month. He fought a yawn as he wandered in, surveying the several empty tables, but before he had a chance to take a seat at one of them games that was actually in progress Kaz had appeared ahead of him.

“I need you at Fifth Harbour,”

“Well, good morning to you too,”

Kaz didn’t look amused.

“Fifth Harbour. We’re quiet,”

“It’s always quiet at this time,”

“It’s too quiet. Go,”

Jesper went. And as much as he might have wanted - needed - to do otherwise, he took himself back to the University District that evening and he went to the library the next morning. He didn’t go at eight, because that was just ridiculous, but he managed to make it for nina bells half chime and he didn’t think that was bad at all. He found Wylan sitting alone at one of the tables, apparently not doing anything.

“Hey, kid, it’s me - Jesper,”

“I’m not a kid,” Wylan snapped, turning towards Jesper’s voice.

“Sure,” Jesper sat down opposite him, “You’re an elder statesman,”

Wylan ignored him. They started work, evidently both half-heartedly, and at some point Wylan muttered:

“I hate economics,”

Jesper snorted.

“Same. What a perfect partnership,” he plunked his fountain pen onto his desk, “Why do you even have to take this class then? Don’t you inherit Daddy’s business either way, merchling?”

Wylan grimaced.

“That’s even worse than kid. And no, I don’t,”

“What do you mean you don’t?”

“How am I supposed to run a business, Jepser?” he shook his head, “My stepmother’s kid’ll take it,”

There was no spite or jealousy in his tone, and yet there seemed something profoundly melancholic about every word he spoke. Jesper wasn’t sure why being blind meant you couldn’t run a business, so he said so, and Wylan just scoffed. 

“I’m just saying,” said Jesper, “if they think there’s any hope of teaching me how to run a business they must know how to teach you to run one. And anyway, if you hate economics and you’re not even gonna run the business, what are you doing in this class?”

Wylan shrugged.

“It was the only thing that would make my father agree to let me come to the University,” he said, “One business class. Just in case,”

“Just in case of what?”

Wylan either didn’t hear that question or just ignored him, but Jesper was pretty sure it was the latter based on the blush that gathered in his cheeks.

“Why are you here, if you hate it so much?”

“To find my entrepreneurial spirit, of course,”

Wylan raised his eyebrows, his scar shimmering ever so slightly in the sunlight coming through the window.

“And what’s your grand business idea, then?”

Jesper grinned. 

“I’m thinking of providing a service for rich kids who want to make their parents mad,”

“I’d roll my eyes, but that would probably be quite fruitful,”

Jesper barked a laugh.

“And that’s without even knowing how cute I am,” he teased, “Trust me, if you knew what I looked like you’d know I’m gonna charge a pretty steep fee,”

“Is that so?”

“Sure is. What do you think merchling? You could be my first client,”

Wylan did roll his eyes then, and Jesper watched the blue move beneath the slightly cloudy film.

“I think you need to stop calling me merchling,”

“I’m afraid that would come with a price tag attached,”

“Are you flirting, or just broke?”

Jepser laughed again.

“Oh, it’s almost definitely both,”

[ihateoc]

Home Visit

(word count: 2,298) (xavia brings dusk to meet his mother)

Xavia planned to visit his mother's hometown to check on her and decided to invite Dusk along since she didn't have any other plans. However, he couldn't shake off the nervousness he felt. After all, Dusk was only his colleague, so why the hell was he feeling this way?  

After taking a deep breath and collecting himself, Xavia stands outside the door with Dusk by his side, prepared to knock before she speaks up, drawing his attention. 

"This is a nice home!" Dusk remarks as her gaze wanders over the exterior of the house before glancing back at him, "Did you grow up here?" 

"I didn't. But I bought it for my mom when the money started coming in," Xavia replies, knocking at the door lightly. 

"You did? That's very kind of you," She comments with a soft smile. 

Xavia chuckles as he pushes the door open, "Only for my mom, Dusk," He tells her before stepping inside. 

It was a bit strange to acknowledge his actions as 'kind'. He wasn't sure if that's what it was or just guilt for not always being there during hard times. Nonetheless, hearing those words from Dusk somehow made him feel better about himself. 

"Xav! You didn't tell me you were coming to visit! I would have made cookies if I knew!"  

A dark-skinned older woman with white hair and blue eyes rises from her spot on the couch. Dressed in a button-down shirt and jeans, she welcomes her son into a warm hug as her face lights up in joy.  

Xavia instinctively hugs his mom back before pulling away, saying with a grin, " I didn't want to interrupt your usual routine, ma." 

After he pulls away, her eyes fall on Dusk, "Oh, and you brought a girl home?" 

Turning towards Dusk, he introduces her, "This is my coworker, Dusk. Thought it'd be nice for you two to finally meet." 

He felt a surge of anxiety as his mother's gaze shifted from him to Dusk. Was this too much? He had no idea about how women interacted in such situations and wasn't sure what would happen next. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Cyprus!" Dusk greets her enthusiastically with a respectful head bow, "Xavia speaks very highly of you!" 

The older woman's face brightens even more, if that was possible, at Dusk's enthusiasm, replying warmly, "Oh, it's such a pleasure to meet you too dear! And please, call me Sindra." 

Xavia can't help but let out a small chuckle at their interaction.  

"You have a lovely home, Sindra. Thank you for having me." 

Sindra chuckles, "I should be thanking you for putting up with my son here. Won't you two come sit down?" 

"Thank you, ma'am!" Dusk sits down beside Sindra on the couch while Xavia reclines in a loveseat next to them.  

"How long have you and Xavia worked together?" The older woman turns to face Dusk, adding, "It's rare for him to bring a friend home so you must be special." 

"Oh," Dusk hums in thought before peering over at her partner, "How long has it been, Xav?" 

Sindra's eyebrows raise subtly as a smirk plays at the corner of her lips. 

Xavia shrugs nonchalantly, "About a year, give or take." 

His mother's smirk doesn't go unnoticed by Xavia and he can tell where she's going with this. The simple fact that she referred to Dusk as a 'friend' rather than only his coworker brought an unexplainable twist in his stomach.   

"How lovely! And I see he lets you call him Xav! You really must be special," Sindra remarks with a knowing grin. 

"I…well, it's just…" The white-haired man stutters uncomfortably, "It's easier to yell out in the field," He tries to convince her. 

Xavia feels flustered under Sindra’s intuitive gaze. It was such a small thing but for some reason it made his heart pound and skin heat up. Why was he reacting this way? Was Dusk really that special? 

"Is that so, dear?" 

He rubs the back of his neck, feeling cornered, "Yes, ma. That's why," He responds, though it was obvious his mother wasn't buying it. 

Sindra offers him a wink before her gaze falls back on Dusk, "So Dusk, tell me a little bit about yourself! I'd love to get to know you better." 

"Of course," She agrees with an animated nod before a look of confusion morphs her face, "Um, what would you like to know?" 

"Well, what are your hobbies and interests?" Sindra gently inquires, as her words aim to offer reassurance like a soft blanket on a cold night. 

Dusk grows quiet as she thinks for a moment before answering thoughtfully, "I like archery and music. Oh! Xav is teaching me how to cook." 

"He is?" His mother's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, looking towards Xavia for confirmation. 

Xavia only shrugs, "Well, she'd starve otherwise. She can't cook to save her life." 

Seeing Dusk blush at his teasing remark brought a weird sense of satisfaction to Xavia. She crosses her arms, quickly retorting, "Cooking is difficult."   

"It sounds like you two spend a lot of time together, even outside of work," Sindra points out with a sly grin, "That's lovely." 

"I guess we do," He admits, scratching his head awkwardly, "It's not a big deal though." 

His mother's scheming grin was starting to become irritating but there was something about Dusk that made it difficult for him to be truly annoyed. The way she blushed and looked away shyly had an odd effect on him... Like he wanted to see more of it? No, that didn't make sense. But then why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? 

Sindra hums in response, her eyes shining with amusement, "I see. Well, I can't wait to hear more about your adventures together." 

Xavia's brows furrow slightly at the memories of their recent job to Arctica resurfacing, Dusk's face so close to his own, the touch of her skin against his palm… What were these strange feelings bubbling up inside him? Why was he still thinking about that moment? 

The older woman creates a comfortable atmosphere for Dusk, asking for more stories from their work before rising from her seat after a few tales, "How do you take your tea, dear?" She inquires kindly. 

"Oh, I'd hate to impose!" Dusk replies with a sheepish smile while waving her hands dismissively. 

"It's not imposing at all, dear. With sugar? 

"Yes, please," She answers with an appreciative smile, "Thank you, Sindra!" 

"Come and help me, won't you, Xav?" His mother motions for him to follow, leading him into the kitchen with her, leaving Dusk alone on the couch. 

A comfortable silence fills the room for several moments as Sindra begins preparing the tea. Without looking up from the kettle, she prods him, "Is she really just a colleague and friend to you?" 

Xavia couldn't help but feel cornered again by his mother's question, "Ma, what are you…?" He begins to ask in return. 

This conversation was touching on areas Xavia wasn’t comfortable with discussing. He felt flustered and nervous, feelings that were unfamiliar when it came down to Dusk. 

She looks up through her lashes to meet his dark eyes, "She's special, son. Don't let her slip away from you." 

Xavia sighs, looking back at his mother seriously as he quietly tells her, "I know, ma." 

He couldn’t deny the truth in his mom's words. Dusk was special and the thought of letting her slip away from him brought a sense of unease. 

"You should marry her someday," Sindra mentions casually, not bothering to look up from what she was doing. 

"Ma!" Xavia exclaims, flustered, "We're not even dating yet!" 

"I know, I know," She holds her hands up in mock surrender, "But you're not getting any younger. And I'd like to see grandkids before I die." 

"Ma, seriously? You're talking as if we are even… a thing," He responds, unable to deny the heat saturating his cheeks, "Besides you'll live forever." 

He was both irritated and embarrassed by his mom's words but couldn't shake off the strange warmth spreading inside him at the thought of a future with Dusk. It felt so outlandishly pleasant. 

She chuckles heartily upon hearing his comment, "Oh, we both know I'm not so lucky. It's just an idea, dear. I've never seen you so happy." 

"What do you mean happy? I'm not…" Xavia tries to argue but his mother just gives him a knowing look. 

Happy? Was he really happier around Dusk or had his mother misinterpreted their dynamic? However, thinking back on the past few months. Maybe there was some truth in her words after all. 

"I'm going to step outside for a bit," He informs Sindra abruptly, heading towards the back door. 

The fresh air would help clear his mind. Thoughts about Dusk had tangled him up in knots and he needed some space from everyone to figure things out.  

He sits outside on the porch swing, gazing up at the sky as the sun begins to set overhead, the palette of purple hues reminiscent of his partner's right eye. He cared about Dusk. More than he'd like to admit. But what unsettled him was… He had never even considered getting into a relationship before but with Dusk… The idea was appealing.  

"I'm being ridiculous," He mumbles to himself, running a hand through his hair. 

The mere fact that he was even contemplating these things confused him. But maybe... Maybe it wouldn't be so bad with Dusk? The thought scared and excited him all at once. 

The back door opens slowly, revealing Dusk with a concerned expression on her face, "Hey, Xav, your mom said you were out here. Is everything okay?" 

Xavia turns to face her, "Yeah… Yeah everything's okay. Just needed some air." 

She nods but instead of going back inside, she sits down beside him, "Your mom is very kind." 

He huffs out a laugh, a heartfelt smile playing on his lips, "Yeah… She's one of the few good ones left." 

In that moment, his mother's words echoed in his mind.  

'Don't let her slip away.'  

As he sits there next to Dusk under the fading light of the sunset, Xavia couldn’t shake off the feeling that perhaps he had already begun caring for her more than as just a friend and colleague. 

"Thank you for inviting me," Dusk breaks the silence, smiling as she looks out into the horizon, "The sky is beautiful." 

"It is," Xavia agrees, his gaze shifting from the sunset to his partner, "Very much so." 

She was right, the sky was beautiful but he found himself more captivated by her profile against the setting sun. He tried to hide it, but a strange longing twisted inside him as he took in her peaceful expression. This weird mix of desire and affection that both terrified and thrilled him at once. 

She reaches up behind her head to adjust her ponytail, not turning her gaze from the sunset, "We should come back again sometime." 

"I'd like that," The white-haired man admits with a nod, "Yeah, we should. As long as you want to." 

The thought of spending more time with Dusk in a setting outside of work brought him a sense of peace and happiness he hadn't felt in years. It was then that Xavia understood. He wasn't just falling for her... 

He had already fallen head over heels without even realizing it. 

"Naturally," Dusk says, turning to meet his gaze as her hair cascades over her shoulders, bathed in the gentle glow of the evening light. With a confident smile, she adds, "I'd follow you anywhere, Xav." 

For a moment, Xavia was at a loss for words. Her declaration had effectively rendered him speechless. His heart pounded against his ribs and it became increasingly difficult to ignore how strongly he felt about Dusk anymore. He could only hope she couldn't hear the frantic pace of his heartbeat. 

"Is that so?" He manages to muster, swallowing the lump forming his throat. 

"Yep!" She assures him enthusiastically, "I'd get lonely otherwise." 

He chuckles softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he admits, "I'd miss you too," Without thinking, Xavia reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair away from her face, "You really are something else, Dusk." 

His hand had moved on its own accord as if drawn to her. The way she was looking at him right now... It was almost like she felt the same way about him and that thought alone made his heart skip a beat. 

Her face flushes red at the sudden contact, her multicolored eyes meeting his. She's speechless for a moment before a soft smile plays on her lips, "So are you, Xavia." 

Returning her smile, he murmurs, "I'm glad you think so." 

"Partners in crime?" She wonders. 

"Always," Xavia responds with a grin, offering her hand to her, "Partners till the end." 

The phrase was more than just an inside joke now, it had become their promise. One he intended to keep no matter what. As he held out his hand to Dusk, Xavia couldn't help but hope this wasn't just about their professional partnership anymore... That maybe there could be something more between them too. 

Dusk reaches out to take his hand with a heartfelt smile etched onto her flushed face, "Until the very end." 

He had never felt such comfort and warmth from anyone before. Not like this. The way Dusk was smiling at him right now... It made Xavia feel cherished and wanted in a way no one has ever made him feel before. 

Xavia entwines his fingers with hers tightly, the touch sending a warm sensation coursing through him as he holds her gaze, echoing, "Till the very end." 

[hearsayhorizons]

Tumblr journaling

The last time I spoke aloud about how I process thoughts, I was told "not everything is a syndrome," so I'm throwing it out to the void.

My instinctive reaction to any sort of tense situation is self blame--was I too loud? Could I foresee something that slipped through the cracks? Did I think something was obvious when it really wasn't?

Today, for example, the weather is humid crap, so Hector stayed home from daycare with my husband. He works from home, so no big issue--except that he has Meetings today. Can't really get away to play or go outside.

After I left and my husband got up, Hector got all restless, slinking around my desk, tossing blankets around. Couldn't be soothed. Eventually husband sneaked away to let him out on the balcony, and after that he calmed down.

I had Hec out on the balcony and had to let him in before I left--but he was good with that, not reluctant or restless. Hopped right up to doze on a blanket.

When my partner let me know what made Hector calm down, my initial response was, "Oh good, I'm glad he's fine!" And then as I did my work, it occurred to me: if I'd mentioned having Hector out on the balcony earlier, would SO have tried that immediately rather than being distressed for ten minutes?

A) it was only ten minutes B) no guarantee beforehand that's what he wanted; Hector is weird C) feeling bad and what-ifing doesn't do any good ESPECIALLY now that the situation is resolved D) we both know the balcony is like Hector's favorite place, and if neither of us thought of it, NEITHER of us thought of it.

I know I have a terrible penchant for owning trouble that isn’t mine, and I know some of the factors that play into it: patterns.

My dad is a lifelong alcoholic, one of the reasons I moved half the country away. I begged him to stay sober for the weeks leading up to my flight to school and the NIGHT before we went he blacked out and disappeared, only to come back bleary-eyed and drive me to the airport.

Each time I arranged a visit, all of the supporting cast of our lives said “oh, no, he’s been so good!” And then I’d go back, and I’d be sitting around for three hours because he said we’d go rollerskating and he came back in a state unfit to roll anywhere but down the stairs; or he was out on a ladder using a nailgun SEVERAL sheets to the wind and I was in the basement crying for a ticket home; or I excused myself because he was already drunk and I know how this goes and he raged and threatened to drag me downstairs by the neck.

So (assuming that our family WAS right and he WAS on an even keel until I showed up), he drank because of me. Well, because of stress, but “due to” me. Not my fault, but my... impact. He’d drink either way, I know, whether it’s because one of his two kids left (or came back) or because the sky was the wrong shade of blue.

But that pattern, and the lack of truth to it... I think I borrow this trouble to control it. It’s mine, I’m responsible for it, I can alleviate it by doing or not doing things:chewing too loud; asking for special events; breathing.

I’m fine initially and then the thoughts rattle around and avoid my mental trellises to spiral into weird “this is my fault and I can alleviate it by x.” The talisman gestures never work. They don’t NEED to work. I don’t need them. I just need to shake the epiphany down from my head to my heart.

[jedi-bird]

Behold, my most ambitious crochet project yet. My partner loves Blue from Jurassic World, so since I've been eyeing some dinosaur patterns, I decided to try and make them one for our anniversary. Both arms are currently done; the first one took most of the morning and involved many restarts until the pattern finally clicked (this is pretty common for me unfortunately). Wire will be added to the claws and arms later to make her posable. Fingers crossed I can finish this in time.

[whimsicallyreading]

“I just realized I’m desperately in love with you-“

Prompt Day One for Rowaelin Month

~

"Rowan, take a picture of that one. It's so cute." Aelin fawns quietly.

Rowan gives a long-suffering sigh. "There are a thousand of them here. Do you have to pester me into taking a picture of every seal pup we come across?"

"Her name is Fleetfoot, and yes. Isn't that the whole reason we are here?" Aelin looks at him equally annoyed, a strand of gold spun hair freeing itself from beneath her parka.

"I'm here to study the behavioral patterns of tiger seals and orcas in a rapidly shifting environment. You are here to keep our equipment functioning. If you keep talking, neither of us will finish our jobs and escape from this wasteland." Rowan switches the lens of his camera to focus on two male seals who were squaring up with each other in the distance.

Rowan nearly threw his camera over the boat and jumped off into the coastal waters of Argentina when he realized who had been assigned to assist him on this expedition.

He'd insisted that only he and one other make the trek across the Antarctic. Insisting a large group could impede the quality of his research. When they agreed, Rowan thought they would send him with Lorcan or Brullo. Both were accomplished survivalists and scholars—valuable additions to any team.

Instead, it was Aelin Ashryvver who waited for him at the dock. The most annoying newbie on his floor. Dorian insisted that her knowledge of mechanical engineering would make her invaluable.

So far, she was just a verifiable pain in his ass.

She sat around bored as Rowan spent the day writing notes and snapping photos. Occasionally she helped him set up microphones. On one instance, she fixed their ATV. It was the first and only time he'd found her truly useful.

Rowan couldn't wait to go home.

"Alright, we have the cameras positioned. We should head back to the base. The temps are dropping. We need to warm up and eat."

Aelin nods quietly, she would never admit it, but the severe temperatures are taking a toll on her. It was amazing how important something like fat is in a frigid environment. Rowan is naturally covered in layers of dense muscle. While Aelin is fit herself, she's still small and the first to feel the effects of persistent cold.

Watching the seals, she occasionally found herself jealous of their thick layers of blubber that kept them comfortable. She should have carb-loaded before they set sail.

They hop on the snow ski and traverse quickly over the powderlike substance.

~~~

When they reach the Terresen South Pole station and ditch their coats, they fall to the floor in a cascade of flurries. Rowan's spine straightens for the first time that day. Their coats were dense. With the additional weight of all of the equipment he carried, there was a perpetual bend in his spine.

It was a huge relief to be inside a climate-controlled building—light layers, freedom movement, and feeling in all of his extremities. Tossing that coat off was the pinnacle of his daily routine on this mission.

That is until he realized it was freezing.

Walking over to a light switch with urgency, he flicks it a few times. Nothing happens. Anxiety wells in his gut, and he hits the wall a couple of times before flipping the switch again.

"Shit," Rowan hisses.

"The power is out," Aelin's eyes widen with the realization. "That's not good."

"I thought I was the scientist, but look at you stating the obvious," Rowan growls as he shrugs his jacket back on. It wasn't nearly as frigid inside the insulated building as it was outside, but it was still bitterly cold. Keeping warm would be their first step in survival. Without heat, shit could hit the fan for them very quickly. Thankfully their satellite phones should still be functioning; he'd charged the battery the day before. There should be enough juice in the phones to send out a mayday call even without power.

Aelin doesn't put on her jacket. Instead, she heads in the direction of the lockers with a look of determination plastered on her face. It was a look he'd slowly begun to grow familiar with, mainly when Rowan was holding a ration packet she wanted. It made him uneasy.

"Where are you going?" Rowan calls after her, picking up her jacket. He wouldn't be held responsible for his younger, female partner freezing to death. HR at the University would have his head on a stick if she died on his watch.

He follows Aelin to her locker, where she's already sliding a grey jumpsuit over her clothes.

"I can fix the engines," Aelin pulls her zipper up. The jumpsuit covered head-to-toe, but they weren't nearly as warm as their snow gear. He could already see a slight blue-ish tint to her lips. "They probably just stalled. All I need to do is go down, diagnose the problem, and fix it. Easy as pie."

Ignoring the massive oversimplification of their situation, knowing it was a lost cause, he focuses on the immediate problem. "You need to keep your jacket on," Rowan thrusts the article of clothing at her. Her color was concerning him, and the longer she went without the thermal garment, the higher his stress became.

Aelin gives him a long-suffering look, all too similar to the one he gives her. "And get my hood or a sleeve caught in one of those beasts? Those machines are massive. Getting snagged could rip my arm off or kill me. It's like you don't even have a master's in engineering and a spotless safety record," she smiles at Rowan's scowling face. "Oh wait, that's me. Let me do my job, Dr. Whitethorn."

Before Rowan could argue, Aelin was gone down the stairwell towards the engines.

Dragging a frustrated hand through his hair, he tosses her jacket on the floor. His time is probably better spent getting through to their mission handlers on the satellite phones anyway.

~~~

Two hours later, Rowan has long finished his call with Dorian.

Their expedition leader had asked if they wanted a recovery team sent out to them, but Rowan hesitated. He was on the mission of a lifetime. He'd spent years waiting for approval to research at the southernmost tip of the world. It would be a devastating blow to his career and his pride for it to be cut short. The selfish part of him wanted to stay. The rationale, reasonable part of him was aching to stay the full duration of the expedition.

"You know, Dr. Whitethorn," Dorian spoke carefully. "There is a reason we chose Aelin to accompany you. She may be green and lacking a doctorate, but she's a miracle worker at what she does."

"Are you asking me to put my life in the newbie's hands?" Rowan asked without his standard vitriol. The situation and the cold had left him with no energy to be spiteful. He'd heard talk of her capabilities amongst the guys, and he'd seen a fraction of it when their snowmobile broke down. Rowan thinks back to the look on her face when she'd gone down the stairs. The steely determination of a warrior marching off to do battle.

Dorian laughs as if there was something funny about two of his most stubborn colleagues getting stranded in the south pole by themselves. "I'm not asking you to do anything. It's your call."

Rowan closes his eyes and contemplates their options. His head told him they should call the extraction team before they were nothing but frozen corpses. Yet, his heart didn't want to leave so soon. There was still so much work left to do.

Could he rely on Aelin?

"We will stay for now. Expect a call in twenty-four hours with a progress update." Rowan disconnected the transmission without any of the standard formalities.

After the fruitless call, he checks their food supply. Rowan scans the shelves, comfortable they wouldn't go hungry any time soon. Their only concern would be keeping all their shit from freezing, including their water. Rowan triple checks that everything is insulated, sealed, and stored away before moving on to other essentials, like batteries.

Another hour passes as he takes inventory, and Rowan is starting to feel the cold more than before. His nailbeds slowly shift from blue to white beneath his thick gloves, and he can't control the slight quaking spreading up his limbs.

When Rowan hears the doorway to the stairwell creak, he goes to check in with Aelin on her progress.

What he finds when he opens the locker room door sends his heart to his throat.

Aelin's hands loosely grip the zipper of her jumpsuit as she weakly attempts to free herself. Her face is a ghostly white, and her movements sluggish.

If she weren't moving, he'd have thought she was already frozen.

"Aelin, are you good? Talk to me." Rowan rushes to her and helps Aelin step out from the jumpsuit.

"I fixed the engine," Aelin coughs into the crook of her arm, her voice scratchy from the cool air. "It will be a couple of hours before they can catch up and heat the building."

Rowan rips off a glove and holds a bare hand to her cheek. Aelin's skin is freezing to the touch, even to his own icy hands. He notes that she isn't trembling the same way he is. It's not a good sign, the biologist in him notes. He knows it's her body growing too weak to keep itself warm.

"Sit down. You're freezing," Rowan helps her slide to the floor and looks at the discarded jacket that's still lying there. It won't warm her quick enough.

"Rowan?" Aelin speaks from her slightly slumped position.

Rowan is pacing, trying to think. They don't have a means of warming water for a bath. Laying next to the generators is too risky.

"Rowan," Aelin murmurs, her eyes drooping. "I can't feel my feet."

Rowan looks at her, and for a moment, she looks like an ice princess. Her blond hair is slipping from its braid and coiling across her colorless face. The cerulean blue of her eyes was the brightest color he now saw regularly beside the southern lights. They stood out even more starkly now.

It was all wrong.

"It's going to be alright, Aelin. You said the power is back on?" Rowan lifts her into his arms, her freezing nose burrowing into the crook of his neck.

"Yeah," she rasps against his shoulder. "But it will take a while for the building to heat."

"We don't need the whole building to heat. Do you trust me?" Rowan trots down the hall, careful not to bump her against the narrow doorframes.

She mumbles something incoherent into his shirt. "I trust you."

Rowan is thankful that the cold keeps the flush from his face. He reaches the desired room and fiddles with the control panel on the wall. A wave of relief hits him as the room behind the heavy door audibly hums to life.

"Okay, here we go." He says more to himself than Aelin. Rowan ditches the jacket and pulls his long-sleeved tee over his head. The buttons of his pants are next, leaving him in only his boxers.

Turning around, Aelin looks weary but not surprised. "Nice abs."

"Thanks," He says and kneels next to her, eyes searching her face for permission.

Aelin dips her head, "I'm not shy, Whitethorn. Don't fret."

Rowan helps Aelin maneuver her stiff limbs out of her garments until she is left in nothing but her bra and panties. Her face is pained as even more of her is exposed to the cold.

"Hurts," Aelin grits through her teeth, and Rowan gathers her up again. The icy room is like barbs against his exposed skin, but he's not in a position to complain.

The minute he carries her into the balmy air of the sauna, Aelin flinches. "Oh, that smarts."

"I know. It's going to suck for a bit while your blood recirculates." Rowan consoles softly, knowing he would also feel the cramping as they got their blood moving.

Drastic temperatures changes weren't the ideal way to warm up, but they'd spent far too long in the cold. He needed to get Aelin shivering again. It was the body's natural defense against the cold, and when a person could no longer shiver, it meant they were dipping into the realm of hypothermia.

The sauna was an added addition for the comfort of the researchers who visited the Southern base. It was a great tool to warm people after spending hours in the harsh climate. He'd heard tales of it from colleagues who'd visited the base before but hadn't yet saught to use it himself. Rowan was too focused on the mission. It hadn't carried any appeal for him until this moment, and now he was beyond grateful for its existence.

Rowan sits on the floor instead of the bench so that Aelin can curl up comfortably in his lap. Skin-to-skin contact was one of the best ways to help a person regulate their body temperature. He soothes a calloused hand over the length of her arm, trying to spread what remained of his warmth to her skin.

Aelin's cheek rests against his chest, and Rowan uses one hand to free her hair from its braid. The curtain of gold fans across her back, and he has to resist the urge to run his fingers through its waves.

He'd noticed how beautiful she was the day they first met at the university. Out of respect, he'd immediately repressed those thoughts. They were professionals, and Rowan wasn't about to ruin his reputation fawning over the new, young blonde on their floor.

But with her laying half-naked in his lap, it was hard to disregard how pretty she was. It wasn't even just her appearance. The girl was magnetic in every way. People paid attention when she walked in, and she claimed the lion's share of air in the room.

Fenrys and Conall flirted with her remorselessly. It secretly irked him. Rowan had long since memorized the way she laughed and how she'd smile as she shoed them away. It was all good-natured fun for them, but it always made Rowan irrationally angry. The time she'd showed up at the annual Christmas party in a green velvet dress with an open back nearly left his brain on the floor. His eyes had raked the smooth plains of skin, only turning away when she'd tried to catch his eye.

If he'd been paying attention, he would have seen her look of disappointment.

Rowan had written it off as an infatuation—a natural response to seeing an attractive woman. The scientist in him wanted to boil it down to chemistry and hormones. Cold facts that could diagnose the way he felt every time he laid eyes on her. Yet, as Rowan laid there with a hurting Aelin in his arms, he began to wonder if there was something more.

Her pain was making his chest physically ache.

A pair of arms snaked around his waist, and his body jerked. Aelin looks up at him sheepishly. "Sorry, I'm just really comfortable."

Rowan relaxes, "It's fine."

The steam in the room is slowly building. Rowan can feel the cramping beginning in his legs. Aelin's weight on his thighs was not helping the slightest, but there was no way in hell he'd move her.  

"My body is aching," Aelin says lightly, but he can hear the strain in her voice and feel a slight tremble running through her.

"That's good. Can you feel your feet?" Rowan can no longer resist, and her hair parts between his fingers like strands of gold silk.

Aelin tightens her arms around him, "Yeah. A bit. I didn't realize how numb they got until I took off my boots."

There's a slight tickle at his back, Aelin's finger tracing a pattern against his skin. A flush of warmth rushes through him, not from the sauna.

He's in unending deep shit.

"Aelin," his voice wavers uncharacteristically. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

The fingers on his back continue making their delicate patterns. "No."

"Aelin?" He asks again, but she cuts him off with a groan.

"Stop asking me questions and just kiss me," Aelin grips the back of his head and pulls his lips down to her's.

An inferno blooms inside his soul.

Aelin could never be a winter queen. She was the raging embodiment of summer. A burning ember he'd carried from the north into this land of ice. As his lips move against hers, he swears his body is lit ablaze, and when Rowan opens his eyes, he's delighted at the flush he finds unfurling across her cheeks.

"It's suddenly a lot warmer." Aelin laughs, looking more lively even as her body starts to quake from the warmth finally reaching her.

He kisses her cheek and tilts her ear towards his lips, "Aelin?"

"Another question?" Aelin's smile curls into something feline. "Is this that scientific curiosity the university is always going on about?"

"I just realized I'm desperately in love with you,"

Rowan lets the truth fall from his lips. It was just the two of them. They were the only human souls in this far corner of the earth. There was no one to stop him as he finally lets the emotions he'd been repressing until the moment Aelin was in danger wash over him.

"That's not a question," Aelin responds after a moment, her tone light and jovial.

Rowan smiles. "It's not."

Aelin curls back up against Rowan, enjoying the feel of his skin against hers. An embarrassing sound of contentment escapes her, which worsens her blush.

Not forgetting their original purpose in the sauna, Rowan grips her hands and massages them between his. "You have no response?"

"Not one that HR is going to like." Aelin winces as her hand spasms, and Rowan methodically works to ease the ache.

"Say it anyway," Rowan implores. Screw the university. He was tired of living for his work alone. Nothing outshined this moment, holding this woman in his arms. He could find a new job, but if Aelin reciprocated his feelings, he couldn't find another one of her.

"Well, I thought it was pretty obvious when I wore that dress to the Christmas party and then found a reason to walk past your office every day." Aelin huffs and looks up at him, "Don't tell me you didn't know?"

Rowan was speechless.

Aelin's eyes twinkle with amusement. "Rowan, Dorian, and I are friends. Did you know that?"

"What?" Rowan blinks confusedly. That was common knowledge, but he didn't understand why she was bringing that up now.

"Dorian and I go way back. He knew I had a thing for you, and I told him sending me on this trip was unethical when I'm such a new hire-" Aelin trails off, waiting for him to grasp her point.

"Wait," Rowan looks down at her, bemused. "Dorian was trying to set us up?"

"Human recourses won't like that very much either," Aelin grins. "But Dorian would keep our secret. He owes me a lot of favors."

The sauna's temperature had slowly been rising, and Rowan could see that his skin was returning to its usual color. Aelin still looked a bit pale, but it was probably residuals from being so close to freezing.

She'd risked herself to save the expedition and successfully fixed the engines. Rowan didn't believe for one second that Dorian only sent her in an elaborate attempt to set her up. She was bright and cunning. He was lucky to have her along with him.

"You got here on your merit," Rowan presses a soft peck to her lips as he soothes her unvoiced concern. He refused to let her doubt her level of skill. "But if the feelings are mutual, I would love to take you on a date when we get back home?"

"I would love that," Aelin crawls off his lap and holds a hand out. "Come on, now. We need to eat and sleep. We have seals to observe."

Rowan accepted her hand. Forget the seals. He would have a difficult time keeping his attention on them. His eyes were glued to her bare legs as they moved and the way her hair swung free of its constraints.

She smirked over his shoulder. Aelin knew precisely what she was doing to him.

Rowan had traversed to the end of the world to understand the natural universe a little better. While he hadn't unlocked any great mysteries, he couldn't help but think what he did find was better.

[madamewriterofwrongs]

Soft Eddie thought: the first time he mentions Buck in passing as 'my husband' and then all of a sudden it hits him for the first time that, holy shit, he has a *husband*! And either tears up a little or can't stop smiling.

Hey Nonny, I hope you see this, I know it’s been awhile. 

Subconsciously Drawn Together

911/Buddie

Eddie would never call what he feels a crush – after all, he’s a grown adult who hasn’t had a crush on anyone since Jenny Rodriguez broke his heart in eighth grade by picking Eugene as her lab partner instead of him. (Coincidentally, they are both married to someone named Makayla and neither of them lived outside of Texas for more than a few months).

He always thought that would be him. Not, married to Jenny or Eugene (or either Makayla for that matter), but there was a part of him that knew he was destined to live a quiet life. Marriage, children, maybe a dog and a white picket fence if they wanted to be really cliched. And he was okay with that – he really was. For Eddie, there was no other life than the one laid out for him.

Going to war didn’t change that. A poor country boy joining the military to provide for his pregnant wife back home? Even pulp fiction novelists thought it was too obvious. But, again, he never minded living an uninteresting life. Not everyone was destined for adventure and drama. Most people were made to get through the day.

Even when the nightmares came and he struggled to keep his family together, it just seemed like the next chapter in his boring novelization of a life. Everyone had marital troubles after coming home, everyone had bad dreams and phantom pains. Everyone worried where the money would come from to support their family. Everyone snuck into their son’s room to watch him sleep because they were afraid to admit that they’d forgotten what he looked like while he was away. Everyone felt guilt and shame and fear and regret. It was a part of life.

And then his wife left and his parents offered to take Christopher and for one moment, the thought crossed his mind. Could he let his son go (be with people who could stay at home and give him the care he needed)? Could he forget about Shannon and move somewhere else? Could he start over (relive his 20s in the carefree manner he’d seen others struggling to find)? Could he run away again and make it stick this time?

By the end of the week, he and Christopher were packed into his truck and headed to Los Angeles.

It didn’t feel like running away when he was mumbling his way through the Frozen soundtrack or listening to his son talk about his old school’s pet turtle that he’ll miss (and wonder what kind of pets the kids in Los Angeles got to have). It didn’t feel like running away then. It felt like they were running towards something.

Running towards a new life, of sorts, as it turned out. Sure, he still dealt with his parents’ criticism, and Shannon came back into their lives and for a moment, it felt like she’d never left him. But in LA, he had a purpose, he had freedom. For the first time in a long time, Eddie looked forward to opening his door in the mornings; for the first time in a long time, he never knew exactly what to expect, and LA was full of surprises.

The biggest surprise of all was named Evan Buckley.

Buck was a lot of things: a friend, a skilled firefighter, endearingly enthusiastic, subtle as a brick, and the first person outside of his real family that he called ‘family’ and truly meant it. He loved the men and women he served with in Afghanistan, but the moment they departed at the airport, he lost that connection. Joining the 118 had been a way to get that back and it had worked out fantastically. He had sports fanatics to cheer with, parents of blended families to vent with, people who knew his past and loved him despite it all.

Eddie never told anyone (except his therapist who never commented on it, but made a face that said they’d circle back to it at a later date), but he felt as though he’d known Buck for years. Once the man opened up to him, the trust he felt was strong, and the way he took an instant affection to Christopher made it easy to let this man into his life.

Within less than a year of joining the LA Fire Department however, his world imploded.

Or exploded, actually. First Shannon died, then Buck was injured, then his son was nearly taken by a natural disaster and he didn’t even know it. He spent so much time after that trying to put the pieces back together. For all the things he’d assumed his life would be – a wife and kid and a white picket fence – the only thing he had left was a son now dealing with immense trauma for such a young child to handle. And he had Buck (who was so bright and eager to please that one might describe him as a puppy at times). Nothing of his life had turned out the way it was meant to.

Suddenly, a year had passed since Shannon’s death and his life was still an unrecognizable sort of decagon shape instead of the standard cookie cutter circle. But none of that mattered because he was staring into bright brown eyes and a luminescent smile that was telling him that he was doing a wonderful job of raising Christopher on his own.

Others had been trying to tell him that for years (never the ones whose opinion meant to world to him, but he was learning to let that go) but that beautiful face was so sincere that he forgot himself. He forgot that he was a widow with a grieving son. He forgot the fear and regret that went along with the phantom pains when the weather turned cold. He forgot that he had failed in his ambition to live an entirely ordinary life. For a moment he thought: ‘when she smiles at me, I feel happy’.

He wanted to feel that way again.

There were several reasons that things just wouldn’t work out with Ana. For one: she was Christopher’s teacher, and even if it wasn’t against the rules, it still felt wrong. Two: he’d seen the moment she thought differently about him after he yelled at her at school. She was too professional and kind to say anything but even if it was possible, she was definitely no longer interested. The third reason was that he was a firefighter who worked insane hours and when he wasn’t at work, he was home with his son. There wasn’t exactly a lot of time for dating. Fourth: she wasn’t Buck.

That thought had been the one that kept him up at night. It had come to him while he stood in the shower, recounting his day, wondering how long he had until it would be time to pick up Christopher from school. He wasn’t feeling overly ambitious so he figured spaghetti and meatballs would be perfect for supper. He wondered what it would be like to cook for someone who wasn’t ten years old. Someone he could cook beside without having to keep a constant eye. There were times (in the early days with Shannon) where the two of them would cook together, do laundry, clean, do all the domestic things side by side. She had been insistent that they both learn to care for the house that they shared and he was happy to stand beside her in all things.

Remember to throw Buck’s gym clothes in the laundry next time he comes over. He keeps forgetting to throw them in his basket.

A simple little thought, really. He’d thought it before. His friend would leave his gym bag by the door for work and forget to empty it out when he went to do laundry. It was unlikely that anyone other than Eddie noticed the state of Buck’s clothes, but he’d been paying closer attention to him lately. Like how after the train derailment, his smile seemed easier; his shoulders relaxed more often – especially when he was with the 118 or Christopher. Buck seemed happy now that he’d gotten his closure from Abby.

He deserves to be happy. He makes me feel happy.

Buck did make him feel happy. The way he interacted with Christopher, the way he entrusted his son to this man without a second thought. But even when Christopher wasn’t around, Eddie enjoyed Buck’s company. Going to baseball games (dragging him, more like), sitting together when the crew went out for drinks after work. With Buck, he felt…

Safe.

Which wasn’t surprising, really. Buck was a kind man. Sweet and thoughtful. He put other’s first – just like Eddie does, he could hear Frank’s voice in his mind – and cared deeply about the people in his life. Not to mention, he was physically a very strong figure. In some other life, he and Buck met on the wrestling circuit but never fought. Him: with his MMA, and Buck: with his Greco-Roman Wrestling. With those broad shoulders and firm arms, he wouldn’t mind being pulled into a stronghold once or twice.

He knew Buck was conventionally attractive from the day they met. There was no hiding the sharp blue eyes or curly blond hair and rounded jaw.

Nothing like Ana.

Another correct statement that still seemed ominous in context. Why was he comparing Buck to Ana – or Shannon, for that matter? It wasn’t fair to compare friends to lovers. Although, Buck did fit into several categories on both sides.

Buck was a loyal friend, caring and trustworthy. He made Eddie and Christopher feel safe and loved. He wanted to do Buck’s laundry. He thought he was attractive. Slowly, one side of the column began to build in size.

Perhaps Buck was a bigger part of Eddie’s life than he realized. He hadn’t thought seriously about dating anyone until Ana and that never felt right but Buck…

Buck always felt right. Like he belonged with them. Like he’d known them all his life.

Could it be that Eddie wanted something other than friendship? Had he been climbing the wrong ladder all this time only to find himself at the top with no way across? After all: Buck had never given any indication that he was romantically interested in Eddie.

Though, to be fair, Eddie had given no indication either.

But that was because he’d just figured it out. Surely Buck had some idea that best friends didn’t act the way they did. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he wasn’t interested, in any way, with Eddie. Could he forget it and go back to the way things were? Now that his fingers seemed to tingle with the new realization, could he take it back? Could he put those feelings in a box until someone else came along?

Would there be anyone else?

What did he want to happen with Buck?

Kissing him, for starters, might be interesting. Those plump, pink lips exploring his entire body. Having someone in his bed every night would be nice – and not just anyone, but someone who understood his work and the stressors of the day. If anyone was going to stand by his side while he freaked out about Christopher going on his first date, it should be Buck. Next to Eddie, that man was the most protective when it came to that little boy. He’d only seen it once or twice but Eddie knew that Buck looked good in a suit. Would he look even better in a tux? Years from now, when he retired from the LAFD, it would be nice to feel the weight of a ring on his finger, knowing he had someone he loved waiting at home.

Oh.

Oh damn.

Eddie’s shower ran a little bit longer than expected that day.

That simple thought had sent him on a spiral two weeks ago and every night that he struggled to fall asleep, he found himself rolling to the empty side of the bed, wondering what it would be like to wake up next to his best friend.

The conclusion he inevitably came to: it would be wonderful.

If the worlds aligned, of course. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about his sudden, escalating realization (not even Frank). There was no way to know if Buck reciprocated his feelings in any way. Though he knew with uncanny certainty that he would be safe to confess his feelings without fear of losing his relationship entirely, it still seemed safer to gather more information before making any sort of move.

I’m safe with Buck no matter what.

So, no. Eddie would not describe what he felt for Buck as a simple ‘crush’.

It was everything.

------------------------------

The accident scene was a mess. It always was. They so rarely rolled up on an event that was neatly organized – not that it would make him any less stressed or worried for the safety of his patients. It was his job to worry, to be surrounded by chaos. Perhaps that was his new normal now, and his idea of an ordinary life had shifted to one that involved heavier boots.

There was still a sense of satisfaction and ease, knowing that he got to go home to his son every night, that he was helping people, and there were people in his life who loved and supported him. Unlike his old army mates (as strong as those relationships were), he also knew that if he woke up and decided to be a baker instead of a firefighter, the 118 would still treat him as one of their own.

Perhaps ‘baker’ wasn’t the best example, baking had never been one of his favourite activities. A florist, or a construction worker, maybe. Firefighting meant a lot to him but it wasn’t his calling – the way it was for his… for Buck. How would the man react if one day, Eddie told him that they would no longer be partners in work? There was no doubt in his mind that Buck would still be over on Thursday nights with pizza and video games. And perhaps if Eddie was working more regular hours, he could go over to Buck’s on occasion and make dinner for the three of them. That would be a nice surprise. Buck would smile that impossibly bright smile and open his arms to Christopher, swinging the boy around gently because he was overly cautious about roughhousing with him – something that only made Eddie’s heart beat faster. Then, Buck would make his way over to Eddie and kiss him with a sort of reverence; like he can’t quite believe that Eddie’s real. He could rest assured that the feeling was mutual.

What a ridiculously outdated fantasy. He’d clearly grown up watching too much ‘I Love Lucy’.

The firefighter shook his head as he hopped out of the truck, turning his thoughts towards the work at hand.

That was something he’d always been good at: focus and calm under pressure. It was what had made becoming a firefighter so appealing. Sure, being a combat medic meant he was more than qualified for field rescues, but all that stoic strength he possessed was better used at work rather than at home. At home, he could be Christopher’s dad. At work, he was Firefighter Diaz.

There was no room for fantasies in Firefighter Diaz’s mind.

The chaos of the accident mostly consisted of cries of pain from passengers trapped in their vehicles as they tried in vain to free themselves before the qualified company could arrive. It wasn’t uncommon to come across a major pile up in the middle of the day, when Angelenos weren’t kept at a complete standstill, and impatient drivers were a staple of life in the LAFD.

Eddie took his orders from Bobby, clearing a path of bystanders for the heavy equipment, and assisting those who were stuck somewhere between freeing themselves and receiving a particularly crude hemicorporectomy. For all the noise, it was a relatively calm affair. Sure, some were screaming and crying – and one woman definitely threw a fit when told to climb out the passenger-side window of her shattered vehicle. But those in need of help received the assistance they required, and the worst injury they encountered was a broken rib and neck bruise from a young man who remained conscious throughout his entire extraction.

It was messy, it was chaotic, it was loud, but it was all right. There were still a few people with minor concussions and bloody wounds that could hopefully be tended to at the scene (most of them unwilling to take the ambulance ride if it wasn’t strictly necessary). He was admittedly a little hyper-focused today, his mind fighting the urge to wander away from its regular duties. Eddie chided himself for feeling so lovesick at work. He’d gone all this time loving Buck, he could handle a few more hours. It was that hyper focus which would be his undoing.

“All right, I think you’re going to be just fine. Head on over to my husband over there and he’ll get you some gauze for your arm.”

An innocent enough sentence – one that didn’t register in his mind through the haze of moving from one patient to the next – but one that only fed into that dangerous fantasy of his.

“What did you call Buck?”

And one that Chimney had apparently heard loud and clear.

Eddie blinked, as he kept his eyes trained on the man before him (some poor bystander who’d bumped his head when he’d stumbled backwards to avoid the oncoming collisions), determined to remain professional in the face of his own idiocy.

Clicking his penlight on with a little too much enthusiasm, he shook the device over his patient’s face. “Can you look up, sir?” Eddie felt his coworker’s eyes trained on him but he kept his focus on his work. As he continued his examination, Chimney crept closer, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and amusement but still, the ex-soldier remained stoic as ever. Some part of Eddie knew that ignoring his friend now would only lead to a confrontation later but right now, he had work to do. And dividing his attention between his duty and his teasing friends was not how he wanted to spend his afternoon. So, he stayed focused. After a few moments, he saw Chimney shake his head and move away, letting Eddie take a much-needed breath of relief.

He was safe from his own stupid brain. For now.

Eddie knew it was coming when Chimney let him be during the rest of their scene cleanup. It was inevitable; but knowing and experiencing were two entirely separate matters.

“So.” Chimney wore what could only be described as a ‘shit-eating grin’ as he began his sentence, pulling all eyes in the back of the truck to him. “Is there something that Buck and Eddie would like to tell us?”

Buck, innocent as ever, turned to Eddie for guidance. “No…?” Eddie could only stare out the window, sorely tempted to remove his headphones if only to prolong the inevitable conversation. Was he blushing or was his face simply burning from the inside out?

“Are you sure?” The man was unrelenting, his voice growing higher with his escalating amusement. As if giving them a chance to confess would be easier than Chimney spilling the truth.

Not that there was any truth to confess. There was just one, very, very, idiotic man who got one simple crush and couldn’t keep it in his pants.

“Chim, what’s going on?”

There were two options Eddie faced in this moment where his head filled with warning sirens (not dissimilar to the ones that normally filled the truck). He could come clean and confess his sins to the team, facing the consequences with what meager amount of dignity he had left. Or, he could lie and pretend Chimney had misheard him, and they could all go about their day. That seemed the safer option. Of course, he hated lying to his team – to his friends – but what was the alternative?

“I called Buck my husband at the scene.”

Apparently, the alternative was exclaiming his idiocy in front of his teammates and denying the flash of a smile on his partner’s face. It was a simple upturn twitch of his lip, hardly noticeable, but the only opinion that mattered to Eddie as he gave his confession was from the man sitting across from him – and he was decidedly attuned to Buck’s ever-changing expressions. On a normal day, he enjoyed the way their knees bumped as the truck bounced through the streets of Los Angeles; it was just another reminder of how connected they were. Now, it made the space between them feel too close – yet still not close enough.

Buck’s face, upon hearing the news that Eddie had tied them together in the mind of some random stranger, flickered once before falling to something neutral and curious (almost amused). As if he was studying something.

“Oh, I don’t mind.” His partner shrugged and Eddie’s heart stopped. “Were they hitting on you?”

Again, Eddie appeared at a crossroads. “No.” And chose the more embarrassingly honest answer.

“Were they hitting on me?”

“No.” So many forks in his path but he continued to veer in one direction, as Buck furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Then why did you”

“I don’t know.” Eddie tried to sound casual as he grumblingly cut him off before he could continue his innocent interrogation. Through the headset, he could hear Chimney snort in disbelief but his eyes remained solely locked on his partner.

He knew why Chimney might scoff at his dismissal – those type of slipups didn’t ‘just happen’, after all – but it was as close to the truth as he could muster. He didn’t know why he’d said what he said. His mind was still frazzled from long hours contemplating what he wanted and what he felt.

Apparently, his subconscious had taken over and now he had his answer.

An answer which was decidedly too large to attempt to unpack while he was still on duty.

He wanted Buck to be his husband. He was ready to get married again – and to his best friend, no less. All wonderful information to process at another time.

The rest of the trip back to the station was filled with noise: the roar of the engine, the shout of the horn when someone inevitably cut them off, the clank of metal against metal. Eddie’s head was silent. He stared out the window at the passing world, feeling the eyes of his partner drilling into his cheek for a time, and then return to his phone. No one spoke, but the absence of voice was deafening. Teasing or pestering would have been better than the juxtaposing silence that told him everyone knew what he’d meant.

Buck had given him every out for his little mistake and, instead, Eddie had barreled straight into his own demise. There was no other explanation as to why he’d said what he said: he’d meant it. Or wanted to mean it, rather. Sure, his dirty little secret had been outed, but Buck had yet to make a comment one way or the other.

I don’t mind.

One friend helping out another: that was what it meant to Buck. And he loved that. But there was no mistaking now what Eddie felt in his heart.

He wanted it to mean something else.

Climbing out of the truck at the end of their journey was harder than usual. The silent stares wouldn’t stop because they were back at the station, it would only be worsened by the fact that there was nothing else to focus on. Eddie never prayed for a call – and he still wouldn’t now – but if there was any mercy in the world, he could avoid all of his friends and co-workers for the rest of their shift.

Simple enough.

“Hey.” Eddie cursed at the familiar voice following him towards the cubbies. Naturally, they were alone, naturally, there was no real excuse to leave – and apparently, he’d decided to suppress his ability to tell white lies for the sake of his pride today – naturally, his heart pounded behind his eyelids as Buck stopped jogging in front of him.

“I just want to say…” and here came the inevitable turndown Eddie dreaded and secretly hoped would never come. “It’s okay, I get it.” Buck’s smile was small but sincere. That man couldn’t be anything less than sincere.

It’s one of the reasons why I lo-

“It was just a slip of the tongue,” Eddie cut off his own thoughts before they betrayed him the way his subconscious had. He needed at least some of his faculties to survive the day. “Don’t worry about it.”

He stepped to the side, intending to escape his own personal hell – was it always this hot in the station? Did they always stand so close to one another? How had he never realized his feelings before now? – but Buck blocked his path.

“No, really, it’s fine.” Was Buck blushing now? “I kind of think of you as my work-husband, too.”

Another perfect opportunity for an out. He could flounder excuses about being tired and meaning it in a work-related setting the way Buck implied.

“Right.” His words sounded weak to his own ears. Who knew what they sounded like to Buck, as the man finally let him pass. Freedom secured, Eddie quickened his pace so as to escape the curious eyes of his fellow crewmates as quickly as possible.

Or at least, that was the plan, until Buck called out: “But you know, I’m free tonight if you wanted to talk about it.”

It felt as though the world stopped spinning – but the distant sound of clanking cutlery from the loft reminded him that it had not. His stomach dropped into his shoes, and his skin burst into flames from the buzzing in his ears. Eddie pivoted on his heel slowly to face his partner, uncertain he’d even heard the words he’d said. But there was Buck, blushing as brightly as he felt, but smiling a much more lopsided grin.

“Talk about what?” He cautiously asked.

Buck moved first, filling the minimal space Eddie had put between them with his broad chest and bright, eager eyes. He smelled of smoke and pine (despite interacting with neither today) and a thin sheen of sweat made him appear more disheveled than perhaps he was. Had he always been so intoxicating? What were they talking about?

“About being husbands… outside of work.”

“What?” Now Eddie was certain that he’d misheard his friend.

Buck simply smirked in response to his question, eyes moving slowly over Eddie’s face. He was always examining, questioning, confident. He had been doomed from the start.

“Christopher’s in bed at eight, right?”

“We’re pushing it to eight-thirty.” His mouth moved on autopilot, too stunned to comprehend the sudden shift in subject.

Again, Buck’s blue eyes circled his face slowly, absorbing all Eddie’s focus as he felt himself physically affected from the mere sight of his partner with his knowing grin and wandering eye. So entranced was he, that he didn’t notice how closely the other man had leaned into his space until he felt his hot breath against his skin. Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat.

He was absolutely doomed.

When Buck spoke, his tongue danced along his teeth, an enticing show of some unfulfilled fantasy that had never occurred to Eddie in the first place.

“Then I’ll be there at eight-thirty-one.”

Buck’s flirtatious demeanor melted into a giddy smile that snapped through the tension he’d pulled between them. “I was a little- a lot worried you didn’t feel the same.” He confessed, still filling Eddie’s space with his infectious energy. One word from him, and Eddie melted.

“You…were…” No more words filled his mind beyond a string of victorious swears and the sound of panicked cheering, but Buck seemed to understand him nonetheless. Buck had always understood him.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with using the truck to keep his legs underneath him, he would have turned to see Buck walk away, pumping his fist in excitement. As it was, several crewmembers looked on from the balcony, shaking their heads at the pair of idiots acting like lovesick teenagers over a single date.

Chimney shooed them all away before taking the opportunity to shout: “Buck, tell your husband that lunch is ready.” Which earned him more than a few chuckles from the firefighters upstairs, and two overexaggerated groans from the men below.

They were definitely not going to be living this down for a while.

For once, Eddie didn’t mind – and if the grin plastered on Buck’s face for the rest of the shift was any indication, neither did he.

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Falcon of Detroit (DBH Connor Fanfiction) Chapter Ten

~Phoebe's POV~

Connor turned his full attention to me and I awaited to see what all he knew about me. "You graduated two years ahead of your class in college due to excellent performance and grades at Penn State. After graduation, you moved to Detroit. At the age of twenty-two, you became the youngest detective in all of Michigan. A few months after your instatement with the DPD, you solved your first case and placed one of Detroit's most dangerous serial killers in jail—Benjamin Atkins, or well-known as the Woodward Corridor Killer."

(Benjamin Atkins is a real serial killer from Detroit. He died in 1997, but let's just say he's alive and in jail in 2038.)

After the arrest, you and the Lieutenant became partners and you both have worked together since."

"You sound like a walking Wikipedia," I commented out of the blue.

"I did my research before CyberLife assigned me to be your partner and the Lieutenant's," Connor confesses. His neutral expression suddenly changed serious. "I'm... sorry about your parents, Phoebe."

"Don't be. They were killed when I was in high school."

"What happened?" Hank asked.

"Well, my parents were coming home and crossing one of the bridges in Pittsburgh. A drunk driver hit them and their car went over the side of the bridge. They didn't make it out of the car and drowned."

"Now I know why you never told me..." Hank sorrowfully sighs. "I'm sorry for asking.”

"Don't worry about it. That was twelve years ago."

Suddenly, Connor's LED changes to yellow. "I just got a report of a suspected deviant or rogue. It's a few blocks away. We should go have a look."

"You better eat faster, Hank, or we're leaving you behind," I tease.

"Just give me a few minutes and then we'll go," Hank said, taking a huge bite out of his hamburger and then another.

"Don't choke yourself!" I scolded.

He waved me off, taking another bite and washing it down with a swig of soda. I shook my head in disbelief and followed Connor to the car.

-A Few Minutes Later-

Just as Hank promised, he finished his burger in record time and drove us to an apartment building that appeared to be in poor condition. We rode the elevator to our destination and stepped off. When Connor wasn't following us, Hank and I exchanged confused glances. "Hey, Connor!" The man bellows, his eyes falling back on him. The android opened his eyes, meeting our muddled expressions. "You ran outta batteries or what?"

"I was making a report to CyberLife."

"Uh, well, do you plan on staying in the elevator?"

"No! I'm coming."

The android exited the elevator and walked beside me as we meandered down the dusty, dirty hallway. Hank led the way, questioning who our target was. "What do we know about this guy?"

"Not much. Just that a neighbor reported that he heard strange noises coming from this floor."

"Who the hell would live in this dump?" I scoffed, staring at the junk that littered the hallway.

"Nobody's supposed to be living here, but the neighbor said he saw a man hiding a LED under his cap," Connor answered.

Hank groaned. "Oh, Christ. If we have to investigate every time someone hears a strange noise, we're gonna need more cops."

I nodded in agreement. "Preach."

We reached the door at the end of the hallway and Hank leaned against the wall beside it. "Hey, were you really makin' a report back there in the elevator? Just by closing your eyes?”

"Correct," the android responds, positioning himself in front of the door.

"Shit. Wish I could do that."

"I'm more of a 'write-down-everything' kinda girl," I commented.

"What about essays?" Hank inquired.

"Hell yeah! I'm more creative with a pencil in my hand than typing on a keyboard."

"So that's why you still write your reports by hand."

Connor knocked on the door, ending our conversation. "Anybody home?" The machine knocked louder and harder. "Open up! Detroit Police!"

Hank laid a hand against his concealed pistol as we heard the sound of scuffling from the other side of the door. "You both stay behind me."

"Got it," Connor and I answered in unison.

The Lieutenant drew his pistol and kicked the door in. It flew open, the strong stench of fecal matter slapping us in the face. I winced at the horrid stench as the three of us entered the apartment. Hank holstered his pistol with a growl. "What the fuck is this?!" The entire apartment, minus the small rooms, were swarmed with pigeons. The birds were pecking at the floorboards and I assumed it was food they were eating. "Jesus, this place stinks..."

"Thanks for the info, Captain Obvious," I playfully saluted the man.

The three of us searched the apartment. Connor and Hank checked the living room and kitchen while I searched the small bedroom. With no clues, I wandered to the living room and heard Hank complaining. "Uh, looks like we came for nothin'. Our man's gone."

"Not possible. The only exit is the front door. The windows are either partially boarded up or entirely blocked off. Our man is hiding and I bet he can hear us," I stated.

Connor suddenly tore a poster off the wall and revealed a notebook. He flipped through the pages before closing the leather-bounded object. Hank peered at the android when he saw the item in his hand. "Found something?"

"I don't know. It looks like a notebook, but it's... indecipherable."

"May I see it?" I ask. Connor hands the notebook over and I flip through the pages. The symbols inside seemed to resemble large mazes with no signs of an entrance or exit. It was the same image I saw painted in the bedroom. Turning the page, I found a symbol that seemed familiar.

It resembled a key and I remembered where I had seen it before. I pulled out my phone, catching Hank and Connor's curiosity. "Phee, what are you looking up?"

"The newspaper from a few months ago when the first rogue appeared. This symbol..." I showed them the page while my eyes were scanning my search results. "I saw it in the picture that went with the article." I finally found what I was searching for and showed them. "The rogue used the blood from his victim to create it. Then, it was killed by police just after it finished drawing this symbol."

"It's possible the symbol is linked to Amadeus," Connor concludes.

"That's exactly what I was thinking, but... the symbol has only appeared in the first rogue case. The number of corrupted androids has increased since this incident, but this symbol has only appeared once."

"Is it possible we're dealing with a rogue?" Hank inquired.

I shook my head. "No. If we were, the android wouldn't be hiding right now. Rogues love confrontation and bloodshed. Deviants, on the other hand, are the complete opposite."

"I will check the bathroom," Connor announces, walking into said room.

Hank and I remained in the pigeon infested living room/kitchen area, both of us spotting the box of bird seed on the counter. I picked up the empty box and saw the logo of the store from where the android had purchased the feed. "Definitely a deviant. Rogues wouldn't go through the trouble of buying anything. And no human would welcome this many pigeons in a small apartment."

"Not surprised it was an android. No human could live with all these fuckin' pigeons," Hank stated.

Connor returned from the bathroom and told us he found a LED on the sink and the same maze-like drawings on the wall along with ra9 written over two thousand times.

"We found nothing new out here, except for a small pile of books on the shelves beside the closet. Sadly, none of them hold crucial information," I informed the android.

"Real books... I thought Phee and I were the last people in Detroit to keep some. Electronic books, you can't... smell the paper, see the pages turning yellow." Hank fell silent when Connor didn't react to his words. The man found his voice again and sighed. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"Hardly doubt Connor would have an idea. He's only been in working condition for a few months and hasn't really explored the old ways. The only reason I still have physical copies is because I love the feel of turning each page. You can't get that same satisfaction with all this digital shit. And, you don't have to worry about charging a book or it not working."

"Ain't that the truth," Hank smiled.

Connor's eyes suddenly narrowed as he approached a hole in the ceiling. There was no light, making it difficult to see inside the cranny. As he was directly under the hole, the android we've been searching for tackles Connor and makes a quick escape, stirring up the pigeons as he dashed out of the apartment. "Connor, go after him! We'll be fine!" I shouted over the obnoxious sound of wings flapping.

The machine nodded and snappily took chase. Hank and I exited the apartment after the horde of pigeons had settled. I glanced down the hall, eyes glued to the decrepit wall. "I know what you're thinking, Phee," Hank said.

"We'll try to cut the deviant off and help Connor catch him."

"How're we supposed to know where the hell those two are?"

"Random selection. Let's go!"

"Hey! Don't push yourself! You've already torn your stitches once!"

"I'll be fine! We've got a deviant to catch!"

The two of us ran through the streets. We caught small glimpses of Connor and the deviant as they ran across the rooftops. Hank and I decided to ascend one building and saw the deviant coming straight towards us. The man quickly pushed me aside as the machine grabbed him and pushed Hank over the ledge of the building. The Lieutenant grabbed the ledge before he could fall to the ground below. "Hank!"

Just then, Connor arrived and assisted Hank before I could react. As I saw the deviant getting away, I quickly chased after him. A few seconds later, I heard the Lieutenant shout at the RK800. "Connor, stop Phoebe before she hurts herself again!"

I didn't stop running even after hearing Connor and Hank shout for me to stop. Ignoring their worried calls completely, I chase the deviant across more rooftops. When we reached a giant gap between two buildings, the machine jumped and reached the other building perfectly. Seeing as I wasn't as agile or tough as normal androids, I took a deep breath and backed up to get a better running start. I didn't make it far before I was tackled to the ground, arms wrapped around my body protectively.

Desperate to free myself and catch up to the deviant, I tried to pry the person off of me. I recognized the tie, but I still squirmed in Connor's grasp. "Connor, let me go! He's getting away!"

"That deviant isn't more important than your life, Phoebe!" His LED flashed yellow as his hold tightened on me.

"He knew about the key symbol! We could've had another lead on Amadeus!" I shouted, grasping his jacket tightly. The fabric crinkled under my death grip as my eyes were glued in the direction the android had disappeared.

Connor's body loomed over mine as he unwrapped his arms from my waist. His hands gripped mine tightly and I knew he wouldn't let go until I had calmed down. "We will find and apprehend Amadeus. I promise, Phoebe."

I inhaled deeply to calm myself down and turned my gaze to Connor. His brown eyes met my blue ones and I saw emotions I've never seen him express. Concern and joy were mixed in his eyes, showing the worry he had for me and the happiness of learning I was alright. I sigh heavily, closing my eyes for a few seconds before opening them again. "I'm sorry, Connor. I shouldn't have chased after him. I was just so... desperate to know what he knew about that key symbol."

"You do not need to apologize. I understand you wish to capture Amadeus as soon as possible, but you cannot risk your life."

I smiled. "Thank you, Connor."

[boardbysara]

The Perfect Reason For A Breakup

He was dead set against having a long-term relationship with me from the get-go - I could tell. It was obvious. He basically - like any man - said it directly without saying it directly at all.

I pestered him about it for the entire six months we were seeing each other. At the end of our time together, though he said he loved me and would miss me... he still said directly, without saying it directly, that we wouldn't be together even if our circumstances righted themselves.

Of course I felt rejected. And of course, like any woman would, I agonizingly over-analyzed every single possible reason for his rejection.

There's the fact that I made the classic mistakes that usually make men run... but his love for me increased over those six months, so that doesn't really pan out.

There's the fact that we are both passionate about our faith practices which differ enough that neither would really convert to the other person's. But he was ready to commit to his previous lady who also didn't share his faith, so this reason also doesn't pan out.

There's the assumption that I'm just not pretty enough. I was, as admitted by him, not his usual M.O. when it comes to physical appearance. He usually goes for shorter, chubbier girls. I am 5'6'' and skinny. He literally called me "a skinny." I was his "first" skinny. But he repeatedly and earnestly told me that I am beautiful and sexy in ways a man had never done before, and the man could not keep his hands off me. So that doesn't really pan out.

There's the fact that we do not share the same ethnicity and therefore the same culture. He's very passionate about his culture. I love his culture too! That's why I date guys from it! But of course that's not the same as me being from within it (but gosh how much I wish I was. I swear I was Latina in my past life!!) Except his previous lady wasn't either. So again, it doesn't pan out.

It only leaves one thing left, and while I was praying last night, I felt like God confirmed it:

It's the fact that I'm white collar (and he's blue.)

We never had a conversation about it, but he made comments. I could tell that he has some strong feelings about it.

It did make for some gaps in our emotional connection. I'm a writer. I blog. I self-published a book. I have plans to publish more. He would always make comments about how he "doesn't read." (Not technically true, he is literate, but he doesn't read for enjoyment.) He joked that was why he wouldn't be able to read my books. Ummmm. I definitely need to be with somebody who will read all of my books (front to back)! I want someone I can read books WITH and discuss them together.

There were differences in our perspectives and knowledge that I felt were glaring sometimes and were obviously rooted in a difference in education and exposure.

I knew if I'd taken him home to meet my family there would be some awkwardness... or at least a bit of a barrier to him being able to bond with my family simply because the conversation would be about things he didn't know about or take an interest in.

I could sense the effects of that cultural gap, but I would never judge him for that. I would never write him off as a long-term partner for any of that - for being blue-collar.

I get the sense he does though. He wrote me off. He'd written me off before he'd given me a chance and then he grew to love me in spite of it but it didn't erase the effects of it. Not enough for him, I guess.

His previous lady was blue, too. And the one before that.

And as I'm writing this, it makes me sad, but knowing this also brought me peace.

I REALIZED THAT IF YOU ARE GOING TO REJECT SOMEONE, THIS REASON MEETS THE CRITERIA OF THE PERFECT REASON.

It's not about the subject matter - it's not about the blue collar/white collar reason. It's about the parameters of the reason.

Think about it!

I can't change it - so I don't need to freak out and stress and try to change it.

I'm not inferior because of it. I have absolutely nothing to feel bad about!

I can't be mad at him for it! I mean, I'm sure lots of other people would be mad - I'm sure lots of people reading this are finding fault with him for it. But I can't. Because being with someone who is from the same culture (even if that culture is based around which working/educational class you fall in) is one of those things that makes you feel more at home with a person - makes you feel like you have things in common, like they understand you. And I understand wanting someone you feel at home with - I do too! And I could feel the gap in that between us at times too.

I can't be jealous of another woman for being the opposite of me in this. (Because being jealous of someone for NOT having a college education is illogical. It just doesn't happen.) His next lady might be shorter than me (I've always wanted to be shorter than I am), she might be what I would consider prettier, she might be Latina, she might partake in his faith, and I might feel a tinge of jealousy for all those reasons because they eliminate barriers to being with him (and he is a great man.) But they're not the reasons that I'M not with him. There is ONE reason why I'm not with him - according to all the possible reasons why he could have been against a long-term relationship from the get-go - and it's not one that I can possibly be jealous of.

All of which means I can't really be jealous or mad about his future relationships.

All of which means we actually have a much higher chance of maintaining a genuine friendship. (Except now I don't want that.)

That list, ladies and gents, makes up the criteria for the perfect rejection of a person/relationship. Something you can't change, that isn't a flaw, that you can't feel inferior for, or jealous of, or angry about - and allows the preservation of a friendship if you want it.

I can't lie and say that I don't want someone who fills in the gaps that we both felt - I do! The difference between him and me is that I don't see being blue-collar as a deal-breaker. I think someone who is blue-collar could still fill in those gaps (of me needing more intellectual stimulation) as long as he was a reader.

You don't need to go to college to be smart and get a great job... but in order to have real knowledge and a broader worldview, you do need to read books. This is proven in myriad stories of some of our world's most successful entrepreneurs. So a degree isn't a requirement for me - but books are.

I didn't see his blue-collar status as being an impediment to our relationship, but he does. And I can't force the man to read books.

But I can rest easy knowing that his rejection was one that cuts out all the angst and drama.

FAQs:

If he knew he wasn't going to have a long-term relationship with you from the get-go but proceeded to hook up with you anyway, doesn't that make him a douschebag? Yes. Yes, it does. But he has acknowledged it, apologized, and embarked on the road to change. I.E., is no longer taking advantage of me and my feelings and is working on no longer being a douschebag, in his own way.

If you could tell he was dead-set against it from the get-go, why did YOU keep hooking up with him? Because I naively thought I could change his mind. This is a very common mistake women make. The answer is no - you will never change his mind, no matter what his reason. It just so happened that his reason was something I very truly cannot change. I learned A LOT from this short-lived relationship that will definitely be covered in future posts.