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dankusner · 4 months

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Freak unique

UnShaunte DeFox is a hot obnoxious mess of couture and a punk-funk rebel.

UnShaunte DeFox is a hot obnoxious mess of couture and a punk-funk rebel.

The Dallas illusionist tests the mettle of the Miss Texas of America pageant

By DANIEL KUSNER | Aug. 29, 2008

DeShaun Elliot was a young teen when he first saw Grace Jones, dripping in foxtails while performing "Do or Die" on "Dance Fever. "

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And the little gay boy from Wichita Falls was immediately obsessed, "Here was this beautiful, ugly, blue-black, mysterious, tough chick. She was a super-freak. And she had this power — she seduced everyone," Elliot remembers,

"She became known for telling people to fuck off. She'd slap people during interviews."

That was more than 25 years ago.

Now 40, Elliot has created another persona — UnShaunte DeFox, a drag illusionist molded in the freaky tradition of Grace Jones.

In fact, the "fox" part of DeFox was inspired by the foxtails Grace Wore on "Dance Fever."

On Sundays, DeFox is a regular entertainer at Elm & Pearl, and on Wednesdays he regularly performs at Woody's Sports Bar & Video.

But he's not a traditional pantsuit diva who tries to master Celine Dion's subtle nuances.

In fact, most of the Dallas drag queens tell Elliot that his performances might fare better in New York.

"I've been known to put microphones in my mouth. During my routine, I'll kiss girls on the mouth. I'll drink people's drinks or lick their straws. I'll chew dollar-bill tips and then spit them out. One time, I swallowed the dollar and then opened my mouth, and stuck out my tongue to prove it," Elliot explains.

He says that Dallas' drag scene has a stereotype.

"There's lots of silicone — and cliques. I'm the different one. But I'm not a bitch. I'm very nice to the other drag queens, and they're nice to me. They tell me they think I'm extraordinary," he explains. "I'm not a drag queen because I'm transgender. To me, being an illusionist is an art form."

He says drag doesn't always have to be elegant.

"It's boring to just try and look like a woman. Drag is being bigger than life. When I see drag, I want people to drop from the ceiling. I want them to lick the floor," he says:

DeFox's aggressive performances are complimented with outre fashions that he designs himself.

"Sickening illusions — like having my entire face and neck done in mirrors with bull horns sticking out of my head," he explains.

During a recent photo shoot, he donned a silver lame gown with a futuristic mirrored hat with a brim that covered just one eye.

There was also an enormous matching cape with hood, billowed armholes and sleeves with five-foot extensions.

Being the weirdo in Dallas' drag scene seems to be working.

It's even working on the pageant circuit.

DeFox is Miss Gay Dallas of America 2008, and she recently handed over her crown for Miss Texas Latino American 2007.

On Thursday, she begins chasing after the Miss Texas of America tiara.

In order to maintain the surprise of her show, she can't divulge her routine.

But it will involve 15 backup dancers, a fierce Grace Jones homage, a doppelganger — and probably her tongue licking something.

LONE STAR PAGEANT

The theme for Miss Gay Texas America 2008 is "Naughty Girls: The Chanel Experience."

Categories include evening gown, male interview, solo talent, onstage question and final talent. (For more information, visit MissGayTexas, biz.) Wednesday, Sept. 3 at 10:30 p.m.: former titleholder revue at Illusions, 4100 Maple Ave. Thursday, Sept 4 at 9:30 p.m.: competition night at The Rose Room, 3911 Cedar Springs Road. Friday, Sept 5 at 9:30 p.m.: final talent at The Rose Room

Dallas’ Starck Club’s 40th anniversary reunion: ‘A Temple of Future People’ visit the past

Dallas’ decadent ‘80s club was a Studio 54 for Dallas, a moment that defined the era. For one night only, the moment was back.

UnShante DeFoxx performs during the Starck Club 40th Anniversary Show at The Kessler in Dallas, TX, on May 12, 2024.(Jason Janik / Special Contributor)

The marquee above the Kessler Theater read THE STARCK CLUB, but when I arrived on a rainy Sunday at 7:45 p.m., the only sign of anything unusual was a woman near the entrance in a hot pink coat of gauzy ruffles that looked so fashion-forward you could practically tip it to the ground.

A giant pink bow in her sleek black hair, paired with combat boots.

“Get on in here,” said Jeff Liles, maestro of the Starck 40th anniversary reunion, opening the door to the Kessler in his old black T-shirt and blond dreds.

And with that, I entered the matrix.

Guests relive their 1980s party nights during the Starck Club 40th Anniversary Show at The Kessler in Dallas, TX, on May 12, 2024. (Jason Janik/Special Contributor)(Jason Janik / Special Contributor)

Exactly 40 years ago, on May 12, 1984, the Starck Club opened its silver doors near the West End, transforming an abandoned warehouse into an epic space of billowy white curtains and black terrazzo tile.

Gender-neutral bathrooms were so big that clubgoers had sex in the stalls, and if that’s only a myth, please don’t tell me. (It’s not.)

The club’s name evoked New York’s Stork Club as well as the apt description “stark” — bold colors, bracing soundscapes, looping visuals — but mostly it summoned the designer Philippe Starck, who left his native France in the early ‘80s to build a temple of music and beauty and decadence in (of all places) Dallas, Texas.

“I think this club can be a temple of future people,” Starck said at a press conference for the club’s opening, scarf tied around his neck, a scene captured in the 2024 documentary Pure Ecstasy: Inside the Infamous Starck Club by Dallas producer Michael Cain.

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The film premiered at the Texas Theatre last week, and Cain hopes to make it more widely available by the end of summer.

Mixing eye-popping footage and recent interviews with founders as well as clubgoers like Owen Wilson, Thomas Haden Church and J.R. Ewing himself, Larry Hagman, Pure Ecstasy is a 100-minute injection of music lore, lost history, and American innovation, tracking the rise and fall of the Studio 54 that thrived under the Woodall Rodgers overpass.

Blake Woodall (no relation to the street) was the man behind the idea, a rich kid from Preston Hollow eager to make his mark.

He’d witnessed the valhalla of Ibiza clubgoing.

“I saw an environment some would call debauchery,” he says in the documentary.

Others would call it escape.

The opening night in 1984 was legendary: The Dallas Symphony performed, but so did New York’s avant-garde icon Grace Jones.

The club raked in $125,000, a number that could probably still make Nick & Sam’s green with envy.

Over the next five years, Starck became a mecca for art weirdos and thrill-seekers and drag queens and people who wanted to be seen, but not in bright light.

Most famously, the Starck was the place where MDMA, then legal and known as ecstasy, entered the North American bloodstream.

It was a place of fashion and intrigue and flash and the casual gender-bending that accompanied gay culture’s mainstreaming.

Men in Flock of Seagulls hair and guyliner, women with Dorothy Hamill cuts and pill-box hats. Everyone wore broaches one season; I have no idea why.

I guess you had to be there.

And finally, I was.

Guests relive their 1980s party nights during the Starck Club 40th Anniversary Show at The Kessler in Dallas, TX, on May 12, 2024. (Jason Janik/Special Contributor)(Jason Janik / Special Contributor)

I thought far too long about what to wear, because much of my wardrobe comes from SuperTarget, and no shade on Merona, but they could not match this moment.

I sprung for a slinky-shimmery gold gown in the Marilyn vein from U.K. retailer Wolf & Badger, and paired this with patent leather high-heel boots that really shouldn’t be worn at my age, but oh well.

I invited my older brother, an engineer and actor whose fashion radius extends from blue polo to red polo, but he accurately predicted and nailed the right look for straight men — black jacket, black shirt, black jeans.

Your basic “don’t mind me” outfit amid the sumptuous carnival.

My brother and I grew up in Dallas, but we were underage during the Starck Club’s reign.

We were too busy going to Spaghetti Warehouse and Six Flags to know that history was unfolding downtown.

I’d spent the past few days poring over archival footage, a parade of youthful folly and ‘80s excess, so maybe what struck me first about the crowded lobby of the Starck reunion was (and I feel bad saying this) how old everyone was.

Men had silver hair or no hair at all.

Women wore sensible heels and glasses. It was almost like the dewy-faced denizens on my laptop screen had entered a time machine and aged, well, 40 years.

My brother and I are no spring chickens.

I’m 49 and he’s 54, but as we made our way up to the stairs to the VIP room, he clapped his hands and exclaimed, “I feel so young!”

Lithium X-Mas performs during the Starck Club 40th Anniversary Show. Toward the end of the set, two women who looked like human disco balls swiveled neon hula hoops on either side of the stage.

(Jason Janik/Special Contributor)(Jason Janik / Special Contributor)

The VIP area was very chill, a version of the fabled Cold Bar at the Starck where folks went to cool off from a sweat-soaked dance floor.

Downstairs on-stage, the psychedelic art-rock band Lithium X-Mas was raging through a live set, but the VIP area was low-key, a service dog roaming the premises, and I took a seat on a couch and stared at video projected onto the ceiling: a woman lassoing a fire hydrant, a picture of men with floppy hair and sunglasses, parallelograms of magenta and yellow.

I recognized an old Apple commercial, rainbow colors across a piece of fruit. It struck me how many words that once captured the natural world — mouse, tweets, streams — had been co-opted by technology to describe the digital age rising up to swallow us whole.

“Do you wanna hear a real story?” asks Clyde Haygood, a celebrity hairstylist from LA who looked like a ‘90s-era Dave Navarro.

He was wearing the same snug black Gaultier jacket he’d rocked in 1984.

“We started a trend of pearls and gauzy fabrics,” he explained, sitting beside former doorman Dale Brasel, a tall professor-type in a sharp suit and white Doc Martens. “When we were done with it, we would come up to people inside the club with scissors and cut them off.”

By “we” he meant his friends, not Brasel, who was soberly guarding the door as his buddies wreaked playful havoc on strangers.

“I would tell him, just don’t hurt anybody,” Brasel said. He worked the door from 1984 to 1986, peak Starck, though the drugs and hedonism were somewhat lost on him. “I was always outside getting cussed out and spit on.”

Clyde Haywood, left, former Starck doorman Dale Brasel, and Kendall Morgan at the Starck Club 40th Anniversary Show. (Jason Janik/Special Contributor)(Jason Janik / Special Contributor)

Brasel cut our conversation short to greet an old friend, someone he hadn’t seen in decades.

As an interloper, the scene was a bit hard to penetrate, a return to a moment you missed the first time.

I headed downstairs to an outdoor area where I recognized the dapper man in a black jacket and black T-shirt: Russell Hobbs, a major force behind the emergence of Deep Ellum in the ‘80s.

“Are you on X?” he asked me, and I shook my head. “Everybody else is.”

I wasn’t even drinking, having given that up 14 years ago after my long tenure in the bosom of import lager and top-shelf tequila.

Hobbs wasn’t on ecstasy, either.

“I’m high on the Holy Ghost,” he told me, and he really did say that. Hobbs is famously born-again, a story for another time, but he sat beside me on a wooden bench to reminisce for a minute.

“The Starck Club was exquisite from Day One,” he said. “I was living in the eye of a hurricane over in Deep Ellum, so I didn’t go much, but Blake came over in his slippers to talk to me.”

Blake as in Woodall, still Hobbs’ best friend.

Woodall wasn’t able to attend the reunion because his daughter was graduating from Columbia University (a very different scene).

“Dallas in 1984 was a materialistic clone mall,” says Hobbs. “I didn’t fit in, so I created my own world.” Woodall did the same, part of what bonded the two. “Starck was much more than drugs. Music, art.” Hobbs was staring into the distance, almost as though he were watching the white curtains flutter above the red carpet. “Blake created a little taste of what heaven would feel like,” he said.

The dance floor at the Kessler at the Starck 40th Anniversary Show. (Jason Janik/Special Contributor)(Jason Janik / Special Contributor)

Heaven, or what it might feel like, turned out to be very loud.

Inside the performance area, the live band had been replaced by dance music blaring over the sound system.

White lights swept the floor like a UFO about to land.

I didn’t recognize the song — was it even a song?

It was more like a vibe, the throb of the bass rattling the wall I leaned against, too sober to join the fray.

The middle-aged clubgoers were doing the “nod and sway” as the white light turned red, then purple. From where I stood, it looked less like 150 people moving and more like one enormous body pulsing.

“Here’s something,” my brother said, yelling into my ear over the music. “The percussive beat feels like .50-caliber machine gun on your chest.”

My brother is in the Navy Reserve, and he served time in Iraq.

The machine gun was part of his training (he never used one), but the comparison clicked into place why my nervous system felt so rattled. “The sound literally compresses your heart,” he explained.

Would I feel differently on MDMA? Probably. I’d been a dive-bar lush, but I remained a drug prude who never tried X, or E, or molly (whatever you call it). I’ve never even seen cocaine in real life, a claim that made a male companion younger than me clutch his head as though it were about to explode. “Who are you?” he asked.

I’m a child of the War on Drugs, the Reagan-era push back to the decadence of places like the Starck Club. Less than 10 years separate me from most folks on the dance floor, but that decade brought so much change: HIV/AIDS, the drinking age hiked to 21 (and thus the ramp-up of underage binge culture), and a crackdown on pills and powders, including a major drug bust at Starck in 1986.

The club’s famous silver doors finally closed in 1989, the finish line of the decade it helped define.

The ‘90s brought grunge, guitars over synthesizers, long ratty hair instead of Aqua Net bangs.

A night club is a promise you will never grow old, that you’ll never die.

You’ll always be young and beautiful. Life outside a night club is a reminder that everything I just said is a delusion and a lie.

A late night getting later at the Starck Club 40th Anniversary Show. (Jason Janik/Special Contributor)(Jason Janik / Special Contributor)

I never did join the pulsing hive on the dance floor, but later on Instagram, I saw Gretchen Bell, founder of my favorite vintage store Dolly Python, posting about being inside it.

“I’ve never seen so many men in sheer multi-colored pantyhose tops in my life. Dillard’s must have had a sale.”

So much about the evening had the wink of an inside joke, but it never felt alienating; quite the opposite, even outsiders were welcomed into the fold.

Moms brought college-aged daughters, who giggled and took selfies in mini-skirts and platform wedges, looking relatively tame compared to an earlier generation of boundary-pushing rebels. Was this the first generation of American kids to dress more modestly than their parents?

A Grace Jones impersonator took the stage in a black catsuit and a flamboyant red robe.

I missed most of this, since I’d left to chat with George Baum and Cheryl Sharp, two former clubgoers I’d interviewed for the News last week (Baum was working the door back then as well as at the reunion show).

But when I returned to the VIP area, my brother was quick to fill in details.

“I’m 60, bitches!” he said, repeating the line performer UnShante DeFoxx had crowed a few times.

The actual Grace Jones is 75, so I suppose this was breaking character, but if I looked that good at 60, I’d do the same.

UnShante DeFoxx performs during the Starck Club 40th Anniversary Show. (Jason Janik/Special Contributor)(Jason Janik / Special Contributor)

My feet were killing me.

Walking on 3 ½-inch spikes is for teenagers, I swear.

But as tired as I was by 10 p.m., it was hard to leave the circus.

Under the Edison bulbs right outside the entrance, I met Natalie Kates, a raven-haired stunner who’d flown in from New York for the event.

She was dressed in head-to-toe Comme des Garçons, including a pair of gobstopper pearl brass knuckles she tried to pack in her carry-on until security told her it was a weapon.

“It’s fashion!” she insisted.

No dice.

Kates grew up in Texas, though she grew cagey when I asked for more details, and I don’t blame her: She had the air of a woman without a past, who lived everywhere and nowhere at once.

She’d come to the reunion because former doorman Michael Dyess asked her; they’d been Starck companions back in the day.

She tried to summon him on her phone but grew impatient when he failed to answer.

“Where is Michael Dyess?” she yelled to people around here, managing to seem queenly and adorable at once.

When a text arrived on her phone, she tilted the screen to a man beside her.

“I don’t have my glasses. What does that say?”

Dyess arrived soon after, a sleek silver-haired gentleman in a black designer jacket over extravagant chain mail that dripped all the way down his hairy chest.

He’d worked the door from 1987 to 1989, and he flashed a picture on his phone from that time: Luscious dark hair, full makeup, as eye-catching as any woman in a rock video.

“Were you nice?” I asked him, and he smiled at me. Sweet girl, naive girl.

“Uh, no,” he said, and we both laughed. That was the point then — to feel inclusive but to be exclusive.

I had to leave them.

It was late, and my feet were screaming, but I blew kisses as I parted like we’d known each other far more than five minutes.

The side street seemed quiet and dark after we left the matrix. My brother was the one who put my thoughts into words. “I haven’t seen that many people happy in America in a really long time,” he said.

They say you can’t go back home again. They were wrong. We were there.

Dallas Artist David Hynds Unloads a Starck (Club) Raving Mad Collection of Nightlife Art

From T-shirts to tickets, memorabilia from the legendary club goes on sale at Ephemeral Space.

Kendall Morgan

"No dance” buttons from the time the club was busted are on display alongside a vintage Dallas Observer.

Dallas’ most infamous night spot still has nightlife denizens eager to get past those velvet ropes.

We’re talking about the Starck Club, the Philippe Starck-designed icon of the 1980s, which is celebrating the 40th anniversary of its opening this month.

To mark the memory of those glory days of legal ecstasy use, big hair and 12-inch singles that never seemed to end, the Kessler Theater announced a reunion party to be held on Sunday, May 12.

It was so hotly anticipated that it sold out within hours.

(The Kessler has added a more chill pre-party set for the night before, with tickets still available, and the Texas Theatre will air the long-awaited documentary The Starck Club on Friday, May 10, and Sunday, May 12.)

But judging by the Facebook groups “Starck Club Survivors,” “Starck Club Friends,” “Starck Club Documentary" and “Starck Club Revisited,” there’s still not quite enough Starck to go around.

Since the reunion was announced, members have been peppering their feeds with images of their gloriously eye-lined youth and YouTube links to dancefloor classic spun by the club’s late DJs, Go-Go Mike DuPriest and Rick Squillante.

The East Dallas gallery Ephemeral Space is also leaning into nostalgia with its latest art show, Starck Art, which opens Saturday, May 4, and runs through May 18.

The show presents the collection of David Hynds, who was there for the entire lifespan of the club, including tickets, fliers, tees and invitations the artist has been hanging onto for decades.

According to Hynds, the art show was in the works before the reunion was booked.

We spy a flier for one of Drag Race superstar RuPaul’s early concerts.

Ephemeral Gallery

“When the club closed, [all the material] went into boxes, but by that time, I’d been so familiar with it, I wasn’t going to throw it out,” Hynds says. “I went to one of the openings of Ephemeral and thought, ‘I’ve got a lot of paper stuff, and that’s definitely ephemeral.’ So I talked to [co-founder] Jason Cohen about doing the show and mentioned it.”

Hynds’ friend and colleague Mark Ridlen (DJ Mr. Rid), who spearheaded the Kessler event, mentioned that it was coming up on the Starck’s anniversary.

So the duo got busy pulling everything together with perfect timing.

Looking back, Hynds couldn’t have predicted his unusual job would become a lifetime obsession.

He was delivering furniture and working as a part-time film editor when he had the opportunity to edit some footage for a new nightspot.

“The first day I worked was the opening night investor party where Grace Jones and Stevie Nicks played,” Hynds says. “I was watching Grace Jones perform and wanted to check the feed in my office. The bar had an exit right across from my door, and I almost got run over by Grace Jones dressed in a gorilla suit!”

Soon, he ran the “entertainment behind the music” during the club’s opening hours from Thursday through Sunday.

In the very beginning, Starck didn't show music videos as it did later; instead, it opted for unique visuals that weren’t intended to match the beat.

Hynds roped in another colleague with a film background, Suzie Riddle, to fill in when he was sick.

The video was so crucial to the club’s vibe that the owners sent the duo to the New Music Seminar in New York, where they discovered work from artists such as William Wegman to add to their roster of strange and unusual clips.

They also started producing their own pieces to add to the mix.

Soon, Hynds was creating fliers and tickets for the Starck’s many events and concerts, starting with 1984’s Republican National Convention in downtown Dallas.

“They had the slide projectors and asked me to a do a set of slides with the [Republican] elephant, and I think it's the first art piece I did,” he says. “The next one was for a New Year’s event invitation. I did a line drawing with a spilled glass of Champagne and the [Starck logo] dancing man, and after that, they started using me all the time.”

From rodeo and psychedelic parties to concerts by Jones and the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Hynds created everything the club needed.

He even crafted three-dimensional props, such as a mechanical skeleton band made out of foam core for a Dia de los Muertos event.

Raiders of the Lost Starck

As he often had leftover fliers from the print runs, Hynds began stashing away tickets and artwork.

That way, when he was sourcing video artists, he would have something to send along to let people know what the Starck was all about.

When the club closed in 1990, it was all packed in boxes until it was time to pull it all together for Ephemeral.

Hynds has curated framed pieces dedicated to theme parties and musical events, which take over three walls of the gallery.

Featuring a mix of fliers, artwork and tickets, these will retail for from $30 to $650.

The promotional videos he made will be on view at the back of Ephemeral’s space.

Sixty limited-edition VHS tapes containing a Starck promo clip along with surprise footage from everyone from Lene Lovich to house band Happy TVs will be on sale for $87.50.

Hynds also printed a series of new T-shirts ($36.50) with vintage designs and new graphics marking the 40th anniversary.

A few of Phillipe Starcks’ original furniture pieces will also be on view, although he says he’s not quite ready to let those go.

With collectors and fans worldwide reaching out for a little piece of the club, Hynds is confident the show will sell well.

But for him, it just feels good to spread the love for a moment of freedom and creativity to the people who experienced it firsthand.

“I was thinking that after I’m gone, my kids are going through my stuff, and they won’t know what to do with all of this,” he says. “It’s better to put it in the hands of people now. My motivation is just to move it onward and get it out in the world for the people who still remember this to enjoy.”

The opening of Starck Art will be 5–8 p.m., Saturday, May 4, at Ephemeral Space, 203 S. Haskell Ave. The show is open Saturdays, 11 a.m. – 5 p.m., through May 18 and by appointment during the week. click to enlarge

Relive your youth and take home some Grace from Ephemeral Space.

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liesoverthec · 3 years

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hi do you have a post about the timeline in 911 like with the year and the seasons and so including season 5

Hi anon!

I don't *technically* have a post w/ the timeline, so I'm using your ask as an opportunity to make one!

I'm going to put this under a cut, bc currently I have actually no idea what's going on with the timeline for s5, and as things air, I'll update this continually, and it can be used as the most updated resource whenever you open it!

I could not resist adding commentary sometimes, sorry 😅

*disclaimer - I understand the crossover is supposed to line up w LS’s timeline or whatever but it absolutely does not work for our timeline. So this is purely OG’s timeline, bc I don’t watch LS, and also our timeline is a lot more logical.*

911 OG timeline under the cut!

Just a note - anything that’s currently speculation is gonna be in blue. As we get confirmation of things, I’ll add in confirmed info and put things in black, and anything that’s wrong will be removed/edited.

Also, episodes tend to happen over several days’ time, so if you’re looking for an EXACT date for a little scene in an ep, I mostly don’t have it for you, but you should put it within the week I’ve given, relative to where it went in the ep. (Eg a call later in the ep would be more likely to have happened on Thursday or Friday.)

Also re: s4. COVID does not work as a good timeline indicator for this show, AT ALL. Its sort of like the whole “do they have regular shifts” debate - the writers wrote the stories they wanted to tell, and then fit COVID in around that. Also it got really screwed by them being done filming before it hit, but not having aired any of s3B yet. And then both bc COVID can’t be used to figure out time, and also bc it wasn’t aired normally, it is a lot more nebulous timeline-wise, I did my best though 😂

-Pre Series-

1966-1967: Athena is born.

1967: Bobby is born.

Mid Mar 1977: Chim is born (this has the potential to change in the future, details on why found here)

Sometime July - Dec 1979: Hen is born.

1983: Maddie is born.

1985: Daniel is born.

1987 - 1992: Eddie is born SOMETIME in this time window. Personally I like him in 1989/90, bc it makes him 21 when Christopher is born, but I think 1987 is also very plausible since that’s when RG is born.

Fall 1989: “Athena Begins” starts, continues through 1991 (Emmett dies on Feb 17th, 1991).

Somewhere between Feb 15 and mid September 1991: Buck is born.

Sometime Aug - Dec 1992: Daniel dies.

2000: Albert is born.

Aug 2000 - Feb 2001: Michael and Athena get married.

2002: May is born. (Discussion on May’s birth year here)

2005: Chim joins the firehouse, events of Chimney Begins stretch out over ~2007?? Unclear exact time frame but before Hen joins and over at least a year, if not more.

2006: Josh joins dispatch.

Sometime?? In 2008: Hen joins LAFD to be a paramedic. I really don’t have a good measure for this one bc it apparently takes years to become a paramedic but this is one area where the writers don’t give a SHIT about reality bc she has to join in 2008 for a comment in Future Tense to make sense. So just - early 2008 probably for this one.

Jan 2009: Hen joins the 118.

2009: Harry is born.

2010 or early 2011: Eddie enlists in the army for the first time - coincides with Shannon getting pregnant. (As of now, no idea if they were married before or after she got pregnant. Timeline of him enlisting in response to the pregnancy though indicates to me maybe they were already married.)

2011: Denny is born.

2011: Christopher is born. (Anyone curious, personally, I’d put his birthday somewhere in Jan-early March, late May-early Sept, purely bc I refuse to think at this point that Christopher’s birthday has happened while the show has been airing and Eddie hasn’t mentioned it. So it must be during usual hiatus times 😂)

Dec of 2014: “Bobby Begins Again” starts.

2015: Eddie is deployed a second time, his helicopter crashes/he’s discharged from Army/Shannon leaves him and Christopher

Sometime Aug-Dec 2016: Bobby becomes captain of the 118.

Aug 2017: Buck joins the 118.

-S1-

Jan 3 - Jan 9th, 2018: “Pilot”

Jan 10 - Jan 16, 2018: “Let Go”

Jan 17 - Jan 23, 2018: “Next of Kin”

Jan 24 - Jan 30, 2018 - “Worst Day Ever”

Jan 31 - Feb 6, 2018 - “Point of Origin”

Feb 7 - Feb 27, 2018 - “Heartbreaker”

Feb 28 - Mar 6, 2018 - “Full Moon (Creepy AF)”

Mar 7 - Mar 13, 2018 - “Karma’s A Bitch”

Mar 14 - Mar 20, 2018: “Trapped”

Mar 21 - Mar 27, 2018: “A Whole New You”

-S2-

Sept 1 - Sept 23, 2018: “Under Pressure”

Sept 24, 2018: the earthquake

Oct 8 - Oct 14, 2018: “Stuck”

Oct 15 - Oct 21, 2018: “Awful People”

Oct 22 - Oct 28, 2018: “Dosed”

Oct 29 - Nov 4, 2018: “Haunted”

Nov 5 - Nov 12, 2018: “Buck, Actually”

December 2018: “Merry Ex-Mas”

Mar 11 - Mar 15, 2019: “New Beginnings”

Mar 15 - 16, 2019: “Fight or Flight”

Apr 15 - Apr 21, 2019: “Broken”

Apr 22 - Apr 28, 2019: “Ocean’s 9-1-1″

May 6 - May 12, 2019: “Careful What You Wish For”

May 13 - May 19, 2019: “This Life We Choose” (in case you’re curious, cuz I was, average probationary period for a firefighter is 6-18 months, Eddie’s is 9mo w the 118 (plus 3mo at the academy = Bobby’s “year of hard work” in his speech) so he more or less has an average probationary period length! The timeline just doesn’t fit otherwise w Buck’s leg.)

-S3-

Sept 1 - Sept 22, 2019: “Kids Today”

Sept 22, 2019: the tsunami (ending scene events of “The Searchers” carry over into Sept 23, 2019)

Oct 14 - Oct 20, 2019: “Triggers”

Oct 21 - Oct 27, 2019: “Rage”

Oct 28 - Nov 1, 2019: “Monsters”

Nov 4 - Nov 10, 2019: present day “Athena Begins” events

Nov 11 - Nov 17, 2019: “Malfunction”

Nov 25 - Nov 30, 2019: “Fallout”

Dec 1 - Dec 25, 2019: “Christmas Spirit”

Mar 16 - Mar 22, 2020: “Seize the Day”

Mar 23 - Mar 30, 2020: “Fools”

Mar 30 - Apr 12, 2020: “Pinned” (end scene is Apr 13, 2019)

Apr 13, 2020: “The Taking of Dispatch 9-1-1” (end scene events take place sometime Apr 13 - Apr 19, 2020)

Apr 20, 2020: Events of present day “Eddie Begins” (Christopher’s show-and-tell is Apr 24, 2020)

Apr 27 - May 3, 2020: “The One That Got Away”

May 4 - May 10, 2020: “Powerless”

May 11 - May 17, 2020: “What’s Next?”

-S4-

Mid Sept 2020 (pretty damn sure actually it’s Sept 21, 2020, but since it wasn’t aired on a regular schedule I can’t be completely, 100% sure): The mudslide

End of Sept 2020: “Future Tense”

Oct 2020: “9-1-1, What’s Your Grievance?”

Oct 2020: Present day events of “Buck Begins”

End of Oct - beginning of Nov, 2020: “Jinx” (Jinx happens in ~25hrs, start to finish, I just can’t tell you exactly what day)

Mid Nov 2020: “There Goes The Neighborhood”

End of Nov 2020: “Breaking Point”

Somewhere around the last two weeks of Jan 2021 - first two weeks of Feb 2021: “Blindsided”

Somewhere around the last two weeks of March 2021 - first two weeks of April 2021: “Parenthood”

May 3 - May 9, 2021: “First Responders” (I *think* this is where the show catches up where the regular airing schedule matches up w the show’s timeline. I have no reason to think otherwise)

May 10 - May 16, 2021: “Treasure Hunt”

May 17 - May 24, 2021: “Suspicion”

May 24 - May 30, 2021: “Survivors”

-S5-

Sept 2021: Albert joins the LAFD in the montage at the end of Survivors

Sept 14, 2021 - initial spyware attack

Sept 20 - Sept 27, 2021 - actual blackout

Oct 11 - Oct 17, 2021: ‘Home and Away’

Oct 18 - Oct 24, 2021: ‘Peer Pressure’

Nov 1 - Nov 7, 2021: 'Brawl in Cell Block 9-1-1′

Nov 8 - Nov 14, 2021: ‘Ghost Stories’

Nov 15 - Nov 21, 2021: 'Defend in Place’

Nov 22 - Nov 30, 2021: 'Past is Prologue’

Dec 1 - Dec 25, 2021: ‘Wrapped in Red’

Mar 21 - Mar 27, 2022: ‘Outside Looking In’

Mar 15 - Mar 28, 2022: ‘Boston’ (flashbacks date back to Sept 27 and occur through the fall of 2021)

Apr 11 - Apr 17, 2022: ‘Fear-o-Phobia’

Apr 18 - Apr 24, 2022: ‘Dumb Luck’

Apr 25 - May 1, 2022: ‘FOMO’

#911 fox #b discusses character details #asked and answered #anon answer time #the way I’m excited to have this under a cut #cuz I’m SURE someone will have some sort of problem w this #and I will feel like a failure #despite the fact that I’m juggling 60 eps #which is roughly 2580 mins of info #but also #sometimes people feel the need to add incorrect information to these posts #and then other people reblog that incorrect info #so by putting it under a cut #I can make edits and yall will be forced to have the version that I want you to see #stupid additions or not #also I cannot tell you how much freaking math this took #and like trying to juggle months to make things fit and to be as specific as possible #so fun!#also if y’all have corrections #i’d appreciate it #if y’all liked or reblogged as well #cuz when you JUST correct me (and most of the time I’m still right) it makes me feel like you don’t care about the work I put in to this #sorry this turned into a rant 😂

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starlling-writes · 2 years

Text

Grimm x Pearl Fanfic WIP

Okay so... because I don't know how long it's going to take me to actually write this full fic, I've decided to post my progress so anyone who wants to can read it as I work, instead of waiting for it to be fully done. (This also will help me to be able to work on writing this while I'm away from home/my computer.)

Because I DO plan on posting this fic properly once it's all done, I'm not going to allow reblogs of this post. I'll keep a running list above the cut of when I make updates to this post, that way it's easy to tell when there is new content. Lastly, I don't think I'll do much, if any, proof-reading/editing of this fic until it's fully done, so there will likely be typos and some changes when the final fic is released. Until then—enjoy!

Updates:

June 10 : part of ch2 added

June 12 : all of ch2 added, first paragraph of ch3

June 15 : more of ch3

June 22 : second half of ch3

June 30 : corrected Grimm's rules at the end of ch3, bit of ch4, & some outline stuff (b/c writing has been tough lately but I wanna share something)

July 26 : bit of ch4, removed outline from last update

July 29 : almost all of ch4 (Word has been acting up lately for me so, to make sure I don't lose anything, I'm updating again now instead of when I fully finish ch4 like I first wanted)

Aug 7 : some missing bits from ch4 & start of ch5. Also, I realized the first chunk of ch4 was a bit wonky from a copy/paste error, so that all should be fixed now.

Sept 8 : missing scene from ch4, and the second half of ch5

~ I do have an idea for the Title, but I don't want to share that yet :P

Synopsis

The Universe has a funny way of working sometimes. Pearl couldn’t see how the Universe kept insisting that, despite being jobless and weeks away from being homeless, things were perfectly fine and she was on the right track. And it didn’t feel helpful when her oracle cards clarified to let Death help guide her. Specifically, a Death-Head. And, in a way that only the Universe would find amusing, it was specifically the Death-Head most known for murder and torture in the North. A small quick prayer led to an accidental run-in, led to a deal that would change everything for Pearl. And for the Death-Head, Grimm, that accepted her request.

— CH 1 —

Pearl felt lost in a freefall.

The Death-Head deal was made, and she knew there was a near-guarantee it would be fulfilled in time for her to keep her apartment. But the unease of what she’ll have to eventually pay Grimm haunted like a shadow. In the day following their first meeting, she thought about canceling it. The only thing stopping her was the bright red number of her bank account. She needed money. She didn’t want to have to admit defeat, to move back home so soon.

She yelled out, jumping up off her bed and striking a determined pose. “This will work out!” she affirmed to herself. She had to push aside all the little things making her worry, and trust.

Trust in a Death-Head.

Alarming on cue, her phone rang. It was him.

“You have an interview tomorrow morning at ten,” he told her with no preamble. “I’ll send you the address. Do you have a suitable wardrobe for office work?”

“I have a couple outfits, maybe,” Pearl admitted. “I’ve had to sell a fair bit of stuff to try to stay above my debts, but I should still have at least one outfit.”

He was silent for a moment. “Hmm, alright. If your interview goes well tomorrow, we’ll need to go shopping for some more.”

We? First lunch with a Death-Head and now shopping together? Pearl’s life certainly took an absurd turn. She withheld a sigh. Then a thought occurred to her. “So what is the job for? Where would I be working?”

“Deah-Head Headquarters.”

Pearl nearly dropped her phone. “Death-Head… Headquarters?” The squeak in her voice betrayed her surprise and unease.

“Is that a problem?”

Now it was Pearl’s turn to be silent for a while. She had no idea what kind of office work Death-Heads required. Would she need to paint her face, too, if she got the job? Pearl touched her cheek. Working so close to Death-Heads… could she stomach it? Should she try to fail the interview on purpose? Sure, she was desperate for a job. But this desperate?

Pearl put her back against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor. She covered her mouth to mute her quickening breaths. Panic was taking over. It wasn’t too late to back out of the deal, but could she really afford it?

“Take a slow, deep breath,” Grimm said gently over the phone. His omniscient recognition of her panic attack sent a jolt through her, disrupting it. She did as he said. “Again.”

When he was just a voice, it was easy to forget what he was. And he had a really nice voice. It took a few minutes, but Pearl calmed down again. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” His voice was still so gentle. “You have a lot of questions.”

“Yeah,” she said meekly.

“Hmm. Would you prefer to discuss them over the phone, or in person?”

“You wouldn’t happen to be available for a deal?”

The words escaped Pearl’s lips before she had a chance to second-guess herself. If the cards were urging her towards this path, it was worth the risk. Right?

Grimm looked at her for a hard moment. She didn’t appear to be the type he’d normally take requests from. He’d either be surprised by her, or he’d hand her off to someone else—she sure looked serious enough to make a request. “Hmm, alright. Let’s go have a chat.”

He led the way through the small, shopping strip to a café. He claimed one of the outdoor tables and motioned for Pearl to join him. She sat rigidly, contrasting his casual demeanor. “What do you want?” he asked.

“Oh. Getting right to it.” Now to put her request into words. How specific did she need to be with this? Pearl barely knew anything about Death-Head deals; did they often try to find loopholes in wording, and mess with wordplay for their benefit? She should’ve thought about this more before approaching a Death-Head. “I’m in need of a job. I moved to Lywood not long ago and I haven’t—”

He raised his hand, palm out, gesturing for her to stop. “I meant from the menu. It’s my treat for bumping into you. We can talk work after.”

“Oh.” This… this wasn’t what she was expecting from a Death-Head. If it wasn’t for his makeup, he’d be just another polite man. It muddled her opinions of him.

She took a menu from the centerpiece and gave it a look. A waiter came over shortly after. They set a drink in front of Grimm—he must be a regular here—then asked if Pearl was ready. Deciding quickly, she ordered a macchiato and a chocolate croissant. There had been other tantalizing options, but she kept it small and simple, not wanting to overstep his hospitality.

Once her food was delivered, he started talking. “So, your request is to find you a job, hmm?”

“Basically,” she said solemnly. “I moved here hoping Lywood would be better for me; but so far it’s just been slowly whittling me to nothing. I’ve tried so much, but everything seems against me. Even the guidance from my oracle cards is starting to feel mocking. Hell—it’s because of them that I’m even here talking with you.”

“Hmm?” That got him curious.

She bristled. Did she really just admit that to him? Too late now. She sighed to herself as she fished her cards out of her pocket—it was a little comfort to carry them with her sometimes. She flipped over the top card, revealing Death. “Usually it represents change—a figurative death. Rarely it means a literal one. But right now, it seems to mean you.”

“You trust in your oracle skills that much?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly at him. “Yes,” she said with a bite.

He held up his hands up defensively. “Apologies. I didn’t mean to offend or diminish.” He took a slow drink, stealing the moment to ponder. He glanced between the cards and Pearl. There was something about her, and her situation, that piqued his curiosity. “Do you give readings to others?”

“Not usually? I divine well enough for myself. Most others tend to want more insight than I can usually see. Were you suggesting I become a professional oracle?”

“Hm, no.” He pulled out some money and slid it towards her. “Give me a reading.”

“Huh?” Wasn’t she supposed to be hiring, and paying, him? He… this was not how she thought a Death-Head would be. Was he trying to not scare her out of a deal? Was he trying to make her feel more comfortable so she’d ask for more—so he could ask for more? This felt too odd. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Depending on the cards, I’ll either take your case or recommend someone else.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Setting aside how bizarre this all was, Pearl picked up her cards and started shuffling. “What do you want to ask the cards? You don’t have to say it aloud; just concentrate on it. And don’t half-ass this! The cards will know if you’re insincere in your request.”

He scoffs. “I don’t half-ass anything.”

It was unnerving, the coldness that crept through his words. She closed her eyes and focused on the cards, imploring them to give him the guidance he sought. Pearl did her best to not channel any of her own desires into the shuffle. But this needed to go well. Whether the outcome resulted in her working with this Death-Head or another, she needed this to work out.

The cards called her to stop. She splayed them out in a row on the table. “Pick.”

“How many?”

“However many you feel you need to.”

Grimm looked over the cards carefully. He could count on one hand the times he sought out an oracle’s guidance. Not because he distrusted or disbelieved their abilities. Just the opposite. The foresight of oracles was a powerful force—one he dared not abuse or take for granted. He pulled a sing card. The Sun.

“Well that’s a good sign,” Pearl reflexively said. She reached over and traced her fingers along the card’s imagery, taking a moment to decipher the correlation between its meanings and Grimm’s question. “The Sun is a very favorable card. Even when inverted, it still often signifies success and happiness and such—though it’s direct for you, so there’s no muted energies, delays, or back steps.”

“Back steps?”

She paused. How to explain in simple terms? “Anyone in divination will tell you that most of it is intuition based and not a firm standard of meanings. Well, one way that inverted interpretations were taught to me is that sometimes it means you have to step back to the previous card in deck and learn something from it before progressing—for The Sun, that would mean The Moon.”

“I see.”

“But again, The Sun is direct for you, so you don’t need to worry about any of that,” she brushed off. She cleared her throat and refocused on the reading. “As it stands, the situation regarding your question looks prosperous and beneficial. It’s a good sign to continue forward. Though don’t take that as a free-ride; you still need to keep up your end in order to reap the benefits.” He hummed to himself as he mulled over her words. As the silence lengthened, making her grow more uneasy by his lack of reaction, she added, “You can pull some more cards for clarity, if you’d like.”

He waved his hand dismissively, his rings catching the light. “No need. I’ll take your request, so let’s talk in more detail.”

Two emotions clashed within Pearl. On one hand, she was glad to be moving forward with her situation, relieved to know that she will soon have an income. But on the other hand… was the good tidings she just foretold to him in regards to this deal? Did The Sun, facing inverted from her perspective, actually mean the setting of her good fortune rising onto him?

She wouldn’t realize it unless she looked back on this moment months from now, but the cards were indeed giving guidance to them both; if only Pearl hadn’t clung to the negative—and highly absurd—interpretation, and instead reflected on her own words.

— CH 2 —

Pearl felt lost in a freefall.

She yelled out, jumping up off her bed and striking a determined pose. “This will work out!” she affirmed to herself. She had to push aside all the little things making her worry, and trust.

Trust in a Death-Head.

Alarming on cue, her phone rang. It was him.

“You have an interview tomorrow morning at ten,” he told her with no preamble. “I’ll send you the address. Do you have a suitable wardrobe for office work?”

“I have a couple outfits, maybe,” Pearl admitted. “I’ve had to sell a fair bit of stuff to try to stay above my debts, but I should still have at least one outfit.”

He was silent for a moment. “Hmm, alright. If your interview goes well tomorrow, we’ll need to go shopping for some more.”

“Deah-Head Headquarters.”

Pearl nearly dropped her phone. “Death-Head… Headquarters?” The squeak in her voice betrayed her surprise and unease.

“Is that a problem?”

“Take a slow, deep breath,” Grimm said gently over the phone. His omniscient recognition of her panic attack sent a jolt through her, disrupting it. She did as he said. “Again.”

When he was just a voice, it was easy to forget what he was. And he had a really nice voice. It took a few minutes, but Pearl calmed down again. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” His voice was still so gentle. “You have a lot of questions.”

“Yeah,” she said meekly.

“Would you prefer to discuss them over the phone, or in person?”

Pearl felt lost in a freefall.

She yelled out, jumping up off her bed and striking a determined pose. “This will work out!” she affirmed to herself. She had to push aside all the little things making her worry, and trust.

Trust in a Death-Head.

Alarming on cue, her phone rang. It was him.

“You have an interview tomorrow morning at ten,” he told her with no preamble. “I’ll send you the address. Do you have a suitable wardrobe for office work?”

“I have a couple outfits, maybe,” Pearl admitted. “I’ve had to sell a fair bit of stuff to try to stay above my debts, but I should still have at least one outfit.”

He was silent for a moment. “Hmm, alright. If your interview goes well tomorrow, we’ll need to go shopping for some more.”

“Deah-Head Headquarters.”

Pearl nearly dropped her phone. “Death-Head… Headquarters?” The squeak in her voice betrayed her surprise and unease.

“Is that a problem?”

“Hmm. Would you prefer to discuss them over the phone, or in person?”

“Phone…”

Pearl asked her questions. Grimm patiently answered every one, elaborating when necessary. But soon they weren’t even talking about work. Without realizing it, they slipped into casual conversation, random comments strung into the next

“Take a slow, deep breath,” Grimm said gently over the phone. His omniscient recognition of her panic attack sent a jolt through her, disrupting it. She did as he said. “Again.”

When he was just a voice, it was easy to forget what he was. And he had a really nice voice. It took a few minutes, but Pearl calmed down again. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” His voice was still so gentle. “You have a lot of questions.”

“Yeah,” she said meekly.

“Hmm. Would you prefer to discuss them over the phone, or in person?”

“…Phone.”

One by one, Pearl asked her questions. Grimm patiently answered each of them, elaborating as needed, without judgment. Soon the conversation led away from work. One random comment naturally strung into another. The silences ebbed and flowed just as comfortably as the chatter. He even got a laugh out of her.

By the end, Pearl felt comfortable proceeding with the interview.

That’s not to say she didn’t get nervous about it still. She arrived ten minutes early. There were a few others waiting around when she got there. Like Grimm had said, no one here wore the Death-Head mask. It was like any other office building.

There were two parts to the interview: the typical questionnaire portion—though not-so-typical, since the later questions geared towards Death-Head related things—and then a practical test. While Pearl didn’t have direct experience working in an office before, her natural computer and typing skills, and her ability to pick up their specific programs, were of great benefit. Overall, she felt it went well. Though one of the interviewer’s questions lingered like a bad taste in her mouth.

“I’m sorry, I just have to ask. This interview was set up as part of a deal. Why bother with still going through the interview when you could simply get the position?”

“I don’t want to get a job that way,” Pearl said shaking her head. Grimm had questioned that stipulation too, though he didn’t come off as judgmental about it. “I made the deal to ensure I could interview for a job. I still want to rightfully earn it.” She didn’t add that if she didn’t earn a job within her deadline, then she would, begrudgingly, accept one fully handed to her.

As this was a Death-Head deal, Pearl had the perk of having her interview results be expedited. Not that this was a one-and-done kind of thing. Death-Heads were particular about all their employees. And passing the first step didn’t guarantee Pearl a job yet. Still, she made it through the interview. And her background check was nearly done. Next was the temporary work position.

If she made it through that, then the deal would be complete.

— 3 —

Pearl was excited for her first day of work. It felt good to be doing something, to be making money again. For now, she would be training and working in the North branch’s offices. On one hand, the commute was nicer. On the other, Pearl had a lot more interaction with Death-Heads than she expected. She was marginally more comfortable around them thanks to her time with Grimm. Her deal was working out.

But rumors of a deal made with the leader of the North faction soon became a thorn.

Pearl didn’t tell anyone about her deal. So, it was quite surprising to hear office gossip about her and Grimm. Granted, no one knew it was her. There was just talk about how strange it was that Grimm accepted a non-violent deal. She wanted to ask. Wanted to know the extent of what they meant. She knew that Death-Heads often did dirty work, and someone who was a faction leader definitely didn’t have clean hands, but with how everyone was talking about it, their deal was completely out of character for him.

She couldn’t stop thinking about it…

As the days went on and the gossip developed, Pearl kept to herself. She even started taking her lunch breaks across the street in the park. A number of her coworkers noticed the shift in her personality from when she started, though said nothing to her about it.

Grimm also noticed her acting differently.

Since his office overlooked the park, he couldn’t help but notice her visits there. That alone couldn’t be called odd. But he, too, started to hear the gossip. Add the reclusive comments from her performance report, and the pieces started coming together.

Pearl learned of Grimm’s reputation. He knew it was only a matter of time until she did. Still, it left him with a feeling he didn’t enjoy. He decided to check in with her.

Grabbing his own lunch, he made his way over to the park. When he found Pearl, she was sitting alone on a bench, zoned out and pushing her food around its container absently. “Mind if I join you?”

Pearl jumped and looked up at him, eyes wide and cat-ears pointed back. He didn’t mean to startle her. She recovered quickly, shook her head, then scooted over. “Go right ahead.”

He sat down and took his time to open up his bento. Pearl eyed the three-layered box, each layer packed with delicious looking food. Her lunch was measly in comparison. “How are you doing?”

Her shoulders slumped as she looked back down at her sad, barely-touched lunch. “I’m fine,” she said, clearly avoiding giving him the real answer.

His brows knitted the tiniest fraction. He wanted to ask, but ultimately stopped himself from pressing the matter. They weren’t that close. She seemed adamant to not look at him, so he started eating. Minutes passed in silence. Aside from his concern, the moment was quite nice. Grimm ate lunch alone more often than not; and it was a nice change to eat outside.

“Why did you accept my deal?” Pearl suddenly asked with a hallow note in her voice.

The feeling from earlier crept up again, leaving a bad taste in his mouth. Maybe this was a bad fit for her after all. He did something he had never done before and reminded her, “You can still back out of the deal, if you want.”

“What?” she snapped. She turned and glared at him. “Okay first off—that is not what I said at all. Second—why would you think I’d do that to you? I basically have this job already; just because you said you wouldn’t consider the deal done until I’m no longer a temp, doesn’t mean I’d jump at the chance to get out of upholding my end of it.” She sighed heavily, looked down at her lunch again, stabbed at it quite aggressively.

Grimm stared at her. Her snap of fury surprised him—he also now had a feint understanding of the cliché of how cute someone could be when angered.

“Why did you accept my deal?” How to answer her question… Was it because of the novelty of being asked for a simple, non-violent deal? Did her being a fellow half-faced cat sway him to give her a break? Or perhaps it was all the little things—her expressiveness; her determination; how nice her voice was to listen to; the possibility she stirred with her oracle reading; the ease he felt with her—that made him want to help her.

“Hmm, I accepted your deal because… I just wanted to. Don’t know how to explain it.”

Pearl looked at him, examining him as much as his words. His explanation eased her anger. But not her worries. She sighed again, leaning her head back to stare at the sky. “Guess I should start get ready for a hefty price, huh?”

He hadn’t given any thought yet to what he’d ask of her. This wasn’t his usual deal. None of his usual type of demands seemed right. “Payment must be proportional to the deal. Don’t worry yourself so hard over it.”

Pearl stopped herself from thinking of ways a hefty payment could still be proportionately demanded. She wanted to believe that this deal with him wasn’t a mistake to make. She took a deep breath in through her nose, then slowly let it out her barely parted lips. “Okay… Okay. I trust you.”

Days passed and Pearl’s temp position was at its end. Having worked well, she was offered to stay on full-time. “Would you like to do the honors? Since you also have to ask for your payment,” Pearl’s supervisor asked Grimm.

“Hm, yeah I’ll tell her.”

“Do you know what you’re gonna ask for as payment yet?” Grimm gave her a lethal glare, making her flinch and quickly ramble, “Sorry for overstepping. I was just curious. Considering the situa… Sorry.”

Grimm knew what payment he’d ask for. But he didn’t want it to be gossiped around—especially before he could officially declare it to Pearl. He folded Pearl’s acceptance letter and tucked it inside his haori. It’d be another hour before she arrived for work. He’d give her the letter then; if she wanted to hear his payment then too, he’d tell her. Otherwise, he was fine waiting until they had lunch, or when her shift ended—yet another unheard-of thing for him to do; yet again for her.

It's a shame he wouldn’t connect these facts and their meaning until much later. For now, he only recognized the oddness of his actions, not giving them much thought.

Ten minutes after Pearl arrived, he went down to see her. Grimm’s visit was keenly noted by the entire department. And the moment he asked Pearl to talk in private, whispers chomped at the bit for them to leave. Despite everyone knowing Pearl was at the end of her temporary position and it was most likely that Grimm wanted to talk to her about staying on, the gossip of his newest, usual deal was rekindled by the fact that it was uncommon for him to handle such a task.

“It’s time, huh?” Pearl said. “The end of the deal.”

“Yes.” He gave her the letter, then gave her a moment to process it, to ready herself for what he was about to ask of her. “For payment, you owe me nineteen kisses.”

“What?” she immediately interjected. She would have never guessed he’d ask for something like that.

He raised his brow impatiently at her before continuing. “There are rules to this payment. First, only one kiss per day will count towards the payment. Second, kisses must be on the lips.. Third, someone else must be around for the kiss to count. Fourth, you have nineteen weeks to fulfill your payment; if you fail, you’re to quit this job immediately without severance. Lastly, until your payment is complete, you will be my avec to any and all occasions I request.”

She needed another moment to process this. Why was the death and decapitation guy asking this for his payment? Was it some sort of humiliation tactic because there was nothing worse he could reasonably ask for? Ultimately… Pearl decided that it was okay. It was just a handful of kisses. And she was comfortable being around him. Though, maybe less so now that she’d be constantly thinking about having to kiss him. Nineteen kisses. What an odd number to ask for. “Why nineteen?”

“For The Sun card.”

Pearl’s eye twitched. Really? That was his reason? She screamed internally at the way her oracle reading was unfolding.

But it was okay.

She had a job now. And the payment to the Death-Head was generous, all things considered. Things were working out, just like her cards had told her.

“Okay,” she agreed and stepped towards him confidently. “Nineteen kisses. And all those rules. Though tell me.” She glanced to the upper corner of the room. “Does the security guard watching on the camera count for the third rule?”

He wasn’t expecting that. He laughed, smirking cockily at her. “Hmm, know what. Sure. Just this time, it’ll count.”

She quickly raised up on her toes and kissed him. She just as quickly turned away to hide the blush spreading across her face. She cleared her throat. “Is there anything else you need from me?”

“No. You’re free to go.”

Pearl left the break room. Instead of returning to her desk, she snuck into the bathroom. She splashed water on her face a couple times, focusing on relaxing her racing emotions and heartbeat.

Nineteen kisses. Eighteen more to go.

— 4 —

Things continued on for Pearl as they had been the past few weeks. Except now she had an income. She was slowing paying off her debts. And she was also having a lot more, awkward encounters with Grimm at work. It could’ve just been her biased perspective, but he seemed to linger around her more. Did he think she’d kiss him at work in front of everyone? She’d rather avoid that, if possible. Stealing a few kisses while they had lunch across the street at the park was enough of a risk for her.

Sixteen.

It was on another one of these days where she contemplated kissing him, that Grimm called in the last rule of their deal. “Next Friday there’s a small event I have to go to. Semi-formal. I’ll pick you up at 6:00pm.”

Pearl’s thoughts slammed to a halt. She wasn’t expecting this part of the deal to come up so soon. The most formal event she had ever been to was a school dance ages ago. Her thoughts darted in countless directions. “Is… is this a Death Head event?”

“Yes.”

So, she’d have to deal with other Death Heads too… At least it was just semi-formal. Though she still didn’t have anything suitable. She wondered if she could get Grimm to buy her a new dress for the event, just like how he bought her some new outfits for work. Did she dare ask?

“If you have any more questions, just message me,” he said, getting up to leave. Any words Pearl had caught in her throat as she watched him go.

With this event now on her plate, the coming days grew stressful. But Pearl was determined to not let it get to her. She focused on what she could control. Namely, her outfit. She spent her free time thinking about the kind of dress she wanted to wear. The color, the cut and material. She had it all figured out so that when her next day off rolled around, she was ready for a day of shopping. She then planned her makeup and hairstyle for the evening—ultimately keeping everything simple.

She was as prepared as she could be. Grimm was punctual Friday evening. He pressed the buzzer, ringing her apartment. “Be right down,” she said over the intercom. When she came out the front door, they both just… stared at each other, taken aback by the little changes each made.

“Yes.”

“If you have any more questions, just message me,” he said, getting up to leave. Any words Pearl had caught in her throat as she watched him go.

She was as prepared as she could be.

Grimm was punctual Friday evening. He pressed the buzzer, ringing her apartment. “Be right down,” she said over the intercom. When she came out the front door, they both just… stared at each other, taken aback by the little changes each made.

Overall, Grimm’s outfit was the same as it always was: a black haori over a white dress shirt, and plain black slacks. However, the subtle difference of the black-on-black jacquard haori he wore tonight gave him a refined touch. It also helped that he buttoned up his shirt more. But the haori was part of his signature.

And Pearl—she was a breath of spring. Her dress was a comfortable, rayon wrap dress with a ruffle along the hem, and short, flowy butterfly sleeves. The color matched her eyes perfectly. And her golden eyeshadow and rose gold lipstick were the perfect accents.

The soft rumble of distant thunder broke the moment.

Pearl looked to the sky. No clouds were gathering immediately, and she hoped it stayed that way. She’d hate to have to bring a coat—she only had one heavy winter coat, some work blazers, and a few casual jackets and sweaters of varying weight, making none of them ideal for the evening. “I hope the storm misses us,” she said, more so to herself than trying to make conversation. Brushing off her concerns, she turned back towards Grimm. “Shall we go?”

The event was hosted at a fancy hotel, not far from Death Head HQ. Grimm pulled to the front, handed his keys to the valet, then went to help Pearl out of the car. Not that she needed it. She was already walking around the front of the car. Grimm gave her a look. She shrugged. “What?”

“Can I at least escort you inside?” he sassed, raising his arm up in offering.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You’re seriously upset over not opening my door?”

“I’m not upset.”

“Oh yeah? Your furrowed brow says otherwise.” She smiled coltishly. “Maybe I should escort you inside.” She held up her arm, mirroring him.

His kneejerk reaction was to refuse. She was his avec; he was her senior, both within the company and in age. No one dared joke with him so casually—except for Algoth, though his jokes were more often gibes. Grimm decided to lean into it. “Alright then,” he agreed, and hooked his hand up under her arm. “Lead the way.”

Pearl was not prepared for this. “What? No. I don’t know where to go. I don’t want this responsibility anymore!”

He leaned in close with a dangerous smirk. “Perhaps if you make a little payment, I’ll change my mind.”

Pearl’s face quickly turned red. Did she dare kiss him here in plain view of so many of their coworkers? His face was already so close. It would be quick. Maybe no one was looking at them, so she wouldn’t need to deal with prying questions and gossip later.

“Good evening, Sir,” someone interrupted.

Grimm righted himself and turned towards the other Death Head. “You’re here early.”

“You’re just late.” His gaze slid over to Pearl. “Since you brought an avec this time.”

“Pearl, this is my assistant, Algoth,” Grimm introduced. “But ignore what he said; we’re not late.”

“Tell that to Kahamet.”

“Hmm. I wonder what’s got him so impatient tonight.” He sighed. “Guess I better deal with him sooner rather than later.”

They all went inside together. There were far more guests than Pearl expected. She knew not everyone there worked within the Death-Head Organization. But most did. She took a steadying breath and reminded herself that, as wild as it was, she was one of them now too.

Grimm noticed her nerves. “You okay?” he quietly asked.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m good.”

And for a moment she was.

The stares started to linger as the three of them went through the ballroom. She stopped looking for familiar faces. After grabbing glasses of wine, Grimm told Algoth to keep Pearl company while he went to talk with Kahamet.

“So, you’re Pearl Helmi,” Algoth said slowly.

A little part inside Pearl started screaming. He knew her full name? Well—he was Grimm’s assistant. It wouldn’t be too surprising if he knew about their deal. But his gaze was unforgiving, almost threatening. She didn’t like it. He was even more intimidating than Grimm was when she first met him.

After a drawn-out moment, he made a soft hmph sound. Algoth reached into his jacket, then offered her his business card. “If Grimm acts out of line, let me know.”

Pearl stared at him, absolutely dumbfounded. Was he indirectly threatening Grimm? Did he know something Grimm had planned that she didn’t? She accepted the card. “Thanks?” she said meekly.

“I’m curious though… You’re not his usual type.”

She definitely misinterpreted his words. “W-what?”

“Have you really not heard about his usual deals yet?”

“Oh, our deal,” she said, realizing a little too late how revealing those words were.

A sly grin grew across his face. He wasn’t quite sure yet what was going on with them, but this little slip got him closer. “Yes. Usually, he only makes deals involving torture or murder; requesting payment equally painful, like all one’s teeth.” Pearl shivered. She had heard of this, to a degree, but no specifications about the payments he asked for. “When the paperwork for your deal first came across my desk, I thought it might be some sort of test—to see how attentive I am filing all out papers—or perhaps a joke he was playing.

“But here you are,” he punctuated by tipping his drink towards her. Then he took a sip.

His gaze had yet to waver from Pearl, and oh boy, did she feel it boring into her. Algoth was definitely worse than Grimm. She could enjoy a meal and laugh with Grimm. Algoth, on the other hand… at first he seemed to want to maybe help her—albeit in an intimidating manner. But then how the conversation changed… what was his goal with all that?

Whatever it was, she did not have the energy to parse it tonight.

“Heh, yeah. Maybe he made a bet with someone and had to take next job request he got and ended up with me?” she joked lightly, her heart not in it. She took a sip of her drink and scanned the perimeter of the room. “Do you know where the bathroom is? An eyelash is starting to attack my eye.” It was a lie. Pearl just wanted to escape the intense interaction. If Algoth realized this, he didn’t call her on it.

“Where’s Pearl?” Grimm immediately asked upon returning to the gala nearly twenty minutes later.

Algoth shrugged. “Probably hiding out in the bathroom.”

Grimm’s face twitched into a brief snarl. “And why would that be?” he slowly growled.

“Just made sure she knew the full you,” Algoth answered nonchalantly, staring dully at him. “What is you aim with her? I know what you’re making her pay you.” Grimm’s hand went up, but stopped short from grabbing him by the lapels of his coat. Algoth looked down at Grimm’s hand as it gradually balled into a fist and lowered back to his side. He snickered. "Go comfort your princess," he said. His gaze slid away from Grimm and then took a drink.

Grimm clapped him on the shoulder, took a step closer, and whispered a threat into his ear. "Give me all the shit you want. But not her."

Algoth's smirk grew smugger as his boss walked off. "Wonder how long it'll take him to realize," he said to himself.

It was easy finding Pearl out in the hallway. She was sitting on a bench, casually chatting with another HQ officer worker.

"So this is where you've been hiding," Grimm butted in.

"Oh, hey Grimm. Not exactly hiding. But yeah, taking a break from… all that," she said and gestured in the direction of the ballroom.

"What did Algoth say to you?"

The coworker Pearl was talking to—who had been stiffly silent since Grimm approached—quickly excused themself and gave the two their privacy. Grimm took the vacated seat beside Pearl.

She sighed and dug the business card out of her purse and held it out towards him. "He told me to contact him if you misbehaved. Then he proceeded to remind me of how unusual our deal is. Also—why did you ask for all of someone's teeth?"

"They're good for my bonsai."

Pearl's eye twitched. He… he actually used the teeth for something? "Ah yes, how could I not realize something so simple. Bonsai dentures."

He laughed. All the tension he was holding instantly vanished as her sarcastic joke caught him completely off guard. It was a nice change from the very… professional, meeting he just had with the CEO. And from Algoth being cheeky tonight. He gave her a thoughtful look—staring long enough to make Pearl start feeling antsy.

“Should we get back to the event?” she asked.

“Hmm, as you wish.”

They didn’t make it back inside the ballroom.

They were steps away from the door when someone loudly called out, “Oh look. There’s the cheater who bought her way into the Death Heads.”

Pearl froze. There was no doubt that they meant her. She looked at the floor, afraid to meet anyone’s gaze as attention shifted to them. If it had only been that one comment, perhaps her anxiety wouldn’t have gotten the better of her. Unfortunately, they continued ranting.

“Do you know how many times I had to apply before I got an interview for an office job? And you just waltz right past all that!”

Grimm moved himself between Pearl and the other office worker as they walked over. Judging by the stumbling stagger in their walk and the prominent smell of alcohol, they were drunk. Regardless of intoxication, this was unbecoming of a Death Head.

Others began butting in to deescalate the situation. Pearl would appreciate their help later. For now, she focused on not having an anxiety attack. One little thing after another. Cynically, she started to wonder if the Universe was determined to not let her enjoy this night. “I need air,” she said. She didn’t wait for anyone’s acknowledgement before heading outside.

Grimm watched her leave, then sharply turned back to the instigator. He grabbed them by the collar and pulled them in close. “I suggest you go sober up and never be in my presence again."

That comment earned Grimm some looks as he left, following after Pearl. She was pacing with her arms hugged tightly to her chest, her eyes closed, deliberately breathing in through her nose and out her mouth. She heard him approached and stopped.

“How are you?” he asked.

She flashed a shaky smile. “Just fending off some imposter syndrome. No big deal,” she brushed off.

“It is. Things have changed rapidly for you. Even without some drunk asshole making jealous snarks, it’s understandable to second guess yourself.” He walked closer to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “But you did earn this job on your own. You made that part of the deal, remember? All I did was ensure your resume was seriously considered for job you’re completely qualified for.”

She laughed a little and lowered her head, hiding her smile. How many people got pep talks from such a notorious Death Head? She let his words sink in. Affirmed that he was right. She took one deep breath to clear out all the negativity, then look at Grimm with a genuine smile. “Thanks.”

He nodded, returning his hands to his sides. He glanced over his shoulder at the hotel. “Wanna leave the event?”

“Can we really just leave? I don’t think we’ve even been here for an hour yet.”

Grimm shrugged. “If they get mad at me, then they get mad.”

“Ooo, such a rebel,” she teased.

“I’m not a Faction Leader for nothing, you know.”

A pause lingered between them. “So… Do you just want to call it a night and go home? Or do you want to like, wander around the city?” Pearl asked.

“I’m fine with whatever you wish.”

Well he certainly said that in a way that stirred a little flutter in Pearl. However, she wrote it off as the champagne they had—because why would he be flirty with her?

They decided to go for a walk. Neither knew the area, so they pick random corners to turn at, no true destination in mind. They found a little coffee house having an open mic night. A lush, community garden. But most importantly, a food truck where you could make-your-own fried cheese sticks.

Grimm immediately pulled Pearl over to it the moment he saw it. He had found this food truck a small handful of times before throughout Lywood. They had a fair selection of cheeses that they’d bread and freshly fry. Grimm ordered three dozen of various different cheeses. At first, Pearl was a bit skeptical they’d eat so many. But all it took was one bite and she immediately claimed half of the cheese sticks for herself. Whatever spices were mixed in the breading was perfect; and the breading was the perfect crunchy match for the gooey cheese. She hoped the next time she went out drinking she’d have the fortune of finding this food truck again.

They found a playground nearby and sat on the swings as they ate in peaceful silence. The night had had its ups and down, but in the end, it was turning out well.

And then it started to rain.

At first, it was just a light sprinkle. They sought shelter under a nearby tree. But the rain did not let up. Only increased. They couldn’t stay there much longer. Unfortunately, they had walked pretty far from the hotel; and unless Grimm accepted the future roasting he’d get from calling Algoth by asking him to bring his car to them, they’d have to make a run for it and get soaked.

It was just rain. No big deal.

But Pearl was in a light-weight dress, and was already growing chilled as the rain cooled the once pleasant night. Grimm shrugged off his haori and gave it to her. She was immediately grateful for its warmth. Pulling it closely around herself, they started heading back.

Unfortunately, they hadn’t been keeping the best track of their path. But they laughed about it. Grimm cranked the heat once they finally got to his car. He needed it more than her—Pearl was doing her best not to stare at his completely soaked white, dress shirt. When they arrived at Pearl’s apartment, she lingered in the car, reluctant for the evening to end. Even if they just continued sitting in the car, listening to the rain—that’d be nice. And so she leaned over and kissed him.

Fifteen.

“That doesn’t count, you know?” he said.

Fifteen. Sixteen?

“What? How does that not count?” she defended.

“It’s not daytime.”

“You never specified that rule.”

“The first rule was once per day.”

Were they really going to get into an argument over semantics? Yes. Yes, they were. “Yeah, but you didn’t make it clear that you meant during the daytime. Most people would assume that meant once per calendar day.”

He raised a brow, in both a challenge and in amusement. “Very well,” he smirked. “I’ll count it. This time. But don’t think you can get away with such mischief next time. I’m clarifying now to mean daytime—between sunrise to sunset.”

She blew a raspberry and rolled her eyes. “Oh sure. Change the rules partway through.”

His eyes narrowed at her. “Clarifying, not changing.”

“Hm, yeah no, sure,” she teasingly brushed off. Two months ago, she would not have dreamt of being this playful with a Death-Head, especially not one like Grimm. But she knew him now. Somewhat. She could see the softer sides of him that barely a handful of people got to see.

“Fine then. Day, night—kiss me whenever you’d like.” The small smirk that played on Grimm’s lips made her anxious—but not the negative type of anxious; the eager kind. The kind that made her want to lean forward and kiss him again for no other reason than wanting to.

Fifteen.

Before such emotions could betray her, Pearl hopped out of the car with a quick goodnight called over her shoulder. She suddenly had a lot to think through. Once in her apartment, she leaned again the door, pressing her eyes closed. Her heart was racing. And not just from running up to her apartment. Was she… was she falling for Grimm? No—surely this was just the illusion of infatuation caused by them becoming closer, as friends, mixed with the necessity of having to kiss him.

Right?

She slowly slid down until she was sitting on the floor. Looks like there was still quite a bit to sort out in her life. Not to mention, she just realized she was still wearing his haori.

— 5 —

GRIMM: I can’t come in today. I’m sick

ALGOTH: How did you get sick?

GRIMM: Rain

ALGOTH: You were out in the rain long enough to get so soaked that it made you sick?

Algoth gave his phone an accusatory glare as the minutes added up since Grimm read his last message. He doubted Grimm was sick enough to be unable to respond so soon after initially texting him. Grimm was hiding something. Or, more accurately, not disclosing something so that he wouldn’t be roasted over it.

That meant it likely had something to do with Pearl.

This new relationship his boss had formed with his latest client was… odd. He was curious to see where it would lead. At a glance, they were an unlikely duo. He knew Grimm. He knew him better than almost anyone else. Hopefully, Pearl would keep her wits about her as the two toed the blurry line they established between them.

His peaceful morning’s work was interrupted by a knock at the door. He was surprised to see Pearl. But not surprised by her question.

“Good morning, Algoth.” Her eyes quickly scanned the office. “Is Grimm around?”

“No. He’s not in today. Was there something you needed from him?”

“Oh, no. Not really, I just…” She bit her lip and adjusted her arms behind her back. Her overt nerves got him curious. That was when he noticed the bit of black cloth she was now hiding behind her back. He also caught the sheen of a familiar pattern on the silky fabric.

The puzzle instantly came together.

“He’s home sick today,” he said, cutting off her floundering for an explanation. He returned to his desk and started writing something on a scrap piece of paper. “Since I have to cover both my and his work for the day—you can go deliver his medicine for me.”

“Wha–?”

“The medicine is already paid for; you just need to pick it up from the pharmacy. Here are the addresses—the order is under my name—and codes to get into Grimm’s place.” He handed her the paper. His mischievous expression made Pearl’s ears flatten back a bit. This felt like a damned if she did, damned if she didn’t sort of situations.

“O-okay,” she accepted.

After watching her leave, he shook his head, sat back down at his desk, and shot a text to Grimm.

ALGOTH: Your wife will be stopping by later.

He never got a response—Grimm wouldn’t get around to reading it until late that night—but it amused him all the same.

Pearl stood outside Grimm’s house, staring up at it in awe. She wasn’t surprised that he had such a nice place. Still, the large, finely maintained house loomed as intimidating as the man who lived in it.

Well, best to get this done with—mainly because her shopping bags felt heavier the longer she stood there. Besides the medicine, she bought ingredients for soup. She felt responsible; he had to have gotten sick from being in the rain for so long without a coat. She wouldn’t be surprised if Algoth made the same connection and that’s why he sent her on this task.

“Hello?” she called after unlocking the front door. “Grimm? It’s Pearl. Algoth sent me.” No response came. Tentatively, she went in search of the kitchen. The interior design was impressive. Immaculate. To be able to afford all this… She stopped herself from contemplating the deals he’d done for all of this. “Kitchen,” she quietly reminded herself, getting back on task.

It was immediately to the left of where she stopped to gawk.

After unpacking all the groceries onto the counter, Pearl paused. Did she start cooking first, or find Grimm first? Probably find Grimm. She’d feel more comfortable being there once he knew she was there. He could also help tell her where everything was in the kitchen. She went back into the main room and through the only other doorway. There were a lot of closed doors—which was to be expected, given how large the hose was. “Grimm?” she called again, hoping for a hint about which door he was behind.

But apparently, he was behind her. “What are you doing here?” he groggily asked.

Pearl jumped, letting out a little scream. “Where the hell did you come from?” He lazily motioned over to the kotatsu in the room. On the side opposite the foyer, a was a pillow. He’d been there the entire time; she just hadn’t seen him. “Oh… Well, Algoth sent me to bring you medicine.”

He yawned and scratched the back of his head. “Ugh. Please tell me he didn’t get something grape flavored. He always picks out the worst flavored medicine.”

“I think it’s cherry.”

Grimm gave her a curious look. “So. Where is it?”

“Oh, still in the kitchen. You should take it with food, so I was going to make you some soup.”

If Grimm hadn’t been so sleepy still, perhaps Pearl would’ve been able to notice the intrigue that sparked in his expression. “You’re making me soup?”

“Well yeah,” she said and shrugged. “You caught a cold because of me; it’s the least I can do to make up for it.”

“You didn’t give me a cold.”

“Maybe not directly. But since I wore your haori yesterday, you got soaked in the rain and caught a cold.”

“Yes. My decision caused this outcome.”

She pouted a bit at him, narrowing her eyes slightly. “You must really be sick, you’re starting to sound delirious,” she sassed, turned away, and walked back into the kitchen before he could respond.

He chuckled to himself then followed her.

When she told him she was making soup, he didn’t process that to mean ‘from scratch’. So seeing all the groceries she had set out surprised him. He stared dumbfounded at her.

She stared awkwardly back. “Sooo… Where is all your cookware? I’d like to start cooking, and while I could just open every cabinet and drawer until I find the things I need, it’d be easier for you to just tell me.”

“Hm? Ah, right.” He shook himself from his stupor, and started helping her.

But then he started to help her too much. “Go curl up under the kotatsu again,” Pearl gently ordered as she started to guide him over to the door. “I’ll bring you some soup when it’s done.”

“You sure you don’t want help?”

“I just watched you nearly cut off your own finger. Twice. So go rest and stop trying to add your blood to my soup.”

He obeyed.

Pearl turned on music on her phone and continued cooking. She was enjoying working in Grimm’s large kitchen with all its high-end appliances. Much better than her apartment’s kitchenette. About half an hour later, the soup was ready. She portioned out a serving, buttered a few slices of bread.

Pearl gently shook Grimm awake. “Food is ready.”

He stretched, then slowly sat up. As the smell of the soup hit him, he snapped fully awake. “This smells absolutely delicious.”

She blushed a little in pride. “Thank you. I hope you enjoy. Do you want me to put all the leftovers away now? Or I can leave out a second serving if you’d like.”

“You’re not eating?”

“Oh. Well… no,” she said awkwardly. “Algoth didn’t really say I had the whole day off, so I was gonna go back to work now.”

“Stay.”

Pearl froze. The soft way he said it plucked the heartstrings that had shaken her the night before. Granted, it came out that way absolutely because he was low energy from illness. Still…

Then he added, “You’ve come all this way, and did all this work—relax and eat with me.” When she bit her lip, still hesitating, he continued. “As the Head of the North Faction I can and will order you to take the day off work.”

Something about him pulling rank while he was such a miserable, sickly slump made her want to laugh. And so she conceded. She got herself a bowl of soup and joined him under the kotatsu—damn it was cozy; no wonder he kept passing out.

When they’re done eating, Pearl cleaned up. Grimm made some protest, saying he should be doing all the chores since she was his guest; but she argued back that he’s sick and threatened him to rest.

As she got ready to leave, she noticed his haori she left in the entryway. She traced along the fabric. Picking it up, she returned to the other room and set it beside the once again sleeping Grimm.

She lingered.

There was such a softness to him. And she was probably one of the few who saw this side of him. Unconsciously, her hand moved to brush his hair. But she stopped short, noticing just in time what she was doing.

“Fuck,” she whispered under her breath. She immediately stood up and left the house.

There was no way to deny it anymore.

She had feelings for Grimm.

#fanfic wip #DHD #grimm x pearl

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