#i shook canon and took what i liked and ran with it unfortunately for drama purposes Viserys lives i'm sorry

[writeshite]

Robb not wanting to the the arranged marriage mostly because he never met the man but upon seeing who he is going to marry he perks up and knows he's about to get destroyed

“Are you scared?” 

Robb turns away from the upcoming Red Keep; the dragons had been circling their wagons from the moment they’d crossed into their territory. He’d kept himself busy this past month of travel, shaking like a leaf when his mind could muster the courage to try and process his upcoming nuptials. 

Sansa nudges him, “Are you scared?” she repeats.

“Yes,” he admits. When his father returned from his audience in Kings Landing, he’d been unnervingly quiet, Robb had chalked it up to exhaustion, but he’d been proven wrong when the angry, harsh whispers of his parents filled the halls of Winterfell. ‘Marriage,’ his mother had screamed, then cried, but Robb hadn’t thought much of it, assuming an alliance or perhaps some assurance was needed from the queen. He’d been half right. 

“What do you think he’s like?” 

Robb shrugs, “Don’t know, never seen him before, just his dragon.”

Sansa had been offering him minor pieces of conversation whenever he looked ready to keel over. ‘You’ll be marrying into the Targaryen house, Robb.’ He’d taken the news about as well as expected, bile rising up his throat, followed by anger, confusion, then defeat by the time of his third runaway attempt. Now, as the carriages headed towards the Keep, his anxiety twisted; further, the distant rumble of dragon roar was far louder. The people’s whispers and curious gazes followed them, and Robb slumped back into his seat. Up high, over one of the walls, he spotted several heads impaled upon spikes - one he recognized as Robert Baratheon, another Tywin Lannister, the rest most likely cohorts in the former’s attempted rebellion. 

When they come to a halt, they’re greeted by the Queensguard, the queen, and her two brothers. Viserys Targaryen was no warrior, but his malice and cruelty were as well known as his open spite toward his sister. Having been overlooked in succession as the people rallied behind her over fear of what lunacy he might have inherited. He sneered at them, lips curled in distaste as they approached. 

You, on the other hand, were feared more for your horrific feats. Robb may have only ever seen your dragon over the battlefield. Still, he’d also heard plenty from others - bloodcarver, dragon spawn, fire-made flesh - unlike Viserys, you regarded their party with indifference, eyes sweeping over them with little reaction. Though when your eyes land on him, they remain there, a half smile rising on your face. Robb admits you are handsome; your silver hair is half tied at the top and left to descend loosely on your shoulders, and Robb’s fingers twitch as he begins to imagine what it would feel like to card his fingers through it. Your attention remains on him well after pleasantries are exchanged, and when you come to walk beside him, he’s left feeling like a blushing maiden.

[a-simple-gaywitch]

“I’m SO Fired”

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer falls in love with Dave Rossi’s adopted daughter

Word Count: 2038

Warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of brutal case, mentions of death of parents, that’s it. it’s mostly fluff

“Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.” -Anton Chekhov

~

Spencer was leaning over Emily’s desk, helping her with some details of her paperwork. He glanced up and noticed a beautiful woman briefly talking to Anderson before entering through the glass doors. 

“Reid. Reid!” Emily said, snapping her fingers to get his attention. 

“What? Oh, sorry.”

Emily shook her head. “And just like that, 187 gets slashed to 60.”

The woman walked over to the desk with the two. “Uh, hi,” you said. “Is Dave Rossi here?”

“Oh, um, he should be here. Did you- do you have a meeting with him?” Spencer asked. 

“Kind of,” you said with a small laugh that made Spencer’s stomach flutter. “I’m-”

“(Y/N)!” Hotch said when he saw you. 

“Aaron!”

Emily and Spencer exchanged glances as you gave Aaron a brief hug. 

“Are you here to see your dad?” he asked you. 

“Yeah, is he here?”

“He should be in his office. How long are you in town?”

“Just the weekend,” you said. “But I’m coming back in June for vacation.”

“Well, I’ll let you go see your dad,” Hotch said. As you walked up the stairs, he turned to see Spencer gawking at you. Emily looked at Hotch apologetically. Hotch sighed and said, “Reid, focus on your paperwork, not (Y/N) Rossi.”

~

You knocked on the office door, waiting to hear your father’s voice. 

“Come in!” You pushed open the door and your adoptive father’s face lit up. “Tesorina!” he said, getting up to kiss your cheeks. “I was wondering when you were getting in. How���s work? And what about that boyfriend of yours? Anything-”

“Dad,” you said, cutting him off. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know at dinner. But you promised you’d introduce me to your team the next time I was in town.”

“I did promise that, didn’t I?” he said, pushing up from his desk. He slung his arm around your shoulder and steered you out of his office. The team was gathered in the bullpen, and they all turned to face Rossi when he cleared his throat. “Guys, this is my daughter, (Y/N).” He then introduced each team member to you, save for Aaron.

“Wow, Rossi, I didn’t know you even had a daughter,” Morgan said. 

“Gee, Dad, you don’t talk about me to your coworkers? I’m hurt,” you said, pressing your hand over your heart. 

Rossi rolled his eyes. “Drama queen.”

“So, you’re a Rossi?” Emily asked you. 

“Not biologically. Dave adopted me when I was five,” you explained.

“Initially, I was just fostering her for a little while, but I fell in love with this little rascal,” he said, ruffling your hair.

You set about fixing your hair. “Well, I gotta run. See you at the house for dinner?”

“Yeah, I should be done around 6. Don’t get into trouble.”

“Me, get into trouble? When have I ever been known to do that?” You shot a wink at the man you now knew to be Dr. Reid before leaving the BAU.

Spencer’s cheeks turned pink and he felt Rossi’s eyes on him. He looked down at his desk, busying himself with organizing his pen cup. When he heard Rossi’s office door close, he let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. 

Derek rolled his chair over to Spencer’s desk. “You’re looking a little flushed there, Pretty Boy. That wouldn’t have anything to do with Ms. Rossi, would it?”

“Shut up, Morgan,” he muttered, focusing on folding a small piece of paper on his desk into even smaller squares.

~

Dave walked into his house (mansion) to the smell of garlic bread and tomato sauce. He smiled and set his coat on the rack by the door. 

“You know, I would have cooked!” he called as he made his way to the kitchen. You were setting the table for the both of you. 

“Yes, but how often do you actually cook?” you asked him as you poured two glasses of red wine. “You’re always away on cases, I know how much fast food and takeout you eat. Now shut up and enjoy my carbonara.”

Dave chuckled and sat down at the table across from you. “So, how’s work going?” he asked you. 

You shrugged. “You know, there’s good days and bad days. We had a brother and his little sister get adopted together this week, which is always one of the big wins for us.”

He nodded. “What about that boyfriend of yours, Chad?”

“Oh, we broke up,” you said. “About a month ago.”

“Good, I didn’t really like him.”

“Dad, you say that about every guy I date.”

“And it’s true, I haven’t liked any of the guys you’ve dated.”

“Yeah, the only guys you’ve liked have been the ones you’ve tried to set me up with.”

“That’s not true!”

“Dad, remember Stephen?”

“I thought you would be a good match, honest. And before you say it, it’s not just because I’m overly protective.”

“So, we can admit you’re overprotective of me?” you said. 

“Of course I am. And can you blame me?”

“I guess not,” you said with a shrug. “And you could be worse. I could still be living here.”

“Oh, come on. Would that be so bad, having a huge house mostly to yourself?”

“Well, no, but I like living in Pennsylvania,” you said. “And I like having an apartment.” Your father gave you a skeptical look. “Stop profiling me.”

“Sorry, it’s hard to turn it off.” He took a sip of his wine. “You’re planning to go to the cemetery tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“I do every year, you know that.”

“Yeah. They’d be so proud of you, you know.”

You smiled down at your plate and pushed the pasta around. “I know. I, uh, I don’t have many memories of them anymore,” you said. “But the one I’ve been trying to get rid of is still there.”

Dave reached across the table and grabbed your hand. “Hey. Your parents loved you, so much. That’s all you need to remember, okay? They loved you so much that they sacrificed themselves for you.”

“Yeah.”

You lost your parents when you were five. There was a serial killer in the Greater DC Area, a family annihilator. He’d called himself the Orphan Maker. The man would seek out young families with kids no older than 8 and kill the parents first, in front of the children. Then he would kill the children. 

Rossi had been on that case, and had found that your family was the next target. Unfortunately, they did not get to your family before the man killed your parents. But fortunately, they caught him before he could get you. 

Rossi felt guilty they didn’t make it in time. When the law officers found that you didn’t have any family to take you in, Dave offered to bring you home. The plan was to originally just be a foster parent to you until CPS found a place for you to stay officially. But he fell in love with you. You were a little spitfire, a little troublemaker. Dave adopted you and dedicated the rest of his life to taking care of you and protecting you.

~

“Hey, Rossi!” Morgan said as he met the man in the kitchen to get coffee. “How was your weekend with (Y/N)?”

Rossi noticed Reid’s back straighten at the mention of (Y/N)’s name. He smiled to himself, a plan forming in his head. It was a bit of a convoluted plan, but it would work out for everyone in the end. 

“Oh, it was fine. She made me watch an episode of that show Reid and Garcia like.” He glanced over at Spencer’s desk and noticed he was listening intently. “I agreed since she’s still recovering from a recent breakup.”

“Is she okay?” Derek asked. “I know breakups can really suck.”

“She’ll be okay, she bounces back quick. I didn’t like the guy anyway. He was a meathead jock who thought being the high school quarterback was his entire personality. I want her to find a guy who’s smart and kind, someone I like.” He walked out of the kitchenette and passed Reid’s desk. He clapped his shoulder. “Morning, Reid.”

~

You were back in the area for a week-long vacation, and Dave had promised to go sight-seeing in DC with you. 

You walked into the bullpen and were greeted by Penelope, who had quickly become your friend. She wrapped you in a hug before Rossi made his way over to you. 

“Hey, Dad. You ready to go?” you asked after giving him a hug.

“Um, actually, I have to work late. But, you know, Dr. Reid here,” Spencer’s head snapped up from where he was packing his bag at the mention of his name, “knows more about the area than anyone I know. He can show you around. Right, Reid?”

Spencer looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure.”

You smiled at him and Spencer felt the butterflies that were already in his stomach go crazy. The two of you walked out of the office, Spencer nervously gripping the strap of his bag while you walked alongside him. 

Penelope looked at Rossi narrowing her eyes. “You don’t have to work late.”

Rossi smiled. “No.”

Penelope gasped. “You’re trying to set them up, aren’t you?”

“I will neither confirm nor deny,” Rossi said before walking back to his office. 

~

“So, Dr. Reid,” you said as the two of you walked out of the FBI building, “I heard you’re a huge Doctor Who fan.”

Spencer turned to look at you, losing his footing and tripping on the sidewalk. He straightened himself up and cleared his throat. “You, uh, you can call me Spencer. And yeah, I’m-I’m a fan.”

You smiled and Spencer thought the sun had come out again with the brightness you radiated. “Who’s your favorite? Personally, I’m a Tennent girl, but Baker is a close second.” Spencer was staring at you, his jaw dropped. “What?”

“You might be the hottest girl I’ve ever met.”

~

When Spencer woke up, the first thing he noticed was the beautiful woman asleep next to him, her head on his bare chest. He smiled and ran his hand through your hair as you started stirring.

“Morning,” he said as you looked up at him, resting her chin on his chest. 

“Morning, Pretty Boy.” You saw his smile falter and his eyes go wide. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so fired,” he said. “I slept with my boss’s daughter. I’m so fired. No, I’m more than fired. I’m dead. Rossi is going to kill me.”

“Hey. Spence, breathe,” you said, cupping his face in your hands. “He’s not going to do anything to you. And if he tries, he’ll face my wrath.”

Spencer chuckled. “Well, after that guy drove through that puddle and splashed you last night, I believe it.” He was silent for a moment as the two of you sat up in the bed. Spencer wrapped his arms around you, pulling your back to his chest. “What are you going to tell him when you go home?”

You shrugged, leaning your head back. “The truth. I got to know a sweet guy last night and I stayed the night at his place.”

Spencer smiled and gave you a soft kiss.

~

You slipped into the Rossi Manor, feeling like a teenager missing curfew again. You got about halfway through the kitchen before hearing Dave clear his throat. You spun around to see him standing by the kitchen island with a cup of coffee. 

“Oh, uh, morning, Dad.”

“So, you were out all night.”

“Yep.”

“And you’re wearing the same clothes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Who is he?” When you didn’t answer, he said, “Spencer?”

Your face paled. “How did-”

“You didn’t really think you could hide that from an old profiler, did you?” He handed you the mug. “Don’t worry, I approve. I’d be more than happy to have Spencer as a son.”

“Dad!”

~

“I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone.” - J.R.R. Tolkien 

[flamebearrel]

What Puts the “Fun” in “Fun Dead”? Chapter Four

Fandom: Eddsworld

Synopsis: What started out with a simple shopping trip on a snow day ends up with the latest zombie apocalypse. Unfortunately, Mark doesn’t realize until he’s right in the middle of it. Oh, well. Looks like no one else has noticed, either. He’ll just have to give them a few reminders.

Word Count: 1212

Original Post Date: Late 2017

Characters: Mark, an unnamed woman who is intended to be Coco (Minor Edd and Tom)

Ships: None

Trigger Warnings: Zombies, Blood, Biting, Head Injury (Will be added to a bit in later chapters)

Other Notes: Based off the events of the episodes “The Snogre” and “Fun Dead”; intended to take place within canon; the neighbors and the main three are friendlier with each other now; each chapter has a picture to go along with it

Ao3 Link

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

~~~

“Easy” was not the word Mark would use to describe his trip. If it weren’t for the fact that his neighbors were simply cruising along at such a casual speed, and for the fact that they were blasting a snazzy tune out of their opened windows, he surely would have been lost. Still, it was hard to match pace with a car. When he found a poor man being pinned by a zombie horde, he went straight for the man’s unlocked truck. Mark insisted to himself that it was already too late for the guy as he drove off.

He motored along carefully, staying far enough away from the car he followed so as not to cause suspicion. The last thing Mark wanted to do was freak Edd and his friends out. They didn't seem to notice him at all, which was good, he supposed.

Finally he saw their car slow, turning into a vast parking lot. He stopped his own car nearby. Then, taking a step out, Mark took a look at the towering sign above his head. It read “ASDFLand.”

Mark recognized the name after a moment as the title of an amusement park. Why were they here, of all places? He stared at it in wonder long enough to find that when he turned back around, the neighbors he was following had already went inside.

The blond sighed and went after them. After grabbing a few handfuls of tickets from a broken ticket machine and shuffling past the zombie in the booth nearby, the young man finally stepped through the front gates and took a look at the amusement park before him.

The first thing he noticed was that it was huge.

Rollercoasters and sky drops and carousels burst into life as people rushed onto their docks. Caricature booths and obviously rigged games littered the area as well. There were bursts of eccentric color in the air as swirls of carnival confections were placed in the hands of little ones all around.

Mark almost squealed in delight before he remembered what he had come to do. He scanned the crowd. It was clearly smaller than what was usual for the park, but still, plenty of people were there. Between the vast amount of area to search and the crowds of unaware civilians, it would be difficult to find his neighbors. Not to mention that he could pick out several zombies out there- it wouldn't be long before his friends were toast. He had to hurry.

A young woman with raven-tinted hair and a golden cat hairband was the first person he asked. “Excuse me, miss,” Mark began.

Turning to him, she lowered her candy floss and cringed slightly at the sight of his bloodied turtleneck. “Uh… are you okay? I don't think that much blood out of a single person is normal.”

“Oh don't worry, it’s not mine-” He stopped when she cowered back even more. That made him sound suspicious, didn't it? Immediately he explained, “Er- I didn't kill anyone, honest. It's just… I hate to ruin your fun but another zombie apocalypse has just begun.”

“A-are you sure? That would explain the… bodily fluids you're completely soaked in, but- there hasn't been one in years! How do you expect me to believe-”

Suddenly an ear-piercing scream hit the air as a person nearby was bitten. The crowds abruptly shuffled backwards as he writhed on the floor. Mark flinched, knowing that the man was already on his way to the undead world and feeling extremely helpless about it.

The dark-haired woman nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Maybe you're right. We should get out of here.”

“You need to do that,” Mark replied, “but I can't, yet. Have you seen three men wearing different colored hoodies? Two brunettes and a ginger?”

“No, sorry… good luck finding them though…!” The woman waved and hurried off, to where he hoped would be a safe place for her.

After asking several other people the same thing, Mark decided his method was too grueling to carry on with. He needed to find a new plan… a fast plan… but how could he see them when the world at his eye level was crowded and bustling and impossible to see through?

Wait… eye level. Obviously he had to get to higher ground in order to find them! And he knew how to do just that. The drop tower. Immediately he made off for it, glancing at his map from time to time for reference.

Soon he slowed down to take a look at the towering thrill ride in front of him. To him it felt a million meters high. Mark shook his head, fighting off the nerve-wracking feeling inside of him, and got in line.

Within a few minutes he was offered a seat. The blond took the offer and went to sit down. Mark buckled his grocery bags in next to him, knowing no one would want to sit next to a man soaked in ambiguous blood. Besides, the ride operator didn't seem to care very much. “Just move along,” the man droned before starting the ride.

Up up up, the gondola went, before screeching to a halt at the top of the world. The butt-chin man took a deep breath, narrowed his eyes, and looked over the crowd.

Immediately a flash of green and brown went past the corner of his eye. Yes, Mark could see Edd, having the time of his life on the rollercoasters. He flicked his eyes toward a different corner and quickly noticed Tom, walking towards the arcade. And… yep, there was the woman he had talked to earlier, who was heading for her car. Matt was nowhere in sight, leaving Mark to hope that his friend had just gone to a different area of the park.

Mark considered his options. Going to Edd first wouldn't work, the rollercoaster lines were always way too long. There was no point in finding the woman again, and looking for Matt without any clue where he was would be too difficult. That left Tom. Yes… Tom would probably be the one who could keep his head and help him out the most. Now with a destination seared into his mind, Mark closed his eyes and waited for the ride to rush him back to the world he knew.

Nothing happened. He waited some more. Still nothing. Frowning, the blond glanced down to find what was causing all the holdup.

A zombie was practically on top of the operator when he looked. Not in the mood for drama, Mark simply grabbed another can from his bags and tossed it at them. It hit the zombie in the back of the head and sent the undead creature careening into the controls.

Suddenly the ride rushed downwards without warning. Admittedly, Mark screamed a little, but as soon it stopped he recovered. He lifted up the safety bar, grabbed his bags, and left, but before he could walk through the arcade’s doors a grunt sounded behind him. He turned.

Zombies were everywhere. He could've sworn the amount of them was smaller just a half hour ago…

If they were multiplying this fast then he was running out of time.

Mark pivoted again and ran into the arcade.

[awkwardnessandbaseball]

CS 12 Days to Christmas, Day 2

SUPER DELAYED BECAUSE OF INSANE WORK SCHEDULES BUT HERE IT IS! 

AO3

Dec 15: City man/woman returns home to small town after being away

CW- VERY brief mentions of: alcohol, drunk driving, miscarriage/abortion (rumored, not factual), abuse, and a minor character death (canon). Strongly anti-Neal, SORRY.

“Welcome to Portland, Maine. The temperature is currently 28 degrees, so bundle up, and thank you for traveling with Amtrak!” The speaker made a harsh staticky noise as the conductor sloppily shut it down. Emma stood and stretched.

A four hour train ride really wasn’t all that bad, but knowing she was traveling home for the holidays for the first time in a decade had added a bit of extra cramping to the muscles in her neck and back.

She needed a massage.

She waited for some of the seats around her to empty out before reaching above her seat to grab her oversized suitcase.

“Need a hand, love?”

“No, thanks.” Emma rolled her eyes and shoved past the stranger, suitcase in hand.

She hadn’t been home since she’d turned 18, always forcing her brother and sister-in-law to visit her in Boston instead. She’d barely made it out of Storybrooke alive the first time, so returning simply hadn’t been an option. Until the previous summer, when Neal Gold had been locked up, finally, and Storybrooke seemed just a bit less nausea-inducing.

Emma shook Neal out of her head, determined to make this visit home different from when she had lived here. She was here for her family, nothing more.

As she waited on the sidewalk for her Uber Pool to arrive, she felt a presence appear next to her. Her headphones were plugged into her phone, but no music was playing – a basic tactic she used to avoid conversations with strangers in situations just like this one. She lucked out, and the person next to her didn’t attempt to make any sort of small talk, and they waited together in companionable silence.

Until her Uber arrived, and he went to climb in with her.

“Um, Emma? And Killian?” The driver called through the open window.

“Yep, that’s us.” Emma recognized his voice as the one who’d offered his assistance on the train.

Finally, she looked up at the stranger beside her.

“Killian Jones?” She gasped.

“Hey, are you two gettin’ in or what?” The Uber driver called from inside the vehicle.

“Now that you know I’m not a stranger out to steal your belongings, will you allow me to help you with your suitcase?” Killian gestured towards the trunk of the car.

“That’s not…I don’t…fine.” Emma rolled her eyes.

Killian Jones had been the ultimate Storybrooke High School playboy. Emma had been in love with him from the first time she’d seen him – she’d visited the high school in the eighth grade, and he’d been a sophomore. She hadn’t even known he’d been aware of her existence, and now they were sharing an Uber Pool back to their very small hometown.

That’s us, he’d said.

After they were safely buckled in and their driver began their twenty minute ride together, Killian wasted no time in striking up a conversation.

“I haven’t seen you since I graduated, how are you?”

“Um…fine. I moved to--,”

“Boston, right? I live there, too. I thought that was you when I was boarding the train, but I wasn’t sure until I saw you struggling with your suitcase.”

“I wasn’t struggling.”

He laughed, and Emma was suddenly back in the high school cafeteria, off to the side with her small, ragtag group of friends. Killian sat at the center table, surrounded by the rich kids and the star athletes, despite not falling into either category. He was always smiling, and the way he laughed now, in this Uber, was somehow even better than how he’d laughed in high school. His smile, certainly, was wider.

“Still the same Emma I remember.”

“How do you remember me at all?” The words were out before she could think better of them, and he wasn’t laughing anymore. Their eyes met, and he looked genuinely surprised.

“We took the same drawing class my senior year. Don’t you remember?”

She did. Of course she did. She’d spent the entirety of the semester trying to remind herself that she had a boyfriend so she couldn’t be staring at Killian Jones all period.

“Um, yeah. I just…didn’t think I’d made an impression.”

“Mr. Hopper used your charcoal drawing of a swan as an example of shading for like…every single assignment.”

“Yeah, but that’s my art, that’s not me.”

“I disagree.” He smirked a bit, and somehow they were sitting closer together despite their seatbelts keeping them in place. “Anyway, I remember you arguing with Hopper over every assignment, always wanting to do things your own way. That’s…what I meant. When I said you were the same.”

Emma shook her head, trying to will her scrambled thoughts back into place.

“What brings you back to Storybrooke on this horribly cold weekend?” A totally subtle change of subject should do the trick.

Killian looked lost for a moment, his brows coming together in confusion, but then his smile returned.

“I’m doing a talk at the high school, actually.”

“A talk?”

“Yeah, they asked me to talk about the dangers of drunk driving. I guess they have a former graduate do the talk every year now. Means more to the kids to have someone who’s walked the same halls tell them about it, than to have some random cop off the street do it. Plus, you know, Liam…” His eyes darkened a bit.

Everyone had known about Liam Jones – star quarterback of the Storybrooke High School football team. He was set to graduate three years prior to Killian, so Emma had never actually met him, but she knew of him all the same. He’d been killed by a drunk driver during his senior year, when Killian had been a freshman. Every year, right before the winter formal, the school had someone speak to the student body about the dangers of drunk driving, and they always talked about Liam Jones.

Killian cleared his throat suddenly.

“What about you? What brings you back to lovely old Storybrooke?”

“I’m here for Christmas.”

“Have you been home since…” He bit his lip, unsure if he was allowed to finish the question.

“Since everything with Neal?” Emma found herself surprised again. If you’d told her an hour ago that Killian Jones had not only known who she was, by name, but that he also knew about all the drama of her senior year of high school, she would have laughed herself silly.

There’d been a lot of rumors about Emma and Neal. The biggest one was that she’d gotten pregnant had had somehow lost the baby. And so she’d disappeared.

A lie, just like all the other rumors. Emma wondered which one – or ones – Killian had heard. Which ones he believed.

She wondered what he thought of her.

The truth was that Neal had hit her – just once, that was all it had taken – and she’d broken up with him. It should have been simple, a clean break. The messy part was that she knew about all of his seedy lifestyle secrets: drug deals and selling stolen high-end items on the sly. She knew where he kept his money, his stash, everything. So he’d tried to frame her for crime after crime, planting drugs in her locker and a stolen purse in her car. He’d tried to get rid of her anyway he knew how.

Luckily, Emma had had an alibi for everything he’d tried to pin on her. Unfortunately, Neal Gold was nothing if not determined. So, as soon as Emma held that diploma in her hand, she ran. She fled to Boston, promising herself that she’d never go back to Storybrooke, to Neal, to any of it.

But finally, Neal was gone. And though she’d never admit it out loud, Emma was a bit glad to be back. And it definitely had nothing to do with the piercing blue eyes sharing a backseat with her on a chilly December afternoon. Absolutely not.

“Yeah. I didn’t…I never was sure what really happened. I guess it’s none of my business, though.” He scratched behind his ear.

“It doesn’t matter. No, I haven’t been back since. But Neal’s gone now. So…here I am, I guess.”

“Can’t say I’m sorry to see him locked up if he did anything like what the rumor mill was spitting out.” He raised one eyebrow. As he spoke, Emma realized the car had stopped, that they were in Storybrooke, about to go their separate ways. “I know this is probably crazy but…would you want to get a drink tonight? To celebrate coming home, or something cheesy like that?”

Emma stared at him for a moment, her mouth hanging open.

“A drink?” She asked as they climbed out of the car.

“Or dinner. Whichever suits your fancy.” He raised an eyebrow and smiled nervously, hand hovering over the trunk of the car.

“A drink…sounds really nice.”

“Aesop’s Tables? 9PM?”

“Okay.”

“Good to see you again, Emma.” He grinned as he lifted her suitcase out for her, not waiting to ask permission this time.

“You too, Killian.”

Emma could not wait to tell Mary Margaret about this. Happy Holidays, indeed.

[hillnerd]

Taking a Shallow Breath Ch 6

|Harry Potter | Fanfiction | PG-13 | in-progress | Chapter: 4422 words

Ships: Rose/Scorpius, canon and others | Fanfiction.net link

Romance friendship comedy family & drama |

Ch 1  | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

"Rose?"

What in the world was that sound?

Rose rolled herself even tighter in her cocoon of bed sheets.

"Rose?"

"Go 'way, Hugo," she muttered.

"Hugo?" she heard another voice giggle. There was a chorus of laughs.

Rose opened up one sleep-encrusted eye to see a group of eleven-year-old girls, all dressed pristinely in their school uniforms and headed for the door.

"We have class in about forty-five minutes," said the stylish brunette girl at the foot of the bed. She had enviable waves of chestnut brown hair, and looked like one of those girls Rose had seen on the covers of Witch Teen Weekly magazines. "It might take a while to sort out your hair, so I suggest you start now."

Rose sat up and blearily peered at her well-groomed dorm-mates, who giggled amongst themselves again as they stared at her. Rose was fairly certain it looked like a small explosive device had been detonated in her hair, and a look in the bathroom mirror later confirmed it.

"Oh," Rose croaked. "Are you all headed for breakfast, then?"

"Yes," said one of them. Rose was not sure which girl it was who answered her, but within moments the giggling gaggle had left.

In an awkward tumble she landed next to her trunk to get out her clothes for the day. Her trunk was in disarray from the night before, as she had annoyingly placed her pajamas at the bottom of her trunk. It made it difficult to dress, with clothing unconscionably spread around her bed, but after a few moments of swearing and pillaging, she found her robes. Dressed, she headed to the Great Hall by herself, she was determined not to let anything dampen her first day of classes.

She took her time as she walked down the stone steps, staring at the many moving paintings. There was something about them she found intriguing. She hadn't really had a chance to see many Wizarding painters' works outside of the stuffy portraits she'd seen at Grimmauld Place. They were nothing compared to these menageries and elegantly dressed wizards and witches. Seeing them moving about and following her, their brushstrokes so smooth and—

"Bollocks!" she cried as her foot fell into what had appeared to be a solid stair.

She tried to step out of the invisible hole, but couldn't: the step obstinately refused to let go of her foot. She tried from an assortment of angles to remove her foot, but nothing seemed to work. She looked about to see if there were any helpful portraits nearby, buy the frames were empty of any speaking inhabitants. A fat rabbit sat staring at her, nibbling on a rather large carrot.

"Hulloooo? Anybody there?"

The only sounds she could hear were her own grunts of exertion as she pulled again at her foot, and the gnawing of the carrot. It was just her, the rabbit, and the cavernous limestone.

She attempted to hopelessly sit, but her leg was at such an angle the task proved impossible. Minutes passed. Not a soul. Perhaps the stone was charmed to attach itself permanently. They would have to cut out the stair itself in order for her to leave that spot, but her foot would remain forever attached to that block of stone. She would have to take a broom to class in order to get there on time, as walking with a one-hundred pound block of stone attached to your ankle would not be a speedy event. Years would pass, and forever shunned, she would have to live in a cave, where only wild birds would tolerate her company, and would bring her books and food until the day she died, withered, outcast and quite dirty. This was her fate. She was almost comfortable with it, when she heard the footsteps of someone a few flights down.

"Salvation!" Rose exclaimed. Perhaps there was hope yet. The footsteps made no change in pace, which meant they didn't hear her.

"Excuse me!" she called to the feet. "Could you please help me? My foot is stuck!"

The footsteps sped up, and a blond head came into view.

"Up here!" she called down.

The student looked up, and there was the countenance of Scorpius Malfoy.

"Bollocks," Rose let out. She then cursed under her breath some more. Oh well. At least she was being begrudgingly helped by him. Maybe they could even become friends for the second time in twenty four hours.

He gave her an annoyingly superior smirk, before continuing his way to the Great Hall.

"BOLLOCKS!" Rose cleverly shouted back down the stairs. Her chest constricted, her cheeks began to flush, and she had the sensation a bull must feel when a red cape is teasingly flourished in its direction. She let out a frustrated scream, and did what she could to kick the air. All she succeeded in was sinking her foot deeper and dropping her book sack down the stairs with a vociferous crash. "Could today be any worse?"

"I imagine it could," she heard a deep voice chuckle.

There was Uncle Neville— Professor Longbottom!— standing a flight down.

"I've gotten stuck in this stair a fair few times," he said, extracting her foot with a swift flick of his wand and handing over her book bag.

"They should have warning signs."

Longbottom ruefully laughed.

"Agreed. Unfortunately, the stairs have plenty of spells that keep them from getting worn down: this includes spells that make writing a warning sign on the steps near impossible. That, and Peeves enjoys setting any non permanent signs on fire and hurling them at students."

"Thanks for helping me," Rose said as they reached the Great Hall.

Neville her a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Now I need to go and tend to the plants, but enjoy your breakfast, Rose. I believe Al is still at the Gryffindor table."

It took no more than a glance to find the always-disheveled hair of Al amongst the first years. He seemed to already have a host of little friends around him. They all laughed as one of the boys did an impression of a unicorn by holding a piece of toast to his forehead. Rose made her way towards the group rather slowly until she spotted Scorpius' pale hair. He was reading the same book she'd seen him reading on the Hogwarts Express, and sitting by himself. Instead of feeling pity for him, Rose felt a wrathful surge of anger.

In a haze she forcefully hit Scorpius with her book bag as she sped by.

"Ouch!" he let out, rubbing his back as best he could.

"Oh! So very sorry," she snarled over her shoulder.

"I see you're out of the step, now," she heard from behind her.

"Yeah, well, it's a good thing Professor Longbottom came along when he did," she replied with restraint, turning around to face the horrid boy who had the audacity to smirk at her. "I thought maybe you would help, but I guess it's true that the only people Malfoys ever help are themselves."

Scorpius's smirk fled the scene to be replaced by a potent glare.

"And judging by you it's true that Weasleys are a brood of ugly, foul-tempered, judgmental idiots."

"U-ugly?" Rose gasped, a hand going to her frazzled hair.

"Just go sit at your table already, Weasley. People are trying to eat, and your face is causing indigestion," he added with merciless precision.

There was a moment, not more than maybe a tenth of a second, where Rose thought she might cry. The fleeting moment of weakness was replaced with a burning fury. Unfortunately she was now unable to form any words and her mouth opened and closed like a grouper fish.

"Dyspepsia," Scorpius responded, giving her a look of revulsion.

Rose let out a guttural cry before stamping her foot, turning around and marching towards the Gryffindor table. She flung herself next to Albus without preamble and the three boys around him stopped talking.

"Here's our schedule. Everything ok?" Al looked at her a bit warily.

Rose shook her head, ignoring the stares as she filled her plate to the brim and started shoveling food into her trap with a vengeance.

Al turned around in his seat, and leaned his back against the table, curiously looking at the Slytherin table. "Why is Scorpius glaring at you?"

Rose gave a flippant shrug. "Becaush he'sh a Malfoy. Dey're shupposhed to grare at Weashreesh, right?"

The other three boys looked on with avid interest. Al looked like he was thinking hard about something, and didn't bother to make eye contact with her.

"Itch no bug deal," Rose managed to say around her food.

"Is that why you were late for breakfast? Did you two duel or something?" asked the chubby boy across from her.

"No." Rose swallowed her bite with a grimace. "I got caught in a stair on the way."

"How'd you manage to forget about the stair? That prefect talked about it for like five minutes on the way to the common room," the light brown-haired boy said with a derisive snort.

"Nice," muttered Rose.

"She wasn't with our group," said Al, suddenly looking her in the eye. His stare promised they would be talking about it later.

"Why weren't you with us?" the chubby boy asked. "Is that when you dueled with Malfoy?"

"There was no duel." She wrathfully stabbed her French toast.

"Well then why weren't you with our group?" asked the Scottish black boy. He had two triangles of toast tucked in his upper lip dangling like walrus tusks. "Vampire try to suck your blood?"

The boys all laughed.

"I got distracted by the paintings. No big deal."

She gave a pleading look to Al. He nodded in understanding and got up from the table.

"Yeah, some of those paintings are weird. Ready for class?"

"Yeah," said Rose, grabbing a few sausage patties in a napkin and following him from the table.

Al gave a wave to the still curious boys. "See you at Potions."

Rose scuttled past Scorpius's table as quickly as she could. Perhaps if she just ran by him every time he was near she would forget he existed. Yes, that was most definitely her plan: ignore him and never talk to, or about him, again!

"So what really happened between you and Scorpius?"

Thanks, Al.

Rose gave a great sigh and nibbled on a sausage patty.

"We had a fight. I told him I didn't care if he was Slytherin, we'd still be friends. Then he got really mad, saying I care about it, and that he didn't want to be friends with a Gryffindor anyways. This morning he said my face causes him dyspepsia."

Al let out a laugh.

"It's not funny, Al! You can't be laughing at what he said!"

He gave a shrug of nonchalance. "It was funny."

Rose was not sure that she had adequately described the events. How could he be defending the little monster? Rose savagely tore the end off of her patty.

"He inshulted me. Humiriated me!"

She swallowed.

"He insulted me, our house, and the whole Weasley family," she added, accidentally flinging the last of her breakfast across the hall. She hurriedly started picking them up. Al didn't move to help her. "You're my cousin and a Gryffindor; how could you not be on my side with this? He said I was stupid, ugly and-"

"Why would he do that?" Al said in annoyingly calm voice.

Rose gave a derisive snort. "Because he's a Malfoy and a Slytherin."

"He seemed alright on the train, yeah? You were the one who wanted to be friends with him in the—"

"Past tense!"

"Why don't you stop acting like a dragon, and just be friends?"

"You just don't get it," said Rose with a shake of her head.

"Huh."

"'Huh?!' Use some words! 'Huh' is not a word!" Rose grouched as one of the sausage patties rolled out of her hand further down the hallway.

"I just really don't want to get in the middle of this."

Al quietly crossed his arms and gave her one of his stares. He had an annoying ability to almost always get his way. He had an assembly of weapons, and today he was using the 'stare oppressively, deliberately and unfazedly' method.

"I am never going to be friends with him," she replied in a harsh whisper.

The S.O.D. U. struck with precision.

"But I will stop 'acting like a dragon.'"

Al nodded in approval.

"This is only for now, though! If he's mean to me again, there are no guarantees. If he talks to me, I'll probably go into dragon-mode."

"Just don't do it in front of people," Al said, giving the password to the Fat Lady. "It's embarrassing."

They stopped by their dorms to get their incredibly awkward and heavy potions kits, along with the rest of their school books for the day.

She rushed up the stairs, grabbed the kit, and was about to leave when she discovered a piece of parchment stuck to her shoe. It was haphazardly folded and on it Dad's large scrawl read 'To My Wild Girl.' She picked up the letter and gently unfolded it.

There were three letters in a row, each in different handwriting.

In large, almost illegible, handwriting was the letter from Hugo.

DEAR ROSIE

what huose are you in? It shuold be Gryffindor becuas its the best. I want to be ther to but mum says no becuas I am not old enuogh. I wnat to see yuo soon but not til Chrismas becuaes mum says yup want to be at skool til Chrismas. Pleaze bring me a ghost!

HUGO

Rose dearly loved her little brother, but she had to wonder about his writing skills at times. He was nine and couldn't spell or write worth a lick. Next was Mum's tight neat script. Rose wasn't all that surprised at how long it was. Scanning it, she spotted a paragraph or two about elf rights. Rose decided to save that for later. Next was Dad's. She most looked forward to his. He was never prone to monologuing like Mum.

"Rose? Hurry up, already!" she heard the muffled yell of Al.

"I'M COMING!" Rose shouted back. Looking at the letter she felt a pang for home. She stuffed the letter in her rucksack and awkwardly waddled down the stairs with her kit.

Al carried his the rest of the way, while Rose used a pair of attachable wheels Mum had bought her. At first she thought them to be a wonderful invention, as it would save her from years of a severely curved spine, but upon arriving at the classroom door, she realized she was the only one using them.

The group of girls from her dorm were standing about giggling. When Rose looked to join them, they subtly turned away and giggled some more. Not one to be fazed, Rose decided to stick by her cousin.

The Gryffindor boys quickly sought out Al. Unlike at breakfast, he made sure to introduce them to Rose rather than have them interrogate her again. The chubby boy was Ward Watkins. He had dark curly hair and seemed better suited for Hufflepuff than Gryffindor to her. The somewhat condescending boy with light brown hair was Alex Hooper. He had hooded light blue eyes and a snobby attitude. The Scottish black boy was Porter McKirnan. He had a wide, inviting smile, and seemed friendly enough, though a bit of a goofball. He had been the one using toast to do impressions of creatures. None of them particularly wanted to talk to her, besides Ward, who excitedly prattled on about a pet gerbil he brought with him.

"It said 'rat' on the list, but I figure a rodent is a rodent, and Gus is much better than any old rat."

"Hmm," Rose responded, bored.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rose spotted Malfoy, quite alone, which brought her a nasty sort of satisfaction. He was surreptitiously eyeing them.

"It's nice that you have such a great pet, Ward. Pets and friends are very important. You're quite lucky to have both. You have to feel sorry for the students that never manage to make friends because they are prats," Rose said rather loudly. Malfoy's eyebrows creased and he pointedly stared at the wall. Ward just nodded in agreement. He was boring, but at least he was amiable.

Suddenly the classroom door opened to reveal their Proffessor of Potions.

"In we go," he said, adjusting his square spectacles. The students quickly obliged. The room seemed to be impossibly bright and clean, to Rose. She always pictured the dungeons to be dank, dirty and ill lit: this was mostly because anything requiring things like newt eyes and knives couldn't take place in a bright cheery sort of place in her mind. Rose sat with Albus, and she surreptitiously watched Malfoy sit at the last remaining desk by himself.

The Professor wore robes that were impeccably pressed, and had a very short, meticulously parted haircut. The man could easily pass as one of Grandpa Granger's dental assistants. In a very precise hand 'Professor Cauldwell' was written upon the chalk board.

"As the board reads, I'm Professor Cauldwell." His voice was erudite and precise. "In order to succeed in Potions you must follow the Four P's."

Rose had to stop herself from snorting. Porter McKirnan didn't bother to stagger his laughter.

With a sudden wave of his wand a scroll hanging from wall unfurled to reveal the Four P's: Prepared, Punctual, Precise and Pristine.

"Prepared. I expect you to come to class with all your supplies, a ready mind, and your homework. If I find you lacking in any of those you will lose points and spend the rest of the class sitting outside the door with no wand.

"Punctual. If you come to class late you will be punished. You also need to closely watch the time with your potions. A few seconds boiling too long or not long enough can make the difference between creating a cure or creating a poison.

"Precise. Not paying attention to little details in a Potion's Recipe can make a potion anything from just useless, to something explosive, to something deadly. I expect you all to show a proper amount of respect for you ingredients, and be constantly aware of the volatile ingredients you are working with.

"And Pristine. This classroom, your desks, your potions kits and the cubbyholes where you keep them will remain in the spotless condition you find them in today. I don't want any grime-filled cauldrons, leaking ingredients or sticky vials in here. Keep things clean, or lose points.

"Stick to the Four P's, and you will find this a pleasant atmosphere. Don't, and I guarantee you will not pass, and you will find this course to be most displeasing."

Most of the class had sunk low in their seats looking sullen. Potions didn't sound like it would be much fun. The fact that he mentioned poison and death a few times made Rose wonder why they ever let students practice Potions in the first place.

"Now that we have that out of the way— I always like to start the year by seeing who managed to read about potions before school started, " the Professor said with a dry grin. Al and a few others let out a chorus of low groans. "Let's see who can get the most points."

Rose felt a sudden jolt of alertness as her competitive streak started to flare.

"Who can name one of the ingredients in a boil cure potion?"

Rose remembered this! Porcupine quills! She started to raise her hand when she heard Professor Cauldwell say:

"Gentleman at the back."

"Porcupine quills."

"Well done. Two points to Slytherin, Mr..."

"Scorpius Malfoy."

Rose turned about in her seat and glared. She had known the answer. She knew it! And that little toad had beaten her to it. First he had bested her at chess on the train, then he had left her in a bewildered crying mess and unable to find her common room. He then abandoned her when her foot was stuck. Add in his acerbic tongue giving her a lashing at breakfast, and every fiber of her demanded she beat and humiliate him.

Her hand was quivering in anticipation for the next question.

"All right then. Who can name a use for asphodel?"

Before Cauldwell had finished the question, Rose had thrust her hand into the air.

"Miss Weasley."

Rose felt a flash of irritation that he knew her name just by glancing at her hair.

"Draught of the Living Dead."

"Quite right. Two points to Gryffindor."

"Nice one," whispered Al, giving her a thumbs up, but she had no time for dallying in petty congratulations. Rose turned around in her seat and gave Malfoy a challenging look. He returned it full force.

"Who can tell me how an Ashwinder's eggs should be kept?"

Malfoy's hand was in the air quick as a Snitch.

"Mr Malfoy."

"Frozen."

"Two points to Slytherin. Next question: What potion can fluxweed- Miss Weasley."

"Polyjuice Potion, sir."

"Yes. Two points," said Cauldwell, looking between Rose and Malfoy over his glasses. Most of the students were giving similar wary glances. Al looked around embarrassed.

"The potion that persuades the drinker that the giver is his or her best friend-"

"Gregory's Unctuous Unction!" called out Malfoy, fixing a determined stare at Rose.

"Two points. The most powerful truth-serum-"

"Veritaserum!" Rose practically shouted, not looking at Cauldwell, but turned about so she could properly glower at Malfoy.

"Two points. Another name for aconite-"

"WOLFSBANE!" The two cried in unison. Rose was breathing hard, and Malfoy's blonde hair looked a bit unkempt.

"Two points each. That was a very impressive demonstration," said Professor Cauldwell, giving a shake of his head. "I guess we can tell who did their reading this summer. Perhaps you lot should adopt Weasley and Malfoy's study habits?"

The same brunette girl from her dormitory laughed and whispered so the whole class could hear, "definitely don't want to adopt her grooming habits."

A few of them laughed. Al sat up and grabbed his wand tightly, but Rose sank a bit in her seat and gently nudged him with her elbow.

"Let's get started then," Cauldwell said rather loudly, pointedly ignoring the girl's comment. "Everyone please turn to the first page of their text books."

Rose had already read the first chapter and it was all theory. As much as she wanted to pay attention, she decided to read the letter from her parents instead. She skipped Mum's again and read Dad's.

Dear Rosie,

Here's a new WWW product I've been working on with George for a while. I figured I'd save Albus' owl the trouble of flying back and forth with your mail, and save you the trouble of finding a willing owl.

You can write your reply on the paper, and I'll receive it on another parchment. You can even make it private so your Mum won't know what trouble you get up to. We got the idea when we saw Grandpa Granger's compewtor. Instructions are on the back!

Write and tell us what house you're in! Not that I care which one it is.

Love,

Dad

PS. Don't tell Hugo you can't wrestle a ghost into coming home with you. Watching your Mum's head spin as she explains the concept of ghosts to him is much too fun.

"So, given what we just learned, the ingredient most likely to be used in a Babbling Beverage would be-?"

"Celandine," Rose offered half-heartedly, not looking up from her parchment.

Rose flipped the letter over.

Weasley Wizard Wheezes Wordsmith

Instructions:

When ready to write a reply write 'new letter.'

To send a letter just tap the paper with your wand once and say 'send.'

To make the letter viewable to only certain people, just write 'private letter to:' then list the names.

All the letters will be saved within the parchment. To find a letter just hold your wand to the parchment and clearly picture the letters you want to read and they will appear.

She was relieved when she heard the bell. Looking around she saw everyone putting their kits in cubby holes, many of them vying to house their kits next to each other: Rose thought it bit stupid, as they would barely be using the things. Head held high, she went to the end where the least amount of people were and placed hers at the second to last, not bothering to see who she was next to.

Charms was next on their schedule. On the other side of the cubbies Al was contently chatting with the other Gryffindor boys. She knew the other boys didn't really want her to hang around, so she went on without them. Students were still filing out of Flitwick's room when she arrived.

"Come in, Miss Weasley, come in," the Professor merrily piped. "You're not the first to briskly arrive."

Malfoy was already sitting in a chair towards the front. Rose sat on the opposite end of the row.

"Professor? Do you know any charms for heartburn?" Malfoy asked.

"Well yes. There are a few good ones, though I think they might be a bit advanced for a first year."

"What about charms for headaches?" Rose asked.

"Yes, there are. Do you two need to go to the infirmary?"

"No," they answered in unison. Malfoy glared at her as if she were impertinent for speaking at the same time as him.

Rose got out her Weasley Wizard Wordsmith, along with a quill.

Dear everyone,

I'm a Gryffindor! Everything is great.

Will properly write soon!

With Love,

Rose

PS. Know any good spells for a pain in the arse?

"Send!" Rose said a bit louder than necessary.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[setaripendragon]

Familiar Strangers - Three: Ino

One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven - Eight - Nine - Ten Bonus scenes: Five-Point-Five - Seven-Point-Five Oh, this part was so much fun to write. So much fun. I was always so disappointed that Sakura got shoehorned into ‘The Second Tsunade’ instead of being something more uniquely herself. So I took a handful of pieces I remember of her from the beginning of the series (repression to the point that her internalised rage had it’s own personality, a temper like a grumpy volcano, ability to act) and ran with it in completely the opposite direction. I hope she still comes across as Sakura, despite being quite different from canon (and yeah, I totally took inspiration for her outfit from her future outfit in canon, because that outfit is gorgeous).

Ino was, once again, watching the store for her parents. It wasn’t that she minded, exactly, because she liked the flowers, and helping people with their orders, and talking to people, and gathering gossip to relay back to Konoha’s intelligence force. All of that, she enjoyed a great deal, but the slow periods, where it was just her and the flowers and nothing to do were tedious in the extreme.

Which was why she perked up when the door opened, even though it was Sakura, and as much as she respected her old friend, they’d never quite managed to recreate their old easiness with each other. Ino might regret that, if it wasn’t so much fun to rile the other kunoichi. She faltered a moment later, when she realised that Sakura looked different. And not a good different. She looked like a civilian. She had long hair, with the top half done up in a bun, and she was wearing retired-kunoichi-heels, and there was no weapons pouch anywhere on her – surprisingly well put-together – outfit. She was wearing several beaded bracelets, too, which were worse than a hazard!

“Hey, Ino.” Sakura greeted with a tight smile. “Long time, no see.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while.” Ino replied. “You’re back early.”

Sakura nodded, her polite expression wavering. “Things got too dangerous, we had to pull back.” She explained, without really explaining anything. Good. Then worry coloured her expression, and her gaze dropped into the middle distance. “Naruto almost-” She gestured in a deceptively vague way.

Ino understood, though, and blanched. “Shit, really? I thought he’d gotten better about that?!”

Sakura nodded. “He has, but it’s not something he can control when he’s injured, you know? It just happens. Defence mechanism.”

Ino nodded slowly. “He’s alright now?” She checked, and Sakura nodded, quick and steady enough that Ino believed her, despite the obvious aura of worry about her old friend. There was a heavy pause, while Ino eyed Sakura, wondering what had put her so on edge. “Any information on Sasuke-kun?” She asked finally, because that was the only thing she could think of.

Sakura’s expression flickered, from worry to consternation and frustration and back again. “Yeah, some.” She admitted, tucking a hand behind her neck to fiddle with the short strands there. It was a nervous gesture Ino hadn’t seen in years. “He was there.”

That made sense. Ino grimaced sympathetically. “Is that how Naruto got hurt?” She asked. Sakura wouldn’t look at her when she nodded, and Ino was torn between the desire to argue and banter at her until she stopped moping and the urge to pull her into a hug. “It must suck to watch your team-mates go at each other like that.” She offered. It took a moment, but then Sakura’s composure crumbled, and she wilted where she stood, curling in on herself, arms wrapping around her middle defensively. Nailed it, Ino thought with a weary sense of victory.

“I hate it.” Sakura whispered with a snarl. “It’s not right, Ino, but I don’t know what to do about it.”

Ino didn’t have an answer, but she was a little too busy being indescribably grateful that even when she was obviously feeling so defeated, Sakura still had the strength to rage and snarl at her problems. “Dad always says that when you don’t know what you’re doing, you need to take a step back and wait until you do. Otherwise you’re going to blunder in and make an even bigger mess.” She offered finally.

Sakura glanced at her, visibly thought about it, then nodded firmly. “I think your dad’s probably right, Ino.” She decided. “Thank you.”

Ino shrugged. “No problem, Forehead.” She replied.

That earned her a soft snort, and a smile that felt more like a punch to the gut than anything else. There was so much fondness in that smile, tired humour and delight at an old joke just between them. Like they were friends, not just barely respectful rivals with too much baggage to ever quite be proper friends again. Like maybe they were still best friends, underneath all of that teenage drama. “Pig.” Sakura retorted, light and teasing.

Then Sakura turned to go, shifting to offer Ino a wave, and Ino suddenly realised that she didn’t want Sakura to go. She didn’t want this to be a simple information gathering, gossip sharing meeting in the flower shop. She wanted to talk with her friend. Because, she admitted to herself ruefully, she was a little afraid that if Sakura left now, they’d lose whatever this tentative accord was. “On a more cheerful topic.” She began, as if she hadn’t noticed that Sakura was trying to leave. She busied her hands with sorting some of the ribbons they kept for bouquets so that she didn’t have to look at Sakura. “How’s Tsunade been lately?”

There was a small pause, and Ino glanced up to see Sakura watching her with a shrewd look in her eyes. Ino didn’t wince, even though she wanted to. She was going into the Intelligence division, she had to be less transparent than that. “Same as always.” Sakura said with a shrug.

“Yeah?” Ino replied idly, prodding for a better answer than that.

“Overworked, I guess.” Sakura admitted.

Another vague answer. As if Sakura didn’t want to commit to saying anything, which was worlds away from the girl Ino had chatted to a couple of months ago, who couldn’t complain about her mentor the slave driver enough. “The chuunin exams are coming up soon, aren’t they? That’s got to be a headache for her.” Ino mused, buying herself time while she tried to work out what was wrong.

“No kidding.” Sakura agreed. “If she keeps trying to drink her problems away, Shizune’s going to do something drastic.”

Ino snickered at that, but it was a deflection from the real problem, she could tell. “Just tell me she’s not gambling away Konoha’s funds.” She offered like it was a joke, and not an invitation to share anything that was less drastic than what Ino was suggesting.

Sakura shook her head with a small scoff. “Tsunade-sensei wouldn’t.” She confirmed, even though she didn’t really need to. “It just weighs on her, you know? She’s a medic, she wants to be able to save everybody, and being Hokage…”

Ino nodded, grimacing. “Sometimes you’ve got to make tough choices, as the Hokage.” Unfortunately, that wasn’t exactly a problem anyone could fix. Unless Hatake up and decided to grow a responsible bone and could be made to take the hat as Rokudaime, there weren’t that many other Hokage candidates left in the village. That was why they had Tsunade, after all, because there was no one else left. “Anything my contacts in T&I might be able to help with? Take a little of the burden off her shoulders?” Ino offered.

Sakura opened her mouth, paused, and side-eyed Ino in a way that made Ino wonder if Sakura knew about Ino’s job in Intelligence, and the network she was building, half off her father’s, half her own, just like every Yamanaka heir before her had. “Please tell me you’re not sleeping with Mitarashi Anko.” Sakura said, deadpan.

Ino made to deny it, and then stopped to consider. “Huh.”

“And I’ve just created a monster.” Sakura decided. “Ino, she’d eat you for breakfast. Please, please, do not try to seduce Anko.” She begged, but there was a light in her eyes that suggested she was half tempted to stand back and watch the trainwreck, because it was bound to be spectacular.

“Please.” Ino tossed her hair over her shoulder and offered Sakura her most confident smirk. “As if I’d let a little danger stop me.”

Sakura laughed. “Well, good luck, and have fun, then. And in answer to your question; I don’t think so, but I’ll keep it in mind.” She added, and Ino was familiar enough with having two conversations at once that she didn’t need to ask what Sakura was talking about, she just nodded. “Anyway, you’ve heard all about my team drama. What about yours?”

“Team Ten doesn’t do drama.” Ino sniffed. “We’re all perfectly level headed and sensible shinobi, who don’t feel the need to make every day a spectacle.” Sakura raised a disbelieving eyebrow, and Ino reconsidered her words. “Did I really just call Shikamaru sensible? Although, I still hold that compared to Naruto, he’s a bastion of sanity.”

“Sane and sensible don’t always go hand in hand.” Sakura pointed out.

“And Shikamaru is more sensible than Chouji. God.” Ino propped her elbows on the counter and buried her face in her hands. Sakura, the unsympathetic bitch, just laughed at her. “My team is a hundred times better than yours, but they’re still terrible.” She complained.

“You three started off on better footing than we did.” Sakura pointed out, then she paused. “Unless Shikamaru had a secret crush on Chouji. In which case, I’m wrong, you were probably on the same footing as us, just being more subtle about it.”

Ino side-eyed her mistrustfully. “Are you implying that Chouji had a crush on me, or that you think I had a crush on Shikamaru?” The angelically innocent look she got in answer was almost good enough to be convincing. Almost, but Ino was used to Sakura’s ability to pull off sweet and harmless, and didn’t trust that expression at all. “You should be very well aware that I had eyes only for Sasuke back then, Forehead. Besides, they’re like my brothers. Don’t be gross.”

That got a rueful laugh out of Sakura. “Okay, fine, Pig. So how are your brothers?”

Ino pulled a face at Sakura’s tone, and she pulled a face right back. Smiling despite herself, Ino shrugged. “They’re doing okay. It’s a good thing we made chuunin last year, because with Kurenai-san pregnant, Asuma-sensei’s thinking of taking paternity leave, and I think Shikamaru would revolt if they tried to assign us a different jounin-sensei.”

“Like you wouldn’t be right out front leading the strike.”

Ino gave Sakura her best ‘who, me?’ expression, which held for a second or two before Sakura snorted, and then they both cracked up laughing. “And Chouji would be watching our backs.” Ino confirmed happily.

“So they’re all doing well?” Sakura checked, matching Ino’s smile.

“Yeah, they are.”

“What about your actual family?” Sakura asked, propping her hip against the counter idly. “How’s the Yamanaka clan doing?”

“Good.” Ino replied at once. “Kaasan’s planning a trip out to River Country to talk to some people about rare strains of orchid, and my cousin – you remember Kei, right? – is thinking of going with her. And Ikue got promoted, finally, and her mother’s going to throw a party to celebrate, which is going to be fun, but it might hold back Kaasan’s trip for a week or two. And-”

The bell above the door rang out, and Ino paused in her recitation of the Yamanaka clan’s comings and goings to glance over. She was a little surprised, but pleased, to see that it was Shikamaru and Chouji ambling in. She hadn’t thought she’d see them today, since she was working until evening in the flower shop, but – a glance over her shoulder confirmed – it was nearly time for lunch. “Hey, Shikamaru, Chouji.” She greeted idly.

Shikamaru just nodded to her without a word, then raised an eyebrow at Sakura, while Chouji was covering for his rudeness by actually offering a proper greeting. “Hello Ino-chan. Sakura-chan, it’s good to see you again.” Chouji offered.

“It’s nice to see one of you has manners.” Ino announced.

But Shikamaru wasn’t even looking at her to roll his eyes. He was still looking at Sakura, and she was looking back with a strangely wary – and faintly challenging – look. Somewhere in the back of Ino’s head, an alarm bell labelled ‘Shikamaru saw something I missed’ started ringing. “Subtle.” Shikamaru commented, dry and complimentary.

Sakura gave him a sly, sideways smile that gave Ino shivers. “Thanks.”

“Not your usual get up.” Shikamaru added, nodding in Sakura’s general direction.

Now Ino was lost, because Shikamaru never noticed what a girl was wearing, especially not girls like Sakura, who he’d both known all his life and respected for her brain. Sakura didn’t appear to notice anything odd, and just shrugged. “Felt like a change.” Then she spread her hands and did a graceful little twirl, ending with a challenging head-tilt in Shikamaru’s direction. “What do you think?”

Shikamaru actually looked thoughtful. “Depends how good you are.”

Ino’s jaw came unhinged and her eyebrows hit her hair line. There was no way – no way – that this was what it sounded like. She must be hearing things. A glance at Chouji informed her that, no, not unless they were both caught in the same genjutsu, because he looked just as stunned as she felt. Ino turned to look at Sakura, because obviously she was going to find some sanity there, right?

Wrong. Sakura looked incredulous, yes, but also delighted. Like she was actually interested. In Shikamaru. “Would you care for a practical demonstration?” She retorted through a grin, propping one hand on a cocked hip and tapping her fingers in a deceptively idle pattern.

Shikamaru snorted. “Another time?” He suggested.

“Sure.” Sakura agreed brightly, almost laughing. Ino’s entire world was in shambles, and nothing would ever make sense again. She watched in stunned silence as Sakura offered a polite nod to Chouji, shot a smile and a wave in Ino’s direction, and turned to leave, with a “You know where to find me when you want me, Shikamaru-kun,” tossed over her shoulder just before the door swung shut.

Silence swelled in her wake, filling the shop like a heavy fog. Ino could have sworn she felt it pressing against her skin, weighing on her. Slowly, she turned to stare at Shikamaru. At least she wasn’t alone; Chouji was just as lost as she was. “Um… Shikamaru…?” He began, tentative and baffled.

“Yeah?” Shikamaru replied. He looked at Chouji, frowned, looked at Ino, frowned more, and looked back at Chouji. “What?”

“Ohmygod!” Ino shrieked, finally finding her voice again. “Since when were you interested in Forehead-Girl?!”

Shikamaru actually recoiled slightly, blinking at her in shock. “What?” He repeated.

“So… you didn’t just proposition Sakura?” Chouji checked.

Shikamaru blanched. Which was interesting. And something of a relief. Because Ino missing things that Shikamaru noticed was pretty commonplace, and much safer territory than Shikamaru being a creature with a libido and that much game. “No! What- Why would you-” He stopped, eyes going a little distant as he replayed that last conversation in his mind and finally noticed what it had sounded like from the outside. He went pale.

Ino snickered at the horrified expression on his face. “So what was that about, then?”

“Weapons.” Shikamaru insisted, scrubbing his hands over his face. “She’s carrying about thirty senbon, three coils of chakra wire, two dozen different poisons, and her kanzashi are weighted for throwing. And she’s wearing half of them on display, with civilian clothes and retired-kunoichi heels and long hair. She’s daring anyone who notices that she’s armed to make a fuss about it.”

Ino did a double-take, staring at the door Sakura had left through. What Shikamaru had just described was the uniform of the Intelligence Department. Inconspicuous, subtle, and as heavily armed as you could manage within the first two requirements. “I thought she was just… wearing off-duty clothes.” She said weakly, trying to put together the idea of covert infiltration specialist and her old friend who was twenty pounds of repressed rage in a five pound bag decorated with smiley stickers.

Covert infiltration specialist, Ino realised, feeling the ground fall out from under her as the pieces came together in her mind. Sakura had been in deep cover since she was six. She’d always ducked her head, kept quiet, used her manners, smiled at everyone, studied hard, and no one had known that under all that, Sakura had a temper that could rival an active volcano on a good day. Except Ino, who’d been privy to some of Sakura’s explosions, once they were safely hidden away in Ino’s room, where Sakura’s mother wouldn’t scold her for not being enough like a proper young lady.

“If that was off-duty, I hate to see how heavily armed she’d be when she’s on duty.” Shikamaru pointed out, then he gave a little shudder, as if he’d thought about.

Ino carefully did not think about it.

“Was it just me…” Chouji began, contemplative and mild, as if he’d missed the unsettling realisation that Shikamaru and Ino had just come to. “Or was Sakura acting a bit weird?” Ino turned to look at him, waiting for a more concise description. Chouji eventually tore his gaze away from the door and noticed. “I mean, Sakura isn’t usually one for subtle, is she? Any more, that is. She gave that up, right? Because she hated being seen as harmless. But now she’s going out of her way to look harmless? Why?”

Shikamaru was nodding. “And she set me up. I wouldn’t have thought Sakura would play games like that. That’s more your thing, Ino. I’d have expected Sakura to punch me, if she thought I was even obliviously making a move on her…” He narrowed his eyes at the door.

A creeping sense of worry began to crawl into Ino’s chest. “And she was being weirdly evasive, earlier. Answering questions sideways.”

Shikamaru glanced at her sharply. “Are you sure that was Sakura?” He asked quietly.

Ino blinked, taken aback, but she forced herself to think about it seriously. “Pretty sure.” She said finally. “But not one hundred percent.” There was a very ominous silence from Shikamaru at that. Ino swallowed hard. If there was something else going on here, that meant her friend was either not herself or had been tortured for information long enough that she’d broken. Ino did not want to think about that. Intelligence worked very closely with Torture and Interrogation, so Ino knew some of the things that Konoha would do to captured enemy ninja, and Konoha was known world wide as the nicest of the hidden villages. “What’s our next move, Shika?” She asked, voice quiet but full of steel.

Shikamaru sighed. “I’m going to check Team Seven’s status. Chouji, see if you can find Naruto. Ino, go check on Sakura’s parents, make sure they’re okay, see if Sakura’s been acting weird around them, too, and if so, what she’s said and done that’s out of character.”

Ino and Chouji both nodded and the three of them headed for the door. Ino was a step behind, having to take a moment to take off her apron and scrawl a quick note for her parents in case either one of them got back to the shop before she got back. Shikamaru was holding the door open for her – she’d beaten those manners into his head a long time ago – and as she passed him, she heard him sigh heavily, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

“So damned troublesome.”

[nilesarchives]

New Threats ― CANON. (current verse)

It’s been months since the wedding and, as always, things are still super weird. Miles is over it and finally wants to come clean to Nick about absolutely everything and tell him how he feels after months of awkward, back-and-forth exchanges and ignoring each other. He wants to put a stop to it. He’s surprised by the appearance of Nick’s new friend Jude, driving yet another wedge between them. Some not-so-nice words are shared.

It was safe to say that Miles had had enough. He felt like there was a lot of that happening lately, to be fair. Something would happen, things would be different, he and Nick would start to dance around subjects and avoid talking about things…and then one of them would always be pushed over the edge. Every single time. History was repeating itself over and over again. But that didn’t stop Miles from doing what he felt he needed to, walking to Nick’s apartment with long, purposeful strides, set to say everything he wanted—no, needed—to say. This was really getting out of hand now. They were grown adults who both clearly wanted something, and Miles wasn’t going to let them keep pretending that that was nothing.

He knocked on the door and waited for Nick to open it, and as soon as he did, Miles didn’t miss a beat. He stepped past him into the apartment, pivoting to face his friend. “This is stupid, Nick. It’s so stupid and you know it is,” he started, knowing damn well that Nick knew exactly what he meant. “We can’t keep doing this. Something’s gotta give here. And I guess that’s me, because…I don’t know, here I am. I want this to stop. I don’t give a shit about everything being ‘normal’ or whatever anymore. I just want them to be honest.”

Nick didn’t know why he was so surprised to see Miles standing outside his door. He didn’t think anything of it when he pulled the door open to see who was knocking, but in the back of his mind he assumed his best friend wouldn’t be popping in like he used to. Things had been strange between them — stranger than they ever had been. They were still friends. If he could help it they always would be, but there was a certain tension between them that Nick couldn’t help but notice every time they talked. And as he listened to Miles go off on him, he realized that he had noticed too. He was clearly as tired of it as he was.

Nick stood there dumbly for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak. God, he wanted to agree with him. He didn’t want things to get weirder between them. He wanted to be honest with him. “Miles…” He began, not even bothering to move back from the doorway in order to let him in. Clearly they needed to have this conversation now. There was no beating around the bush this time. “I want this to stop, too.” He finally decided on, his fingers tightly grasping onto the door frame in an attempt to give himself some courage. “I…” It was at that unfortunate moment that he felt someone coming up behind him, and he nearly cringed as he remembered that he had company. Of course fucking Jude had to walk out at this exact moment. Like it was a damn drama movie.

Nick had met him months ago, during a night he wasn’t particularly proud of. He didn’t think he’d ever see him again, but after running into him again by chance a month prior, the two had struck up an unlikely friendship. He was actually kind of cool away from the seedy club he’d initially met him at. Breaking his gaze away from Miles to glance back at him, he was met with the sight of a shirtless Jude, holding one of Nick’s shirts in each hand.

“Hey which one of these do you care about the least?” He heard Jude speak as he held up the shirts for Nick to see. “They both bring out my eyes so whichever one I take don’t expect it back.”

Nick just shot him a look with a jerk of his head toward Miles to show that he was busy, and instantly he saw the look of recognition on Jude’s face. “Oh, shit, sorry. I’ll just go with this one.” Jude held up the one in his right hand. “Other ones got holes in it anyway.” Jude smiled and nodded towards Miles. “Hey, dude.” Jude began to retreat back to Nick’s room to presumably put away the other shirt. “Carry on.” He called out playfully as he went.

Nick let out a long sigh before turning back to Miles. “I’m sorry about him, he’s about to leave. Come in? We can talk.” He paused, biting on his inner lip out of anxiousness. “We will talk.”

Miles listened intently as Nick spoke back to him, thankfully seeming to agree with him. And just when it seemed that Nick was going to open up, to be honest like Miles wanted, he paused and turned around. Miles followed Nick’s gaze to some guy, half-naked and entering the room like he belonged there. Miles had never seen this guy in his life. What was he doing in Nick’s place with no shirt on, asking which of Nick’s shirts he could wear instead? What the hell? Miles’ jaw fell open as he stood there dumbly, staring, unable to form any sort of words as his eyes bore into those of the stranger.

There was a small amount of tension and some words spoken to Miles before the other guy turned and disappeared again. Miles, of course, stayed silent, watching him walk away with that same dumbfounded gaze. And then Nick was turning back to him and talking to him like that — whatever the hell that was — had never even happened. Miles looked back at him. “Are you…” he started, unsure of how he should even proceed. What the hell was he supposed to say? “Nick, are you fucking kidding me right now?” His tone was already loud enough that he wondered if perhaps the other guy could even hear him. But he could not possibly care less. “You…you’re weird with me, and you have random guys in your fucking bedroom? Do you think I’m a goddamn idiot?” He took a step back. “What the fuck is wrong with you.” It should’ve sounded like a question, but it wasn’t the way Miles said it.

Nick could see Mile’s attitude before his very eyes. While at first he was earnest and upfront, his eyes were now guarded and clearly upset. The change startled Nick, and he realized a moment too late why his friend was upset. “Miles, it’s not what you think.” He started firmly, motioning with his free hand as though that would stop him from just leaving.

“He’s just a friend.” Nick felt the need to explain himself, even if him and Miles were technically just friends too. His throat suddenly felt tight and guilt ran through his veins. He knew he had to be honest, and he knew at that moment there was no way Miles’ wasn’t going to end up steaming mad at him. “We were hanging out and he squirted pizza pocket filling on his shirt so I’m letting him borrow one of mine. Nothing happened.” The guilt was increasing, and he didn’t want to have to say this here. Not now. Not with him already so mad and Jude in the next room.

He flinched at Miles’ harsh words, but still made a move to walk forward as Miles’ began to step back. He knew he deserved them. “You still want me to be honest, though?” He swallowed and his heart seemed to speed up uncontrollably. He kept his voice as low as he could so only Miles’ could hear him. He wished they could talk about this somewhat calmly, but he didn’t think that was an option with Miles so upset. But he had to tell him the truth. If he didn’t, things would get even worse. And he was pretty sure the guilt would eat him alive. “I have slept with him. But not for a long time. Not since…” He shook his head. Not since Miles’ started talking to him again. Not since the night of the wedding. But he couldn’t say any of that. “It was right after I found out about that girl of yours. I don’t know, it was stupid. I’m stupid. But nothing happened tonight.” He tried to silently plead with him to understand, his hand reaching out as though to reach for him, before he let it fall back to his side. “Nothing was going to happen.”

“Oh, it’s not what I think.” Miles laughed hollowly at that. Right, like he was going to believe that. Because Nick constantly had random shirtless men that Miles had never seen before streaming in and out of his apartment. Then again, maybe he did and Miles just didn’t know it. He listened to Nick’s explanation, just barely, unable to stop himself from shaking his head the entire time. This was ridiculous. It was absolute bullshit. Nick had given him so much shit for sleeping with Lily, and then he turned around and did the exact same thing. He didn’t know how to take it.

He considered for a moment, especially when Nick’s explanation did sort of make sense, that he was telling the truth. Maybe this guy was just a friend. It wasn’t like Miles knew of every single person Nick had ever spoken to in his life. He probably was just jumping to conclusions. These thoughts went through his mind as Nick continued, and he thought that maybe he should apologize for lashing out. He and Nick both knew he tended to take his anger to the next level sometimes, and maybe he said things he didn’t mean—

But there it was. Nick dropped a bomb on him, the one he’d been waiting to hear. They had slept together. And now the guy was back again, so it clearly wasn’t just a one time thing, and Miles felt like the room was spinning. “Wow,” was all he said at first, all he could possibly think to say. He took another step back, trying to put more distance between them, because honestly right now he didn’t know if he wanted to punch Nick in the face or pull him in and kiss him just to…prove a point. Or something. He didn’t know. “You really think I’m that stupid? Honestly. What if I told you Lily was just a friend?” he challenged, raising his eyebrows. “Why don’t I go home and invite her over and then feed you some bullshit excuses when you happen to run into her there? Would that work for you?” He was being ridiculous, he knew he was. But at that moment, he didn’t care. He was angry. He was upset. He was…jealous. So fucking jealous when he didn’t have a right to be at all.

“Is that what you want? Seriously, I’m genuinely asking. You want me to go around fucking other people because clearly, you’re having absolutely no issues doing just that.” He emphasized his point by jerking his finger toward the bedroom door that the other man had just disappeared through. “You’re truly something else, Nick. You can’t even be honest with yourself and I was a fucking idiot to think you’d want to be honest with me.” That wasn’t fair. It was uncalled for. He knew it as he said it. But he wasn’t going to take it back.

Whoever said the truth would set you free was clearly a fucking liar. It was like the more Nick tried to explain himself, the worse the situation seemed to get. And really, Nick knew he fucked up. He’d known for a long time that he was a hypocrite for being mad about the Lily situation when he’d literally done the same thing when he found out. He was even more of an asshole for not telling Miles about it when he confronted him about Lily.

What he didn’t do was lie to him about it now. He was trying to be honest now, because that’s what Miles had wanted. That’s what they needed. He didn’t want to keep lying to his best friend. He just wanted him back; he wanted them to stop this fighting. But fuck — at Miles’ words, anger began to boil up in his own veins. “Right now you’re being stupid, yeah, because I’m telling you the fucking truth.” He raised his voice an octave higher than the whisper it had been at previously. The thought of Miles’ with Lily again made him sick. It made his chest hurt and it somehow made him even angrier. “If you want to go fuck her be my fucking guest.” He got out, not meaning it, but also not being able to stop himself from fighting back. “You want to be an asshole? Go be an asshole. But I’m not lying to you. I’m not hiding anything from you anymore. I fucked up, okay? I didn’t tell you when it happened. I was a hypocrite — whatever. But you did the same thing with her and I let it go. Yet somehow when I do it, I’m the only douche-bag? I might be fucked up, Miles, but so are your priorities.”

He was so angry at this point he almost felt nauseous, but more than that he was hurt. He was guilty. He wanted to fix this but he wasn’t sure how to. “Stop it.” He yelled out, now. He didn’t want that. Miles knew he didn’t want that. “I didn’t… go around doing anything. Stop accusing me of shit. What does it even matter anyway?” His voice cracked, and he was about to say something he’d regret. “I’m not your fucking boyfriend.” The words hung in the air heavily, and he knew he shouldn’t have said it. But God, his chest hurt and he wanted to have the opposite of this conversation. It was too late now, though. They’d both gone too far. Nick’s shoulders sagged slightly, beginning to feel defeated because he knew this conversation was going nowhere fast. “I was being honest with you, Miles. It’s just not what you wanted to hear.”

There was so much Miles wanted to say, but none of it would do him any good at this point. He should stop yelling at him, for one thing. Yelling at Nick wasn’t going to change the fact that he’d fucked that guy, as much as it pained Miles to admit it. Nothing was going to change that. “I slept with Lily because you made it very clear that you didn’t want me to be anything more than your friend,” he countered, his voice much lower now. “You slept with him because, what, you were mad at me? You wanted to get back at me?” He shook his head. “It’s not the same thing, Nick.“

At Nick’s words, Miles froze. He hadn’t expected that. Of course he knew it, but hearing it kind of sucked. A lot. He wasn’t Nick’s boyfriend. That was clear. And Nick didn’t want to be his boyfriend—that was even clearer. Miles’ shoulders fell, the fight leaving his body. He was still angry, but now, he was more…sad. “You’re right,” he said, even quieter than before. “You’re not my boyfriend.” Don’t say it. Don’t say it. It’s not fair to Nick. Don’t say it. “Because you’re too fucking scared to be my boyfriend.” He stepped back again, this time more than once. “You want to be with me, and you just won’t. And maybe I deserve better than that.” He paused. “Than a coward.” It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t Nick’s fault. But Miles was sick of the excuses.

“If I wanted to hurt you I would have told you about it when it happened.” He said it quietly, but his anger was still right below the surface. Miles was wrong. He wanted to tell him he was wrong. But he knew at that point he wouldn’t bother to listen. “I didn’t do it to fuck with you. But now I’m wondering if you slept with Lily to try to get back at me.”

Nick knew he shouldn’t have said it. He knew it was wrong; he knew it was mean and uncalled for. But at least it was the truth. Hearing Miles’ reply was like a slap in the face, and he froze, not being able to look at him. It hit him right in the chest, rendering him useless for a moment. Miles went too far, too. But the worst part was that he was right. He just stood there for a moment, letting his eyes fall shut and shaking his head back and fourth. Eventually, he opened his eyes, but avoided looking at Miles. A cold laugh left his lips, and he shook his head again. “Yeah. Maybe you do.” Nick’s voice cracked despite himself, and he finally lowered his gaze in order to look Miles in the eye. He swallowed thickly. “I think you should leave now.”

The anger had dissipated now. The sadness remained, but there was absolutely nothing he could say anymore. He missed Nick. He wanted to be with him. He wanted to forget all of this and go and sit next to him on the couch and never leave. That was what he’d wanted to tell him. But now Miles wouldn’t be able to stop picturing him with someone else, wouldn’t be able to push all the words they both had said out of his mind. Nothing would change what they’d said or how they both now felt.

The fact still stood, though, that Miles was right. And so was Nick. So there was no winning here, and each of them had to wait for the other. Miles watched him, studying his features, wishing he could swallow his pride and say sorry. But was he? He didn’t know. He struggled to tear his gaze away from Nick’s face and turn around, but Nick was correct. Miles should go. He paused with his hand on the door handle, opening his mouth briefly, but there was nothing left to say. He opened the door and stepped out quickly, letting it slam shut behind him.